“Sit down,” Charlotte said and handed him a plate.  She tried to calm herself.  “Ada never left me alone for one minute of the days I was with the wagon train.  Every time I turned around, there she was.  When I made bread, there were the rest of them.  The smallest one couldn’t have been more than three.  I didn’t even remember there was a baby.  Even though she was only twelve, Ada was like me, we saw eye to eye on things.  The next oldest, her brother Brewster, helped me when I needed it.  I can’t believe this.

“Chace, I have to go to them, there’s no doubt involved.  Miller wouldn’t have done that if they had any other choice.  And I have to get there soon.  Otherwise, I’ll be frantic.”

“It’s a question of how long the horses can go without stopping,” he said.  “Or you can take the mare.”

“You mean go on by myself without you?  Never.”  She considered something for a moment.  “But trying to burn down the house?”

“I might have burned something down myself if I could have found a way.”

“Daylight and darkness,” she said.

“And all the other opposites you can think of,” he said.  But one has no meaning without the other.

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She insisted they ride on the wagon together.  There was no need for scouting out the next creek or tracing the paths of dragonflies.  They were headed in one direction, the destination given, the outcome not in doubt.

At the noon hour, when the horses had to rest, Chace brought back two sage hens.

“Should I save them for dinner?” she said.

“I don’t think so.  Better now.”  She could hardly stand what he was saying.

They each took one to make the fixing time faster.  She roasted them over the fire.  When the plates were cleaned, with the last of the journey awaiting them, she stood up and her hands went to the collar of her shirt.  He watched her, then undid the blanket roll from his saddle.

It was quick and fierce between them, tender and wrenching.  She felt as if they were devouring each other, that no amount of what they were together would ever be enough.  And then it had to be enough, the tears, the kisses, the thought-obliterating cliff edge one more time would have to be enough, would have to last forever.

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They came within sight of the fort as the sun began to cast shadows.  Chace handed her the reins and got down from the wagon.  He untied his gray horse from the back and swung up into the saddle.  He’d put the Spencer back in the wagon but had kept the Colt if for no other reason than to remember her by.  He rode up to the side of the wagon.

“I’ll stay here till you get inside,” he said.