Pearl smiled, "I guess so, I just can't believe we're really going already." She nervously ran a hand along her rifle case, fingering the beaded fringe.
"Don't worry," Pearl lowered her voice, "a lot of the tales you hear about things out west--just a lot hooey. They make 'em up to scare the Easterners. " She shrugged. "Besides most of those troubles, they can be avoided if people were just a bit more careful."
She held up her rifle, the glass beads of the sheath catching the light. The colors of the pink flowers that woven across the case looked more somber and muted than usual in the pale morning sun.
"You see this, a Dakota brave gave it to me, going away present. Before that, " She lowered the rifle, and patted the pouch strung at her hip "they gave me this too. Indians aren't nearly as scary as they'd have you believe. The ones I knew were always friendly, our town was on good terms with them."
There was a shout and a loud rattling from the front of the train, an enormous cloud of dust billowed up, and the rattling continued. Both young women craned their necks, they could see four red and white spotted oxen lumbering in a vaguely south westerly direction. The wagon they pulled had several large copper lined pots dangling on the side, burnished interiors reflecting the growing light with a harsh glare.
"It's Mr Boyd! C'mon!" They both broke into a slow run.
"And remember, "Pearl slung her rifle over her shoulder, " all those stories about torturing men and ravishment of the women, most of them aren't true, if mad Indians catch you, they're more likely to shoot you before anything else."
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"Don't worry," Pearl lowered her voice, "a lot of the tales you hear about things out west--just a lot hooey. They make 'em up to scare the Easterners. " She shrugged. "Besides most of those troubles, they can be avoided if people were just a bit more careful."
She held up her rifle, the glass beads of the sheath catching the light. The colors of the pink flowers that woven across the case looked more somber and muted than usual in the pale morning sun.
"You see this, a Dakota brave gave it to me, going away present. Before that, " She lowered the rifle, and patted the pouch strung at her hip "they gave me this too. Indians aren't nearly as scary as they'd have you believe. The ones I knew were always friendly, our town was on good terms with them."
There was a shout and a loud rattling from the front of the train, an enormous cloud of dust billowed up, and the rattling continued. Both young women craned their necks, they could see four red and white spotted oxen lumbering in a vaguely south westerly direction. The wagon they pulled had several large copper lined pots dangling on the side, burnished interiors reflecting the growing light with a harsh glare.
"It's Mr Boyd! C'mon!" They both broke into a slow run.
"And remember, "Pearl slung her rifle over her shoulder, " all those stories about torturing men and ravishment of the women, most of them aren't true, if mad Indians catch you, they're more likely to shoot you before anything else."