He held in his frustration and turned the team toward the spot he planned to tie them so they could graze in the night. "I'll be back to do it in a minute."
Once he settled the mules, Barney stepped from the woods to take up his place at Aaron's side. The dog trotted just out of reach as Aaron picked up firewood on his way toward the place where the woman still sat—doing nothing.
Even if she couldn’t light the fire, she could have gathered more logs. Sure, she was likely tired, but did she not realize they’d need logs to burn for the night? Aaron had enough water in his flask to carry him to morning, but he sure hoped the woman had her own stash somewhere in Driscoll's wagon, for he might not be able to manage the hike down and back up that hill again. Had she thought of that?
As he reached her and dropped the logs with a thump, she sat up straighter. "Tell me what to do and I'll help."
He'd already done that, and she'd only accomplished half of what he asked. But he kept that gripe to himself. "We’ll need several more loads of firewood. If it's too hard in your condition, I can get them." Perhaps the excitement of this day had been too much for her. Though if so, she shouldn't offer to help.
He settled onto the ground, and his body sagged with relief. His leg might not be willing to bear weight again tonight, so he could only hope she would be able to bring logs.
But as she lumbered onto her hands and knees, then her breaths turned heavy as she struggled to rise, regret pressed in on him. Carrying a child inside—growing a person—would surely be so much harder than putting up with the pain and challenges of his contrary leg.
From this sitting position, he couldn't do much to help her stand except grip her elbow and try to help push her up.
At last, she straightened and took in several deep breaths as she tucked one hand around her middle and straightened her skirts with the other. "That gets harder every day."
When she turned and waddled toward the trees, Barney gazed after her. The dog glanced back at Aaron, looking as if he wasn't sure who to stay with.
Aaron waved him on. "Go keep a watch on her."
The dog seemed to understand perfectly, for he trotted after the woman. Ever since the mutt had crept from the trees at the beginning of Aaron’s second run from Settler’s Fort to Fort Benton, the dog rarely left his side. He wouldn't come close enough to be touched, not even if Aaron held out savory meat or tried to creep up when the animal slept.
It seemed Barney had taken a liking to Mrs. Barlow. Perhaps that meant she was a decent sort, or maybe the dog sensed she needed a friend. Animals usually had keen intuition in both those areas. He suspected Barney had joined up with him all those months ago for the same reasons. Now, he must think this woman needed him more than Aaron.
The dog was probably right, but it didn't lessen the sting of rejection.
* * *
Katie pushed herself up to a sitting position in the darkness. The longer she laid here trying to force sleep, the more images batted about in her mind. Anytime the lifeless bodies of her husband or Mr. Driscoll tried to show themselves, she managed to push them away quickly enough.
But her thoughts simply wouldn't stop. Maybe walking around a while would help. Besides, she needed to use the tree cover for a moment of privacy. Perhaps she could bring back more firewood on her return.
Then maybe she could finally fall back to sleep.
She did her best not to make noise as she struggled to standing. But when she glanced over at Mr. Long's sleeping form, the firelight reflected off his open eyes as he watched her.
"Do you need something?" He kept his voice low, though there was no one about save the dog, who'd already jumped to his feet.
She shook her head. "Sorry to wake you. I'm just going to the trees for a minute."
He nodded, adjusted his head, and closed his eyes. “Call out if you need me. I doubt the wildcat is still searching for a meal, but there might be other animals around. Barney will protect you."
She did her best not to shudder as she started for the woods. If she didn’t need to go so badly, she wouldn’t leave the light of the fire.
Hopefully she wouldn’t have to call for Mr. Long. She'd been enough trial for him tonight. His eyes had revealed that truth when he came back from watering the mules.
He'd expected a meal warmed and ready for him. Just like Neil had every night when he came in from work. And just like she’d done with Neil so many times, she’d disappointed Mr. Long.
Why couldn't she manage something as simple as starting a fire with flint and steel? It seemed every other person in this land could do so.
She'd tried to learn. So many times, she’d tried.
Back in Philadelphia, the servants kept the fires burning, so she’d been able to easily light a candle or lantern from the hearth. Lucy had seen to fires in the cabin at first. It wasn't until those two ran off that she'd been faced with this apparent deficit of skill. Neil had tried to teach her, but they both finally gave in to the fact that she was inept. From that day on, she'd done her best to never allow the coals in their hearth to die.
For the two days she'd ridden with Mr. Driscoll, he'd handled the fire-making, so she’d never had to reveal her inability.
But she’d not been able to hide it from Mr. Long. She would surely disappoint him in other ways during their time together—she likely had already this evening. If not before, waking him when she rose must have been frustrating. Neil had hated to be pulled from sleep in the night.
