Page 109 of Eleanor’s Earrings

“I am a wagon master. Observation is important.”

Eleanor laughed. “Now I know why I dislike you.”

“You do not.”

“No.”

That answer pleased him far too much.

One evening Mr. Avery left his fiddle packed, and the camp entertained itself by telling stories again.

The trouble began when Mrs. Bell asked everyone to name the most foolish thing they had packed.

“A silver serving tray,” Mrs. Turner admitted.

Mr. Coleman said, “Three neckties.”

Rebecca stared at him. “Why?”

“I expected occasions.”

Rebecca gestured at the prairie. “Choose one.”

The camp laughed.

Mrs. Bell pointed her walking stick at Nathaniel. “Your turn.”

“I packed sensibly.”

Eleanor made a skeptical sound.

Nathaniel looked at her. “What?”

“You brought hair pomade.”

Silence.

Then Lydia gasped.

Nathaniel stared at Eleanor. “How do you know that?”

“It fell from your saddlebag.”

Rebecca was already laughing.

Caroline said, “Hair pomade?”

Nathaniel looked around the fire. “A man may wish to look respectable.”

“On the Oregon Trail?” Eleanor asked.

“I had hopes.”

Lydia leaned forward. “Do you use it before speaking to Eleanor?”

“No.”

“After?”