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you, Emma.”
    “Will you be needin’ help with your hair and getting dressed?”
    “No, thank you anyway. Mr. Reed made it quite clear that simplicity is the means for success on this excursion. I intend only to braid my hair and pin it tight. From the sound of the wind, I suppose I should pin it very tight.” Emma giggled and Amelia smiled in spite of herself.
Perhaps some of these Americans aren’t so bad.
    “Lady Gambett was near to tears last night because Logan told her that she and those youngun’s of hers needed to get rid of their corsets before they rode another ten feet.”
    It was Amelia’s turn to giggle. Something she’d not done in years. “Surely you jest.”
    “Jest?” Emma looked puzzled.
    “Joke. I merely implied that you were surely joking.”
    “Oh, no! He said it. I heard him.”
    “Well, I’ve never been one to abide gossip,” Amelia began rather soberly, “but I can well imagine the look in Lady Gambett’s face when he mentioned the unmentionable items.”
    “She plumb turned red and called for her smelling salts.”
    “Yes, she would.”
    Glancing to where Penelope and Margaret continued to slumber soundly, Emma questioned, “Will you need me to wake your sisters?”
    Amelia glanced at the bed. “No, it would take more than your light touch. I’ll see to them.” Emma smiled and took her leave.
    “Wake up sleepyheads,” Amelia said, pulling the quilt to the foot of the bed. Penelope shrieked a protest and pulled it back up, while Margaret stared up in disbelief.
    “I believe you’re becoming as ill-mannered as these Americans,” she said to Amelia.
    “It’s still dark outside,” Penelope added, snuggling down. “Mr. Reed said we start at dawn.”
    “Mr. Reed said we leave at dawn,” she reminded them. “I for one intend to have enough time to dress properly and eat before climbing back on that ill-tempered horse.”
    Margaret whined. “We are too tired to bother with eating. Just go away, Amelia.”
    “Have it your way,” Amelia said with a shrug. And with that she left her sisters to worry about themselves, and hurried to dress for the day. Pulling on black cotton stockings, pantaloons and camisole, Amelia smiled privately, knowing that she was quite glad for the excuse to be rid of her corset. She packed the corset away, all the while feeling quite smug. She wasn’t about to give Logan Reed a chance to speak so forwardly to her about things that didn’t concern him. Pulling on her riding outfit, now clean and pressed, she secured her toiletries in her saddlebags and hurried to meet the others at breakfast.
    Much to her embarrassment she arrived to find herself alone with Logan. The rest of her party was slow to rise and even slower to ready themselves for the day ahead. Logan nodded approvingly at her and called for the meal to be served. He bowed ever so slightly and held out a chair for Amelia.
    “We must wait for the others, Mr. Reed,” she said, taking the offered seat.
    “I’m afraid we can’t,” Logan announced. “You forget I’m experienced at this. Most folks refuse to take me seriously until they miss at least one breakfast. Ahhh, here’s Emma.” The young girl entered bringing a mound of biscuits—complete with hovering flies—and a platter of fried sausages swimming in grease and heavily peppered. It was only after taking one of the offered links that Amelia realized it wasn’t pepper at all, but still more flies.
    Frowning at the food on her plate, it was as if Logan read her mind when he said, “Just try to think of ’em as extra meat.”
    Amelia almost smiled, but refused to. “Maybe I’ll just eat a biscuit.”
    “You’d best eat up and eat well. The mountain air will make you feel starved and after all the hard work you’ll be doing, you’ll wish you’d had more than biscuits.”
    “Hard work?”
    Logan waited to speak until Emma brought two more platters, one with eggs, another with fried potatoes, and a bowl with thick