Page 4 of Eleanor’s Earrings

“Our home is behind us whether I look at it or not.”

Her voice had changed. It was still controlled, but he heard the sorrow beneath it.

“That is true,” he said. “It is also no sin to grieve it.”

She looked at him then. One garnet earring flashed beneath her bonnet. “Do you consider yourself responsible for our souls as well as our wagons, Mr. Cooper?”

“No, ma'am. I have enough trouble with the wagons.”

She laughed softly.

Nathaniel rode ahead before he could decide that he wanted to hear the sound again.

They made only a few miles before the first halt. That was expected. The opening day of any wagon journey was less about distance than discovering what had been tied badly, packed foolishly, or forgotten entirely.

Nathaniel found the Whitaker wagons beside a stand of trees. Eleanor was attempting to pull a heavy crate from the rear of the second wagon.

“What is in there?” he asked.

“Tools.”

“All of them?”

“Most of them.”

“The wagon is too heavy in the rear.”

She stopped pulling. “My father designed the load.”

“Your father designed it while the wagon was standing on level ground.” Nathaniel pointed toward the road ahead. “On a grade, that weight will pull against the rear axle and make the team work harder. Move half the tools forward and place flour sacks over the axle.”

Eleanor looked toward the road, then at the wagon. He could almost see pride and sense fighting behind her eyes.

Sense won.

“Caroline,” she called, “we need to move the flour.”

Nathaniel dismounted. “I will take the crate.”

“We can manage it.”

“I am sure you can.” He caught one end. “That does not mean you should.”

Eleanor hesitated before taking the other end. Together they carried it forward.

“If you move that chest again, I shall put you inside it,” Eleanor said.

“Only if you leave air holes,” Caroline said.

“I make no promises.”

The crate was heavy. Eleanor did not complain. Nathaniel did not expect she ever did when it mattered.

By the time the sun disappeared, the train had settled into its first camp. Fires dotted the ground, and the smell of coffee, bacon, and woodsmoke filled the air. Nathaniel made his rounds, checking wheels, animals, and tempers.

When he reached the Whitakers, Eleanor was sitting on an overturned bucket with her father's list in her lap.

“We traveled fewer miles than he planned,” she said before Nathaniel could speak.