Her mouth felt as parched as a desert. Despite it being morning, the inside of the wagon was dark gray, with a chilling dampness. A quick glance between where the canvas and wagon met revealed a slow, steady rain. She eased her aching head toward her husband, who leaned on his elbow, wide-awake and smiling, his eyes sparkling. What was that all about? Then she remembered the night before, and groaning, grabbed the blanket and pulled it over her head. “Oh, no you don’t,” Davis said as he eased the blanket down again. “Please, I’m so embarrassed.” She rolled over, giving him her back. Davis placed his hand on her shoulder and edged her back around, smoothing the loose hairs from her forehead. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Mrs. Cooper.” “I acted like a harlot.” She moaned and covered her face with her hands. Pulling her hands down, Davis looked at her, biting his lip, apparently trying hard not to laugh.
