I jumped in front of him when he kept walking. He wouldn’t slow down, so I found myself backing up toward the horses. I heard them milling behind me.

“What kind of man are you?” I asked too loud. “That is your grandfather!”

He stopped and yelled right back. “Do you imagine for one moment that I like leaving Meopwits? Do you think I enjoy watching young ones starve, dogs limp away to die, old people wander off? Do you think any of us like being hungry and cold?”

He jabbed me with his finger as he spoke and walked me backward. My cup finally ran over and I raised my hand to slap him. He grabbed both of my hands and held on tight. We stood glaring at each other and practically snarling.

“I can’t understand why you didn’t just kill me back in Yellowstone Park?” I raged at him. I was nasty and hateful and so hungry and tired.

He let go of me. “Don’t think I haven’t wondered about that every step of this journey!” he raged right back.

Naturally, this little contretemps did not go unnoticed by the entire functioning Nez Perce nation. There we were, sniping at each other like ill-mannered children and almost coming to blow over something neither of us had any control over. I felt miserable beyond words. I had compounded my wretchedness by verbally bludgeoning the only person I could turn to.

Through misty eyes I watched Hawk find his horse, jerk the poor beast around, mount and ride north without a backward glance. There I was, afraid to follow, frightened to remain behind with the nearly dead.

The People passed me. The Nez Perce are a polite nation. No one gawked, even though none of them could have avoided hearing that stupid battle. They left me to my own thoughts.

All except one old lady. I recognized her as Mary, one of Catherine’s Presbyterian friends. Like others, she had rudimentary English skills. As I watched her in total misery, she dismounted, rubbed her back and knelt beside me. “’Make a joyful noise unto the Lord,’” she said cheerfully, which makes me smile now, even though it didn’t then. She astounded me by leaning closer until our foreheads touched. “He loves you,” she said. “You love him.”

That was all, and so utterly, completely wrong. Couldn’t she see that I had just driven away my best friend in the world? I couldn’t speak so I turned away. She patted my shoulder and mounted her horse. “You’ll see,” she said as she rode away.