Makinna glared from one man to the other. "I wonder who among us are the uncivilized ones. I am ashamed to be in a room when he is consigned to a barn. Even if he is an Indian, he's a human being, and he gets hungry and needs rest just like we do. You treat your mules better than you do him. At least you see that they are fed and watered."
She turned away, heading for the front door. Seldom had she been so angry. No person, not even that Indian, was going to go hungry if she could help it. She brushed past Mr. and Mrs. Browning at the door and kept going without acknowledging them.
Edna Browning stared after her. "Humph. What bee's stirring in her bonnet? That highand-mighty passenger of yours, Mr. Rumford, seems to think she's too good for the likes of us." She huffed toward the kitchen, her husband tagging behind.
Makinna didn't see the Indian at first. Then he silently emerged from the shadows and stood directly before her. She flinched and instantly stepped back, wondering if she should have asked one of the gentlemen inside to accompany her. A cloud was covering the moon, and she couldn't see the Indian's face clearly, but she knew he would be frowning.
"I am sorry if I startled you, Mrs. Hillyard," he said, moving away from her and turning his head up as if contemplating the heavens.
She stepped hesitantly closer to him. "I... brought you... I thought you might like something to eat," Makinna said, daring to hold the tin plate out to him.
He didn't look at her. "You could have saved yourself the trouble. I am not hungry."
She took a step closer. "You should eat anyway."
He swung his head in her direction and said in a biting tone, "Why should you concern yourself with my dining habits?"
She was silent for a moment, trying to think of the right words to say. "I am sorry about the others."
His tone was cynical as he asked, "Are you?"
"Yes, I am. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here now."
"Yet you are just as frightened of me as they are, Mrs. Hillyard. Do you think of me as a savage ready to pounce on you?"
She didn't bother to deny her nervousness about being around him. "I doubt you would be that desperate."
She was amazed when she heard him laugh. "You are right. I have no desire to pounce on a married woman, one who is in mourning. And a white woman at that."
"Please," she urged, holding the food out to him again. "Take this. You haven't eaten all day. 11
"I think not." He turned his face back to the quarter moon now emerging from the clouds. Again she sensed in him a sadness, a wound of the spirit, and it troubled her.
She placed the food on a nearby wooden bench. "I'll just leave it here, should you change your mind. It may not be very good, but it will be nourishing."
He said nothing.
Makinna noticed that he had suddenly tensed, as if he were listening to something in the distance. All she heard was the howl of some nocturnal animal. Although she was unfamiliar with them, she suspected it must be a coyote or even a wolf. As she listened, she heard an answering howl, and then another and another until the creatures seemed to be all around them.
"You had better go inside now, Mrs. Hillyard," the Indian said, turning his head in the direction of the barn and staring into the darkness.
Makinna was only too happy to get away from him. She had offered him food. If he didn't want to eat, it was no concern of hers. At least now she could sleep with a slightly clearer conscience. "Good night... sir."
He didn't reply but simply moved silently and quickly toward the barn. Something was bothering him, and Makinna didn't think it was the Brownings' rudeness.
She went back inside, passing through the main room without speaking to the people gathered there. She was still too angry. Entering her chamber, she closed the door, noting it had no lock. Neither did the window. She felt uneasy. If the Indian did take it into his head to enter her room, she had no way to stop him.
After removing her cumbersome bustle, she lay down on the bed fully clothed, too weary even to undo her stays or remove her shoes. She would just rest a bit and later undress and put on her nightgown.
She could still hear the animals howling. They seemed to be getting closer. Or was that only her imagination?
Soon her eyes drifted shut, and she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Makinna awoke in a suffocating darkness, gasping for breath. She lay still, listening, her heart pounding as some unknown fear coursed through her veins. It was quiet-too quiet. The never-ceasing wind had died down, the howl ling animals that had frightened her earlier in the evening were now silent, and she couldn't even hear any crickets chirping. She pressed a hand against her thundering heart. She wanted a sound-anything but this ominous silence, like the inside of a tomb.