Page 8 of Eleanor’s Earrings

The oxen leaned into the yoke. For one horrible moment, nothing happened.

Then the wagon shifted away from the edge.

Men shoved rocks and wood beneath the wheel. The family climbed out, shaking but unhurt.

Eleanor stroked the neck of the nearest ox. “Good boy.”

Nathaniel came to stand beside her. “You were saying something about not needing to double-team?”

She looked at him. Rain ran from his hat brim onto his nose. He looked ridiculous, which made it difficult to be properly offended.

“That was a different wagon.”

“Naturally.”

“Our team was needed elsewhere.”

“Which is why stronger teams help weaker ones.”

Eleanor sighed. “You may enjoy being right for the next five minutes.”

“Only five?”

“Do not become greedy.”

*****

NATHANIEL HAD EXPECTED trouble from Eleanor Whitaker. He had not expected her to be the first person to put her own team at risk for another family.

He should have known better.

Proud did not mean selfish. Stubborn did not mean foolish. Eleanor listened to everything, considered it, and then did whatever she believed was right. The difficulty was convincing her that someone else might also know what was right.

After he secured the endangered wagon, he sent Eleanor's first wagon up the slope with an extra team attached.

She did not protest.

That worried him more than the arguing.

He found her at the top of the rise, flexing one hand. A red mark crossed her palm where a wet line had slipped through her glove.

“Let me see.”

She closed her fist. “It is nothing.”

“That is what difficult people say when they do not want me to see something.”

“Do you have experience with difficult people?”

“I am a wagon master.”

He held out his hand. Eleanor stared at it before finally giving him hers.

Her palm was scraped but not badly cut. He took a clean cloth from his saddlebag and wrapped it around her hand.

“Keep it dry tonight.”

She looked at the rain. “I will speak to the clouds.”