Midway through a glacially slow afternoon, Charlotte received another guest.  Ada stood in the dust beside the track.  If Charlotte could believe her eyes, the purpose of the girl’s flailing upraised arms was to flag her down.  Oh, no you don’t.  She kept going.  Ada walked alongside.

“Let me up,” the child said.

“Why on earth would I do that?”

“Because I never get to ride.”

“You have parents.  Go talk to them about your problems.”

“You have to stop,” Ada said.  “I can’t climb up when the wheel’s moving.”

“I’m not stopping because I don’t want you to climb up.”

“If you don’t stop, I’ll get in at the back.”

“That’s something you are not going to do.”

“I would, though.”

Charlotte had had enough.  She reined in the horses.  Before she could tell the girl a thing or two, Ada was up and seated beside her.

“I’m happy now,” she said.

“Guess what,” Charlotte said.  “I’m not.”  But she slapped the reins anyway and started the wagon in motion again.  The last thing she wanted was to be surrounded by cattle.

“I never get to be alone,” Ada said.

Now there was going to be conversation.  “Of course not.  You’ve got so many people in that family they’re tripping over each other.  That’s just your life.  Get used to it.”

“How many people are in your family?”

“None.”

“You’re an orphan?”

Charlotte closed her eyes.  This was going to be a long ride.  “I’m not an orphan.  I have a father.  It’s me and him.”  And all those other people, that whole embracing, constricting, demanding, unnerving group that I live with.  Lived with.  “But I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Then what do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t want to talk about anything, especially with a twelve-year-old.”

“How did you know how old I am?”

“Because I was twelve once.”

“And were you a problem?”

Charlotte’s eyebrows went up.  “Is that what people say about you?”

“Yes, even though I work really hard.”

“Being the oldest isn’t easy.”  So many things weren’t easy.

Charlotte could feel the girl staring at her.  Then there were gentle fingers on her face.  Why were people suddenly touching her?

“Stop that,” she said and took the girl’s hand away.

“How did you get like that?”  Charlotte was half tempted to tell her, as a warning, but just in time Ellis Gray’s stern words came back to her.

“I got trampled by wild horses,” she said, “and my cheek got broken and there was so much blood in my hair that they had to cut it off and they sewed a hundred stitches into my scalp and…”

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine,” Ada said, “but don’t treat me like a child.”