So much had happened in the past two weeks. The Indians at the cabin. Nicholas’s confession. Their narrow escape from the fire. Their flight through the forest. The fight in the gully. Riding all night with the Delaware in pursuit. The last, desperate dash to the fort.She had even killed a man.She’d grown so accustomed to being afraid and on the run that she scarce knew how to feel now that she and Belle were safe and settled. Anything sudden, even laughter, startled her. She felt restless, wary. It was as if some part of her were still out there, still fleeing through the wild, death but a step behind her.She gently moved Belle from one breast to the other, glanced across the room to the corner where Nicholas had stashed his gear and bedroll. Near exhaustion, he’d slept on the floor last night, just as he’d done at the cabin. He’d made no move to touch her, hadn’t even kissed her. Nicholas. Nicholas. She sifted through what she’d come to know about him. He had family in Virginia.
