Chapter Twelve #2
Mrs. Bell told a story about a rooster that had chased the circuit preacher out of her mother’s yard.
“How old were you?” Grace asked.
“Eight.”
“Were you frightened?”
“Of the rooster? No. The preacher was.”
“What happened?”
“He preached from the road.”
Mr. Daugherty laughed harder than anyone.
Mrs. Bell pointed at him. “You would have, too.”
“I believe in respecting local authority.”
“The rooster was named Methodist.”
Mr. Daugherty stared.
Mrs. Bell smiled. “My father was Baptist.”
The camp erupted.
Even Eleanor had to wipe tears from her eyes.
Nathaniel leaned close. “I am beginning to understand Mrs. Bell.”
“That seems dangerous.”
“I did not say I understood her completely.”
“Good. I would worry about you.”
When the laughter settled, Lydia stood again.
“Whitakers’ turn.”
Eleanor immediately said, “No.”
Seven sisters said, “Yes.”
Nathaniel leaned back comfortably.
Eleanor looked at him. “Do not enjoy this.”
“I have no control over my feelings.”
“That is the least convincing thing you have ever said.”
Caroline raised her hand. “I nominate the Christmas goose.”
“No.”
Rebecca brightened. “The Christmas goose.”
“Absolutely not.”
Lucy bounced. “Tell it!”
Eleanor looked around the fire. “There are other stories.”
“Not better ones,” Martha said.
Nathaniel turned toward her. “What did Eleanor do to a goose?”
“I did nothing to the goose.”
Rebecca said, “That depends on how you define nothing.”
Eleanor pointed at her. “You were eleven.”
“I remember.”
Lydia addressed the camp. “When Eleanor was seventeen—”
“Sixteen.”
“Thank you for correcting the historical record.”
Nathaniel smiled.
Eleanor glared at him.
Lydia continued. “Father bought a goose for Christmas dinner.”
“It was a very aggressive goose,” Grace said.
“You were not born yet,” Caroline told her.
“Mother told me.”
“The story survived generations,” Nathaniel murmured.
Eleanor nudged him with her elbow.
“The goose escaped,” Lydia said.
“It did not escape,” Eleanor protested. “Rebecca opened the pen.”
Rebecca said, “I wanted to pet it.”
“You wanted to see whether it would chase Caroline.”
Caroline nodded. “It did.”
The camp laughed.
Lydia continued. “Eleanor decided she could catch it.”
“I was the eldest.”
Nathaniel whispered, “Ah. That explains everything.”
Eleanor whispered back, “Be quiet.”
“She chased it around the barn.”
“I walked quickly.”
“You climbed the fence.”
“The goose cornered me.”
Nathaniel’s eyebrows rose. “A goose cornered you?”
“It was unusually large.”
Rebecca held her hands apart. “It was this large.”
“That is a turkey,” Nathaniel said.
“It felt that large.”
Caroline took over. “Eleanor stood on the fence for twenty minutes while the goose waited below.”
“I was developing a strategy.”
“You were yelling for Father.”
“I was requesting assistance.”
Nathaniel was laughing openly now.
Eleanor folded her arms.
He tried to stop.
Failed.
“You find this very amusing.”
“I am picturing you negotiating with the goose.”
“I did not negotiate.”
“Did you explain that you owned two wagons?”
Lydia fell sideways laughing.
Eleanor stared at him.
Nathaniel wiped his eyes. “I am sorry.”
“No, you are not.”
“No.”
“What happened to the goose?” Samuel asked.
Martha answered. “Mother caught it.”
“How?”
“She walked over and picked it up.”
Nathaniel laughed again.
Eleanor said, “Mother had an understanding with animals.”
Rebecca said, “Mother had corn.”
“That too.”
The camp applauded Eleanor’s humiliation enthusiastically.
Nathaniel leaned toward her. “I would have rescued you.”
“You would have stood beside Father laughing.”
“That is also possible.”
“I appreciate your honesty.”
“I am learning.”
Lydia pointed at Nathaniel. “Your turn.”
His smile disappeared.
Eleanor brightened immediately. “Yes.”
Nathaniel looked betrayed. “You are supposed to defend me.”
“Why?”
“We are courting.”
“That is not immunity.”
Mrs. Bell tapped her stick. “Story.”
Nathaniel sighed.
He looked around the fire. “Very well. When I was nineteen, I joined the Army.”
“That does not sound funny,” Lucy said.
“I had not reached the funny part.”
“Sorry.”
“My first assignment involved moving supply wagons. I knew nothing about supply wagons.”
Eleanor stared at him. “Nothing?”
“Very little.”
“You criticize everyone.”
“I learned through suffering.”
Rebecca looked interested.
Nathaniel continued. “A sergeant told me to secure twenty barrels of flour before we moved.”
“And?” Eleanor asked.
“I secured them.”
“How?”
“With rope.”
“That seems sensible.”
“It would have been if I had secured the barrels to the wagon.”
The camp began laughing before he finished.
Nathaniel nodded. “I secured them to one another.”
Rebecca groaned.
Eleanor covered her mouth.
“The wagon reached the first slope. The barrels moved as a group.”
“Oh no,” Grace whispered.
“Oh yes.”
“How many fell out?” Thomas asked.
“Seventeen.”
Eleanor bent forward laughing.
Nathaniel waited.
“Seventeen?” she managed.
“Seventeen.”
“What happened?”
“They rolled downhill.”
Lydia was crying with laughter.
“Did you catch them?” Lucy asked.
“No.”
“Where did they go?”
“Through the commanding officer’s tent.”
The entire camp exploded.
Even Mr. Daugherty doubled over.
Eleanor could barely breathe.
Nathaniel sat patiently through his humiliation.
When she finally recovered, she looked at him. “You?”
“Yes.”
“The great Nathaniel Cooper?”
“I was nineteen.”
“Seventeen barrels?”
“I can count.”
“That is reassuring, because apparently you could not tie knots.”
“I can now.”
Eleanor smiled. “Suffering truly educated you.”
Nathaniel leaned close. “Tell anyone, and I will deny it.”
“Everyone just heard.”
“I will deny it collectively.”
“That is ambitious.”
Lydia wiped her eyes. “Best story.”
Mrs. Bell shook her head. “Not yet.” She pointed at Caroline.
Caroline frowned. “Why me?”
“Because you have spent the evening looking innocent.”
Thomas looked interested.
Caroline noticed.
Eleanor noticed Caroline noticing.
This improved everything.
Caroline said, “I have no embarrassing stories.”
Seven sisters laughed.
Thomas smiled.
Caroline looked at him. “Do not encourage them.”
“I said nothing.”
Eleanor whispered to Nathaniel, “He is learning.”
Nathaniel whispered back, “Quickly.”
Rebecca said, “Tell the story about the map.”
Thomas straightened.
Caroline’s face changed.
“What map?” he asked.
Eleanor smiled.
Caroline glared at Rebecca.
Rebecca looked delighted.
“When Caroline was fourteen,” she began, “Father bought a new county map.”
“I dislike where this is going,” Caroline said.
“She found an error.”
Thomas leaned forward. “What kind?”
Caroline sighed. “A creek was drawn on the wrong side of a road.”
“How did you know?”
“I had been there.”
Rebecca continued, “Caroline wrote to the mapmaker.”
Thomas smiled. “Good.”
“She told him he was wrong.”
“Also, good.”
“She was fourteen,” Eleanor reminded him.
Thomas looked at Caroline with unmistakable admiration. “How did he answer?”