Caleb didn’t like surprises. He had seen too many men die with a look of surprise on their face.

«Did you have any trouble coming West?» Rose asked, turning expectantly toward the younger woman, obviously eager for conversation.

«It was quite an adventure,» Willow admitted with a rueful smile. «Matt’s letters mentioned the Mississippi, but until I stood on its banks at sunset and saw it burning like a great golden sea, I never realized how big the river really was, or how powerful. When we crossed the next day, it was like riding an unruly horse.»

Rose shuddered. «I recollect it. Scared me near to death when I crossed it years ago, and my husband waited until low water. If you crossed in May, that devil river must have been brawling along.»

«It was. Trees bigger than wagons were being tossed around like jackstraws. When one battered old oak crashed into the ferry, some horses were knocked overboard, but we were close enough to the far shore that they swam to safety.»

Silently Caleb remembered his own crossing of that great, roiling barrier called the Mississippi. He had been only five, but the size of the river had thrilled him more than it had frightened him. Echoes of his own exhilaration came to him both from his memories and from Willow’s husky voice telling him that she, too, had gone eagerly into the river’s wild embrace.

«How was the stage ride?» Rose asked. «I been thinking of going East, but I swore I’d never walk it again andI’spect I’ll be dead before a railroad makes it this far West.»

Willow hesitated, then admitted, «The coach bucked and lurched, the driver cracked his whip and swore constantly, and the noise of the wheels was enough to wake the dead. In fact, after a few days on the stage I began to wonder if Hell wasn’t served by the Holladay Overland Mail & Express Line.»