I don’t suppose any of you reading this – provided it sees the light of day beyond my own family – have ever seen a cavalry charge. Although my father’s wartime service was decidedly sedentary, he relished the stories of others’ bravado. As a child, I was nourished on tales of Gettysburg and Chancellorsville. I used to think it would be high adventure to gallop along, guidons flapping, sabers held high, and rush at the enemy.

But they were rushing at us this time.

Had I been mounted, I still don’t think I could have moved, even if I thought I had any place to go. What looked like hundreds of troopers charged at us. In the early light, I could just make out red and white guidons with the number seven – Custer’s regiment. I stood there with my mouth open and watched them gallop toward us.

Chief Joseph stood to my left, as transfixed as I was. We looked at each other, and I knew this was the end of the journey.

He didn’t stand still for long. He whistled to his horse, slapped a halter on him, tossed his daughter up on the animal’s back and pointed north. His daughter stared at him and he pointed north again, then slapped the horse. The Appaloosa leaped forward and his daughter bent low over the horse.

Blue Mountain Woman rode toward us, calling me. Hawk shouted from the middle of the herd for her to make a run for it, but she hesitated. I came out of my trance and called for Fair One again. No luck. I couldn’t see Hawk. I tried not to panic, truly I did, but I stopped running and started screaming.

As I screamed, the line of soldiers divided evenly down the center, half of them surging for the awakened camp, and the rest pouring toward the horse herd across the open prairie. I stuffed my fist in my mouth to stop screaming and closed my eyes. I was only eighteen, and confronted now with certain death. Even in the middle of this crazy summer, certain death was something that happened to other people. Now it was my turn.

A horse stopped right in front of me. I put my hand over my ears and crouched down. I hoped death wouldn’t hurt too much.

“Get up, Bright Star.”

Hawk leaned down, his hand out. I looked past him to the line of solders, some of them scouts. I couldn’t have counted the freckles on anyone’s face yet, but it was close. They fired their carbines, filling the arm with smoke and popping noises.

I grabbed his hand. He jerked me up in front of him and pulled me over his lap. I struggled into a sitting position and threw my leg over, while he turned his horse around and started north.