Page 29 of Caroline’s Compass

“Release it now!”

Rebecca slashed the half hitch free. The wagon swung downstream, frighteningly fast, then straightened behind the oxen. Thomas ran along the bank with the guide line while Caroline waded toward the team.

“Let them move!” she called to Coleman. “They know where their feet are.”

He dropped the reins. The oxen lunged. Hall's team took the forward rope, and both wagons strained together until Coleman's rear wheels found the shelf.

The wagon climbed out dripping but upright.

For a heartbeat no one spoke. Then Mrs. Bell began clapping. The sound spread along the bank until even Mr. Coleman joined, though he looked uncertain whether he was applauding Caroline or his continued existence.

Thomas came out of the water with mud to his waist and a broad smile on his face. “Captain Caroline.”

She stared at him. “Absolutely not.”

“Too late. The title has been earned.”

“I already have seven sisters who ignore me. I do not require a larger command.”

Lucy, safe on the bank, called, “Captain Caroline!”

Grace echoed her. Charlotte added a respectful salute with the wooden spoon she had brought for no useful reason.

Caroline laughed. She could not help it. Relief rose through her with the sound, loosening something that had been tight since the wagons left Independence.

Thomas's smile changed as he watched her. The noise of the crossing seemed to recede. Water shone on his hair and ran along the sharp line of his cheek. Caroline noticed his hand remained at her elbow.

He let go slowly.

By the final crossing, the company no longer waited for Nathaniel to repeat Caroline's orders. Her sequence had become the plan. She revised it as teams tired, accepted Rebecca's judgment on the spare oxen, and kept Thomas informed of each change in bearing. Leadership did not require pretending her first decision was sacred. It required bringing twelve wagons safely to the other side.

The remaining wagons crossed without mishap. By midafternoon, the company had made camp on higher ground beyond the creek. Wet clothing hung from wagon lines, wheels were checked, and every available kettle held something warm.

Rebecca approached while Caroline inspected Coleman's axle. “You changed the order.”

“You were right.”

“I know. I wanted to hear you say it.”

Caroline nudged her with one shoulder. Rebecca nudged back.

Across camp, Thomas was copying the crossing into his notebook. He looked up as though he had felt Caroline watching.

Captain Caroline, he mouthed.

She shook her head, but she was still smiling when she turned away.

Drying camp became a contest between weather, wool, and human impatience. Every wagon had garments hanging from bows, ropes, wheels, and improvised lines. Mr. Avery walked into Mrs. Bell's petticoat and emerged apologizing to three different women.

Rebecca declared the picket line unavailable for laundry because oxen lacked respect for underclothes. Lucy argued that the oxen had seen them before. Caroline declined to ask when.

Thomas stretched a rope between two cottonwoods for the Whitakers. Lydia handed him a wet chemise. He accepted it, then recognized it and held it at arm's length as though it contained a legal objection.

“It is cloth,” Caroline said.

“I had determined that.”

“Then hang it.”