Charlotte dozed in the sun, walked in circles, sang every song she knew, tried to read a book and failed.  Her restless attention wouldn’t keep to the printed words on the page.  Alarmed by the dozing, she vowed to stay more alert, on guard against who knew what.  If a person of the tribes could show up out of nowhere, then anything could happen, and might at any minute.

Sundown came.  She’d brushed the horses again simply for something to do and was afraid they’d feel so pampered they’d never be willing to work again.  She replaced the corncakes with beans and was glad for the change.  Cooked over a banked down fire with bacon grease and peppers, the beans provided if nothing else a meaningful way to pass the time.  And they were delicious if she did say so herself.

The pattern of the stars had inched forward across the sky.  The sliver of moon set, leaving darkness.  Charlotte lay in her blankets, the velvet coat against her cheek.  Either bats or nighthawks flitted overhead, she couldn’t tell which.  When she woke screaming, a large bird obviously disturbed from its rest flapped out of the highest branches of the elm tree.  As the faintest light crept across the sky, she fell gratefully into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Surely, Charlotte thought on waking, this would be the day.  She made herself breakfast and sat staring into the fire.  No use trying to form a vision of the future, she would just have to let events occur as they would.  She only hoped she had the courage to face whatever they might prove to be.  Finally, she stood up, turned in a watchful circle, eyes narrowed, and decided that she would take a chance on truly being alone and wash herself in the cold buckets of river water.

The sun rose.  The day progressed.  Anxious, she scanned the eastern horizon for movement, a shimmer in the heat, a telltale cloud of dust.  The track remained empty for as far as she could see.  She got out her sketchpad and drew the wagon, the elm, the horses, the aspens down by the river, the wildflowers, the sparrows, a dragonfly.  At noon she shaded her eyes and peered into the distance for the hundredth time.  Nothing.  She picked long strands of grass and wove them into necklaces, braided tiny wildflowers into bracelets, then threw all of it away.