He was far kinder than Bear Coat. He sat down by me on another stool and made no move to touch me, to my relief. “The telegraph wires have been buzzing with real speculation, Miss…Miss…”

“Elizabeth Ann Everett of Omaha, Nebraska,” I supplied. “You mean, people have been looking for me?”

“Oh, my, yes,” he said. “Once your parents got out of Yellowstone Park, the whole world heard. Your father is a man of some importance.”

“He is,” I agreed. “I’m glad they are well.”

“I believe they are home in Omaha.” He looked up when an orderly called to him and held up two fingers. “I have to hurry because I’m needed. There were other tourists in the park who had scares, too. Why did the Indians carry you off?”

I knew he had two minutes, so I told him quickly about Methuselah and his sudden urge to ride with the Indians. The surgeon – his eyes looked as tired as mine – smiled at that. “You’ve had quite the adventure,” he said when I finished. “Do you need any medical attention?”

I shook my head. “I’m hungry,” I said simply. “Pretty dirty, too.”

“We can fix both. Orderly?”

With a small salute to me, he returned to his patients while an orderly ran to the mess tent. In short order I was addressing a plate of hot beans and salt pork. I ate faster than I should have, but I had never eaten anything better, not before and not since. I even ran my finger around the rim of the plate and held it out for more. When it came back full, I set to again. By the time I came to the bottom of that helping, I resisted licking my fingers. I only hoped that my friends were eating, too. (They were, which relieved my heart when I found out.)

Wouldn’t you know it, but Nelson Miles was not a man to leave a person alone. He came into the tent hospital when I set down that empty plate. He held out his hand again, and this time I shook it, noting with satisfaction that there was a red mark beside his nose.

“Elizabeth Ann Everett,” he began, repeating my name as he had outside, as if afraid he might forget it. “I am Colonel Miles.” He stopped, as if I ought to make something of this. I couldn’t think of anything to say about his name, so he continued. “Your parents are mighty anxious about you.”

“I suppose they are,” I replied, which I didn’t think he quite expected.

“I thought it wisest that they not follow my command,” he said.

“Good idea,” I said, wondering where my courage came from. Maybe it was all those beans and a full stomach. “It wouldn’t have done for them to see you shelling innocent women and children.”