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now. I know how to shoot."
    Swan Necklace shook his head, "Your father would never permit it," he said. "Fighting is for warriors." He forgot that only two moons ago, he had been a
painter and I had possessed the gun. He never spoke of his colored earths now, and he had not painted on our marriage blanket since we left Wallowa.
    "Fighting is for those who would stand against the white soldiers," I said.
    Before I could say more, the chiefs left the camp to meet the soldiers, taking the Red Coats with them. Looking Glass, White Bird, and Chief Joseph rode in front. My father carried a white flag. Swan Necklace, Red Moccasin Tops, and Wah-lit-its followed behind, in case the Blue Coats opened fire.
    It was dark when the peace party returned. The people crowded about them. They heard how our chiefs had stepped off their ponies and walked up to the barricade with empty hands, leaving their guns on their saddles. The soldiers were surprised at their courage, and no one shot at them.
    "We told the chief of the Blue Coats that we had only friendship for the people of Montana," said Looking Glass. The firelight flickered on his strong face. "Our quarrel is with the soldiers in Idaho. The white captain shook our hands, but told us we must lay down our guns and give up our horses."
    The warriors began to mutter. "I will never give up my gun," shouted Two Moons. He sat on his war horse, looking ready for battle.
    "Never," said Too-hul-hul-sote. He struck the earth with his war club. "We did not want this war,
but we will not let the Blue Coats take our rifles and horses."
    "I agree," said my father. "We cannot do that. But their leader promised no one will attack us if we keep the peace. I advise that we go without talking more."
    "There is a way," said Looking Glass. "Once we get past the soldiers, we are free to go into the valley. Before the sun rises, we will be gone."
    We ate quickly, then made ready to leave this peaceful spot. We took the buffalo skins from our tipis, but left the poles behind to lighten the load. Cooking fires were smothered, coals raked, and earth heaped over them.
    The long line of horses moved away from Salmon Creek. We climbed the steep hill on the northern slope of the canyon, went around the soldiers, and soon were high above the barricade. Trees screened us, but the Blue Coats saw us pass. They did not speak, but they did not shoot, either. The war was over.

Nine
    W ITHOUT FEAR we followed the creek into Bitterroot Valley. Our march slowed. The scouts no longer searched the trail for signs of Blue Coats. We moved through the valley, trading gold dust and horses for supplies. The settlers seemed friendly. The shopkeepers opened their stores and sold us flour and coffee, sugar and tobacco. They sold us heavy cloth to make tipis, for some of our people had left their buffalo robes on the other side of the mountains. We saw no soldiers. As we rode along, settlers waved at us and wished us well.
    Yet my father's heart seemed to grow heavier with each step of his horse's hoofs. We were moving farther and farther from the Land of the Wandering Waters.
    Digging my heels into the sides of my spotted pony, I rode to his side. His eyes looked at the line of trees where the sky met the earth, but he did not see them. There was pain in his gaze.
    "Are we safe, Father?" I asked.
    "Safe for now," he answered without turning his head. "We have left the war behind us in Montana with our enemies. But we will never see our home again. My heart is sick, and I fear to die in a strange land, far from the bones of my father and mother."
    "We can still fight," I said. "The blood of our people has been shed, and the young men are ready to die in battle."
    My words made him look at me. "Do not talk like that," he said. "The white settlers are like the sands of the river. No matter how many we kill, more come. Our warriors would die and so would many of those who do not fight. And who would care for our women and children when