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nape of her
neck, making her look matronly and her dark eyes sparkled with
flakes of
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    gold. Besides the callused hand, deep lines
around Vida’s mouth and eyes told Melissa that the woman had a hard
life. She wondered if Vida noticed her smooth hands. It was the
first time she experienced some guilt for having an easy life,
until now.
    She walked back to the wagons with Vida.
Although, Vida did most of the talking, mostly gossip from other
women, Melissa was glad she found a friend. The only person she
could speak with was Effie, and lately she took to mumbling about
being scalped in their sleep by red-skinned devils. Vida made
Melissa feel comfortable in her presence and she decided to confide
in her a little.
    “The reason I don’t mingle with the others,”
Melissa said, laying her pail on the ground and wiping her brow
with the back of her hand, “is because I do not care to leave my
younger
    Si…err, brother alone.”
    She avoided Vida’s eyes, feeling ashamed
about what happened to Daphne. Looking at
    her broken fingernails, wondering if they
would ever grow back again, she it her lip. What a thing to worry
about she scolded herself.. “He’s mute,” she whispered softly,
unconsciously she was still examining her hand. “David isn’t
completely alone but he trembles whenever I leave his side. I’ve
been his only guardian since my parents died.” She winced at her
last remark but decided that she told Vida just enough.
    “Oh, what a shame you can’t join the fun.”
The nice woman stretched her spine. “My back aches unmercifully
lately and every muscle cries for a good rub. I chalk it up to old
age,” she admitted. “We work so hard traveling these dusty trails
that a little relaxation and fun is good for the soul,” she
added.
    “I’ll think about it.” Melissa said, and
then left.
     
    Vida lifted her pail to fill the keg tied to
the wagon when her young son appeared.
    “Here, mom, let me do it,” he lightly
scolded.
    “Now, Seth, you know you and pa must do the
hunting for supper. Gathering wood and fetching water is woman’s
work.” Again she stretched her back, rubbing at the soreness. “And
speaking of your pa, did he catch us supper?”
    “Yep, we’ll be having squirrel stew again
tonight.”
    25
    Vida rolled her eyes. “Just once I’d like to
sink me teeth into something else. Rabbit would be nice for a
change. A wild hen, I think I’d even enjoy a snake at this
point.”
    He laughed and gave her a big hug. “What’s
new among the women’s gossip, today?” Seth asked, winking.
    She hated being teased about tales she
brought back to her family and swatted at her son.
    “Now you stop joshing your mom, Seth,” she
scolded with a smile. She was proud of her son, he was a good boy.
She sighed; he looked just like his pa. Only seventeen, but he was
as tall as her husband. His body was muscular and strong from all
the hard work he had done on the farm they had left behind. Years
of back breaking work and what for? The last drought ruined their
crop and they couldn’t finance another year. They left that
dried-up land and headed west for a new life. She prayed the new
land would be fertile because her husband insisted on farming
again. Once a sod-buster, always a sod-buster, her husband
claimed.
    Vida’s reverie was interrupted when a dead
thing was thrust into her hands. She jerked opened her eyes and
gasped. “Pa, you startled me!” she snapped, but she made sure her
voice lacked any anger in its tone. How could she be angry with her
husband, she shouldn’t be woolgathering.
    “Sorry woman, but that’s all I could catch.”
Her husband kissed her cheek, lovingly.
    “This is fine, Boris,” she fibbed, but it
was only a little one so not to hurt his feelings. “I’m beginning
to get the hang of making a good squirrel stew.”
    “That’s my girl,” he patted her
backside.
     
    That night as her son and her husband sat
eating their meal, Vida mentioned the pretty