She was seventeen summers old, with straight blue-black hair that hung to her waist, and eyes that were pools of blackness, and had known sadness beyond her years... In the backroom of the trading post, on the morning of their departure, Shining Eyes held the baby, Virginia, close and stared unseeing at the maze of smudged charcoal maps on the plank floor. She was alone and the room was silent except for the burping of the blue speckled coffee pot on the back of the cookstove. This would be the third time she had said goodbye to the baby, but this time was different. The Oregon Territory was...