I finished this book two days ago and I haven't stopped thinking about it. The story lives in my imagination--I think of it, and it's as if I'm in that time, that place. Hannah and Five Killer are there, real and true. It had everything I want in a book: wonderful writing (this was of the prose so clear I'm not aware of it variety), complex, interesting characters, and a feeling that there is a sensibility at work that is interested in things beyond the thrills of the story itself. In this case, the "something beyond" seemed to be illuminating a particular moment in U.S. history and of relationships--between whites and Native Americans--that ended in terrible tragedy.
Cheryl Reavis is a wonderful writer, honest and wise, with a deceptive elegance to her prose. Deceptive in that it's so clear, so clean, so faultless that someone might be fooled into thinking there's no craft there. Elegant *because* it's clear, clean, faultless. I think this book is perfect.