When Hawk mentioned the scouts again – I was beginning to know that word – Toohoolhoolzote spit into the fire. I surmised that his opinion of General Howard’s Indian allies was on par with mine.

Nothing more was said. Hawk knelt on one knee beside me and waited while the chiefs conferred. I was too tired to feel any more afraid than I already did. I was between a rock and a hard place and I knew it. This dilemma had no easy answer, no poof of a wand to make it go away. If they decided to leave me alone in this wilderness, there was no telling what would become of me. If they took me along, who knew what would happen? Would I drag down their entire flight and make it more precarious? Would one of them turn on me, fearing what I would say when the Bluecoats found me?

Finally, Ollokot stood up and spoke for them all. “You will come with us,” he said, as Poker Joe interpreted. “At the first chance, we will leave you with white settlers or travelers. We would rather not keep you at all. Only remember that we do not make war on women and children. Only white men do that.”

He waited until Poker Joe finished, then shifted his gaze to Hawk. “And you will remember who you are, if you even know.” Poker Joe shook his head at that one, but interpreted.

Ollokot sat down and Hawk helped me to my feet. As I was leaving the circle, the chief called Joseph touched me on the arm. He murmured something. Hawk smiled for the first time and told me, “He says, ‘You will be all right with us. Not to fear.’”

I followed Hawk from the campfire, unsure of everything except that I wasn’t going to die that night.

Chapter Nine

The meadowlarks were beginning to tune up when I stuck my head out from under a buffalo robe and looked around. Hawk still slept on the other side of the shelter, his mouth open slightly. I heard Blue Mountain Woman moving around outside and talking in low tones to her friends.

Her face was half hidden in shadows and I saw Hawk’s profile in hers, with her long, straight nose and close-set ears. Her hair was pulled from her face like mine, but held back by the basket-like head covering the women wore.

My riding habit lay near her buffalo robe. She had patched a bright piece of cloth over the tear in the bodice where that warrior had ripped off my watch, then trimmed it with a circle of white beads. The beaded flower inside the circle looked like a daisy. She must have stayed up late doing it.

How kind of her. I propped my chin on my hands and regarded her now in a new light. She smiled at me and started to hum.

Hawk stirred and woke. He coughed and rolled over on his side. I pointed to the lovely beadwork. “How do I tell her thank you?” I asked him.