Page 85 of Caroline’s Compass

“West,” she called back.

The needle agreed, and the wagons moved on.

Epilogue

Several Weeks Later

A Camp West of Fort Kearny

Thomas stood without a cane beneath an arch made from two bent willow branches and every wildflower Lucy could persuade the company to surrender. His ankle still ached after a long day, but it held him upright while Caroline walked toward him between the Whitaker wagons.

She wore the blue dress Martha had guarded from dust since Independence. The repaired compass rested in a small pocket sewn near her waist. Eleanor walked at her side, not because Caroline needed to be given away, but because sisters who had traveled this far together had earned the right to arrive together too.

Nathaniel spoke the simple vows. Thomas promised fidelity, partnership, and the full disclosure of any future employment offers. Caroline promised love, honesty, and reasonable consideration before correcting his maps in ink.

“Reasonable?” Rebecca murmured.

“The minister has already begun,” Grace whispered. “It is too late to renegotiate.”

When Nathaniel pronounced them husband and wife, Thomas kissed Caroline beneath the willow arch while Mr. Avery played a hymn on his fiddle and Lucy wept with such enthusiasm that Martha gave her a handkerchief.

The wedding supper began with Martha's best stew and ended with three competing versions of how Caroline and Thomas had fallen in love. The older Mrs. Bell's version involved destiny at the first map. Mr. Hall's involved the flood rescue. Lucy's began with Thomas secretly admiring Caroline from Missouri and contained several events no one remembered living through.

Thomas listened to all three. “I prefer Lucy's account.”

“It includes a bear,” Caroline said.

“The bear recognizes your authority.”

Mr. Avery played for dancing. Thomas's ankle had healed enough for one careful turn. Caroline warned him not to prove anything. He said the only thing he intended to prove was that he could avoid stepping on her dress.

He succeeded for half the tune. On the second turn, his heel caught the hem. Caroline grabbed his shoulders, and both of them stopped inches from the younger Mrs. Bell's cake.

The company applauded. Thomas bowed without releasing Caroline. “A controlled survey error.”

“You nearly destroyed dessert.”

“Then I understand the seriousness.”

After the dance, the sisters surrounded Caroline beneath the willow arch to adjust her hair, argue over the blanket arrangement, and offer advice no married woman had requested. Eleanor finally ordered them toward their own tents and bedrolls. Their laughter followed Caroline and Thomas into the quiet beyond the fire.

When the last light faded, Eleanor shooed the sisters toward their wagons and pointed Caroline and Thomas toward a small tent pitched beyond the nearest fire. Someone had placed a lantern inside, along with quilts, a basin of warm water, and two of Martha’s sweet biscuits.

Caroline stopped at the entrance. For the first time all day, no one stood beside them, and no task waited for her hands.

Thomas lifted the flap. “Mrs. Reed?”

The name sent a shy warmth through her. “I believe that is me.”

Inside, the lantern made the canvas glow gold. Thomas lowered himself carefully to the quilts, his recovering ankle stretched before him. Caroline sat beside him and touched the knot of his cravat.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“My ankle?”

“Anything.”

His expression softened. “No. But I am nervous.”