“We should stay in one place now and then,” he said.  “This time just for the morning.”

“Why?”

“That’s one way to slow down.  As long as there’s food and water, we’ve got time.”

Charlotte was still not well.  “You won’t go off and leave me?”

“Understand that I’m always aware of what’s out there, but no, I won’t go off and leave you.”

It seemed odd, being alone in the middle of nowhere yet not actually being alone.   Chace sat on the other side of the clearing, still studying the Spencer.

“How can you know what it’s actually like if you haven’t shot it?”

“That’s better done somewhere else.”

“You mean not where we are?”

“Signaling your whereabouts is hardly ever a good idea.”

Something occurred to her.  “I never showed you where the ammunition was.  You should find what you need, keep it with you.”

He waited, then a realization dawned.

“You expect me to go in there?”  He nodded at the wagon.

“I keep trying to tell you, you need to know everything I know.  Samuel Duchesne requires that it be that way.  See if you find more things to use as weapons, just in case.”  In case of what, she didn’t know.

She considered that it wouldn’t be the nest of blankets, or the skirts and petticoats hanging on hooks, or the barrels and canisters of food.  But maybe the shovel, iron poles, saw, cooking utensils, her grandmother’s flatware in the dark polished box.  She watched him climb in at the back and make his way uncomfortably forward, the unfamiliar smell of spices, lamp oil and lilac soap hanging in the air around him.

The guns were stacked at the front.  Sitting in the narrow aisle, he ran his hand down the print on the wooden boxes next to them, found the ones he wanted, pulled them out and opened them.  The cartridges were packed in straw.  He reached over and a handful at a time stacked the rounds outside the front of the wagon then quickly climbed up on the seat and extricated himself.

“See?” she said.  “It wasn’t the seventh rung of hell or anything.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“I still have to find some better kind of mood and I know one thing that almost always helps.  The more horse brushing I can do, the better off I’ll be.  Would you be interested in contributing yours?”

“I wouldn’t count on him being willing.”

“We’ll see.”

With the wagon train, there’d barely been time.  Now there was so much time.  She started with one of the team horses, going slow, making it last, smiling when the horse nickered softly, smiling again when the trembling began.  The anxious unsettled feeling gradually left her, taking the fear with it.  Putting her mind to the horses let her thoughts rest, gave her some semblance of peace.