Page 35 of Caroline’s Compass

Before departure, Caroline tied bells to the rear wagons and discovered that each owner had an opinion about tone. Mrs. Bell wanted the clearest bell. Mr. Daugherty wanted the loudest. Coleman wanted whichever one didn't sound like his mother-in-law's dinner summons.

Lucy rang all four at once. Every ox in the company raised its head.

“We have located the animals,” Thomas observed.

“And frightened Nebraska,” Caroline said.

They assigned the deep bell to the Hall wagon, the bright one to the Bells, and the cracked bell to Coleman because he said he could ignore it. Rebecca tied each clapper short enough to prevent constant ringing. Mrs. Bell lengthened hers when Rebecca moved away.

Thomas explained how fog bent sound across low ground. Lydia asked whether it also bent conversation. Grace said Lydia's conversation required no assistance reaching people. Caroline made every driver repeat the spacing order, and every walker name the wagon he or she would follow.

Lucy announced that she would follow Caroline. Caroline assigned her to Martha instead. “Why?” Lucy asked.

“Because Martha notices when you disappear.”

“Everyone notices.”

“Usually after the damage.”

The joking ended once the company entered the white prairie, but the bells and repeated instructions became the practical tools that let Caroline recognize when three wagons were missing.

For the first hour, Caroline saw little beyond the oxen's broad backs. Moisture gathered along her bonnet brim. Thomas rode near enough that his horse appeared and disappeared beside the wagon like a gray thought.

“The ground falls north,” he said. “Keep west by southwest.”

Caroline checked the compass. “I know.”

“I enjoy hearing you say it.”

“Why?”

“It reassures me that I have not become ornamental.”

“You would make a poor ornament. Too muddy.”

He tipped his hat and rode forward.

Near midmorning, a wheel on Hall's wagon loosened. The rear three wagons stopped while Mr. Hall tightened the nut. The message passed forward by shout, but fog swallowed the voices. Caroline halted the lead wagon and listened.

A bell chimed somewhere behind them.

Nathaniel's horse emerged ahead. “Hall is delayed. We will hold here.”

For several minutes the company waited. Then another bell sounded far to the left.

Thomas frowned. “That is carrying oddly.”

The fog thickened as the trail descended. A breeze moved along the low ground, bending sound until every creak seemed to come from the wrong place. Nathaniel sent Thomas back to check the line.

He returned alone. “The rear three are not behind us.”

Caroline's stomach tightened. Rebecca was not among them—she had kept close—but Mrs. Bell, the Halls, and Coleman's repaired wagon had vanished into the white prairie.

Nathaniel began organizing riders. Caroline climbed down with the compass.

“They stopped at the rise,” she said. “If they followed the bell after we moved, the sound would have drawn them south.”

Thomas looked at her. “Unless the wind shifted.”