It was a long night. Since this was the sheltering cutbank of Chief Joseph’s clan, I watched with the others as two strange men wearing the flowing hair of the Nimiipuu, came into the shelter. I sought Mary, the older woman who, with Blue Mountain Woman, had helped me after the debacle with the wrangler. To my whispered question, she said they were Captain Jack and Old George, trusted interpreters she knew.

“I think they have come from the camp of Old Day After Tomorrow,” she said. She sighed. “I suppose he is here now, too, and his troops.”

So General Howard had joined his soldiers to Bear Coat’s. “Why are these two Nimiipuu here?” I asked.

Old Mary took my cold hand in hers. “I think they are here to talk of surrender.”

Ah, the S word. Someone finally said it. We sat together. Mary closed her eyes. I knew she was praying to her Presbyterian God. Please listen to her, I thought. Please. We have suffered enough.

So much for prayer. There was more rifle fire in the morning, then another blast or two from the big guns, then – could it be? – silence. We waited as Chief Joseph dressed carefully in his best clothing, and twined otter tails in the two braids framing his face. His wife smoothed out the rest of his hair so lovingly, so kindly.

Someone had prepared his favorite Appaloosa and brought it to the tunnel entrance. We gathered around the entrance and watched as White Bird handed him his rifle. Joseph bent down and they conversed quietly. I have no idea what was said, but I do know that in the middle of the night to come, White Bird and fifty or so adherents struck out for Canada.

As tired and disillusioned as I felt, I knew as I watched him ride into a halfway place between our camps and the camp of the soldiers, that I was a witness to history. Bear Coat and the one-armed soldier Old Mary identified as Old Day After Tomorrow joined him. I watched Joseph try to give his rifle to General Howard, who shook his head and pointed to Colonel Miles, triumphant man of the hour. Joseph handed his weapon to Bear Coat and surrendered.

None of us heard his “I will fight no more forever” speech, but we saw him gesture to the sun, so I think he said all that, probably allowing for a flourish or two from the journalists present. Writers like to embellish, don’t they?