I saw a riderless horse on the opposite bank, but not just any old horse. This one was tall, with a red-colored chest, a long, handsome face, and curious liver-colored spots on its rump and legs. I had never seen a horse like that before, and I stood up for a better view. I called to Father, but he was too far away.

I had already removed my boots, so I picked up my skirt and started across the stream. The water was icy even in August, and the stones in the stream bed hurt my feet, but I was curious.

Before I was even halfway across the stream, the horse whinnied, stumbled around in the brush, then sank to its knees, toppled over and lay still. I was so surprised that I dropped my skirt and stood there. When the horse whinnied again, I hurried across and climbed up the bank, wondering what I could possibly do.

The horse died before my eyes. I’ll admit I was no horsewoman then, but I could tell the animal had been ridden hard. As I looked closer, I saw marks that might have been half-healed bullet wounds.

I called again for Father and he soon joined me. He stared down at the horse much like I had, then knelt and patted it.

“Where do you suppose it came from?” I asked, a little surprised at myself because my voice trembled, and I felt tears gather. The dead horse was so beautiful.

Father shook his head. He ran his hand along the animal’s neck and looked closer. He touched its mane, then felt it carefully. He lifted it and we both stared.

Someone had woven braids of tiny seashells into the horse’s mane. They hung in tangled, knotted strands.

“Do you suppose…” Father began.

“Indians?” I finished.

It was most unlikely, but where would Indians around Yellowstone Park get seashells? We looked at each other and I think shared the same thought, the one better left unsaid. Maybe Lt. McCormack’s Indian disturbance was closer than he thought.

Chapter Five

We hurried back to camp and told Tom McCormack about the dead horse. The lieutenant wanted to have a look, but darkness was nearly on us, and Father and I weren’t sure we could locate the place again. The three of us agreed not to say anything to Mother and the others. “It’s probably nothing. Why alarm them?” the soldier said, which I thought was perfectly stupid.

Before we retired to our tents, Tom took Father aside and told him that perhaps we ought to break camp in the morning – you know, nothing in a hurry to frighten the others – and head further south, just in case.

I know I wasn’t supposed to overhear their conversation, but when I coughed and made my presence known, Tom tried to make a big joke of the whole thing. What sheltered lives we ladies led then! I was not so easily put off. I knew very well why we were moving.