“Have you been outside at all today?  Try and find a cloud.”

“I’ll go, then.  And you know I don’t mind.”

“I do know.”  Ada still chafed at the questions that went unanswered, but she forgave easily and was glad for all the other questions that did have answers.  Charlotte meant for Ada to grow up far less innocent of the truths of life than Miller was.

Charlotte worked her way into her velvet coat, which no longer had a prayer of buttoning down the front, and wrapped a large shawl around her.  Ada, without even being conscious of it anymore, pulled on her mother’s coat and the knitted scarf with the military insignia that Joseph Beacham had embarrassingly presented to her, completely oblivious as to its origin.

“On the way back we should see if there’re more winter squash ready,” Charlotte said.

“They’re so heavy now.”

“We’ll only take two each.  I want to experiment with some savories.”

They went across the hard-packed parade ground and out through the gates, nodding to the guard on duty as they passed by.  Outside, they stopped to take in the broad plain, the rough worn track, the forest beyond, the meadow reaching down to the river, the huge sky.  The smell of wood smoke hung in the air.

It was Ada who realized it first.

“Charlotte,” she said, and put a hand on Charlotte’s arm.

There it was in the distance, the big gray.  The horse and its rider kept coming and Charlotte couldn’t move.  She felt as if Ada’s hand was the only thing holding her up.

“Should we go back inside?” Ada said.

The rider was shrouded in a blanket as the old ones had been, though his midnight black hair and the silver at his ears were clearly visible.  There was no sign of the rifle or the bow.  Behind him, he led a mule carrying an antelope and a pile of small game that Charlotte knew a swift arrow had brought down.

“Ada,” Charlotte said slowly.  She couldn’t take her eyes from the gray.  “This is him.”

“Who?  What do you mean?  He’s…”

“I know.  I know everything, all of it.”

“Oh my God.”

Charlotte took a fraction of a second to acknowledge that Ada sounded just like her.  What had she done to this child?  The gray was still advancing, but more slowly now.  “Stay here for just one minute.  I’ll be back.  I promise.”

As Ada watched, Charlotte began to walk forward.  The gray stopped.  Chace took off the blanket and let it fall behind him.  Once their eyes met, his never left hers.  He swung his leg over the front of the saddle and slid off the horse.