I stayed by Meopwits until everyone was out of sight. It started to rain again, I felt bowed down by the weight of the water on my back, and if I am honest, by my sadness at losing a friend in Hawk. The old lady didn’t know what she was talking about. The silence overwhelmed me. No birds sang; no wind ruffled the buffalo grass. The only sound was Meopwits’s muffled breathing as he sat with that blanket over his head.

I decided at last that I was more afraid to stay than to move on. I stood up and brushed at the mud on my dress. As I did that, I wondered with a certain bitterness if my mother and sister were warm in the parlor back in Omaha. Omaha? Was it still in Nebraska? Did it matter? Was it Tuesday? Who cared?

“Wait.”

Consumed by my own pettiness, I had forgotten Meopwits. Had he decided maybe today wasn’t the day? I turned back, hopeful.

But no. He rustled a little under his blanket, then put his moccasins out of his little haven, his last earthly lodge. I knew they were for Hawk. I wanted to cry cry.

I did what I knew he wanted. I picked up the moccasins. “Thank you, Meopwits. I love you.”

I squared my shoulders and held the moccasins close to my magnificent shrinking bosom, the author of all my troubles, along with Methuselah. Fair One had remained faithful through the whole ghastly scene and the retreat of The People. Head down, forlorn, she waited for me. I looked down, too, and leaned against her.

I looked up to see Hawk riding back over the coulee. He reined in his horse and watched me from a safe distance. I wondered if he had come back to kill me, and the idea was almost welcome. I was less afraid at that moment than I had been on the whole miserable journey. I stood calmly and waited for him to select an arrow.

As he sat there, I saw his shoulders move in a great sigh. He started walking his horse toward me. He stopped when we were close. I reached up and handed him the moccasins. “He wanted you to have them.”

He took them, and looked past me to Meopwits still sitting there, then turned his head away.

“Come on, Liz. We’ll never get to Canada if we dawdle.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“I am, too. Forgive me.” He gave me a nudge with his shoulder. “Let’s not do that again.”

We rode back to the line of moving people. I didn’t want to look at anyone, but I couldn’t overlook the broad grin on Old Mary’s face.

They found someone the next day to leave me with. I can’t blame The People for what happened, but I wish they had been wiser in the ways of the white man.

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen