“Is that because it’s none and you don’t think that’s a good answer or it’s some and you don’t think that’s a good answer?”

He spoke way too much English actually and Charlotte was tired of the whole thing.  “Are you going to shoot me or not?”

“I’m not interested in shooting anyone.”

She sighed.  “Then I’m putting down this gun.  It’s too heavy and it makes my arms ache.”  She was fairly sure he was going to kill her one horrible way or another when he got around to it and she would die where her father had left her.  She hoped someone from the wagon train would at least take the time to bury her and care for the horses.  On further consideration, she realized he would take the horses.  That would be what made this whole encounter worth his while.  He still hadn’t moved.

“What happened to you?” he said.

Charlotte’s hand went to her face.  The one thing she’d avoided in the wagon was the hand mirror.  Not being constantly reminded, she’d managed to forget for a fraction of a second what she looked like, the hair chopped off like a dog’s, the black eye and purple cheek, the swollen jaw.  Then the fierce determination of that night rose in her again.  She knew it showed in her eyes.  It didn’t matter who he was or what he thought.  He’d asked the question, he’d get the answer.

“I won.”

“And someone lost.”  She nodded.  “A man?”  She nodded again.  “So is it that you’re alive and he’s not?”

“Yes.”

“But if you’d lost, he’d be alive and you wouldn’t.”

She stared at him.  “Not everyone has understood that.  In fact, no one.”

“Are you in mourning?”

She frowned, puzzled.  “No.  Is that what this looks like?  Mourning?”

“For my people, yes.  In grief, they cut off their hair.”

“That part was punishment.  For disobeying my husband.”

“Your husband’s the one you killed?”

“Yes, and for that I was going to be hanged.”

“I see,” he said.  She couldn’t imagine what it was he thought he saw.  “But one more thing I don’t understand.  I’ve watched you all morning and you’re sitting, you’re not traveling.”

Oh, God, what had she been doing this morning?  She didn’t even want to think.  She started to mention how rude that was, but stopped herself.  Under the circumstances, such an observation seemed ridiculous.

“I’m supposed to stay here until the wagon train comes.”

“What wagon train?”

“The one belonging to Ellis Gray.”  He seemed unsettled by that information, which was even more confusing.

“Why?”

“It’s long and complicated.”  What could he possibly care?

“No, I mean it,” he said.  “Why?”