No Eye Can See by Jane Kirkpatrick

seemed to close with songs of missing what they'd left behind, Suzanne noticed, or a rendition of “Home, Sweet Home.”

    Ned sidled up to her later, when she fed the baby, sitting in the shade of the wagon. He pressed his round body against hers and talked softly, aware beyond what his years might suggest, that quick movements and loud voices startled the baby. He had a lovely voice, as pure as any she'd ever heard. Back in Ohio, she had instructed a chorus of young boys for a Christmas concert one year. They'd raised money for a new organ for their church and had even traveled to neighboring towns toperform. She'd only been married to Bryce a year, and she found the adventure a filling one though it took her away from her husband and her photography.
    “Can I touch his hair?” Ned asked. She agreed, grateful that he'd had the politeness to request. Like Ruth's other nieces and nephew, Ned just needed a little attention. Ruth didn't really know what children needed, not having any of her own. Jason might be the smarter child, with a quicker wit and tongue, Jessie the more demanding, and Sarah as quiet as a breath. But there was something to be said for Ned, about kindness over cleverness.

    The next day, they passed springs of water that smelled hot. Seth moved them quickly along as he said the boiling water would be bad for the cattle.
    “Be nice to wash clothes with water already heated,” Lura said. “I wonder if we could put this stuff in tins and keep it hot.”
    “My ma's got a million ideas, don't she?” Mariah said. Suzanne couldn't decide if her voice held pride or embarrassment. “Is it all right if Clayton and I walk off to the side, Suzanne? You can hear his bells. We won't be too far away.” Suzanne nodded. The girl tried hard, that was certain.
    They rested an extra day at a place called Deep Springs, then headed west. Suzanne could feel the hot sun on her face all afternoon. Seth said the land now was a large, hot, desert creek. “Not long and we'll be in the Smoke Creek Meadow,” he said. “You'll smell the clover knee high to Ned. This day'll be the worst. Good to keep your eyes on what's beyond.”
    “You're very kind, to tell me things about what's here, what to expect,” she said. “My husband used to do that. He was very good at descriptions.”
    “Don't know about the describing part, but I do like spending time with pretty women.”
    Suzanne wondered what he saw to say that. She wondered if she blushed.
    Wheels crunched on by her, and Suzanne smelled the oxen, heard a bellow or two as they began a slow descent. She walked behind then, guided by Pig, and coughed with the dust, held Pig back a bit. She wondered what it all looked like, this country. How high were the mountains? As high as the photographs she'd seen in books when she could still see? Were they all snowcapped and sharp edged? Seth said these mountains were rounded, some with timber on them. “People say they look like a pile of dough with scattered trees like raisins dropped on them.” She liked that image. A song formed on her lips, a silly song with her name in it. Others joined in and continued even when she stopped, all her concentration required to feel the tug of Pig keeping her on the trail and her younger son safely on her back.
    She was grateful for something else, she decided as she listened to the voices: No matter what she'd face in this new land, she would have the memory of this—people who had become like family, if she could learn to let them. Tears came unbidden to her eyes. She'd been almost cloistered in this cluster of wagons and women, but they were also sheltered, sheltered by the loving of each other.

    Seth announced a few days later that they'd need to start early for Mud Springs. “It's nine miles, not too much incline, but there are rough stones, kind of cobbled, that make it a slow go. After that, it's the Susan River we follow and, boys, we should be taking some trout when we hit that