As they walked back to their wagon, Trapper wished he could have some time alone with Emery, but that wasn’t happening. She climbed up in the wagon and helped the girls settle down to sleep. It had been a long day and they were all tired.

Trapper found enough dry wood to build a fire. With the low-hanging fog, no one would notice the smoke so he felt safe tonight, but he couldn’t sleep. The vision of Emery standing in the rain was now carved on the back wall of his brain.

At dawn he was grumpy, but the girls didn’t notice. The sun was out and the storm seemed forgotten. Emery wanted to spend the morning washing clothes in the creek and cooking up a few meals. “The girls need a bath,” she said. “We can’t go into town looking this way.”

Trapper thought they looked fine. All the girls except Emery looked like they’d been rolling in the mud, but that wasn’t unusual to see in little farming towns. He decided to saddle Midnight and ride ahead to make sure there were no problems around the bend. By noon he backtracked to make sure they were not being followed.

All was clear.

When he returned, Emery had fish cooking along with a pot of beans. The Millers came to supper and added cobbler to the meal. They talked of living near Dallas.

Trapper saw the widow yawning a few times and wondered if she’d had as much trouble sleeping as he had. She was in the wagon by the time he waved goodbye to the Millers, so he had no chance of a good-night kiss on the cheek.

At dawn the next morning, the girls helped him pull the wagon out of the trees and they were once again headed west. The Millers said they’d wait another day, but Trapper feared he’d lost too much time already. His goal was to get the girls home by Christmas, but he feared if more bad weather hit, he might not make it.

Once they were rolling, the girls were singing in the wagon and Emery was sitting beside him, so he thought he’d try to talk to her. “The girls look good with their hair in braids.”

She smiled. “All but Eliza.”

“Eliza. Who is Eliza?” Trapper asked.

The little widow smiled. “Trapper, you do know they have names.”

“Of course, but I had it worked out with numbers. Once I hear or see something it sticks in my head.”

“I’m aware.”

When he glanced at her Trapper wasn’t surprised to see her blushing.

He had a feeling one thing was on both their minds.

She tried to get back to their conversation. “Eliza is Number Three. The one who always wears a cap.” She leaned close and whispered, “You want to know why?”