“I can do that.  You’d be surprised.”

Charlotte was grateful for the silence, but also to have someone sitting next to her.  It occurred to her that, strange as it might be, she’d seen Ellis Gray as her one and only friend.  As the morning passed, the sun rose blistering hot, bearing down on the hard-packed dirt of the track, the whispering grass.  The land rolled by in shimmering waves broken only by the faint line of cottonwoods where a stream broke through.  The heat made Charlotte weary.  If she sat on this seat any longer, she was in danger of nodding off.  Without any preamble, she handed the reins over to Ada, whose expression was the very same one Charlotte had worn when Ellis Gray put responsibility for the front wagon on her shoulders and then abandoned her.

“Do you know how to hold them?”  Ada shook her head yes.  “Have you ever driven a wagon by yourself?”  Ada shook her head no.  Charlotte smiled.  Now she had a mute child, no smart remarks, no questions.

“I’m just going to walk for a bit.  So I don’t fall asleep and have another accident.  Like the one I had before,” she added.  “But I’ll be right here beside you.”  With that, she jumped down from the wagon while it was still moving, nimbly pulling her skirts out of the way at the last minute, leaving Ada in possible terror, but that was none of her concern.

Stretching her legs felt good.  Walking felt good.  Living with her father, she’d been busy every minute of the day, working in the fields, doing endless chores, galloping the mare across the hills.  She acknowledged that the current state of inactivity was dulling her mind, making her crazy.  How did these women, or even the women of the Family, manage such a journey?  How did they cope with the myriad demands made on their time by children, by husbands, all the never-ending challenges?  How did they deal with the fright, the anxiety?

Charlotte turned her face to the sun.  She would be tan as a berry soon.  Ada already was.  That was a hopeful thought.  The bruises would be camouflaged as well as faded.  Some day they would be gone completely, her cheekbone and jaw mended, the blood and explosions ceasing to visit her in the night.  Ellis Gray was right, though.  The hole inside would be there forever.

Lost in thought, Charlotte became aware of frantic arm-waving to her right.  She turned to see Ada pointing up ahead.

“Good grief.  You can talk if it’s something important.  And I know you were just proving a point anyway.  What is all that?”

Though the wagons kept moving, it seemed the entire contingent of women had gathered at the side of the road.  Charlotte raised a questioning eyebrow at Ada.

“Probably a grave.  Usually that’s what it is.”

“Rein in the horses.”