Should she grab Astrid and run, or should she join the girl in serving the men a meal? Astrid plopped a messy jam-covered biscuit onto the table in front of one of them, drawing their attention. She wasted no time in slathering another biscuit all the while chattering as though she made an everyday occurrence of visiting with Indians.

“Go on now.” She motioned to the native who wore his loose hair cropped close to his shoulders. “Go on and eat it. I know you’ll like it.”

The man didn’t move.

Astrid used her sticky knife to push the biscuit closer to him. “Eat it. It’s real good. Greta makes delicious jam.” At that, she flashed Greta a smile, one brimming with pride.

The Indian gingerly picked up the biscuit, examined it from all angles, and then licked the jam dribbling over the edge. His brows rose before he leaned in and took another taste. Soon all the natives were seated at the table, eating biscuits with jam and slurping vegetable soup.

While they ate, Astrid continued her one-sided conversation, only pausing whenever her cough racked her body. The Indians ate quietly and seemed to relish every morsel. When finished, they stood and exited just as silently.

Only the tall young one lingered in the doorway and looked at Astrid as she finished another burst of coughing. “Little girl sick.”

At the sound of his stilted English, Greta fumbled with the plate in her hand and could only stare at him.

He, in turn, watched Astrid with concern in his eyes. “Waters good for sick and helping.”

Greta nodded, trying to act as though she knew what he was saying but was anxious for him to take his leave with the others.

Thankfully, he didn’t linger. As he strode out, Astrid followed close on his heels, her questions chasing him. Now that he’d revealed his knowledge of English, Astrid was all the more eager to talk.

Greta went as far as the doorway to keep an eye on Astrid to make sure she didn’t do anything to irritate the Indians as they mounted their horses. The tall one spoke a few more English words to Astrid, pointed to the east, and then patted her head.

Only after they’d ridden away, leaving dust in their wake, did Greta’s knees buckle. She sagged against the doorframe and then slid to the ground. While the natives had been polite, the relief pouring through Greta weakened her.

Astrid sat next to her and leaned her head against Greta’s arm. Wheezing for breath, the child closed her eyes, her face pale and her chest rising and falling rapidly. Greta needed to carry her sister to bed and enforce rest time. But she was too weak herself to do anything but gather Astrid into her arms and kiss the top of her head.