the old woman told those leaders gathered in council. “We had a good place to stay out of the cold, and the guards watched us so that nobody bothered us.” Johnny Bruguier looked from face to face of those ringing the fire here in Coal Bear’s lodge, eager for something that might betray what they thought of the woman’s story. Some of the war chiefs and head men glanced at one another momentarily; others murmured or grunted, nodding their heads as the woman described the conditions for the Shahiyela captives at the Bear Coat’s fort. Having shown up just after dark, the leaders of both tribes had talked quietly among themselves during their meal of pork and hard bread, dried fruit and boiled white beans, finished off with cups of steamy coffee, sweetened with sugar. Then Coal Bear unwrapped his pipebowl from the skin of a mountain cougar and the long ash stem from the folds of a red-haired buffalo calf. Putting the two pieces together, he next laid out his willow bark, dried dung, and wild rosehips, mixing these with some of the soldiers’ tobacco.
