Page 73 of Eleanor’s Earrings

Her face was streaked with soot. “Eleanor—”

Eleanor slapped her.

The sharp sound shocked both of them.

Lydia put a hand to her cheek.

Eleanor immediately pulled her into her arms. “I am sorry. I am so sorry. Do not ever do that again.”

Lydia began to cry. “The ox was running away.”

“Let it run.”

“We need it.”

“I need you more.”

Lydia clung to her. “I thought I was helping.”

“Help by staying alive.” Eleanor held her until both stopped shaking.

Nathaniel stood several feet away, watching. Eleanor met his eyes over Lydia's shoulder.

He had brought her sister back.

He had also trusted Eleanor to save the wagons.

No man had ever protected what she loved without trying to take command of it.

*****

THE DAMAGE WAS WORSE than it first appeared.

The canvas had burned through. Several sacks inside were scorched, and the heat had blackened part of the axle. Nathaniel did not know whether the iron fittings had weakened until they cooled enough to inspect.

The train would remain in place.

Again.

He made his rounds, checked every person for burns, and assigned watches along the blackened firebreak. No one had died. Three people had minor burns. Two wagons had suffered damage. Several animals were missing, but most would be recovered.

“You frightened ten years from my life,” Eleanor said.

“Only ten? I must be losing my touch,” Lydia said.

“Do not attempt to improve it,” Eleanor said.

It could have been much worse.

Nathaniel found Eleanor behind one of the Whitaker wagons after sunset. She was sitting on the ground with her back against a wheel. Her face was pale beneath the soot.

He crouched beside her. “How are your ribs?”

“Do not ask.”

“Then I know the answer.”

“Martha will bind them again.”