"She knew me before. I walked at her head a thousand miles. I am the one who stole her the cottonwood bark." He turned to Ketti, who was standing on the step with her arms wrapped around herself. "I have a question for you. A serious question."
Ketti nodded.
"When my niece comes for the colt, she will want to give him a name. It is her right. But she is six, and she will want to name him something foolish, like Cloud or Biscuit. You must help her choose a good one. Can you do that?"
"Yes," Ketti said. Her voice wobbled and she made it stop. "What if you aren't there?"
Tukweyit considered her for a moment with his head a little on one side.
"Then you tell her I said to name him something that will be hard for a Boston to pronounce," he said, "so that the next time some men from Mount Idaho want to take him, they will get tired before they finish saying it."
He shook Nils's hand, and held it a moment longer than a handshake needed.
"The agent may send me south," he said. "I want you to know I know that. If he does, I will go, and I will try to come back, as some do. If he does not, I will be at Lapwai with my sister, and in May perhaps I will be able to come with them, and perhaps not. I do not know. Nobody can tell me."