Adam had been alone in the wilderness before. Being one man against all that nature could throw at him was not a new experience. But this wasn't the desert where he had stumbled, fallen, dragged himself up and fallen again; where the sun had burned his skin and parched his throat; where one incessant thought had nearly driven him crazy. Water. I need water. Please, God, let me find water. He'd been almost out of his head. And that was before he met Peter Kane.

This time was different. There was an abundance of fresh water from the river. They could fish for fat trout. The forest provided berries, roots, even bark, and when they stopped for the night, Adam could set another snare and hopefully catch something more substantial than a scrawny half-grown squirrel. He had a hat to keep the sun off his head, and Clara had the strip of material from her skirt which Adam draped over her hair and shoulders. She looked like she'd stepped off a ship at Castle Garden, hiding her face behind a woollen shawl. Adam figured as long as they kept clear of wild animals and Cordell's gang, they should reach Tahoe in three or four days.

Unfortunately, there was an unforeseen complication.

Clara.

The girl had lived a pampered life in the heart of the big city. She was used to going everywhere by hansom cab, or walking on hard cobbled streets with her small boots and high-waisted outfits. The nearest she had been to the country, until her mother had brought her west, was the tamed wilderness of Central Park. And her experience of the frontier had been from trains as they travelled from town to town. She had never known a world not framed by buildings and crowds and roads.

It wasn't Clara's fault the ground would suddenly dip and she'd go down hard on the side of her ankle, or that it would rise in a steep elevation so she'd have to huff and puff to reach the top. Her heels caught in the bouncy soft earth or she'd trip over a tree root feeling out across the forest floor. Adam seemed to have an arm permanently stretched out to raise her upright. As they walked through the trees, she batted branches and leaves out of her face, scratching the skin on her arms and hands. They made slow progress and it was with a sense of relief that they found themselves standing on the edge of a wide green flower-strewn meadow with the forest behind them.

Adam looked out across the grass to see if there was any sign of movement, of horses, of danger. All was peaceful so he took the chance. He started to walk into the open but after a few paces realised Clara was not with him. He turned to see her standing at the edge of the grassland, her arms hanging from drooping shoulders, her dress torn, her hair dishevelled. She had been walking since sun-up and it was clear to Adam she had reached the end of her endurance. And it was only mid-morning.

Clara looked up at him with pleading eyes. "I can't, Adam. I can't walk another step. Please don't make me."

She lowered herself to the ground. Adam walked back and dropped to his haunches. "I know you're tired, but if we can just walk a little farther to those trees over there and see what's on the other side..."

Clara's face puckered. She was on the verge of tears. "Please Adam, my feet hurt so much, and my stomach hurts too."

Damn those silly boots, thought Adam. He'd have ripped them from her feet hours ago if it wasn't for the protection they offered her. She certainly couldn't walk barefoot.

"Clara, listen to me. Your mama would have kept going, wouldn't she? She wouldn't have let a little discomfort and an empty stomach stop her. Your mama was strong, and you're your mother's daughter. You have it in you, Clara. I know you do."

Weary eyes looked up at Adam.

"We'll take it slow. I'll stay by your side all the way."

The girl nodded and with a sigh of relief, Adam helped her to stand.

He kept to his word. As she started to limp across the grass, Adam didn't move from her side. When she stumbled, he caught her arm. When she halted in her tracks, Adam stopped with her. And he stayed silent, not berating her slowness or hurrying her up. Tempting though it was.

He looked across the sea of Indian paintbrush stretched out before them, their scarlet flowers opened to the sky, and then up at the rocky hills surrounding them. A distant stand of golden cottonwoods promised shelter from the heat.

"Isn't it beautiful?" he said, a grin lighting his face.

Clara kept her eyes on her feet. "I hate it."

Adam didn't lose his grin but his expression was clouded by a furrowed brow. "How can you say that? For me, this is God's own country. I thought about it every day when I was away."

"If you liked it so much, why did you leave?"

As Adam thought about her question, a bird's piercing cry rang out across the valley. He stopped and looked up at the sky. A red-tailed hawk was hovering above them, its body still but its head flickering from side to side as it searched for its next meal. He watched it for a few moments then, with a satisfied nod, took Clara's elbow and steered her towards the river.

"I've asked myself that question many times in the last six years. I guess you don't always know what you really care about until you no longer have it."

Clara looked puzzled, but they had reached the bank of the river and paused to drink deeply from cupped hands and splash water over sticky faces. They continued on towards the cottonwoods with the melodic river beside them.

Clara shielded her vision from the bright sun as she glanced up at Adam. "You didn't say why you went away?"

Adam sighed and raised his eyes to the sky. "I left because of a woman." He said no more than that.

"A woman made you leave?"

Adam's cheek quirked into a half-smile. An adult would have understood his cryptic comment and left it at that. "I was engaged to be married. It didn't work out and I felt I couldn't stay."

"Why didn't it work out?"

"Why all the interest all of a sudden?"

Clara said nothing; only stared at him.

Adam sighed again. "She fell in love with someone else and went to live with him in San Francisco."

Clara frowned. "They went to San Francisco but you left too." She paused. "You didn't have to go."

She was still young enough to see the world in terms of black and white. The grey murky centre hadn't played a part in her life yet.

"It wasn't just because of her I left. I was...looking for something I couldn't find at home."

"What were you looking for?"

Adam rolled his eyes. "You ask a lot of questions."

Clara shrugged.

"I didn't know what I was looking for so...I had to leave in order to find it."

"That doesn't make sense."

"You're too young to understand. One day you will."

Clara stopped so suddenly Adam had taken several steps before he noticed.

"That's what mama said: 'you're too young' and 'you'll understand when you're grown up'. Well I'm nearly thirteen years old and I understand a lot more than everyone thinks." Clara's cheeks were puffed up, pushing her eyes into slashes of sparkling anger. "I know why mama took me away from my father. I know he used to hurt her. And me." She paused and Adam opened his mouth to speak but Clara wasn't finished. "And I knew mama was lonely, and scared. I could hear her crying at night; she was sad all the time. She thought I didn't know and tried to hide it." Fierce eyes met Adam's. "But I did. I wasn't too young to know. So don't say that, never say that."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

Clara cut off Adam's apology. "And I understand about you too." Curled fists found her hips. "You said you don't know what you were looking for. Well, isn't it obvious? You were looking for what makes you happy. Only it was all around you and you couldn't see it. Grown-ups think they know everything but they just make everything harder." And with a flounce she stalked past Adam and towards the distant trees.

Adam stood and watched her go, then scratched his forehead. He had had the truth hurled at him from a child. With a clarity that had eluded him for six years, she had come to the point in mere minutes. He shook his head and with a half-smile followed behind her.

~8~

No more words were exchanged. Clara's anger at Adam seemed to infuse her with vigour. She began to walk faster, lifting her feet above the uneven ground and stomping across the grass, leaving a path of crushed meadow flowers in her wake. When she stumbled she rejected all offers of a hand, so Adam let her walk ahead lost in her own world of anger and grief. With their increased speed, it didn't take long to reach the trees, but Clara didn't stop. She marched through the cottonwoods towards the far side of the stand without a second glance at the trees surrounding her.

She stopped before the treeline in a sunlit glade, her shoulders heaving up and down as she gulped in oxygen. Her head hung on her neck, but when Adam came up behind her she pulled her chin up and tried to look unaffected by the sudden burst of energy. Adam wearily dropped to the soft grass and lay on his back. "You've worn me out, child."

Clara glared at him. "I'm not a child."

Adam threw an arm across his face to shade his eyes and squinted up at her. "Well you're behaving like one. Sit down, rest, we've a lot of ground to cover before nightfall."

Clara's bottom lip protruded and she stamped away towards the open space beyond the trees.

"Adam."

There was something in her tone that alerted him and he was on his feet and at her side within seconds. She pointed. "Look."

Adam pulled Clara back behind the trees and down to the ground. Together they peered out at the scene before them.

A rickety shack stood on its own on a wide open patch of yellow scrub. It was little more than a large box with a door and sloping roof. To one side stood a sway-backed horse, its hind leg cocked and head lowered in the heat. Adam wondered what stopped it from wandering away as it was not fenced in or tied to a hitching post. Surrounding the cabin were buckets, pickaxes, shovels, piles of rock, all lying higgledy-piggledy where they had been dropped. A fire had burned low and a thin wisp of smoke rose skywards from the embers. Staying low with bent knees, Adam shifted to a nearby tree to try and see behind the cabin. The earth rose steeply in a rocky bank and Adam soon saw what he was looking for: the entrance to a tunnel leading into the hillside, supported haphazardly with wooden boards. It was a mine, but there was no sign of the miner. Adam looked all around him for any sign of movement but all was still and silent. Even the insects had quietened.

"Stay here behind this tree. Don't come out until I tell you to. I'll try and get us some food, maybe even ask to use the horse."

He began to rise but Clara grabbed at his shirtsleeve. "Adam…" she began.

Adam placed his palm on her cheek. "I won't be long."

He stood, took a deep breath and walked out into the open. After a few steps he stopped and turned to give Clara what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He then began to move towards the shack.

~8~

Adam hadn't gone far before it became obvious many horses had been here, and recently. The dry earth was scarred with hoof prints, the ground churned up where the animals had been ridden in and driven to a stop. It had to be Cordell and his men. This was proof they had come this way, but hopefully they were a long way ahead of them by now. He paused, looking all around, and then with one careful step at a time approached the shack. A prickly sensation tickled down his spine. He had a strong feeling he was being watched.

"Hey, inside," he shouted out. "Is there anybody home?"

There was a movement behind the loosely fitting boards.

"I know there's someone in there." He raised his arms. "I'm not armed."

After a few moments, the door swung open. The interior was a shadow out of which the end of a long rifle barrel slowly emerged. Adam raised his hands higher as a scrawny old man came into the light, his face hidden by a mass of shaggy beard. The man was filthy; unwashed pants were held up by a pair of braces; and a sweat-stained flannel shirt was open to the belt revealing a concave chest speckled with spindly white hairs. Adam was sure he could see crumbs and scraps of meat in the man's beard and chest hair. He gulped away the bad taste rising in his throat.

"This is ma property. Whaddya want here?" The reek of rot-gut whiskey reached Adam's nostrils and he recoiled slightly, but he noticed the man held his rifle with a steady grip.

"My horse fell and broke a leg a ways back. I was hoping I could borrow yours." His words were greeted with nothing but a hostile look. "You'd get him back, I assure you."

The old man's eyes scanned Adam from the tips of his dusty boots all the way to his battered hat. He didn't say a word just kept staring. With his arms still held out to the sides, Adam cast a quick glance down. He saw the dirt which covered his pants and the rips in his shirt where he'd caught it on rocks and tree branches. He looked back at the old man. "Like I said, I've been on my feet for a while."

The old man suddenly moved forward causing Adam to stumble backwards, leaning out of reach of the protruding weapon.

"With no gun, or gun-belt? No man in this country goes about without a shooter."

He raised the rifle barrel with sudden speed, aiming it straight at Adam's face. Adam jerked his head back. "I left it in the trees. I didn't want to—"

"Ya lyin'. You're the one those men are after."

Adam feigned ignorance. "Men? No one's after me. I told you, I was riding, my horse fell."

The old man suddenly stepped to the side. "Who's that? There's someone back there." He kept the gun pointed at Adam but peered towards the cottonwoods. "Come out where I can see ya, or I'll shoot ya friend here."

Clara's head slowly emerged from behind the trunk of a tree.

"Get out here!" shouted the old man.

Clara took one step into the open.

"It's a girl!" The old man's attention was back on Adam. "They said to look out for a man and a girl. Said you'd taken her from her ma."

At mention of Johanna, Clara swallowed her lips and her eyes grew shiny with threatened tears.

"See's, I knew it. Look at her. What kind of a man takes a kid from her ma?"

Adam had remained calm until now, but as the rifle had been waved in his face and then towards Clara, his anger had started to build. He lowered his hands and pointed at the old man. "Look, I don't take too kindly to people pointing guns at me."

The old man took a step forward and raised the gun so it was inches from Adam's face. Adam acted on instinct. He reached out and grabbed the rifle barrel. He pulled, trying to dislodge the old man's grip, but his opponent hung on. Like two dogs fighting over a bone, both men tugged at the weapon. First the old man would heave it towards him, then Adam would have the advantage. Back and forth they tussled.

But then suddenly Adam was stumbling backwards, the rifle in his grip. He righted himself and looked up to see the old man standing with an expression of surprise and then pain on his face. Slowly, he toppled to the ground. Clara stood behind him with a metal pail swinging from one hand. She watched the man fall and then dropped the pail as though it was burning hot. Her hands shot to her mouth. "Oh...oh...Is he dead? Did I kill him?"

Adam knelt by the old man's body. "Don't worry, he's not dead." He felt the man's skull. Thankfully there was no blood. "But he's going to have a bad headache when he wakes up."

Clara took a step back, her brows drawn together in consternation. "I've never...I've never hit anyone before."

Adam rose and gripped Clara's arms. "He'll be alright." Wet eyes were fixed on the old man. "Clara, look at me…look at me." His sharp tone drew her back to him. "You did good, Clara. He might have hurt me, or worse. You did good." He stroked up and down her arms, feeling her calm a little. "Go into his place, see if you can find some food. I'll deal with him."

Clara took several breaths, then nodded and disappeared into the dark shack. Adam watched her go and then turned to the old man lying spread-eagled on the ground. He lifted him into a seated position and hoisted him onto his back. He struggled under the man's weight, immediately breaking out into a sweat. Either the old man was heavier than he looked, or Adam was weaker than he should be through lack of sustenance. He stumbled into the shack and dumped the old man on a rickety cot. He took a well-needed breath, but soon wished he hadn't. The shack smelled like something had died in there.

"He doesn't have much," said Clara through her makeshift headscarf which she was holding over her mouth and nose. "A tin of peaches and…" she pointed. A slab of green-tinged meat sat on a stool, crawling with flies, a pocket knife stabbed into the top.

Adam's eyes squinted in distaste. "How hungry are you?"

Clara shook her head. "Not so much."

"Me neither. We'll take the peaches though."

Several rifle cartridges were strewn across the hard dirt floor and Adam bent to retrieve them, slotting them into various pockets.

"That's stealing," said Clara.

Adam's shoulders dropped as he bent his head to look at her. "You were willing to take food. Isn't that stealing?"

Clara looked down at the floor. "I guess."

"And right now, we need the gun more than he does."

Clara still looked doubtful.

"Look, anything I take, I'll return. We're just borrowing it. Alright?"

There was a pause. "Alright."

Adam nudged Clara ahead of him out of the dingy shack and grabbed the knife from the slab of meat as he passed. He stood in the hot sun and used his bandanna to wipe it down before he folded it and tucked it in his boot. He stooped to pick up the rifle from where he'd left it.

"Come on, you can ride the horse, I'll lead."

A bridle was hanging from a nail on the side of the shack and was soon fitted to the horse which did not move from its dozing pose. Hooking a finger behind the leather, Adam made to lead the animal to where he could see a beaten-up old saddle, moth-eaten blanket and canteen piled up by the shack's wall. The animal did not move. Adam tugged more. The animal still did not budge. He tried slapping it on the rear, but all that happened was the cocked hind leg slowly uncocked as the animal placed its hoof fully on the ground. Adam stopped, stepped back and then tried again, pulling on the bridle with both hands. The creature would not be moved. It then dawned on him why the animal wasn't hobbled or tied up or fenced in. There was no need. It was clearly a one man horse that did not heed the orders, requests or pulling and pushing of anyone but it's owner.

"I give up," said Adam. "Looks like we're walking the rest of the way." With a look of contempt at the stubborn creature, Adam grabbed the canteen, and they began the next stage of their journey.