If they were truly lost, Samuel would tell her. Wouldn’t he? They’d been separated from the wagon train – walking for a week. Hot. No water. Last night they saw smoke from a campfire. Samuel said it was probably Cheyenne Indians or worse so they’d dowsed their own fire and eaten half-raw rabbit. Now her stomach was churning along with the baby she’d been carrying for six months. She wanted it gone. She wanted to die. Blood curdling whoop. Maybe not.
Up From the Ashes 