Page 130 of Eleanor’s Earrings

She looked at him.

“Good men can be wrong,” Nathaniel said. “Even fathers.”

“And wagon masters?”

“Occasionally.”

Rebecca made a skeptical sound.

Nathaniel ignored it.

Eleanor leaned her head against his shoulder. “The earrings mean something different now.”

“What?”

“They belonged to Mother. Father entrusted them to me. My sisters and the entire company brought them back.” She squeezed his hand. “They are not proof of what I must carry. They are proof of what love refuses to let me lose.”

Nathaniel kissed the top of her head.

He wanted to ask for a life beside her. He wanted to promise that she would never lose another thing.

He knew both impulses were foolish. A proposal offered in the middle of fear might feel like one more burden, and no husband could protect a wife from every loss.

He could offer something better. He could stand beside her when the losses came. For the present, he held her hand while the rain fell.

Lucy accepted her punishment for the doll incident with suspicious good humor once the rain had pinned the train in camp.

On the third morning of extra duties, Eleanor found her polishing every tin cup in the family.

“You are enjoying this too much.”

Lucy looked up. “I like shiny things.”

“That is not a defense.”

“I did not know I needed one.”

Eleanor sat beside her. “Are you still angry with me?”

“For yelling?”

“For the extra work.”

“No.”

“For making you tell two sisters before leaving camp?”

Lucy considered. “That is inconvenient.”

“It is meant to be.”

“What if I want privacy?”

“You are seventeen and traveling with seven sisters. Privacy is a story people tell children.”

Lucy laughed. Then her expression grew serious. “I really did think Anna needed the doll.”

“I know.”