As dusk fell, there was shouting, a heated argument, then later laughter and a violin started up. On the Second Migration, she’d been in the middle of that laughter, the favored child. Now she had no complaints about being on the outside, the farther away the better, wishing she couldn’t hear them at all.
The first stars appeared. Night faded from blue to black and the heavens opened up. The small fire was company and she kept it going. She acknowledged that she felt in some odd way more lonely here among people than she had out in the emptiness with only the mourning doves. She missed Samuel with a burning pain so deep it frightened her. She forgot to tell Ellis Gray that she also cried at night, even if it was into a velvet coat that muffled the sound, but no one should pay it any mind.
Then he was back, carrying his saddle and bedroll.
“You’re still up.”
“I had four days to sleep. Did your meeting go well?”
“No, but it never does.”
“Was any of it about me?” She couldn’t help asking.
“Some, not much. They more had on their minds why we had a whole herd of cattle with us that only belonged to one family and was that family paying their fair share of the traveling for everyone having to put up with the cattle. This particular discussion dates exactly from the day we started out. There’s a bigger headache though. The hothead has heard tales of a cutoff that takes weeks from the journey and he believes we should start thinking about that cutoff.”
“And there isn’t one?”
“No there is, just not a safe one. But I’ve done this trip enough times to know that there’s always someone willing to try it out and those who are dumb enough to follow. Doesn’t end well, ever.” He eased down beside his saddle. He seemed weary. The violin was still playing.
Two coyotes howled back and forth across an echoing distance, giving her the chills. Another tent went up nearby, but quietly. A small boy’s voice could be heard. Ellis had hand rolled a cigarette and the coal end of it glowed, the tobacco scent pungent in the still air. Charlotte wrapped her arms around her knees.
“My father says tobacco will kill you,” she said.
“Maybe that’s true,” he said. “I’ll keep hoping.”
Who was this man?
“We’ll be up early,” he said. “The sentinel’s rifle goes off while it’s still dark.”
She was up and brushing off her skirts, ready to lie down on her soft bed of books. “I’m fine with that,” she said.
“I imagine you are.”
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