Ellis Gray almost forgot where he was, at the head of a wagon train, and stopped himself at the last minute from pulling on the reins.  “Now we’re back on what we talked about before,” he said.  “I asked if you were clear about Fort Randall and I thought you said yes.  Didn’t you?”

She was stunned.  He was angry.  “Why are you yelling?” she said.  “I guess I just don’t want somebody telling me what I have to do with my life.  Even if it is my father.”  And the Family.

“Goddammit,” he said.  He watched the horizon, scowling, and she saw the muscle twitching in his jaw.  “I thought I had this worked out and now I don’t have it worked out at all.  You and I have to sit down and get some things straight.  Not now.  Miller’s due to go out soon…”  As he spoke, Miller Dawson drew his horse up alongside the wagon and smiled, touching the brim of his cowhand hat.  Charlotte couldn’t help smiling back at him.  “….and I need to go with him.”

Charlotte stared at him, wide-eyed.  “What, you’re leaving me alone at the head of the wagon train?  They’ll kill me.”

“Get Ada up here with you.”

“She’s a child.  What good is she going to do?”

“Just stay steady on the track, it’s broad and clear here.  I trust you.  There’s only one way you can go.”

“When will you be back?” she said.  She was almost frantic now.  He was already down and on his horse.

“Before the noon break.”

“What about the wolves?”  What if they attacked?  Would they do that?  And he’d said none of the men were very good shots.

“The wolves aren’t the problem,” he said.  The next thing she knew, he was riding off in the distance, raising up a cloud of dust, with Miller Dawson at his side.

Charlotte couldn’t understand what had suddenly come between them.  What had she said that was wrong?  Why had he been shouting at her?

10

10

The next day brought with it the promise of heat.  Charlotte was alone once more at the back of the wagon train, but this time she felt banished.  She knew this was the fate of those who fell behind for whatever reason, and the reasons were legion, an illness, a birth, a lame horse, a broken axle, it could be anything.  When the wagon caught up again, it was unceremoniously consigned to the back.  Charlotte felt she occupied this position not because of any emergency but solely for who she was.  The misfits in front of her, someone’s various male relatives, had likely earned their place the same way, by being rowdy and stupid, or maybe just poor and unable to contribute anything.