Makinna sank back into silence for a moment. She certainly knew next to nothing about Texas or its inhabitants, and like everyone else she'd heard terrifying tales about the Apaches. Still, the arrogance of certain attitudes annoyed her. "It just seems to me that the Indian has done very well for hundreds of years without interference from us."
Mr. Rumford gave her an indulgent smile. "May I introduce myself, ma'am? I'm Horace Rumford, and this is Mr. Alvin Carruthers." He nodded toward the sleeping passenger. "I don't know that gentlemen. The log says his name is Silverhorn. He was asleep when I came aboard." His smile widened. "And he still is."
Makinna smiled, too. "I'm pleased to meet you both. I'm Makinna Hillyard."
Mr. Carruthers looked at the black clothing hotly swathing her from head to toe. He spoke kindly. "May I respectfully inquire, madam, if you have recently suffered a bereavement?"
Makinna hesitated a moment. "Yes. I lost my brother and my mother within a month of each other."
"Please accept my heartfelt sympathy, ma'am," Alvin Carruthers said earnestly, blinking. "Such a great pity."
"And accept my condolences," Mr. Rumford echoed, glancing down at her wedding band. "It's unusual for a woman to travel alone in these parts, Mrs. Hillyard." He leaned back and studied her intently. "Of course, there's nothing wrong with it," he quickly added, "but it takes more courage than most women have."
"I am not courageous, sir. I had no choice in the matter. Left so suddenly alone, I am going to San Francisco to live with my sister. I didn't know how arduous the journey would be. As an agent for the stage line, do you think well experience any more delays?"
"You can trust the Butterfield Line, ma'am," Mr. Rumford said with confidence. "We pride ourselves on meeting our schedules."
"Not always, sir," she said softly. "The stage I was on before broke an axle, and I had to spend a week at Whispering Wells waiting for another stage."
"Regrettably, the unforeseen sometimes happens," the Butterfield agent stated. "Today will be a tedious one for you, Mrs. Hillyard," he said, "for we won't reach the way station at Adobe Springs before nightfall. However, tomorrow night we reach El Paso, where you'll enjoy some measure of comfort before we continue on to California the following day."
Makinna sighed wearily. She had been traveling for over three weeks, and it seemed she would never get out of Texas, much less reach San Francisco.
"Madam, may I ask where you are from?" Mr. Carruthers inquired. "I believe I detect a Southern accent."
"I'm from New Orleans, sir. The stage from New Orleans delivered me to Ft. Belknap, where I boarded the Butterfield stage. And there they traded the horses for mules. I thought that rather strange." She glanced at Mr. Rumford. "Why did they do that, sir?"
"This leg of the journey is too hard on horses, Mrs. Hillyard," the agent informed her. "We have found the mules much more dependable in this and terrain. This is uncivilized territory we're traveling through. You wouldn't want to lose a horse out here and be stranded."
Mr. Carruthers spoke. "Some would call St. Louis the last civilized town until you reach California. I myself was born and raised there." Then he cleared his throat. "Begging your pardon, madam. There is, of course, New Orleans, which has many families of refinement."
Suddenly Makinna had the strangest feeling of being watched. She glanced at the gentleman sitting opposite her, but she decided he still slept because his hat was pulled low over his face. So she was startled when he crossed his long legs and settled back against the seat. Because the stranger was wearing gloves, she couldn't judge his age by his hands.
He shifted again, and his coat fell open to reveal a gun belt. She pressed her back against the seat to get as far away as possible. He must be an outlaw! She'd heard about gunfighters who dressed like gentlemen but had black hearts.
She turned her face away and closed her eyes. Then, immersed in her own troubles, she forgot about the man across from her as well as the conversation between Mr. Carruthers and Mr. Rumford.
Makinna desperately missed her mother and her brother, William. Her mother had died slowly after a long, lingering illness, confined to her bed for nearly three years. Although it had been difficult to lose her, Makinna had at least been somewhat prepared for her death. But her brother had lost his life in a sudden, senseless accident. How could anyone with William's knowledge of horses fall and break his neck?
And as if that was not enough, a month after her brother had died, the bank foreclosed on their small house. She had been in despair when her sister, Adelaide, had written to invite Makinna to come live with her and her husband in California. When Adelaide married a miner and merchant ten years earlier and moved west, Makinna had missed her dreadfully. Their only contact had been through letters. But upon receiving Makinna's details of their mother's and brother's deaths, Adelaide had insisted Makinna come to California.