I got a little sharp then as asked what in the Sam Hill I was supposed to do with the thing. With that superior look he was so capable of flashing my way, he told me again to save the ball for unfamiliar Indians. When I laughed, he frowned and rode into the rain, making a point to avoid me for the rest of the morning.

I used to think that misery was having to help the second parlor maid polish the silver. That only goes to show you the scope of my life before September of 1877. Misery was an empty stomach and riding all day in cold rain. And of course, constant fear.

My hair hung in lank, ugly strings, rain dripped off my nose, and I felt a cold coming on. I debated all morning whether to beg Joseph or Poker Joe to just leave me behind here. I had stood all the adventures with The People that I wanted. I said nothing, though, because I was more afraid of what lay beyond that gray curtain of rain.

I rode close to Blue Mountain Woman, who had whacked off her long hair in mourning. Out of long habit, she kept looking back at the pony drag where Catherine had perched until yesterday afternoon. I didn’t know how to comfort her and felt too shy to try. I knew it would help if I did not complain, so I didn’t.

We made only a brief noon halt because most of us had nothing to noon with. The rain eventually slackened from a torrent to a drizzle, with watery sunlight seen here and there among the clouds. The old ones started to laugh and talk among themselves, as if this was a big improvement. I felt more and more out of sorts, with Hawk still ignoring me. I was rehearsing all manner of biting remarks and trenchant abuse on him when I saw him next. It was silly of me, I know, but it helped pass the time.

Then Sturgis’s Crow scouts rode down on us.

They appeared suddenly out of the gloom, loping along not very fast, looking not too concerned, maybe trying to blend in between moments of sun and shadow. I didn’t realize they were the enemy until a shot sang out and a young girl herding ponies slumped forward and fell off her horse into the mud. She struggled, then sank face down in the ooze, silenced forever.

The scouts were more interested in the ponies than The People. Prolific horse thieves (according to Hawk), they waved blankets and slapped at the horses with their hands, cutting off a sizeable chunk of the herd before the Nimiipuu went into action.

I reined in my horse and stopped, uncertain what to do, as the Crow tried to run off as many horses as possible before they were driven away by the Nimiipuu, who were far superior riflemen. There was no way the fewer number of them could have overcome The People, but I was amazed at Crow audacity.