"And got gems for his bridle conchas," Oliver added.
Jessamy nodded. "And in some mysterious manner paved the way for you to become adopted thirty years later."
He turned and looked her directly in the eyes. "Was Dan Smeed my father?" he asked abruptly.
Her eyes did not evade his, but a slow flush mounted to her cheeks.
"I think we may safely assume that that is the case," she told him softly.
Oliver stared at the beaten ground under his feet. "Outlaw—highwayman—squawman!" he muttered.
Quickly she rose and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don't! Don't!" she pleaded sympathetically. "Don't think of that! Wait!"
"Wait? Wait for what?"
"Wait till the Showut Poche-dakas have taken you into full confidence. Wait for my Hummingbird to speak."
Oliver said nothing.