Chapter One #2
Property lines. Road lines. River bends. Distances between one known point and another. A line behaved properly if measured with care. It did not decide to marry a wagon master and leave its sister holding the reins.
He rode beside the Whitaker wagon until Caroline looked at him.
“You are watching the wheels,” she said.
“I am watching the road.”
“The road is in front of us.”
“The effects of the road are beneath you.”
Charlotte leaned around Caroline. “He means the wheels.”
“Thank you,” Thomas said.
Caroline's mouth moved. She had a restrained smile, as if amusement were another supply to be rationed.
During the first break, Thomas spread his map on the ground. Caroline brought the pouch. She unfolded her father's pages with care, smoothing each crease before allowing the wind to touch it.
“He drew this from a guide published before the flood,” Thomas said.
“He corrected it twice.”
“And correctly, for the road as it was then.”
Caroline glanced at him. “You are careful when disagreeing with dead men.”
“The living repeat the argument.”
They compared the next day's landmarks. Her father's notes described a split near three cottonwoods and a shallow creek bending north. Thomas's map showed the creek cutting south after two wet seasons.
Caroline reached deeper into the pouch. “There may be another page.”
Her fingers closed around cloth.
She drew out a small parcel wrapped in faded blue wool. Inside lay a brass pocket compass.
Thomas had seen finer instruments. This one was scratched, the hinge worn bright, the glass clouded at one edge. Her father's initials had been cut into the case.
“Father's,” Caroline said. The word came quietly. She opened the lid. The needle trembled, swung, and settled.
“It still works,” Thomas said.
“Did you expect it not to?”
“Most things still work after being properly kept.”
“Then my family is safe. We are very properly kept.”
He looked at her. “Are you?”
Caroline closed the compass.
Thomas wished, not for the first time, that he possessed a better sense of when a question should remain unasked. He was thankful when Nathaniel called for the company to move.
The first day with Caroline driving the lead Whitaker wagon also revealed that her sisters had confused a change in authority with an invitation to renegotiate every rule.
Lydia wanted to walk beside the second wagon instead of the first. Grace wanted Lydia beside the first wagon because Lydia sang.
Lucy wanted everyone far enough away that no one noticed when she gathered flowers.
“You may gather flowers at the noon halt,” Caroline said.
“They may be gone.”
“Flowers do not migrate.”
Thomas rode past. “Some close at midday.”
Lucy pointed at him. “The surveyor understands.”
Caroline assigned Thomas to stop encouraging dissent. He said his contract did not cover flowers.
At the next rise, the second wagon dropped too far behind because Rebecca had stopped to fix a trace buckle.
Caroline halted the lead wagon, sent Charlotte back with the spacing order, and adjusted the walking sisters so someone reliable remained near each vehicle.
Lydia objected to being classified by reliability.
Caroline assured her the categories were temporary.
By noon, the new arrangement worked. Eleanor rode the company line with Nathaniel instead of returning to solve every Whitaker problem.
Each time Caroline looked back, she expected to see her older sister checking the decision.
Eleanor merely waved. The trust felt suspiciously like abandonment until Caroline recognized it as freedom.
Supper confirmed that no practical subject remained practical once seven sisters learned Thomas was involved.
Martha passed the stew. Charlotte asked whether surveyors charged by the mile or by the argument.
Lydia wanted to know if a compass could locate a husband.
Grace said it would need a stronger needle.
“Maps are not courtship,” Caroline said.
Mrs. Bell leaned over from the next fire. “Neither are pies, but Mr. Bell proposed after my apple.”
“He remembered the pie better than the proposal,” she added, with the fond certainty of a woman who had told the story many times.
Thomas kept his attention on the route papers, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him.
Caroline asked him three questions about the missing crossing in quick succession.
He answered each with professional gravity.
That was almost worse than teasing. It made their exchange feel like something private occurring in full view of the camp.
After supper, Caroline divided the changed chores.
Rebecca would handle both teams at morning hitching.
Charlotte would keep the supply tally. Martha would assign cooking instead of doing it all herself.
The younger girls objected in descending order of usefulness.
Eleanor listened without taking over, then said, “That sounds settled.” The simple support steadied Caroline more than approval should have.
Caroline wrapped the compass again, then stopped. She removed the wool and placed the instrument in the pocket of her dress.
“I will need to know how to use it,” she said.
“It points north.”
“I had gathered that much.”
“A promising beginning.”
Her gray-blue eyes narrowed. “You may teach me at the next break.”
Thomas smiled. “Immediately?”
“You are learning.”
The lesson had not yet begun, but Caroline's sisters had already decided how it should proceed.
“He should teach you to find east first,” Lucy said. “That is where breakfast comes from.”
Charlotte looked up from folding a blanket. “The sun comes from the east. Breakfast comes from Martha.”
“Usually after someone finds the frying pan,” Martha added.
Rebecca leaned against the wagon wheel. “Teach her how to find water.”
“She can find water,” Lydia said. “She found the creek yesterday.”
“The creek was forty feet wide.”
“That made it easier.”
Thomas regarded the seven younger Whitakers arranged around him. “Does every lesson attract an audience?”
“No,” Caroline said. “Sometimes they attract labor.” Seven sisters disappeared with impressive speed.
Thomas watched them go. “Your authority is remarkable.”
“It improves whenever work is mentioned.”
He opened the compass in her palm and showed her how to hold it level. His fingers brushed hers only once, but Caroline noticed. She also noticed three bonnets reappearing beyond the wagon corner.
Without looking up, she said, “Charlotte, the water barrel needs filling.” The bonnets vanished again.
Thomas cleared his throat. “Remarkable.”