Chapter Eight #3
“We will go slowly.”
“The music is not slow.”
“I will speak with Avery.”
“You cannot order a fiddler to change tempo.”
“I am wagon master.”
“That authority does not extend to music.”
“We are about to discover that.”
Nathaniel walked directly to the fiddler.
Eleanor watched him say something.
Mr. Avery laughed. The reel ended. Then he began a slower tune.
The entire camp turned toward Eleanor.
She stared at Nathaniel.
He returned and offered his hand.
“You did that deliberately.”
“Yes.”
“Everyone is looking.”
“Yes.”
“I dislike you.”
“No, you do not.”
That was becoming an annoyingly effective answer.
Eleanor put her hand in his.
A cheer rose from somewhere near the Whitaker wagons.
“Lydia,” Eleanor said.
“I did not do it!”
Mrs. Bell called, “I did!”
Nathaniel led Eleanor into the open space.
He was careful of her ribs. One hand held hers while the other rested lightly at her waist.
“You do know how to dance,” she said.
“I told you.”
“You tell me many things.”
“Most are true.”
“Most?”
Nathaniel smiled. “You look nervous.”
“Forty people are watching us.”
“Nearly forty.”
“That does not help.”
“Look at me.”
She did. The camp blurred at the edges. Nathaniel guided her through a simple turn.
“You are counting,” he said.
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“I like knowing what comes next.”
“That explains a great deal.”
“What does that mean?”
“You count steps. Miles. flour sacks. sisters.”
“I do not count my sisters.”
“You counted them twice before breakfast.”
“That was because Lucy disappeared behind the wagon.”
“For thirty seconds.”
“She could have wandered off.”
Lucy, dancing nearby, called, “I heard that!”
Eleanor called back, “Good!”
Nathaniel laughed. “You lost the count,” he said.
Eleanor realized she had.
They completed another turn.
Nathaniel’s hand was warm at her waist.
“You stepped on me,” he said.
“I did not.”
“My boot says otherwise.”
“Your boot is mistaken.”
“It is beneath yours.”
Eleanor looked down.
Her foot was, indeed, on his.
She moved it.
“I was testing your balance.”
“Excellent recovery.”
“I learned from you.”
“That worries me.”
Around them, the camp continued laughing, clapping, and dancing.
Lydia passed with her partner.
“Eleanor!”
“What?”
“You are smiling!”
“Watch where you’re going!”
Lydia promptly collided with Rebecca.
Rebecca caught her.
“I was watching Eleanor.”
“That explains nothing.”
Nathaniel leaned closer. “Your family may be the death of me.”
“You knew there were seven.”
“I understood the number. I did not understand the force.”
Eleanor laughed.
The song ended.
Nathaniel did not immediately release her.
Neither did Eleanor step away.
Then Samuel Turner appeared between them.
“Mr. Cooper?”
Nathaniel looked down. “Yes?”
“Will you dance with my mother? My father has the baby.”
Mrs. Turner turned bright red.
Nathaniel looked at Eleanor.
She smiled. “Wagon master.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You are responsible for morale.”
“That sounds invented.”
“Plans change.”
Nathaniel sighed and offered Mrs. Turner his hand.
Eleanor returned to the Whitaker sisters.
Lydia immediately seized her arm.
“You danced with him.”
“I’m aware.”
“He changed the music for you.”
“I noticed.”
“He put his hand on your waist.”
Eleanor looked at her.
Lydia grinned.
Caroline said, “Leave her alone.”
“Thank you.”
Caroline waited one beat. “Did he step on you?”
Eleanor stared.
Rebecca laughed. “She stepped on him.”
“How do you know?” Eleanor asked.
“I was watching.”
Eleanor looked around at all seven sisters.
“Do none of you have lives of your own?”
Charlotte said, “Not yet. We are waiting until Oregon.”
Everyone went silent.
Then Lydia began laughing.
“What?” Charlotte asked.
Mr. Avery began another tune.
Thomas Reed approached the Whitakers. He looked at Caroline.
“Would you dance?”
Caroline blinked.
Lydia inhaled.
Eleanor clapped one hand over Lydia’s mouth.
Caroline looked at Eleanor.
Eleanor smiled innocently.
Thomas waited.
Finally, Caroline placed her hand in his.
“I warn you,” she said, “I count steps.”
Thomas smiled. “So do I.”
They walked toward the dancers.
Eleanor slowly removed her hand from Lydia’s mouth.
Lydia whispered, “Oh.”
Rebecca said, “Maps.”
Grace smiled. “They look nice together.”
Lucy sighed. “This trail is becoming very romantic.”
Martha handed her a cup. “Drink your water.”
Nathaniel returned after dancing with Mrs. Turner. He sat beside Eleanor. “Did I miss anything?”
Eleanor looked toward Caroline and Thomas.
“Nothing.”
Nathaniel followed her gaze. “Ah.”
“Do not say it.”
“I was going to say they dance well.”
“No, you were not.”
“No.”
The fiddle played on. For one evening, nobody discussed mileage, damaged wheels, river levels, dwindling supplies, or how far remained to Oregon.
They sang.
They danced.
They laughed.
And when Eleanor finally walked back to the wagon beside Nathaniel, Lydia called after them, “Try not to have any private conversations where we can’t hear!”
Eleanor stopped.
Nathaniel kept walking.
“Nathaniel.”
“I am pretending I did not hear her.”
“Coward.”
“Experienced leader.”
Eleanor hurried after him, laughing.