She didn’t have time to calculate Chace Yellow Cloud’s whereabouts.  The fire was going, but he wasn’t within its range.  It didn’t matter.  She ran into the bushes and heaved until there was nothing left to come up but bitterness.

He appeared at her side with a mason jar of water.  She held out her cupped hands.  He poured the water and she splashed it on her face.  “Drink,” he said, handing her the jar.  She filled her mouth, then turned away from him and spit on the ground.  She filled her mouth again and swallowed large gulps.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Come sit by the fire.”

She was shaky, but agreed.  At the back of the wagon, she reached in for a shawl to belatedly cover her lack of attire.

He’d built the flames back up.  She wrapped her arms around her knees and huddled into a ball.  She could feel the cold deep inside.  He watched her shiver, her teeth chattering, her face ghostly pale.  He gave her his blanket.  When she still shivered, he went to the wagon and brought back a second one to cover her with.

“Is he there?  Is that what it is?”

“I hear the gun go off.  I try to stop it but I can’t.”  She stared into the fire as the flames consumed a log and sparks shot up.  “I’m sorry.”

“For what?  For being alive?”

“No, not for that,” she said.  “For everything else.”

<>

She woke in the wagon at dawn and immediately the night’s events came rushing back to her.  Hastily, she changed into another camisole, buttoned up a high-collared shirt that had once been starched, went to brush her hair and remembered she had none, and thus subdued began her morning.

Chace was nowhere to be seen.  Would he bring trout for breakfast?  She didn’t care.  She set out the frying pan and made ham and eggs enough for two with biscuits on the side.  He came up from the creek dressed but dripping wet.

“You went swimming?”

“Hardly.  It’s not deep enough for that, but anyway I fell in.”

“You did?” She wanted to smile but wasn’t sure she should.

“Happens.  Those rocks are slippery.  But it felt good.  You should try it.”

“Falling in?”

“Falling in, getting in, just sitting there.”

Charlotte was instantly wary.

“I’d go somewhere else if you wanted to.”  She felt herself coloring and though embarrassed, acknowledged that it was at least far better than how she’d appeared in the night.

She was still wary.  There were no trout.  Cautiously, she held out a plate of ham and eggs.  He took it with no show of concern, sat down and ate without a word being said.  She handed him a biscuit.  He ate that too.  Maybe they had a truce.  Maybe screaming in the night was the answer.