Free Messenger by Moonlight by Stephanie Grace Whitson

away from it as I could. One day I tossed some things in a sack and started walking west. And here I am. Smack-dab in the middle of the continent, master of my own wheeled schooner, and happy as a big sunflower.”
    Annie looked toward the horizon. She couldn’t imagine trading blue water and sailboats for a treeless, barren plain.
    “Bet I know what you’re thinking,” Luther said. “You’re looking out yonder”—he swept his hand across the expanse of blue sky—“and all you’re seein’ is what ain’t there. Am I right?” When Annie didn’t reply, he nodded. “I’m right. I’ve heard plenty of ladies camped on the trail, walking the trail, calling this a ‘barren wasteland.’” He clucked to Big Boy, and the horse picked up the pace a bit. “Well it ain’t barren at all. You give Mother Nature a few days with her paintbrush, and she’ll give you more flowers than you can imagine. Grass astall as a horse. Green so green and blue so blue you’ll think you never saw those colors before. A little spring rain and everything will change, practically overnight. You’ll see.” He nodded toward a cloud hovering above the distant horizon. “In fact, from the looks of things, Mother Nature might just put a few swipes of color on her prairie canvas before the day’s out.”
    Annie doubted that one little cloud would amount to rain, but she held her peace. Not long after they first spotted the cloud, a heavy layer of gray collected along the bottom edge. Luther called for everyone to don rain slickers. “There’s a draw not too far ahead. If we make it before the rain hits, we’ll hunker down until the storm’s past.”
    Storm.
Again, Annie wondered at the man’s caution, but after the brief stop, the blue sky began to change color, fading first to a pale gray and then taking on the gray-green tones that had always made Pa send her to the fruit cellar. Out here in the open there was nowhere to go. Shadow began to dance a bit, tossing her head and snorting. Wagons up ahead pulled off the trail and circled. When sunlight streamed through a break in the clouds and reflected off a circle of canvas covers, Annie thought it looked like an immense halo hovering just above the surface of the dormant prairie.
    Luther kept them moving. As they passed the circled wagons, Annie caught sight of two women peering out through the rear opening in the wagon cover. Both waved. Annie waved back.
What would it be like to travel the trail with another woman?
She hadn’t said anything about it to Frank or Emmet, but one of the reasons she longed to settle in a city was an unvoiced longing for a friend. She’d planned to attend church regularly—maybe even join the choir. Eventually, she would meet another woman she could confide in. Theywould attend sewing bees and circle meetings together, trade recipes and gossip. She would never have to be lonely again.
    Frank jolted her back to the moment, riding up and ordering her to “stay close to the freight wagon.” The place where the sun had broken through had closed up. The clouds seemed lower—heavier, somehow. And angrier. Frank said that he and Emmet and Jake were going to ride away from her a bit. “We don’t want you getting tangled up if the ponies try to bolt.” Annie nodded, and Frank called to Luther. “How far to that draw you said we could shelter in?”
    The wind had picked up. Luther had to raise his voice so Frank could hear the answer. “Not far, but it don’t look like we’ll make it before the storm hits.” He glanced over at Annie. “Frank’s right. You stick with me. My critters don’t like storms, but they’ve been through plenty of ’em. They’ll stay steady.”
    Shadow resisted staying behind while Outlaw moved away, but Annie held her back, doing her best to remain calm while Frank, Emmet, and Jake urged their horses to a lope. At the first sound of distant thunder, Shadow skittered sideways. Luther called out a warning. “Tighten up on