“I don’t even know what to ask.  Doesn’t there have to be a….”

“Yes, of course there does.  This isn’t the Second Coming.  Oh my Lord, you didn’t just hear me say that.”

“So…” Ada said.

“So I can’t tell you anything.”

Ada was quiet.  “Will you go away?”

“Ada, it never occurred to me you’d think that.  No, I’m not going anywhere.  Nothing changes.  We stay exactly how we are.”  But then it did occur to her that she had just become the definition of a fallen woman, a perfect example for an impressionable if somewhat precociously cynical thirteen-year-old girl.

The old Ada returned.  “Do you even know how to have a baby?”

“No idea.  Do you know?”

“Of course I do.”

“Of course you do.”

Ada narrowed her eyes, this child with the naïve but pointed insights.  “When you left, where did you go?”

Charlotte put a finger to her lips.  “Shhh,” she said.

“What’s the use of questions if I can’t even ask them?”

“Questions won’t do any good at this point.  I’m just going to need your help with having this baby, that’s all.”

<>

“Well,” Lenore said.

Charlotte was sitting in the familiar chair, staring at the familiar plaques and photographs on the walls.

“Where does your husband go all the time?” Charlotte said.  Major Bixby was often the only one in charge though a tall, barking sergeant appeared to actually be running the fort.

“Out on expeditions.  This time it’s with a delegation from Washington City discussing solutions to the problems in the territories.  Along with a hunting trip where I’ve no doubt by now they’ve killed everything in sight.”

“Do you get lonely?”

“Actually I don’t.  Do you?”

Charlotte knew it was a serious question.  She realized she wasn’t here to chat.  This would be the enquiry she’d been dreading.  In her worst moments, she saw herself being summarily banished from the fort for conduct immoral and unbecoming of a woman with someone else’s children to raise.

“It’s hard to be lonely when there’s not ever a moment that you’re even alone,” she said.  “But that’s not what you’re asking.”

“No.”

Charlotte raised her chin.  “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said.

“What did you do?”

This would be the only moment, the only time that she would give in.  The stakes were too high to do anything else.

“I came to care for someone.  Enough for it to be permanent.  Forever.”

“Yet you seem to be very much on your own.”

“And I’ll continue to be.  I don’t see that changing.”

“If it did change, how would that affect the children?  You understand where my responsibility lies.  We’ve talked about this.”