Everything comes out in a rush. “She ought to have delivered that baby by now. She’s long past due, but she won’t ask for help. Mrs. Robichaud can’t go to her because of the twins’ measles. Mrs. Hoffman is already overburdened with her six children. Six births, can you imagine! And Reverend Lowrey . . . Well, the reverend puts all his faith in God, as he should. He’s a good man and a loving husband, and I’m sure he just wants to protect his wife, and I’d go myself, but you see . . .” She leans forward and whispers, “They’re Presbyterians. It doesn’t foster casual relations, you understand? I asked them to dinner, but the reverend . . . Anyway, I’d like to do what I can to help her.”

This is the kind of conversation you have with another woman. I can’t help glancing down at my chest to make sure Mama’s shawl is in place beneath my shirt. It’s been harder and harder to tuck in every day; the material is ragged and stained now, the edges unraveling. But everything seems to be secure. “I . . . What do you want me to do?”

Mrs. Joyner’s hand goes to her own belly, a gesture I’m not sure she’s aware of. “Just make an excuse to stop by her wagon, like you did before. I have to stay and help Mr. Joyner—he wears himself out so quickly. Find out how she’s doing, perhaps? Maybe if the Lowreys ask for help . . .” Her quivering voice trails off.

I haven’t seen her so frightened and white-faced since we shot through the Suck on the flatboat, and I’m not sure why Mrs. Lowrey’s situation has her in such a state. “I’m glad to do it,” I say, even though it’s something a boy would probably never agree to.

“Hey, Lee!” Jefferson rides over on the sorrel mare. “Do you still have Mr. Joyner’s rifle? A few of the men are heading out to hunt some buffalo. The ones we downed here are all trampled and useless.”

“What about the wagons?”

“A few of them need repairs. They’ll take all day.”

I look to Mrs. Joyner. “I could bring you that meat you wanted.”

“Go on,” she says. “You can do that other favor when you get back.”

We ride out with a group of Missouri men, following a huge swath of mud and dirt that cuts through the prairie like a river. There’s some discussion about which band of Indians visited us, with the men generally settling on Omaha. Who ought to be removed, they say, so white men can settle the Nebraska territory.