grayhoss

Updated: May 2, 2025

We're in the southern border of the Osage country on the Grayhoss at the time, an' he p'ints to a heap of stones piled up like a oven an' chimley, an' about four foot high. I saveys thar's a defunct Osage inside. You-all will behold these little piles of burial stones on every knoll an' hill in the Osage country. 'See thar, says this Hardrobe, p'intin'. 'That's my squaw.

Alfred Henry Lewis - Wolfville Nights