He noticed when he looked back into the wagon that they’d made their luggage into tiny chairs and tables and the blankets he’d bought were now cushions. Their bonnets were tied to the top of the cover, but Number Three still wore her wool cap, as if it might snow at any moment.

As he lifted Number Five, she leaned close to him and patted his cheek. Trapper couldn’t help but smile.

When he looked around for the last girl, he couldn’t see her. Number Four, the chubby one, was missing.

Great! He wasn’t five miles out of town and he’d already lost one.

He looked around and saw her picking up rocks. “Four!” he yelled.

She paid no attention to him.

He walked toward her. “Four, it’s time to go.”

She looked up at him, and he saw panic in her eyes.

Trapper knelt to one knee, not wanting to frighten her. “Remember, honey, we’re playing a game. You’re Four.” He told himself to be stern, but he couldn’t. She had pretty, brown eyes and curls that bounced.

“I forgot. You want to see my rocks?” she whispered.

“Sure.”

Four showed him two rocks. “I love rocks. My teacher said they hold the history of the earth in them.”

“They are fine rocks,” he said as he offered his hand. “How about we head back to the wagon and you show the others?” Her fingers felt so tiny in his big hand. As he walked, he added, “Do you think you can remember your name is Four for the trip, and that we all have to try to stay together?”

She smiled. “I’ll try, Mr. Tapper.”

Trapper didn’t correct her. He never wanted to see panic in her chestnut eyes again.

After he lifted her in and climbed up on the seat, Trapper found Mrs. Adams sitting beside him. The widow might think he needed company, or maybe she felt she’d be needed as an interpreter.

They rode for a while, listening to the girls talk. Finally, as the afternoon dragged on, the conversations about school stopped.

Mrs. Adams touched his shoulder as she looked back. “They’re sleeping,” she whispered.

He nodded, still having no idea how to talk to the widow.

“They’re sweet little things, aren’t they?” she finally broke the silence.

“They are,” he managed to say, then asked, “You got family in Dallas?”

“No. I just have to start over and I thought Dallas would be as good a place as any.” She straightened. “I think that the war made widows and orphans of us all.”