Read Where the Trail Ends: American Tapestries for Free Online

because he had no choice if he wanted to lead this party—but he wasn’t above reminding everyone how right he had been about them, especially after they caused the stampede.
    She hated to think what his attitude would be like in the morning if this barking continued. In her mind, tired dogs didn’t spend the night barking unless they sensed that something was wrong. Unfortunately, the captain didn’t share her perspective. He thought the dogs accompanying them were a menace.
    Even Boaz had seemed agitated today, sniffing and then barking as he walked beside Samantha instead of roaming the countryside. The dogs were all tied to the wagons tonight, but the two men on night watch would alert the rest of them if anything threatened the camp.
    She heard the low growl of her wolfhound outside the tent, and her skin prickled. She ran her fingers across the loaded rifle that rested beside her. Boaz never growled unless something was wrong.
    “Boaz,” Papa called from outside the tent. “Go back to sleep.”
    Boaz stopped for a moment, but then he growled again. Samantha sat up and crawled carefully across the feather tick so she wouldn’t wake Micah. Edging back the canvas, she stuck her hand outside, but Boaz didn’t nudge it with his nose. Instead, he gave a short bark. A warning.
    “Papa,” she whispered, “something’s wrong.”
    Several men began talking nearby, and then she heard Papa shuffle out from under the wagon. “I’ll find out what’s happening,” he said.
    Samantha reached for her rifle and leather possibles bag containing her balls, caps, and patches. Back home, she would have had to change from her nightdress, but out here, all the women slept in their calico dresses—all except Lucille, that is. She insisted on wearing her nightgown. Uncomfortable as it was, sleeping in a dress certainly made it easier for Samantha and the other women to slip in and out of their tents when necessary.
    She strapped her possibles bag over her shoulder and folded back the canvas. “I’m coming with you.”
    “No,” he insisted, shaking his head. “You stay here.”
    “But what if it’s Indians?”
    “Stay here, Samantha,” he commanded, as if she were a dog instead of an eighteen-year-old woman who knew how to shoot a gun.
    She watched through the tent opening as his shadow blended into the night. Papa had never taught her to swim like he had Micah, but when she was twelve, he taught her to shoot in the hills near their home. Until Micah was born seven years ago, he’d had no son to hunt with, so Samantha had enjoyed many hours with her father, tramping through the branches and leaves as they searched for deer or wild fowl. She’d never been able to shoot an animal and certainly not a person, but no one had ever threatened her or her family either.
    After his footsteps faded away, Samantha quietly counted a full minute before climbing out of the tent. Then she untied Boaz. With her dog on one side and her gun in the other, she crept around their wagon, scanning the moonlit rocks and hills around them for danger. There weren’t enough men in their company, not if there was a war party of Indians who’d come to attack. If something were wrong, they would need every able person—man and woman—to ward off a threat.
    Boaz sniffed the ground and growled again.
    “What’s wrong?” she whispered.
    The wind had calmed, but she still couldn’t hear anything. The men were probably spread out, searching the area around the wagons. She wouldn’t wander far, but with the men gone, someone needed to protect Micah and the other children in the wagons, along with women like Lucille who didn’t know how to use a gun. Samantha would stand guard until they returned.
    Boaz stopped, his eyes intent on a pile of rocks on their right. She watched him for a moment and then propped her gun on her shoulder, pointing it at the rocks. Her heart raced as she stepped toward the boulder. Walking close beside her, Boaz didn’t