Charlotte was daydreaming, entirely alone in the world, when he appeared out of nowhere with a bloody haunch tossed over the back of his horse.

“What is that?” she said.

“Deer.  Part of one anyway.”

“Where’s the rest?”

“I left it out there.  It’d attract coyotes at the least, or bear, nothing anybody wants.”  Bear, something that hadn’t even occurred to her.

“Dinner,” she said.

“But if you want to dump it on the ground that’s fine too.”

“Those are my words.”

“I know.”

Charlotte cut out steaks to fry.  As the sun retreated a coolness rose up from the ground and the air smelled clean and fresh.  With the meal ended, she set about cutting out more steaks and chopping up the rest for stew.  If farmers and tradesmen didn’t always make the best hunters apparently a member of the tribes did.

Chace occupied himself with the Spencer, examining its intricacies, clicking open the magazine, the chambers, testing its action again and again.

“Did Ellis give you the money?” Charlotte said into the quiet.

“I didn’t want it.”

Charlotte took a moment to let this sink in.  “Why not?”

“It has no meaning to me.”

“Not that it’s important or anything, but if that’s true why on earth are you here?”

“It’s what my grandfather wanted.  But also, if I’m here with you, I don’t have to be in Washington City.”

“And if I’m here with you, I don’t have to be in Fort Randall.”  She suddenly saw the interesting benefits to be had by both parties.

“I’ve never been to Washington,” she said.  “To some wouldn’t it be a privilege?”

“Maybe for your people.  The old ones are from another world.  They don’t understand anything that goes on there.  They can talk for hours and walk all around it, but not actually state one clear thing that speaks to the point they wanted with all their heart to make.  The earth is our mother, this is true, but after a hundred repetitions the words become meaningless and the white people, accustomed to lawyers and arguments sharpened like knives, don’t even listen anymore, let alone care.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s because there isn’t anything left for anyone to say.”

16

Deep in the black of night, Charlotte woke to the sound of screaming and realized this time it was her own.  She’d taken off her narrowly buttoned shirt before retiring and now her camisole was drenched in sweat.  Her heart pounded and her breath came as hard as if she’d run straight up a very steep hill with demons pursuing her.  She put her hands to her face, gulping for air.  Then she had to get out of the wagon as quickly as possible.