Hawk came closer. “He said he will try to find some white people to leave you with as soon as he can. He sees this now and he is afraid for you.”

“I thought he would be happy that I killed the scout,” I burst out.

“He is glad for the old man. He fears now that if something happens to you, the white men will make the most of it. He says you must leave.”

“Do you feel that way?” I hadn’t meant to ask such a personal question – at least I didn’t think I did – but the words came out.

He thought a moment. I had learned by my weeks with The People not to interrupt thought, so I waited with patience, well, patience for me. He surprised me.

“You have seen my paint for war. Half of me is red and half is white. One side tells me no, the other side says yes.”

“Which side do you listen to?”

He smiled. That was no answer, but I was too shy to ask for more.

We walked by the old man, who was being attended and scolded over by his relatives, I assumed. “Do you know who that old man is?” Hawk asked me after we passed.

I shook my head.

“He is Halatookit – Daytime Smoke – the son of your William Clark, the partner of Lewis. They were lonely men several months in the camp of The People.”

“You can’t be serious,” I exclaimed, then knew I had earned the fishy stare that Hawk turned on me.

“I don’t lie,” he said pointedly. “I leave that for treaty makers.”

I figured I had offended him again, and that he would call it a well-rounded day and ignore me for the afternoon. He chose to be more magnanimous.

“He has over seventy years and many daughters who mother him, as you can see.”

I could see. A couple of them were coaxing him toward a pony drag, with the obvious intention of making him perch on the pile of household goods like…well, like an old man. The old man would have none of it. He broke loose and moved toward his horse, mounting unsteadily, then settling down, in control again. He, too, was made of sterner stuff, the same as I. I watched him ride into the drizzle that was turning into a downpour again.

“It seems strange…”

“…that he is hunted by the white man,” Hawk finished, reading my mind to perfection.

“Nothing about this makes sense,” I said. “You’ll have to explain it to me sometime.”

“I would if I could. My people have helped the white men at every turn, taken on their religion in some cases, and still we are hounded.” He shrugged. “And now hunted.”