Page 85 of Eleanor’s Earrings

“Your seven unmarried sisters know, which means the train knows.”

“They would not.”

Mrs. Bell looked at Lydia, who was whispering to a group of girls near the second wagon.

Eleanor sighed. “They would.”

Mrs. Bell lowered her voice. “Trail courtships grow quickly. People are frightened, lonely, and far from everything familiar. A man may say many things in Missouri and remember none of them in Oregon.”

“Nathaniel has said very little.”

“That can be worse.”

Eleanor resumed walking. “There is no courtship.”

Mrs. Bell made a sound that expressed her opinion without requiring a word.

“What?” Eleanor demanded.

“Nothing. I enjoy watching young women lie to themselves. It reminds me of happier years.”

Eleanor walked faster. Nathaniel fell into step beside her.

“Your sisters are watching us,” Nathaniel said.

“The whole company is watching us,” Eleanor said.

“That is considerably worse.”

She was painfully aware of Nathaniel for the rest of the morning. He rode ahead, returned to check the rear wagons, spoke with Rebecca about the repaired reach, and stopped to help a child retrieve a dropped shoe.

He did not behave like a man who intended to forget everything by Oregon.

That did not mean he wanted a life in Clover Creek.

At midday, Nathaniel appointed Mr. Hall to oversee the rear wagons for the afternoon.

Eleanor frowned. “Why?”

“Because your ribs still need rest.”

“You are removing me again.”

“No.” He lowered his voice. “I am asking whether you agree that one half-day of walking without the whistle is sensible.”

She studied him.

He had remembered. He was explaining instead of commanding.

“I agree,” she said.

“Was that painful?”

“Extremely.”

“You hid it well.”

They walked together as the wagons began moving again.