Done with those musings, Charlotte turned her attention to food. Baking seemed to provide her only relationship with the thankfully closed world of the wagon train. The trouble was the lack of a kitchen. A tin oven could only produce so many goods. Not to mention a finite amount of supplies. The country they were riding through hadn’t turned dry yet, but there was no hint of tangled brush in this monochrome landscape, no possibility of wild berries to be foraged, which she was longing for.
She was contemplating ginger cake when she noticed Ada not running but flying in her direction down the long line of the wagons. Ada might be a child, and exasperating, but this time, she definitely had something urgent on her mind.
“Good Lord, what is it?” Charlotte said.
Ada was hanging onto the side of the wagon, panting. “Indians.”
Charlotte froze. “Where?”
“They’re gone now, but they were way up front on the ridge.”
“How many?”
“Eleven, on horses.”
“What did they look like?”
“They looked…” Ada searched for the right word. “…sad.”
“Sad? How odd. What made you say that?”
Ada considered this for a moment. “Some of them were old.”
“Did they have war paint and rifles and lances?”
“No war paint or lances. They wore blankets.”
Charlotte frowned. None of that made any sense. “Is everyone frightened?”
“They are. This is our first time and bad things can happen. You don’t know.”
Charlotte stared at the girl. “And you do?”
Ada shivered. “I listen when I shouldn’t. But there’s something else.”
“I’m afraid for you to say.”
“Captain Gray rode out to talk to them.”
Charlotte closed her eyes. She felt as if a ball of lead had just been dropped into the pit of her stomach. “And what then?”
“They all went over the ridge together. But he’s coming back. He told me to tell you that.”
“I appreciate your letting me know.”
“I wish you’d seen them.”
“If I had,” Charlotte said, “I’d likely have fainted dead away.”
<>
As the wagons moved forward again, the paralysis gripping the company became palpable. Charlotte understood their fears. When a journey was perilous enough to begin with, every obstacle loomed large as the final threat. Would they still get to Oregon Territory or was their awful end to come at the hands of a hundred members of the tribes waiting behind those few? Would Ellis Gray, their captain, return or might he not? Did he mean to protect them at all costs, or, she could see the hothead suggesting, was he somehow linked with the Indians, he’d had that wife after all, and plotting against them?