One man held a bag of sugar and scooped it into his mouth by dirty handfuls. He saw me watching him and held out the bag. (The People are like that.) It didn’t look appetizing, damp and grey in his outstretched hand, but I wasn’t about to offend his kindness. I took a pinch. Why not?

I took longer than expected to return to our campsite, mainly because there were babies to tickle, and ladies of Blue Mountain Woman’s age to assure that I felt pretty good now. One of them insisted I apply a little of her bear grease concoction to my yellow eye. I think they knew this was my last evening among them, and that I would travel no farther. Drat Chief Joseph anyway for starting that rumor.

Blue Mountain Woman was spreading out the robes under the stars when I returned. Few but the most discriminating – my own mother would have fallen into that group – had bothered to erect shelters, so most of us had a good view of stars.

I kicked off my moccasins, lay down and scrunched as far down in my robe as I could. Hawk lay next to me, his hands behind his head, staring at the stars. He said nothing to me, and finally his eyes closed.

I couldn’t sleep. After an hour I sat up, just me and a quiet camp. Blue Mountain Woman’s face had relaxed in slumber. She was such a pretty woman. Too bad she had no daughters who looked like her. Hawk slept, too. Thirsty, I pulled back my robe and reached for the canteen.

As I drank, I noticed a couple lying nearby. They had flung back their blanket, too, and they were making love. I had never seen anything like that before and I watched. They were so wrapped up in each other that I am certain they were unaware of a voyeur. Their attention was centered on each other. I should have felt embarrassed perhaps, or some shame, but as I watched the two of them twined together, moving in perfect rhythm, all I felt was great emptiness. I wanted someone, as well.

My Omaha upbringing finally got the better of me and I slowly lay down and turned away toward Hawk. To my horror and embarrassment, his eyes were wide open and he was smiling at me.

“I thought you were asleep,” I whispered, which has to be one of the stupidest things I have ever said. There is no advice in etiquette books to gloss over such a situation.

“No. They are kind friends. I wish them joy.”

His whispered words took away the embarrassment, because I wished them joy in each other, too. Instead of shame, my heart was touched to see love in this time of horrible stress and questionable outcome.

“I do, too,” I said, and I meant it.