Page 20 of Caroline’s Compass

“You have checked it three times.”

Caroline wiped mud from the rim. “If it fails tomorrow, Mr. Avery will tell everyone the marsh predicted it.”

“Mr. Avery believes weather, wheels, and coffee all respond to his opinions.”

They reloaded the wagon together. Thomas asked where each item belonged before lifting it, a courtesy Caroline had not known she wanted until someone offered it. When the last sack was secured, he showed her the angle they had used to escape the swale and asked what she would change next time. Caroline shifted the proposed rope team uphill and reduced the unloading order by one layer. Thomas amended his notebook without defending his first plan.

Mr. Daugherty passed and remarked that a great deal of ink had been spent on one muddy wheel. Caroline answered that ink was cheaper than an axle. Thomas wrote that down too.

At supper, the eastbound rider's news moved from fire to fire. Men discussed wages at Fort Kearny as if Thomas had already accepted them. Caroline heard him answer every question except the one she wanted asked. He described the work, the equipment, and the summer schedule. He never said whether he wished to stay. By the time Charlotte joined her beneath the wagon, Caroline had invented six practical reasons to care and believed none of them.

That night Charlotte sat beside Caroline beneath the wagon, combing tangles from Grace's hair while Caroline checked Father's papers.

The brass compass lay open on her blanket.

“Thomas may leave at Fort Kearny,” Caroline said.

Charlotte drew the comb through a knot. Grace winced.

“He may.”

“Nathaniel will need another scout familiar with maps.”

“Nathaniel had a company before Thomas joined it.”

“Father's route is wrong in places.”

“You are learning to correct it.”

Caroline frowned at the compass. “I have taken three bearings.”

“All correct.”

“That does not make me a surveyor.”

“No.” Charlotte separated another lock of Grace's hair. “It does make your concern less entirely about maps.”

Grace turned her head. “Is it about love?”

“Hold still,” Charlotte said.

“Everyone keeps saying that to me.”

Caroline closed the compass. “It is about the company losing a useful man.”

Charlotte nodded.

Caroline waited. “You do not believe me.”

“I did not say that.”

“Your face did.”

Charlotte smiled. “Eleanor says the same thing about Lydia.”

“I am not Lydia.”

“No. Lydia would have asked Thomas whether he planned to leave.”