But for the rest, Charlotte was completely unnerved.  She felt certain in every way that her visitor was long gone, headed off in some distant direction, back to whatever life he led.  Still, eyes crept up and down her back, followed her hands at the fire, the water she washed her face with, the boots she took off, the blankets she wrapped herself in when evening fell.  It was strange.  On one hand, she had the sensation of being watched at every moment.  On the other hand, she’d never felt more alone.  She chose to believe him, that there weren’t wolves or marauders nearby.  She unwrapped the blankets, dragged the saddle out from under the elm tree, lay down again out in the open and spent a good part of the night watching the stars revolve across the heavens.  When at last she slept, her dreams were shattered by blood, pain, the shotgun going off and she woke up screaming.  It occurred to her that maybe she was in fact in mourning, not ever for Conner Mathis but for herself, the person she had been and could never be again.

Charlotte served up more bacon and corncakes for breakfast.  Already the repetition of this meal was making her weary, though gruel had been a staple at one point in their lives and corncakes were a major improvement over gruel.  She rearranged the interior of the wagon again.  On the Second Migration, the wagons were filled to the top and the Family slept at night in tents.  She could see Samuel going back over all the details of that other journey, trying to remember.  But now, without furniture or a cookstove to contend with, she had the luxury of constructing a bed inside.  She placed an extra wagon board across the crates of books and piled on all her blankets and quilts.  Though of no use now when she was required to be her own sentry, she could foresee a time when she’d be glad to have it.

The day passed slowly.  She hauled jugs of water from the river.  Another cloud of swallows dipped and swirled over the river’s surface in military precision, veering quickly left and right.  She brushed the horses till they nickered softly and shivered with pleasure.  That plus the oats and grass to roll in meant that if they believed in heaven, this was it.  A mourning dove called over and over again from the woods.  The grasses gave rise to flocks of noisy sparrows and all at once an invasion of brilliant blue dragonflies.