The line stopped. I knew this would happen, but I was not prepared for the terror I felt. I stood there, gazing back at the soldiers, all warm in buffalo-robe overcoats and wool caps with earflaps. They all looked the same to me, like the Nez Perce had looked to me six weeks before.

None of the soldiers approached me, but the word passed along. Soon the line parted to let two men through, Colonel Miles and General Howard. The jig was up.

Miles pushed ahead of the general, because that was Miles. He came too close to me and I backed away, unaccustomed to such rudeness. The People never crowded around. He stuck out his hand. “Miss Everett? Miss Elizabeth Ann Everett? We’ve been looking for you!”

I couldn’t help myself. I started to back away. I would have run, but there was no place to run. All I knew was that I wanted nothing to do with someone who could smile like that and hold out his hand after stomping us forty miles shy of the Canadian border.

“Get away from me,” I muttered.

Maybe he didn’t hear me. I had gotten used to speaking softly, like the people around me. He kept coming toward me with that toothy smile. “It will be all right, Miss Everett,” he said, now using a tone of voice he probably reserved for children. “You’re safe.”

He took my hand to shake it. I hauled back with my other hand and slapped him across the face. Since he wore one of those wool caps, I only connected with his nose. I would have scratched his face, but he had me by both hands now, still talking in that silky tone.

“My, my, we’ve been through quite an experience, haven’t we?” He glanced over my shoulder. “Lieutenant, take Miss Everett to the surgeon’s tent.”

As I struggled, he transferred my hands to another bundled-up officer who pulled me along to a tent. I wanted to say goodbye to my friends, to Hawk, but he wouldn’t let me. He sat me down inside on a folding stool and put my hands in my lap. I discovered I was too tired to jump up, so I stayed where I was, defeated like Chief Joseph. I had no weapon to hand over, nothing but me, and I already sensed that I was going to be an embarrassment to the U.S. Army.

The hospital tent was full of wounded men. They lay in tight rows in the tent, vivid testimony to the accuracy of the Nez Perce sharpshooters. The surgeon didn’t notice me for several minutes, his attention claimed by a soldier who twisted and turned on a cot. When he did turn around, he stared at me until I blushed and looked away. The lieutenant whispered to him, and he nodded, understanding.