“Yes,” Five answered. “If one goes, we all do. I think it’s a rule written down somewhere.”
Mrs. Adams took over. “We’ll all have to make a circle, Mr. Trapper. It’s a lady’s way.”
“Oh,” he said, pulling up the horses though he didn’t understand at all.
The girls nodded as he helped each one out of the wagon.
They walked over near a stand of trees and formed a circle, with Number Four in the center. Then they did the strangest thing. They turned their backs to her, held out their skirts, and waited.
One by one, each took her turn in the center, then laughed as they all ran back to the wagon. He climbed down and helped each one up, counting as he loaded.
He noticed when he looked back into the wagon that they’d made their luggage into tiny chairs and tables and the blankets he’d bought were now cushions. Their bonnets were tied to the top of the cover, but Number Three still wore her wool cap, as if it might snow at any moment.
As he lifted Number Five, she leaned close to him and patted his cheek. Trapper couldn’t help but smile.
When he looked around for the last girl, he couldn’t see her. Number Four, the chubby one, was missing.
Great! He wasn’t five miles out of town and he’d already lost one.
He looked around and saw her picking up rocks. “Four!” he yelled.
She paid no attention to him.
He walked toward her. “Four, it’s time to go.”
She looked up at him, and he saw panic in her eyes.
Trapper knelt to one knee, not wanting to frighten her. “Remember, honey, we’re playing a game. You’re Four.” He told himself to be stern, but he couldn’t. She had pretty, brown eyes and curls that bounced.
“I forgot. You want to see my rocks?” she whispered.
“Sure.”
Four showed him two rocks. “I love rocks. My teacher said they hold the history of the earth in them.”
“They are fine rocks,” he said as he offered his hand. “How about we head back to the wagon and you show the others?” Her fingers felt so tiny in his big hand. As he walked, he added, “Do you think you can remember your name is Four for the trip, and that we all have to try to stay together?”
She smiled. “I’ll try, Mr. Tapper.”
Trapper didn’t correct her. He never wanted to see panic in her chestnut eyes again.
After he lifted her in and climbed up on the seat, Trapper found Mrs. Adams sitting beside him. The widow might think he needed company, or maybe she felt she’d been needed as an interpreter.
They rode for a while, listening to the girls talk. Finally, as the afternoon dragged on, the conversations about school stopped.
Mrs. Adams touched his shoulder as she looked back. “They’re sleeping,” she whispered.
He nodded, still having no idea how to talk to the widow.
“They’re sweet little things, aren’t they?” she finally broke the silence.
“They are,” he managed to say, then asked, “You got family in Dallas?”
“No. I just have to start over and I thought Dallas would be as good a place as any.” She straightened. “I think that the war made widows and orphans of us all.”
They rode along without talking after that. He didn’t want to tell her all he’d lost and he guessed she felt the same. Now and then he did glance at her hands. Her fingers were tightly laced on her lap. Nothing about her seemed relaxed. The band of gold on her left hand reminded him of what she had lost. A husband. The safety of a home, maybe. Any chance of having children.
At sunset they camped by a little stream. The day was warm for December. The girls took off their jackets and ran around, playing a game of tag. Trapper dropped a few fishing poles in the water, hoping to get lucky. Number Two, the shyest one of the girls, said she’d watch them.