“It’s the Agency,” Ada said, “where the members of the tribes are supposed to live because they don’t have their land anymore.  And the missionaries are in charge because they’re supposed to be trustworthy and God-fearing and do the right thing.”

“But she didn’t like Indians,” Brewster said.  “They stole her crops and tracked dirt on her carpets so she didn’t let them in the house.”

“She almost didn’t let us in the house either.  She said wagon train children were filthy and ill-mannered.”

“And we all slept in one bed,” Jeremy said, his eyes wide.

“And some of us cried,” Brewster said, “and it kept people awake.”

“Some of us did,” Jeremy admitted.

Charlotte could barely contain herself.  “How long were you there?”

Ada smiled ruefully.  “Two days.  The second day some of the Indians, younger ones I think, tried to burn the house down.”

“Why?”

“Because of how she treated them.”

“Because if they got the house to burn down then maybe she’d go away and we’d go away and they could have their land back and live in peace.  After that, she was done with us.  It was almost like she blamed us for all the trouble.  So her husband got out our wagon that Miller had left for us and hitched up his horses to it and drove us straight to the fort and went away again that same night, never said goodbye or anything.  We told him we’d pray for him.”

“Actually we didn’t do that,” Brewster said.

“And he didn’t tell us he’d pray for us either.”

“That brings us to Mrs. Bixby,” Charlotte said.

“She doesn’t like us either.”

“She gave us candy,” Jeremy said.

“That was the first day.  But that didn’t happen again.  She didn’t know what to do with us at all.  She told us we weren’t allowed inside all day, and we weren’t allowed outside the fort.”

“That’s how we know about the drilling and the cavalry and everything,” Brewster said.

“That’s all we’ve done.  She’d come into our room after dinner to see that we’d eaten and were all still there and told us not to light the fire or any candles and then she was gone.  In the morning she’d come around to find out if we all lived through the night so she didn’t have to go report anything bad to Mrs. Hutchinson.”

“She shouts,” Brewster said.

“Well, not at us, she wasn’t ever around long enough.  She shouts at her husband, though.”

Charlotte blew out a long breath.

“I don’t think she likes him,” Brewster said, frowning.

“I don’t think she likes anybody,” Ada said.  “She has a servant and he drives her out in her carriage every day because she hates this place, but he’s not allowed to go anywhere near the Indians.”