A boy stood up, near his teens, hopelessly lost, probably wondering how he’d ended up here in this vast uncharted land, dragged through the mud and dust as unpaid labor on someone else’s dream.  Maybe, Charlotte thought, she could change his luck.

“I have some errands that need to be run immediately.”

“What are they?”  He eyed her uncertainly, all at once remembering what he’d heard about her.

“It’s simple,” she said, ignoring his hesitation.  “But it pays good if you manage to do it right.  If not...” she said, and willfully left the consequences unspoken.

“I’ll try,” he said, more afraid than he had been.

“You’ll see.  What’s your name?”

“Edward.”

“Edward what?”

“Edward Fenton.”

“Okay, Edward, here’s what it is.  Now let me say first that being discreet is part of this.  Do you even know what that means?”

Edward Fenton rose to his full height.  His hair was still sticking straight up.  He was the one she’d seen before.  “I went to school.  It means careful.”

No one was what they seemed.

“Go to the wagon with the five children and it has to be quick.  Find the one called Ada, the girl with the wild hair, and on any pretense you can think of bring her back here with her brother, his name’s Brewster.  It’ll only be for a minute.”  Edward blinked hard, concentrating.  “Because, Edward, after that minute I’ll be gone, and it’ll be very sad for you and her if you didn’t find her.”  As an afterthought, she added, “Tell them Ellis Gray needs them.”  They’d never be allowed to come if it was for her.

Edward nodded fearfully.  “And as fast as you can after that, with this being a far more difficult proposition, go to the wagon where the baby was just born.  The mother’s name is Fiona, do you know her?”

Edward nodded.  Likely he was her younger brother or her nephew or her second cousin by marriage, they all appeared to be related somehow or other.

“And however you can manage it, bring her here to me.  Need I say, avoid the husband?”

Edward shook his head no, meaning she needn’t say it, and was off at a run.

Charlotte hated feeling like a dictator, scaring the boy out of his wits, but she’d been true in her words, there was only so much time.

Ada came first, hurrying again as if it was Indians, Brewster staggering along sleepily behind her.  Charlotte’s heart broke, aware that this would be the last she ever saw of this child.  Confusion was written all over Ada’s face.

“What’s happening?” she said, breathless.  “They said you’re going away.”

“Funny.  How is what they say always right?”

“Does it have to do with the Indians?”