He didn’t dally over the food, though, and didn’t join the other muleteers in jawing. She quickly realized he wanted to be back on the road as fast as possible, and practically swallowed her last half-jam-sandwich whole so they could.

Only when they were on the way again did he look at her sheepishly out of the corner of his eye and say, “I’m plumb sorry I rushed y’all. But I don’ trust them other rascals ’round a young leddy. Not—” he added hastily, “—thet they would’a hurt y’all. But they talk ugly. Things y’all ain’t niver oughter hear.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but he didn’t seem to expect a response. She supposed he meant there would be a lot of swearing, and taking the Lord’s name in vain. Pastor had a lot to say about that in his sermons, but that didn’t seem to stop any of the miners from using whatever language they pleased any other day of the week.

Ever since they’d gotten into the deep woods, she’d been almost-seeing things again, but Caleb Strong did not seem to see a thing, even when he was looking in the same direction she was, so finally she came to the conclusion that she wasn’t seeing things, at all. She was seeing things she didn’t recognize, that was all. She didn’t actually know what a lot of birds and animals other children had told her about looked like, and there were sure to be many more in the woods that they didn’t know. And her mind was seeing bits of things and her imagination did the rest. I can ’magine a lot, she acknowledged, a little ruefully. After all, she could conjure up the entire Court of Solomon when she was minded to! When absolutely nothing came of all these vague glimpses, she started to relax and ignore them. They weren’t hurting her, after all.

Caleb continued to regale her with proud stories about his wife and children, and it was clear he was a very fond husband and father. If she was to believe him, no one made better jelly, pie, and pickles than his wife did. No one fried a better hoe-cake. His boy was the best muleteer on the Ducktown-to-Cleveland road, bar himself—and actually, she believed this one, if only because he surely had trained his boy to take as good a care for the mules as he did. His eldest daughter—who was Anna’s age—was as pretty as a flower and could sing like a bird, and picked up songs on a single hearing. The rest of his children were similarly talented.

Wisht Ma and Pa’d talk ’bout me thet way.

When praise of his family ran out, he told her odd stories about his mules, and how he chose them, and all about what excellent creatures they were. According to him—and she had no reason to doubt him—a mule was superior to a horse in every way except speed. “An’ iffen y’all kin give a mule a good reason he can unnerstan’ why he should run, he’ll outrun a hoss ever’ time!” He grinned, but with a hint of chagrin. “Trouble is, I ain’t niver been able t’ figger out how to give one a good reason he can unnerstan’!”