Page 30 of Caroline’s Compass

He looked toward seven watching sisters. “Where?”

Grace pointed to the center of the line. Thomas chose the far end. The sisters booed his lack of courage.

Nathaniel tried to help Eleanor lift a blanket and immediately favored his shoulder. Eleanor removed the blanket, handed him two stockings, and told him these matched his present authority. Nathaniel hung them with military precision.

By sunset, the company resembled a traveling washhouse. Caroline walked the lines checking what must be dry before morning. Thomas followed, making solemn observations about wind direction and the aerodynamic qualities of stockings. She laughed hard enough to forget, briefly, how close Coleman's wagon had come to overturning.

Supper that evening required every dry object the Whitakers possessed and several that were only optimistic.

Martha hung stockings near the fire. Grace turned them. Lucy turned them back because she claimed the left sides were colder. Rebecca attempted to dry her boots by wearing them.

“You are making puddles,” Charlotte said.

“The puddles were already inside.”

Thomas arrived carrying a dented kettle. “Mrs. Bell says this belongs to you.”

Eight women denied it.

He looked into the kettle. “It contains one button, two beans, and something I hope was once a biscuit.”

Lucy raised a hand. “The button is mine.”

“That does not establish ownership of the kettle,” Caroline said.

Mr. Coleman called from the next fire, “Ours has a blue handle.”

The kettle had a blue handle.

Thomas returned it and came back smiling. “I have completed my first successful camp survey.”

“What did you map?” Caroline asked.

“The distance between a lost object and the person loudly claiming it is not his.”

“And?”

“Usually less than twelve feet.”

Caroline glanced at Lucy's abandoned spoon beneath the wagon. “Your finding is sound.”

After the last wagon crossed, the sisters tried to set up sleeping places beneath the two Whitaker wagons. Damp ground reduced the available space. Charlotte drew a line with a stick and assigned widths by shoulder width.

“You have given Rebecca more room,” Lydia said.

“Rebecca has more shoulders.”

Rebecca looked offended by the plural.

Lucy wanted the outside place so she could see stars. Grace wanted Lucy inside so the rest of the company would not hear her commentary on them. Martha wanted everyone far enough apart to prevent elbows.

Caroline spread the driest bedroll beneath the second wagon and announced that the first person to argue would sleep beside the wheel.

“Which wheel?” Lydia asked.

“The muddy one.”

The argument ended.