Morning brought mists that swirled upward from the creek and spread like
gossamer spirits over the meadow on both sides. The mules and the placid
cow were half hidden by it, and the air had a distinct chill. Joe rose
to throw more wood on the fire, and when he walked over to see if Emma
was awake he found her staring at him.
"How is the baby?" he whispered.
"She had a difficult night," Emma said softly, "but she's sleeping now.
Joe, I'm--"
"Yes?" he asked.
"I'm afraid she won't be able to travel for a while."
Joe looked toward the other side of the creek. The three cow elk, sure
that the night was a cloak of safety, were grazing unconcernedly. Joe
looked at the tall grass that could have grown only in fertile soil. He
thought of last evening. Barbara and Ellis had gone wading in the creek.
Barbara's legs, bare to the knee, had flashed in the setting sun, and
through the clear water small stones that either were white or appeared
to be white due to some trick of the water's reflection were plainly
seen on the bottom of the creek.
Out in the meadow, a meadow lark piped its greeting to the rising sun.
The lark was Joe's totem bird and always a symbol of good luck.
He said with sudden decision, "She won't have to travel. This is the
place we came so far to find."