Chapter Eight
Westward Trail
By the eighth morning on the trail, people had begun asking Eleanor questions.
Caroline moved stiffly after the wagon accident, but her bruises had darkened without worsening, and she insisted on taking her usual turn with the reins.
Not only her sisters. Everyone.
Mrs. Turner wanted to know how Eleanor stored flour to keep it from dampness.
Mr. Coleman asked whether Rebecca could examine a sore place beneath his ox's yoke.
Two women wanted Charlotte to help compare their provisions with the recommended amounts.
A young mother asked Martha what to give a child with an upset stomach.
Eleanor answered what she could and sent people to the correct sister when she could not.
Nathaniel watched all of it.
That made her uncomfortable.
“Have I done something wrong?” she finally asked.
They were walking beside the lead wagon while Caroline drove. Nathaniel's horse followed behind him with its reins looped over his arm.
“No.”
“You keep looking at me.”
“I am trying to decide something.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“It often is.” He stopped and faced her. “I need someone to take responsibility for the rear half of the train when the ground becomes difficult.”
“You have several men who have traveled before.”
“I do.”
“Then why are you telling me?”
“Because I want you to do it.”
Eleanor looked for the joke in his face and found none. “You want me to command the rear wagons?”
“I want you to control the spacing, decide when they halt, and make certain no one falls so far behind that the train cannot help them.”
“Why?”
“Because people listen to you.”
“Many people do not.”
“They will after the first time you make them regret ignoring you.”
She folded her arms. “Are you appointing me because the men objected to women speaking at the council?”
“No.”
“Because you feel sorry for eight sisters traveling alone?”
“I stopped feeling sorry for your sisters somewhere between the bolting ox and the river rescue.”
“Then why?”
Nathaniel's expression grew serious. “Because you are the best person for the job.”
Eleanor could not think of anything to say.
That happened so rarely that Nathaniel smiled. “Do you accept?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“No argument?”
“I can argue if it will make you feel more comfortable.”
“This is uncomfortable enough.” He gave her the whistle.
For the rest of the morning, Eleanor rode in the second wagon and watched the rear portion of the train.
She quickly discovered that Nathaniel had not given her an honorary position.
A wagon with small children kept crowding the one ahead because the driver was impatient.
Another fell behind every time the road climbed.
A third stopped without warning whenever the family's cow wandered too far from the line.
Eleanor moved the families with young children closer together so they could share help. She placed the slow wagon behind the Whitakers, where Rebecca could watch its team. She told the owner of the cow to tie it to the rear of his wagon or trade it for an animal with better judgment.
“The cow cannot help being curious,” the man protested.
“Neither can a three-year-old. We do not allow them to stop twelve wagons.”
He tied the cow.
By noon, the rear division had covered more ground with fewer halts.
Nathaniel joined Eleanor near the fire during the meal stop. “You moved four wagons.”
“Five.”(there’s only 6 in her half
“Why?”
She explained.
He listened without interrupting. “Good.”
That was all.
Eleanor had never been so pleased by one word.
Lydia joined them with a cup of water. “Eleanor has been smiling all morning.”
“I have not.”
“She smiled when you gave her the whistle.”
“Go help Martha.”
“Martha does not need help.”
“Then find someone who does.”
Lydia wandered away, laughing.
Nathaniel looked at Eleanor. “Was there a smile?”
“Absolutely not.”
“A pity. I like your smile.”
She looked away before he could see the one threatening now.
*****
NATHANIEL INVITED ELEANOR to share coffee during his night watch.
He did not call it an invitation. He simply appeared near the Whitaker wagons with two cups and told her that anyone responsible for part of the train should understand the night routine.
Eleanor accepted because refusing would have made the moment seem personal.
It was personal.
They sat near the edge of camp where the firelight faded into prairie darkness. The wagons formed a loose circle behind them. Oxen shifted in the grass, and someone snored loudly enough to frighten wildlife.
“Mr. Daugherty,” Nathaniel said.
Eleanor looked toward the sound. “Are you certain he is alive?”
“He does that every night.”
“Has no one stopped him?”
“How?”
“I do not know. A pillow?”
Nathaniel laughed into his coffee.
They sat quietly for a while.
“What will Clover Creek be like?” he asked.
Eleanor pictured the maps, sketches, and descriptions Father had gathered. “There is water. Timber nearby. Open land for fields. Father believed a road would eventually pass close enough for trade.”
“And the house?”
“There is no house.”
“There will be.”
She smiled. “A large one. Eight sisters require space.”
“Your husbands may object to all living together.”
“Then we will choose better husbands.”
Nathaniel turned his cup between his hands. “You intend to marry?”
“I have not planned it.”
“You plan everything.”
“Exactly. Marriage has never fit.”
“Perhaps you have been planning around the wrong man.”
Her heart beat faster. “Perhaps there is no right one.”
“Perhaps.”
The word sounded as though he did not believe it.
Eleanor looked at him. “What home did you imagine?”
“Once?”
“Whenever you imagined one.”
“A farm. Abigail wanted apple trees. I wanted enough land that the nearest neighbor could not hear me complain about the apple trees.”
“You dislike apples?”
“I dislike pruning them.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“It becomes the same thing after twenty trees.”
She laughed.
His expression changed as he watched her. “After she died, I stopped imagining any house at all.”
“You could begin again.”
“Could I?”
The quiet question settled between them.
A wolf called in the distance. Eleanor moved closer to the fire without thinking. Her shoulder touched Nathaniel's.
Neither moved away.
They remained that way until his watch ended.
When Eleanor returned to the wagon, Caroline opened one eye. “Long lesson.”
“Go to sleep.”
“Did he teach you anything useful?”
Eleanor lay down and pulled a blanket over herself. “Yes.”
She had learned that Nathaniel Cooper had once dreamed of apple trees.
She had also learned that she wanted him to dream again.
Resting gave Eleanor far too much time to notice Nathaniel.
She noticed his boots when he walked beside the wagon.
His voice when he spoke to the drivers. His habit of rubbing the back of his neck when frustrated.
She also noticed that he checked on her every hour while pretending he had another reason.
On the fourth visit, she peeked out from under the wagon before he could.
“What is broken?”
Nathaniel stopped. “Nothing.”
“Which animal is lame?”
“None.”
“Has Mr. Daugherty started a fight?”
“Not yet.”
“Then why are you here?”
He looked at her. “I was checking the wagon.”
“You checked it forty minutes ago.”
“It may have changed.”
Eleanor stared.
Nathaniel’s mouth twitched.
“You used my argument.”
“I found it effective.”
“That was theft.”
“Borrowing.”
“You criticize my stubbornness and then steal my methods.”
“I am learning from the best.”
She tried to look severe. She knew she failed by the look on his face.
Nathaniel rested one arm against the wagon. “How are you?”
“Bored.”
“Good.”
“That is a terrible thing to say.”
“Bored means not in pain.”
“I can be both.”
“That sounds like you.”
Eleanor folded her arms. “You are enjoying having me trapped under here.”
“A little.”
“I knew it.”
“You are easier to argue with when you cannot walk away.”
“I can throw things.”
Nathaniel looked around. “What do you have?”
Eleanor picked up a folded stocking.
He immediately stepped back.
“Wise man.”
“I remember the laundry incident.”
Her eyes widened. “You said you would never mention that.”
“I said nothing to anyone else.”
“That still counts.”
“I disagree.”
“Of course you do.”
Nathaniel smiled. “You look better.”
The words were gentle enough to stop the argument.
Eleanor looked away.
“Thank you.”
He nodded once and stepped away. A moment later she heard him laughing outside.
She threw the stocking anyway.
Charlotte poked her head out from under the wagon.
“You are enjoying this,” Eleanor said.
“Immensely.”
“You are supposed to be sensible.”
“I am. That is why I tied a good knot.”
“Nathaniel praised it.”
“I know.”
“You look pleased.”
“I enjoy professional recognition.”
“From him?”
Charlotte’s expression became innocent. “Would you prefer that only you receive his attention?”
“Charlotte!”
Her sister settled back down.
Nathaniel rode alongside a minute later.
Eleanor glared at him.
He looked startled. “What did I do?”
“Nothing.”
“That answer sounds dangerous.”
“Charlotte has developed a personality.”
“I thought she had one.”
“Not like this.”
Nathaniel nodded gravely. “Should I be concerned?”
“Yes.”
“More than usual?”
“Considerably.”
Charlotte called, “I can hear you.”
Eleanor called back, “Good.”
Nathaniel smiled. “I like your sisters.”
“You may have them.”
“All seven?”
“Today.”
“Do they come with the wagons?”
“No.”
“Then I must decline.”
Eleanor laughed.
Nathaniel looked satisfied.
“Do not take credit.”
“I made the prisoner laugh.”
“I was laughing at Charlotte.”
“I accept partial credit.”
Sunday evening brought the first thing the wagon train had done together that was not caused by danger.
Mr. Daugherty announced worship after supper. “No one is required to attend,” he said. “But everyone is welcome.”
Mrs. Bell planted her walking stick beside her chair. “Anyone who thinks I traveled this far to miss Sunday worship may explain himself to me personally.”
Lydia leaned toward Eleanor. “Mr. Daugherty has the Lord. Mrs. Bell has the stick.”
“Both appear effective.”
Nathaniel heard her and coughed.