I shook his hand, knowing it would be a soft handshake, almost a feminine one, because that was how The People shook hands. “I am Elizabeth Ann Everett.” I couldn’t go through the preferred mode of Indian conversation, which meant lengthy pleasant chatter before arriving at the heart of the matter. I needed information and I needed it now. “Please tell me you have news of Hawk.”

“I have for you what Aunt Mary knows,” he hedged.

“Please tell me.” I looked over my shoulder. “I would invite you inside, but..”

“No need,” he said. “It is only this: some of The People who made it to Canada have been making their way to Lapwai.”

“Hawk? Oh, please...”

“No, except this is what my aunt wanted you to know. One of the braves who snuck back mentioned Hawk, who gave this to Old Mary.”

He handed me a creased and grimy piece of paper. I opened it and read, Lizzie. 303 McDermott Street. Omaha. “You found me,” I said simply, thinking of the times I had so lightheartedly mentioned my address.

“The brave also told my auntie this from Hawk,” Thomas Adams said. “He told her, ‘Make sure Lizzie knows I am alive.’”

“Thank God,” I whispered.

“The elders at Lapwai discussed the matter. They decided that if anyone was ever going near this city, they would find you and give you the words of Hawk. That was a year ago and several more months.”

I couldn’t help my dismay. Anything could have happened in the intervening year and a half. My wyakim of Elizabeth Ann Everett gave me a mental shake then, asking me to think of a time when any of the Nez Perce would be making a trip east. It could have been another ten years. It could have been never. Who said they would ever be free to travel?

I had to do better. This nice man had given me something to hold onto. “Mr. Adams, thank you,” was sufficient, especially as I fought back tears.

Thomas Adams picked up his valise. “Message is delivered. I am on my way to Indian Territory and Omaha was in the way.”

I tried to be polite, but Indian Territory? “You’re going to Indian Territory on purpose?” I asked. “Oh, dear, that sounds rude.”

“I want to go,” he informed me firmly. “The People had permission to ask for a teacher from Lapwai.”

“You’re a teacher?”

That brought a smile. “I will be by the time I get to Indian Territory! Actually, there is a young woman there, kin to Chief Joseph like Hawk.” He left the rest unsaid, but I understood. I held out my hand this time and we shook hands again. “Thank you for the message. It’s nice to know.”

“My auntie has a heartful of hope. She said you should, too. Goodbye.”