“The question is what you could see?” she called, from her position, bringing up the rear.

“Um, oh,” Jed turned in the saddle to yell, “the Forest Service has been looking for some wildflower pirates. That’s why I asked about flowers.”

“We were talking about chrysanthemums.”

“Among others.”

“No, mums the word.”

“I thought I was the one who was supposed to leave the dumb jokes behind.”

That got a laugh, the best since they had met.

“Continuing on, mums, or chrysanthemums, come in many colors. My favorite is golden yellow.”

“And?”

“They are native to China.”

“Good!”

“Why, ‘good.’ What does that mean to you?”

“Just curious.”

It wasn’t until five minutes of silence, broken only by the whispering winds, the creak of saddle leather, and the steady muffled beat of hooves pounding the volcanic soil into rock flour, that Jenny supplied the first real answer to Jed’s unanswered questions.

“Curious,” she called from a cloud of dust —Jed couldn’t believe that she didn’t complain about riding drag. Her teeth must have been gritty, her hair matted, and eyes watering. The sight made him wonder if it was possible that Jedidiah Strong Smith could fall in love with a woman once again.

“What?”

“I was just thinking it was curious that the chrysanthemum is a native of China.”

“How so?”

“It also is used as a decoration on the cover of Japanese passports.”