“The other companies were appointing captains, and Mr. Joyner said that since ours was so distinguished, it needed a guide with a more distinguished title.”

“That’s . . .”

“I know!”

I shake my head. “We’d be lucky to make it to California if Mr. Joyner was in charge. He doesn’t know a rabbit from a raccoon.”

“He doesn’t need to know anything. Haven’t you read the papers, Lee?”

“Read what in the papers?”

His eyes twinkle. “It’s the easiest thing in the world to get to California—you just aim yourself west and start walking.”

Chapter Eighteen

The sun sets over the western horizon, and it’s like an omen, the way it lights up the plain in fiery gold. Major Craven makes a circuit of the camp. He’s a middle-aged man with a huge scar across his top lip that almost disappears in the brightness of his easy smile. He announces to all that our company is now complete and that we’ll be leaving on the morrow.

When Mrs. Joyner sees that her husband has hired me, her eyes widen and she draws in a little breath. I brace myself for her protestations, but they never come, not even when Mr. Joyner offers to let Jefferson and me sleep beneath their wagon bed. It’s the first time I don’t leave town and go off on my own to spend the night.

We flip out our bedrolls so that they’re almost-but-not-quite touching. I spent so much time looking for him that it’s a delight to lie down side by side, to face each other in the dark. I’m not the least bit tired. I want to stay awake all night talking, soaking up the fact that he’s finally here.

“So,” he says in a low whisper. “Tell me about this uncle of yours.”

He’s the easiest person in the world to talk to, and now that we’re alone in the dark I don’t hesitate. “Hiram. Daddy’s brother. He . . . Well, I ran into Free Jim here in Independence.”

“You don’t say! What was he doing?”

“He sold his store. Now he’s on his way to California. You know he was great friends with Daddy, right?”

“Sure. Always thought that’s why your daddy stopped going to church after the Methodists split.”