Page 3 of Eleanor’s Earrings

“Caroline has driven nearly as long. Rebecca is excellent with animals. Charlotte can drive if she must. Martha, Lydia, Grace, and Lucy have all practiced.”

“That still leaves four women who have practiced rather than traveled.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Do all the men in your train have years of experience?”

“No.”

“Are you warning each of them that they might be moved because they lack a woman to care for them?”

He almost smiled. Almost. “No, ma'am. I warn them for entirely different reasons.”

The corner of her mouth moved, but the expression vanished before he was certain it had been there.

“Your wagons will begin in the middle,” he continued. “If I decide they can safely move elsewhere, we will discuss it.”

“Discuss it?”

“I have learned that ordering you will waste time.”

“You have learned quickly.”

A shout rose near the second Whitaker wagon. One of their lead oxen lurched sideways as a boy ran behind it, waving a stick. The animal broke free of a poorly secured line and started toward the crowded street.

Nathaniel moved, but Eleanor was faster.

“Rebecca!” she called.

Rebecca caught the trailing rope and wrapped it around a hitching post. Eleanor stepped in front of the ox, speaking to it in a low voice while Caroline cleared two children from its path. The animal tossed its head, pulled once against the rope, and stopped.

The entire thing took less time than it would have taken Nathaniel to reach them.

Eleanor turned to the frightened boy. “Do not wave sticks behind animals unless you want to spend your morning being chased by one.”

The boy nodded and fled.

Nathaniel inspected the rope. “This was tied incorrectly.”

“It was tied correctly when I left it,” Rebecca said. “Someone loosened it.”

Eleanor looked at Nathaniel. “We do know which end needs the yoke.”

He couldn’t stop the smile this time. “I see that.”

For the first time, she smiled back.

It changed her entire face, and Nathaniel wished she had continued scowling. A scowling woman was much less likely to become a complication.

The wagon train began moving shortly after sunrise. Wheels creaked. Oxen strained against yokes. Children called to one another until their mothers ordered them to walk quietly. Independence was busy with emigrants, merchants, animals, and men offering advice for a price.

Nathaniel rode along the line, checking the spacing. When he reached the Whitaker wagons, Eleanor was driving the first team, while Caroline handled the second wagon behind her. The other sisters walked along the road or rode as space allowed.

Eleanor kept her eyes ahead.

“You can look back,” he said.

“I have no reason to.”

“Most people do when they leave home.”