Did I sleep? Who knows, except that I was up early in the morning. Eugenie protested and tried to roll over and return to sleep, but I jerked her bedroll around until she had no alternative. The stare she gave me was not friendly.

I dressed quickly. I remember I left off my corset and put on a camisole with lace trim around the neck and a light blue ribbon running through the lace. Isn’t it strange what the mind recalls? I wore my brown riding habit, the one with jet buttons down the front, and pinned my watch over my heart. After a month of our Chinese cook’s best efforts, I had to hold my breath to button the skirt.

I pulled my hair into its usual knot, anchored with hairpins here and there, then set my riding hat on top just so, as I always did. As it turned out, it hardly could have mattered.

Our plans for an early start sprang a leak. That disgusting wrangler had lit out on his own during the night, taking with him several pack mules, some supplies, and two good rifles. When Muskrat Watkins interrogated the other wrangler, the man mumbled something about his colleague saying he’d had enough of prissy travelers and wanted to cast his lot with the army detachment we had come across earlier. He thought they paid better than Muskrat Watkins, which sent Muskrat into a profane tirade until Father told him to shut up. I had never heard Father speak that way before.

For myself, I couldn’t help but feel relief at seeing the last of the wrangler. I silently wished the army well.

We made a cold breakfast of leftover biscuits and canned peaches, then Phil went to help Muskrat and the other wrangler ready the remaining horses and pack mules. Our hardy frontiersman summoned the animals with less vulgarity than usual, which added to my unease. I wanted to be out of that clearing.

Tom helped me saddle Methuselah, who groaned like an old man and broke wind with every tug of the cinch. The lieutenant bent down and cupped his hands. Wasting not a moment, I let him toss me into the saddle. I hooked my leg over the lower pommel, straightened my skirts, nodded to the lieutenant and waited for the others.

As I had earlier, Eugenie was having trouble with the hooks and eyes on her riding skirt. She started toward me, needing help.

Every moment is still clear in my brain. I had just swung my leg out of that lower pommel to help her, when I heard more horses and looked up.

All carrying rifles, four Indians walked their horses into our clearing. One of the men propped the butt of his gun on his thigh while the others rested their weapons across their laps as they rode toward us.

Unnerved, I had the presence of mind to swing my leg back across the lower pommel as before. I froze as four pairs of eyes followed my movement. I heard a click as one horseman cocked his rifle. When Eugenie started to whimper, I nudged her with my boot and hissed at her to be quiet. She shuddered and clung to my stirrup in silence.