Page 56 of Eleanor’s Earrings

“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.

Eleanor glanced at him. “Do you disagree?”

“I am unwilling to take a theological position on Mrs. Bell’s walking stick.”

“That may be the wisest thing you have said.”

“I have said many wise things.”

“Name three.”

Nathaniel opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

Lydia whispered, “This may take until we reach Oregon.”

Nathaniel pointed at her. “I was including you among my examples.”

“That is not wisdom. That is surrender.”

The emigrants gathered in a broad semicircle near the largest fire. Crates, buckets, wagon tongues, folded blankets, and the ground itself became pews. Children were washed as thoroughly as trail conditions allowed, which meant several had clean faces and dirty ears.

Grace sat with Lucy and two Turner children. Martha brought a blanket for Mrs. Lawson. Charlotte carried a small Bible their mother had carefully printed each of their names in. Rebecca arrived last after checking the teams.

Eleanor looked at her. “You are late.”