“
Eli?” Priscilla’s voice was soft behind him. Was she finally forgiving him? He spun so fast he nearly tripped over his boots. She’d hardly spoken with him since they’d left the Rendezvous, and he was more than ready to see something in her eyes besides anger. She held out the dipper. “Your turn.” He searched her face for something, for anything that would give him the slightest hope that she didn’t hate him. She pushed the dipper at him. Her eyes were clouded but void of the flashes of lightning. He took the ladle and lifted it to his lips for a drink that was altogether too short. Then he handed the dipper back to her. “Thank you.” She lowered it back into the pail. “You were kind to give Richard your portion.” “I was holding out for pemmican.” Her lips twitched with the beginning of a smile. A grin of his own pushed for release, but the concern for her that had been weighing him down made its way to the surface first. “How are you—I mean—are you doing all right—without the baby?” The clouds in her eyes darkened and any hint of a smile disappeared. “I’ll survive.” She turned and rushed to catch up with Mabel. He watched the frayed edges of her dress swish in the dust and wanted to pound himself over the head. Why had he expected that she’d want to talk about the baby with him?
”
”