How to find Methuselah? As I stood there, one of Nimiipuu came toward me through the confusion of the breaking camp. I thought he was one of the men from the council last night, but I wasn’t certain. I’m embarrassed to admit that I still thought they all looked alike. When he held out his hand, I shook it.

“Good morning, Liz,” he said, as though we were meeting in an office to begin the day’s work. “I am Poker Joe. Do you remember me?”

Yes, I did. Poker Joe interpreted last night. He was dressed in the usual loincloth and moccasins, with the addition of a blue wool shirt with beaded designs on the sleeves. His hair was cut short like a white man’s. Without the war paint, he looked quite congenial by morning light. With a suit on, I think he could have worked in a newspaper office.

“Thank you for your words last night,” I said.

He made a dismissive motion with one hand. “I am sorry it has come to all this, but right now you are safer with us.”

I nodded and looked across the smaller horse herd. “Where are the young men?”

“They have left already to play with General Howard.” He grinned when he said it, but we both knew it wasn’t funny. We knew what playing with Howard meant.

He turned from me as if the subject were too large, and shouted in his language to The People. I didn’t need to understand the words to know that he was trying to hurry them in their preparations to leave this pleasant valley.

I had questions for him, and he seemed to understand. “Liz, it is this way,” he began. “Joseph and I have been chosen to lead the people. We are not the warriors. We are here to move them along, even when we know they are tired of moving along.”

I understood him completely. I had seen both sides of this already and I felt the urgency. I also knew this was my one chance to show off a little, since he was part white like Hawk. “Mr. Poker,” I started, which made him laugh, as I hoped it would. “Mr. Joe then?” Another laugh. “Have you heard of Ralph Waldo Emerson?”

Admittedly, it was a strange conversation in an odd setting. He nodded, his eyes merry.

“He once wrote that traveling is a fool’s paradise.”

Another laugh, followed by a sigh. “Would he understand this?” was all he said, before he gave me a small salute and hurried off to irritate some more unwilling travelers.

I looked for Blue Mountain Woman and joined her as she started to the horse herd. To my surprise, an old fellow with flowing white hair walked toward us leading Methuselah. He touched Blue Mountain Woman on the shoulder and she touched back.

“My father, Meopwits,” she said.

My adopted family was larger than I had first thought. I hesitated, then touched his shoulder. He said something quite lengthy in his language, which I didn’t understand, except that now I was listening. I heard the name “Kaya” several times, and wondered again if Hawk was decoy. I nodded and smiled back, adept now at this sort of non-communication.