I’ve carried river rock a hundred yards to build a fireplace, and spent many a day choppin’ and haulin’ wood. I cut sheets of ice off a lake one bitter-cold winter, and I’ve dug a well and more than a few latrines.

But I never felt this type of pain doin’ a day’s work.

After nine miles, my legs were tremblin’ and my lower back felt like someone was drivin’ railroad spikes in it. My neck and shoulders burned as if prodded by a hot poker. Phoebe and Monique were bleached white with exhaustion, and only Rose and Earl’s horse seemed fresh. Rose took another turn at liftin’, and Phoebe had to lead Major, since Monique refused to be anywhere she couldn’t see Scarlett’s face. An hour later, when Rose tripped and stumbled, I came within an inch of droppin’ my side of the lean-to. She apologized twice, and even though she was dog tired, insisted on carryin’ her end for another mile. It would a’ been better for me if she didn’t, since she was so much smaller than the others. When she carried, I had to bend over more than I did with the others. But pitchin’ in was important to Rose, so I let her, and we trudged on.

It was after six when we came to a large area of hard-packed dirt.

“We’ll camp here,” I said, “and save some trip for tomorrow.”

We got the lean-to off Major’s back and hobbled his legs so he wouldn’t stray. I removed his saddle, and gave him some water, and Phoebe and Rose did the same for Earl’s horse. Then I got my blanket off Major’s back and laid it out on the ground for Scarlett.

As if we hadn’t lifted enough that day, the four of us bent to the task of liftin’ Scarlett off the lean-to in such a way as not to burst the stitches in her back. We managed it, but I have no idea where we found the strength. Once we had Scarlett on the blanket, Rose and Monique tended to her wounds, put her on her side, and placed a rolled-up blanket under her head, and covered her with two of the extra blankets we’d packed.

“How is she?” Phoebe asked.

“Surprisingly well,” Rose said. “The sleep medicine is wearing off, so she ought to be conscious soon.”

Monique said somethin’ in French. Rose answered, and Phoebe translated for me.

“Monique asked if Scarlett would be able to talk tonight, and Rose said it wouldn’t surprise her, though she’d be in pain. Then Rose said she planned to sedate Scarlett again before we retire for the night so her crying won’t keep us up.”

“What cryin’?” I said.

“When she regains consciousness, she’s going to be in a lot of pain,” Rose said.

“Don’t you have somethin’ you can give her for that?”

“The pain medicine is what’s keeping her sedated,” she said. “By the way, you were right about Scarlett.”

“How’s that?”

“She’s remarkably resilient.”

I didn’t know the word she used, but I was glad to be right about somethin’ for a change. I turned my attention to the horses. Though I trusted Major more than Earl’s horse, I considered him lucky not to be lame, and didn’t want to put him through another day of carryin’ the lean-to. I figured to tie him and Earl’s horse to the lean-to that night, since there weren’t a tree nor rock in sight. Tomorrow I’d hitch up Earl’s horse and let him do the liftin’.

Rose and Monique did what they could for Scarlett, then they started unpackin’ the cookin’ gear. Phoebe and I headed out across the dirt, lookin’ for wood.

“How could there be wood out here if there aren’t any trees?” she said.

“Independence, Missouri, is the drop off point for pioneers headin’ west,” I said.

“So?”

“They come by flatboats down the Missouri River, and take wagons the rest of the way.”

“But we’re a long way south of Independence, are we not?”

“We are for a fact. But some of the settlers head for Tulsa, and we’re only a few miles off the Independence-to-Tulsa trail. Buckboards and wagon trains often travel wide of the mark, to avoid outlaws and Indians. I half s’pect we’ll find a wagon wheel or chest of drawers someone abandoned along the trail.”

Pointin’ to the west side of the dirt patch, I said, “Let’s check the grass on that side.