My lady… she’s something else. I watch her argue with Micha as I clean my rifle. She’s yelling at him because he went and got himself drunk, then killed two people. Normally this wouldn’t irritate her so, but she’s angry because he got himself caught and me, along with some others, had to ride out into country where we were wanted to go pick his dumbass up. She’s yelling at him because he put my life in danger, and because he’s generally incompetent. “Hey, Morgan, come get this damn fishwife of your a’fore I do.” He calls to me, and I laugh from where I’m seated. Nothing meek about that woman, that’s for damn sure. She starts yelling harder, cussing him out. He’s getting angry now.

“You ain’t even good for breedin’, half-breed! Ain’t like you could keep the baby ’live!” Hey calls yells back, his eyes getting wild. That’s when I spring up, and into action. He’s talking about Isaac- our baby boy. He died up in the Grizzly Mountains- it was too cold and she was too weak to do much, she bled quite a bit. The other girls did the best they could, but he didn’t make it. She lunges at him, and I let her get in a few hits before I pull her off. “Hush now, yer alright.” I say, holding her tightly enough that she can’t get away. He deserves it, the bastard, but I can’t let her hit him. I take her where I was sitting, and plop her on my lap. She seethes quietly, and I rub her back.

She was freezing, starving, and downright delirious from pain, bleeding, and fever. I don’t hold that against her, even though our boy didn’t make it. I kiss her temple, and she softens. I splay my hand over her stomach. Her bump is barely there, but it’s there. She covers my hand with her own, and lets out a sigh as she rests her head on my shoulder. She says she has a feeling that it’s a girl this time, I say I’ll be happy with whatever. She’s decided on Joan as a name, and I’m not about to argue with her. I kiss along her jaw, and each over to dish up a bowl of stew. I place the metal bowl on her lap, and take a spoonful myself before offering it to her. Our hands still rest over her stomach, and I know she’s thinking about babies.