Page 28 of Eleanor’s Earrings

Near evening, Eleanor approached him while he was checking a rope.

“I lost an earring.”

Nathaniel straightened. She had removed the remaining garnet and held it tightly in one hand.

“When?”

“In the river, I think.”

Her face was composed, but grief filled her eyes.

“We will look.”

“The train still needs to cross.”

“Others can manage the lines for half an hour.”

“No.” She shook her head. “The earrings are not worth risking anyone's safety.”

“They mattered to your mother.”

“My mother would care more about the living people on that ferry.”

Nathaniel wanted to argue. Eleanor was right, which made the feeling worse. “Where did you enter the water?” he asked.

She pointed downstream. “Near the broken willow.”

He nodded. “After the last crossing.”

“It will be dark.”

“Then I will take a lantern.”

“Mr. Cooper—”

“Nathaniel.”

She stared at him.

It was not the moment he had planned to ask her to use his given name. He had not planned to ask at all.

“Nathaniel,” she said softly, “you do not have to search.”

“I know.” He returned to the ferry before he could say more.

The final wagon reached the far bank after sunset. Nathaniel ate two bites of cold bacon, took a lantern, and walked downstream.

The river had fallen slightly, exposing reeds and debris along the bank. He searched the place where Eleanor had entered the water. He found a spoon, a broken buckle, and a child's wooden horse.

He did not find the earring.

Nathaniel moved farther downstream.

The lantern light caught something red.

He knelt beside a tangle of reeds. The garnet was caught by its bent clasp, half-covered in mud.

Nathaniel lifted it carefully.