“The chair stays,” Eleanor said. “I had already reached that conclusion,” Nathaniel said. “You looked prepared to argue.”
*****
NATHANIEL RODE BACK after the train had traveled nearly a mile.
He told himself he wanted to inspect the road behind them. A good wagon master watched for lost items, damaged ground, and signs that another train might be catching up.
That was true.
It was also true that he wanted something from the small chest Eleanor had abandoned.
He found it where they had left it. Using a small pry bar from his saddlebag, he removed the carved front panel. It was not heavy. It could be fitted inside the wagon wall or used on a cabinet after they reached Oregon.
Nathaniel tied it behind his saddle and returned to the train.
He waited until camp that evening to give it to her.
Eleanor was checking Caroline's bruises when he approached. Caroline looked at the panel and smiled. “I believe I should help Martha,” she said.
“Martha is twenty feet away,” Eleanor pointed out.
“She may need me urgently.” Caroline left.
Nathaniel held out the panel. “The entire chest was too heavy.”
Eleanor stared at the carved wood. “You went back.”
“It was not far.”
“The train had already moved.”
“I noticed.”
She took the panel with both hands. Her fingertips followed the vines her father had carved.
“We can build it into something when we reach Clover Creek,” he said.
Her eyes lifted. “We?”
Nathaniel felt heat climb the back of his neck. “You and your sisters.”
“Of course.” The disappointment in her voice might have been his imagination. “Thank you,” Eleanor said.
Before he could answer, she rose on her toes and kissed his cheek.
It was a quick kiss. Barely a touch. Nathaniel forgot every useful word he had ever learned.
Eleanor seemed equally startled by what she had done. “That was gratitude.”
“I assumed it was not an assault.”
“Do not make too much of it.”
“I would not dream of it.”
She carried the panel toward the wagon without looking back.
Nathaniel touched his cheek.