but I had it worked out with numbers. Once I hear or see something it sticks in my head.”
“I’m aware.”
When he glanced at her Trapper wasn’t surprised to see her blushing.
He had a feeling one thing was on both their minds.
She tried to get back to their conversation. “Eliza is Number Three. The one who always wears a cap.” She leaned close and whispered, “You want to know why?”
“Sure.” He breathed in the scent of Emery. She smelled so good and he still smelled of trail dust and mud.
“She cut off her hair because she didn’t want to go home. I tried to trim it, but I’m afraid she’ll look more like a boy than a girl for a while if she takes off the hat.”
“Why didn’t she want to go home?”
“She says no one sees her there.”
Trapper had no idea what Emery meant. Not being seen had kept him alive during the war. He felt like he’d gone half his life trying to be invisible.
When they stopped to make their circle, Trapper pulled farther off the trail than usual. Traffic was picking up. He’d seen two wagons coming from the trading post and a man on horseback rode past about an hour ago.
As the girls wore off a bit of energy and the horses rested, he rode to where he could see the road. Number Two wanted to follow along. She lifted her hand, so he pulled her up behind him.
She had done it before, but he’d barely noticed. One of the girls was usually walking close to him or sitting with him when he watched the road or collected wood. It occurred to him that maybe they were watching him or acting as his bodyguard. Who knows, maybe they were his tiny little angels.
When he knelt behind tall grass, Number Two did the same thing.
He hadn’t waited long when four men, riding fast, came down the road. They weren’t farmers. They didn’t carry supplies on their saddles. Trapper touched his lips silently, telling Two not to make a sound.
Trapper had spent years learning to read people. These men were looking for trouble. Maybe running from someone, or riding toward something they wanted bad enough to exhaust their horses to get.
Who knows, maybe the men were even looking for him. Or worse, the girls. That knowledge felt like ice sliding down his back.
When the riders were out of sight, he swung Number Two onto Midnight and put his hat on her head. The big hat shadowed her face. “I’ll stay here and watch to make sure they don’t come back.” He put his hand over hers. “You tell Mrs. Adams where I am, then tie Midnight’s reins loosely to the saddle. She’ll come back to me.”
Two looked frightened.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you, baby.”
“Two,” she said straightening. “We like our code names and none of us are babies, not even Five.” Then she was off smiling. She was on a mission.
Ten minutes later Number One showed up atop Midnight. She was carrying two rifles.
“Mrs. Adams said you might need these and me.”
He took the weapons. “Can you shoot?”
One made a face. “I’m the colonel’s daughter. I can shoot.”
Trapper had no doubt.
“So can Two and Three. The little two will learn in another year.”
They sat down behind a fallen log and watched the road. After ten minutes of silence One said, “Mrs. Adams wanted me to tell you that we’re all going back to the wagon if you want to wash in the stream when we get back.”
Trapper scratched his dirty hair. “You think I need to?”
“Yes. You do. We took a vote and it was unanimous.”
They waited until sunset and then they rode back to camp. Wherever the four men who’d passed were, they wouldn’t be riding back tonight. Maybe they were headed toward Jefferson. On horseback they’d make double the time he was making with a wagon. The road was more of a winding trail now, too uneven to chance at night.
His little nest of ladies was safe tonight.
When he got back, supper was almost ready.
Trapper handed One the rifles and told her and Two to keep watch while he walked down a slope to where the horses were grazing. The sun was setting, with just enough light to see the towel and soap a foot from the stream. His saddlebags were there also.
If he was going into town, even though it was probably little more than a trading post and a few huts, he’d