What could any of us say? Mother did contribute then. She had always been a careful observer of fashion. “You’ll travel in style in that elegant suit.”

He chuckled softly. His laughter sounded so much like Blue Mountain Woman’s that I wanted to hug him. I didn’t, of course. Father was looking none too approving, even if he had unbent enough to ask questions, and leave the cue stick in the billiards room.

“Believe it or not, they came out of a missionary barrel, Liz. I’m one of the deserving poor now.”

That hurt. I remembered his string of horses, long spirited away by the Indian scouts at Bear Paw. I remembered how grand and fierce he looked in red and white warpaint as he rode against the Seventh Cavalry at Canyon Creek. He knew what I was thinking. He took my hand in his. “Don’t think about it, Bright Star. It really doesn’t bear thinking about.”

“It’s still a fine suit,” Eugenie declared stoutly.

My sister was always good at breaking tense moments. Duncan Stuart grinned at her. “Why, thank you.” He turned to me. “You’ll appreciate this, Lizzie. I doubt you knew it, but Old Mary is a fine seamstress. She’s at Lapwai and she altered this suit for me.” He nudged me. “She said to tell you hello and come see her.”

I could tell him later about my visit from Thomas Adams. “But you’re going to Indian Territory?” I asked, not ever wanting him out of my sight again.

“I miss my own people. If I was found at Lapwai, I’d be sent there anyway, without a chance to stop here.” He nodded when Cook herself slid him another slice of pie. “Thanks. Thought I’d save them the bother. The Indian agent at Lapwai – he’s married to my cousin – scrounged up some money for my train fare.”

“Going to Indian Territory,” Father said. I could tell he was eager to see Duncan gone.

“Yes, sir, as soon as I pick up some things that are mine.”

He looked at me, a question in his eyes. Elizabeth Ann the Fierce came out of hiding for the final time; no more hiding for her. I wiped my hands on my apron, not taking my eyes from his. I tugged the Jefferson peace medallion out of my shirtwaist and over my head and handed it to Hawk one final time. From now on he would be Duncan to me.

His fingers closed over it and his eyes brightened. “Warm.”

My voice was steady. “I have a surprise for you in a pasture not far from here. Fair One has been busy.”

He nodded at that. His eyes still never left mine. I knew he would never ask because he had nothing to offer, not even that half chicken we had joked about in better worst times before they became worse worst times.