“Do you never forget anything?”

“I don’t think so.  At least I try not to.”

“I would very much appreciate it if you’d forget that, all of it.”

“You mean the true parts or the not true parts?”

“You do realize that I’m an adult and you’re only twelve years old, don’t you?  I could take away all your privileges if you had any, which you don’t, so that argument won’t work.”  Charlotte thought for a moment.  “I could forbid you to ever speak to Joseph Beacham again.”

Ada laughed.

“But she’s not twelve,” Brewster said.

“You’re not?”

“I was twelve,” Ada said.

“Now she’s thirteen.”

“Thirteen?”  Charlotte was completely taken aback.  The child was so thin.  Then it occurred to her.  “Wait.  When was your birthday?”

Ada was blinking hard.  “Five days ago.”

“Five days?”  Good grief, did it never end?  “And I’ll bet Mrs. Bixby threw you the biggest party ever with presents and firecrackers and a huge cake that she made herself that had real birthday candles on it.”

“The cake was chocolate.  And she gave me new boots and a petticoat with lace on it and ribbons for my hair and my first ear drops and a flute.”

“A flute?” Brewster said.

“I was running out of things to make up.”

“What I would give for a chicken,” Charlotte said.

“That would be my real present?  A chicken?”

“No.  I’d need a chicken for the eggs to make the real birthday cake.  But I’ll think of something.”  And she knew she would.

<>

The next day, with Grace on her hip, Charlotte began to delegate.

“Ada and Jeremy, I need three eggs.  Can you please see if anyone in this whole godforsaken place has a chicken?”  She threw a pointed glance just as Ada opened her mouth to speak.  “And I don’t want to hear about swearing.  Brewster, I need you for a whole other mission.  The sutler’s store has steel-tipped pens and ink, but no paper.  Can you use your enterprising talents and find us paper to write on?  Meanwhile, Grace and I are going to conduct a search of our own.  We’ll meet back here and please make it less than an hour or I’ll get frantic just like Mrs. Bixby and think you’ve been kidnapped.  Only I truly will be frantic.”

Charlotte thought she would never get used to the clockwork schedule of the fort.  Just as she was about to start out, the bugle blew and the soldiers appeared running from every corner onto the parade ground in full uniform to perform their drills.  She stood still till they’d all gone around her, some now casting frank glances at the woman with butchered hair holding the blue-eyed child.  When it was safe and she trusted that she wouldn’t get knocked down, she moved on.