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mollified Danielle. As far as she was concerned, Cody Walker was brutish and insensitive. Maybe Sheila’s question had been silly, but the extent of camping that these girls shared was limited to backyard sleep-overs. In her opinion, it was as reprehensible for a grown man to make poor Sheila the butt of his joke as it was to lump everyone from the city into the category of utter simpletons. It hadn’t escaped her notice that some of the other Prairie Scouts were now openly referring to them as Troop Beverly Hills. Since Danielle had firsthand knowledge of who had coined that particular phrase, she intended to give that John Wayne wanna-be a piece of her mind the first chance she got.
    Like bright but fragile posies, the girls were beginning to droop beneath a sun too hot. What had once sounded romantic and adventurous was quickly proving to be a lot of hard work. Their meager lunches had worn off long ago, and fatigue was beginning to manifest itself in the guise of petty sniping.
    â€œKnock it off!” Danielle commanded, determined to nip such thoughtlessness in the bud. “Time won’t pass any faster if you pick at each other. We’ve got a long way to go and two weeks to prove we’re women enough to handle whatever this trail has to throw at us. I expect not to be defeated from within our own ranks before the end of the very first day.”
    She hated sounding so gruff, but this wasn’t exactly a picnic for her, either. It had been a long time since she had put such rigorous demands upon her body, and it was reacting with aching indignation. By the time the wagon train rolled to their final stop of the day, they had traveled a little under eight miles, and Danielle was sure her feet had a blister to show for each one of them.
    She pressed her hands to the small of her back before throwing herself into the task at hand. Telling herself that if she could whip up an appetizing dinner using only primitive tools and limited ingredients, she might just consider approaching the Small Business Administration for a loan when they got back to Denver.
    â€œPssssst!”
    Danielle jumped at the sound. Their wagon master had been quite firm in his directive to all participants before they had begun their trek. “Keep your eyes and ears open to any possible danger. You never can tell in what form it’ll jump out at you.”
    â€œPsssssst!”
    Praying that it was not the sound of an irate rattlesnake, Danielle armed herself with an iron skillet.
    â€œOver here,” called a small voice from behind the wagon.
    Danielle sighed in relief. It was Mollie.
    Oblivious to the fact that she had almost scared Danielle out of her wits, she chirped, “I’ve got something for you.”
    In her hand, she held a candy bar. A king-size, doublefudge, peanut-packed fistful of satisfying calories.
    Danielle salivated at the sight of it. As outlined in the packet they had received beforehand, candy was clearly considered contraband. Everything was supposed to be as authentic as possible, and since the early pioneers had to do without artificial flavorings and preservatives, the Prairie Scouts were expected to, as well.
    Danielle looked over both shoulders before accepting the candy bar. “I’ll split it with you,” she whispered to her child conspirator.
    â€œThat’s all right,” Mollie said with a mischievous grin. “I’ve got a secret stash. If you want, I can keep you supplied through the whole trip.”
    â€œYou know you could make a fortune selling this on the black market,” Danielle mumbled through a mouthful of heavenly goo. “But you’d better not let Captain Bligh see you scalping any of this or he’ll have you keelhauled under a Conestoga.”
    Mollie’s blue eyes darkened in confusion.
    â€œCaptain Bligh?”
    â€œYou know, the Hunchback of the Wagon Train...Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Raw Hide...”
    Clearly the strained