Chapter Five
Kansas River Crossing
Before sunset, the operator agreed to take one final wagon across with supplies for the far bank. Nathaniel watched from shore. The platform moved into the current.
Halfway across, the cable snapped.
The sound was sharp enough to silence the entire camp.
The ferry swung downstream.
“Ropes!” Nathaniel shouted. “Everyone to the ropes!”
People ran.
Nathaniel looked once toward Eleanor. She was already moving.
The ferry twisted in the current while men on both banks shouted instructions no one could hear.
Eleanor ran toward the rope nearest the landing. Nathaniel was ahead of her, pulling off his coat as he went.
“Keep everyone back from the edge!” he called.
Eleanor caught the arm of a woman trying to rush toward the water. “Who is on the ferry?”
“My husband and my brother.”
“They need room to work. Stay here.”
“I have to help them!”
“You will help by not becoming another person they must rescue.”
The woman stared at her, then nodded through her tears.
Eleanor directed Caroline and Charlotte to keep the children and families away from the landing. Rebecca and Lydia carried ropes to the men, who formed a line along the bank. Martha stayed with Grace and Lucy near the wagons.
Nathaniel tied one rope around his waist.
“What are you doing?” Eleanor demanded.
“The ferry is swinging toward the shallows. If we can get a second line downstream, we can hold it off the rocks.”
“You cannot swim that current.”
“I do not intend to.”
He pointed to a narrow section of flooded bank where he could wade before throwing the line. The water was already above the knees of the men standing there.
“That is a poor plan,” Eleanor said.
“Do you have a better one?”
“Not yet.”
“Then hold this.”
He gave her the rope.
Eleanor wrapped it around her forearm and joined the line of men bracing it. Nathaniel waded into the river with another rope over his shoulder.
The water struck him hard enough to stagger him.
Eleanor's heart stopped.
“Hold!” he shouted.
They held.
Nathaniel moved farther downstream, feeling for each step. The ferry was closer now. One wheel of the wagon hung partly over the platform's edge. The team had been unhitched before the crossing, thank God, but three men clung to the ferry rail.
Nathaniel threw the second line.
It fell short.
The current swept it back.
He dragged it in and tried again. This time one of the men on the ferry caught it and looped it around a post.
“Pull!” Nathaniel shouted.
Everyone leaned backward. The rope cut into Eleanor's palms through her gloves. The ferry slowed, then shifted toward the shallows.
A floating crate struck Nathaniel from the side.
He fell.
Eleanor dropped the rope before she could think.
“Eleanor!” Caroline screamed.
She ran into the water and caught the line around Nathaniel's waist. Two men followed her, taking the weight as the current pulled him downstream.
Nathaniel came up coughing. “Get back!”
“You are welcome!” Eleanor shouted.
“Back to shore!”
“Stop giving orders while drowning!”
He found his footing. Together they moved toward the bank while the men behind them pulled.
The ferry struck the shallows with a jolt. The wagon shifted but remained upright. Men rushed into the water and secured the platform with additional lines.
No one had died.
Eleanor stood waist-deep in the river, shaking from cold and fear. Nathaniel caught her arm.
“I told you to remain on shore.”
“You fell.”
“That did not require you to follow.”
“The rope was attached to you. Would you have preferred I let go?”
“I would have preferred you not enter the water.”
“You are being very unreasonable for a man who has just been rescued.”
His expression changed. Anger disappeared, leaving something that looked very much like fear.
“You could have been swept away,” he said.
Eleanor's answer caught in her throat.
“So could you.”
For a moment, they stood too close while brown water rushed around them.
Then Rebecca reached them. “If the two of you are finished arguing, some of us would like to get out of the river.”
Eleanor turned toward shore.
She did not notice the empty place at her left ear.
*****
THE FERRY OPERATOR worked through the night to repair the cable. By morning, he had added a second line and allowed Nathaniel to inspect every knot before the first crossing.
Nathaniel wanted to refuse the ferry entirely. He also knew the river would not become safer simply because he disliked what had happened.
The Whitaker wagons crossed first.
Eleanor stood beside the lead wagon on the platform.
She was dry now, though a dark bruise showed near her temple where she had struck a half-submerged branch while wading after Nathaniel.
Her ribs ached where the current had driven the rescue line across her left side.
Nathaniel had insisted on examining both injuries.
She had insisted on telling him he was not a doctor.
Both statements had been true.
The ferry moved slowly. Eleanor watched the cable, the water, and each wheel in turn.
“You can breathe,” Nathaniel said.
“I am breathing.”
“Not often.”
She inhaled deliberately.
They reached the far bank without trouble. The second Whitaker wagon followed. Then Nathaniel returned with the ferry for the next group.
“If you go into that river again, I shall object,” Eleanor said.
“You have objected to nearly everything I have done,” Nathaniel said.
“Then you understand the seriousness.” She glanced toward the water. “Besides, I am running out of dry clothes suitable for rescuing unreasonable men.”
The crossings continued all day.
Near evening, Eleanor approached him while he was checking a rope.
“I lost an earring.”
Nathaniel straightened. She had removed the remaining garnet and held it tightly in one hand.
“When?”
“In the river, I think.”
Her face was composed, but grief filled her eyes.
“We will look.”
“The train still needs to cross.”
“Others can manage the lines for half an hour.”
“No.” She shook her head. “The earrings are not worth risking anyone's safety.”
“They mattered to your mother.”
“My mother would care more about the living people on that ferry.”
Nathaniel wanted to argue. Eleanor was right, which made the feeling worse. “Where did you enter the water?” he asked.
She pointed downstream. “Near the broken willow.”
He nodded. “After the last crossing.”
“It will be dark.”
“Then I will take a lantern.”
“Mr. Cooper—”
“Nathaniel.”
She stared at him.
It was not the moment he had planned to ask her to use his given name. He had not planned to ask at all.
“Nathaniel,” she said softly, “you do not have to search.”
“I know.” He returned to the ferry before he could say more.
The final wagon reached the far bank after sunset. Nathaniel ate two bites of cold bacon, took a lantern, and walked downstream.
The river had fallen slightly, exposing reeds and debris along the bank. He searched the place where Eleanor had entered the water. He found a spoon, a broken buckle, and a child's wooden horse.
He did not find the earring.
Nathaniel moved farther downstream.
The lantern light caught something red.
He knelt beside a tangle of reeds. The garnet was caught by its bent clasp, half-covered in mud.
Nathaniel lifted it carefully.
He felt a satisfaction entirely out of proportion to the size of the thing.
Eleanor was sitting near the Whitaker fire when he returned. Her sisters had gone to bed, though Caroline's silhouette was visible beneath the wagon canvas. Nathaniel suspected the woman was awake and listening.
He sat beside Eleanor and opened his hand.
She gasped. “You found it.”
“It was caught in the reeds.”
Her fingers trembled as she picked it up. “I thought it was gone.”
“The clasp is bent.”
“That does not matter.”
“It will when you lose it again.”
Nathaniel took a length of fine wire from the small repair kit in his coat. He straightened the clasp, wrapped the damaged place, and tested it twice.
Eleanor watched him. “Do all wagon masters repair jewelry?”
“Former quartermasters repair anything people cannot replace.”
Her eyes met his.
Nathaniel held out the earring. She reached for it, but he did not release it immediately.
“May I?” he asked.
She went still, then turned her head.
Nathaniel fastened the earring beneath her left ear. His fingers brushed the soft skin of her neck. Eleanor drew in a breath.
He should have moved away. He did not. Instead, he bent close and brushed a quick kiss against her temple, so light it was almost a question.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“You are welcome.”
The garnet glowed in the firelight between them.
Nathaniel had repaired many things in his life.
He had the uneasy feeling that Eleanor Whitaker might be the one thing he could not touch without feeling the need to fix himself.
*****
THE HALF-DAY HALT GAVE the sisters enough time to wash clothes, which Eleanor discovered was not the same thing as having enough time to dry them.
Stockings stretched between the wagons. Shirts and petticoats hung from every rope not currently holding something essential together.
Nathaniel approached, stopped, and regarded the forest of white linen.
“You may wish to go around,” Eleanor said.
“I was looking for the rear wheel.”
“It is still attached.”
“I prefer to verify these things.”
Lydia stepped from behind a hanging petticoat. “You are entering dangerous country, Mr. Cooper.”
“So, I see.”
“Some of those belong to Eleanor.”
Eleanor nearly dropped Charlotte’s ledger.
Nathaniel remained admirably composed. “I will try to survive the knowledge.”
“Lydia.”
“What? He knows you wear clothes.”
“Go help Martha.”
“Martha sent me here.”
“Then help someone who has not.”
Lydia wandered away.
Nathaniel waited until she was out of earshot. “Does that instruction ever work?”
“Almost never.”
“Why keep giving it?”
“Hope is a stubborn disease.”
He crouched beside the wheel. At that exact moment, one of Eleanor’s stockings slid from the line and landed on his shoulder.
He looked at it.
Eleanor looked at it.
Neither spoke.
Nathaniel removed the stocking with grave care. “Your dangerous underthings appear to be attacking.”
Eleanor snatched it from him. “If you mention this, I will deny it.”
“To whom?”
“Everyone.”
“Even me?”
“Especially you.”
His laughter followed him beneath the wagon.
Caroline appeared a moment later. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing.”
She looked at the stocking clenched in Eleanor’s fist. “That appears to be an unusually personal nothing.”
“Inventory, Caroline.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Why are there seven of you watching me?” Eleanor asked.
“Eight,” Nathaniel said from behind her.
She turned. “You do not count.”
“That is hurtful.”
Lydia grinned. “We are waiting to see whether you thank him again.”
“For what?”
“The earring.”
“I already thanked him.”
Rebecca said, “Very politely.”
Caroline added, “With words this time.”
Nathaniel looked interested. “Was another method under consideration?”
“No,” Eleanor said.
“Yes,” Lydia said.
“Lydia.”
Nathaniel folded his arms. “I believe Miss Whitaker has spoken. Although I am willing to hear the alternatives.”
Seven sisters erupted.
Eleanor stared at him.
Nathaniel lasted two seconds before laughing.
“You are becoming a bad influence.”
“On whom?”
“My sisters.”
Caroline shook her head. “He arrived too late.”
“Much too late,” Rebecca agreed.
Nathaniel looked at Eleanor. “Apparently I am innocent.”
“You have never been innocent.”
His eyebrows rose.
Eleanor realized what she had said.
“Not one word.”
Nathaniel said mildly, “My face?”
“Especially your face.”