Like a River Glorious by Rae Carson Page B

on me. We stand a moment in silence, staring at each other. He has the finest face I’ve ever seen, with his high cheekbones and serious eyes and a wide mouth that always has a gentle curve, all surrounded by the thickest, shiniest black hair that a girl could run her fingers through.
    I swallow hard. “So, what do we do?”
    â€œLet’s talk it out with everyone at supper tonight.”
    We sit around the campfire, which isn’t as huge and roaring as usual on account of the fact that the Major and Becky have gotten the stove fired up and hotter than blazes. They made a huge pot of rabbit stew, thanks to Martin’s hunting success,which is a bit watery, but still delicious with the fresh onions, turnips, potatoes, and carrots that the college men brought back.
    Beside me, Jasper is showing Olive how to work stitches into the rabbit’s untanned hide. “Rabbit skin is thinner and more delicate than human skin,” Jasper says. “So once you’ve gotten the hang of it, we’ll move on to something else. Maybe a deer, or better yet a boar.”
    Across from me, Jefferson is cleaning his rifle, but he steals glances through the wavering firelight, which I pretend not to notice.
    Everyone else spoons up their stew, enjoying the rest and silence after a hard day’s work.
    Finally, as Becky starts gathering dishes, I clear my throat. “Jefferson and me, we think we should set a double watch tonight,” I say.
    â€œAnd every night,” Jefferson adds.
    â€œNot a bad idea,” the Major says, bouncing the Joyner baby on his knee. “Someone on the hill near the lean-tos and the cart, another at the corral.”
    â€œStill worried about claim jumpers?” Becky asks. “We have some fine neighbors now. Well, maybe not fine , but they’re perfectly friendly.”
    â€œPeople are going to start talking, friendly or not,” I say. “Once they see our fancy new box stove and those chickens and that cart full of goods, they’ll figure we’re doing well. Maybe too well.”
    â€œI’m big now,” Andy says, all seriousness. “I can stand watch.”
    Henry Meek rubs at his scant beard. “We should hide as many of our supplies as possible.”
    â€œAt least we don’t have to worry about Indians stealing our things,” Becky says. “I haven’t seen a single Indian since we left Mormon Island.”
    Jefferson glares at her, and I don’t blame him for being angry. People pretend he’s a white man when it suits them, erasing part of who he is. Besides, Becky shouldn’t assume danger on that front, since we’ve had nothing but fair dealings with Indians. I guess it’s hard to get past your notions about people sometimes, even when your own experience tells you otherwise.
    â€œHopefully,” Jeff says, “the fact that we’ve seen so few Indians means we’re not trespassing on their territory.”
    â€œThey have no territory,” Becky says.
    Jefferson clenches his jaw, then he opens his mouth to snap back, but Hampton says, “I’ve seen ’em. They watch me from that big stand of oak trees sometimes, when I’m tending the oxen and horses.” At Becky’s gasp, he hastily adds, “They’re not threatening at all. Just curious, I think.”
    â€œThey’re nomads,” Becky says. “Here today, gone tomorrow.”
    â€œCalling them nomads,” Jefferson says, “is just a fancy way of saying it’s okay to squat on their land.”
    Becky is about to protest, but Henry interrupts. “I suspect they don’t want trouble any more than we do,” he says.
    Hampton adds, “I went over to talk to them, but they’d disappeared. They left behind the most beautiful baskets, full ofacorns.” His gaze grows distant. “I’ve never seen anything as pretty as that weaving.”
    â€œWhat’d you do with