"They've missed you."
A happy smile lighted Dunbar's face and he said to Ellis, "Take good care of this young lady."
"I will," Ellis assured him. His eyes swept Gearey once more, and again Barbara saw that there was something explosive in Ellis, something a girl ought to worry about.
They went on, walking their horses most of the time but trotting them occasionally. Clouds spanned the sky and the sun disappeared, and when it did the cold seemed more intense. Barbara thought of the lunch that her mother had packed.
"I'm hungry," she said.
Morosely he replied, "It isn't noon yet."
"Let's eat anyway."
"Your wish is my command, Your Highness." There was resentment still in his voice.
Ellis dismounted, helped Barbara dismount, and rein-tied the horses. He made his way to a stand of pine a few feet off the Trail, broke an armful of the brittle lower branches from them, and started a fire beside the packed snow. Barbara moved into its circle of warmth and unpacked the sandwiches. She thought they were roast buffalo, but when she opened them she saw that they contained the last of the Christmas ham. She knew a flush of gratitude toward her mother who, when sending young people out for a royal time, would also provide them with a royal feast.
"This is good!" she called to him, but Ellis was eating silently, scarcely aware of the food at all.