“Keep going.  Up through that wide cut and into the clearing.”  She nodded.  The last time she’d driven a wagon alone she was fifteen.  Fortunately, she remembered the experience in vivid detail.

Ellis mounted and rode up to her again when she reached the clearing.  “Stay here,” he said.  “A rider’ll come by, he might stop to talk but I doubt it.  That’s Miller Dawson, our pilot.  He’ll be moving on ahead to scout out a place to camp for the night.  We’ve got a herd of cattle, not much of them’ll make it to the end, but we need to accommodate them while they’re with us and that requires space.

“I’m going back to the other side to bring everybody across.  It’ll take some time.  As soon as they’ve regrouped, they’ll start off again.  Wait for me.”

Charlotte nodded.  She wasn’t actually hearing what he said anymore and he didn’t wait to find out if she understood.  Instead, he turned his horse back to the river.

She positioned the wagon farther off the track, turned to the side.  She didn’t want to be staring into each new face, especially if all of them were going to be full of disapproval.  That was something she hadn’t counted on.  She climbed down from the wagon seat and loosened the traces so the horses could graze.

She heard galloping hooves.  As she watched, Miller Dawson rode by without a glance in her direction.  Faintly in the distance came the sound of the wagon train, growing louder as it approached the river, the still air punctuated by whistles and shouts, creaking harnesses, the grinding of wood on wood as the caravan lumbered along.

She surveyed the scene from her hidden vantage point beside the wagon.  The horse and oxen teams drew to a halt.  Slowly the riverbank filled with men, hands on their hips, studying the crossing.  Ellis stood in front of them, talking.  When it seemed they all understood, the reins jangled, the whips cracked and the procession moved forward again, slowly down the bank into the river, following Ellis in his second journey across the current with the cattle streaming out behind them, eyes wide, bellowing.

Charlotte grew more nervous as they approached the near bank.  She climbed to the wagon seat and leaned back into the deep shade.  It seemed to take forever, but finally the first wagon jolted up the cut and went by, then another, then another, some accompanied by men walking alongside and dogs panting in the heat.  A few of the men turned in her direction but she sat far enough back to be unavailable for inspection.  At one point, a group of women walked by on the far side of the wagons.  She could see their sunbonnets and skirts but that was all.