Page 67 of Eleanor’s Earrings

At the noon break, Eleanor tried to lift a grain sack from the rear of the wagon.

Pain seized her side.

Her breath disappeared. The sack slipped. Eleanor staggered backward toward the wheel.

Strong arms caught her before she fell.

“Do not move,” Nathaniel said.

“I was not planning to.”

“How long?”

“How long what?”

“How long have you been in pain?”

“I am bruised. We knew that.”

“Eleanor.”

It was the first time he had used her name without being invited.

She liked it enough to resent him.

“Since the river,” she admitted. “It became this sharp yesterday morning.”

“Martha!”

“Do not shout for my sister as if I am dying.”

“Then stop behaving as though you intend to.”

Martha hurried over. Nathaniel stepped back only far enough to let her examine Eleanor.

“The ribs may be cracked,” Martha said quietly. “More likely badly bruised. Either way, lifting will worsen it.”

“I cannot spend the day in the wagon.”

“You can,” Nathaniel said. “And you will.”

Eleanor looked at him. “You gave me authority yesterday. Today you take it because I am injured?”

“I am taking nothing. I am ordering you to rest because a person who cannot breathe cannot lead.”

“You would not order a man into a wagon.”

“I have tied men into wagons.”

Rebecca nodded. “I believe him.”

“No one asked you,” Eleanor said.

Caroline arrived and folded her arms. “Get in the wagon.”

“Not you too.”

“Especially me. Seven sisters have watched you work through pain for days. That is not leadership. That is punishment, and none of us knows what crime we committed.”