Page 45 of Caroline’s Compass

Mr. Avery tapped the paper. “Printed notices are official.”

Charlotte examined the crooked type. “It misspells Platte.”

“Printers make mistakes.”

“So do road builders.”

Lucy asked whether the three nails made the claim more truthful. Thomas said the quantity of hardware did not alter the evidence. Lydia suggested adding a fourth nail and changing the notice to read CERTAIN DEATH so everyone would choose the long road.

Nathaniel removed her from sign improvement duty.

Caroline walked both entrances. The established road showed old wheel wear and new hoofprints. The cutoff showed three fresh wagons and one set of tracks that angled back before the first ridge. Thomas saw the same thing.

“Someone reconsidered,” he said.

“Or forgot breakfast.”

“A strong cause of migration.”

The humor could not decide the road, but it kept the council from dividing into enemies before the facts were gathered. Caroline insisted on a survey because neither optimism nor fear deserved command of twelve wagons.

“Two days,” Mr. Coleman said. “After losing one at the creek, we should take it.”

Mr. Hall pointed at the warning. “A road cut by water is not a road.”

“That could have been written last year.”

“The notice could have been printed five years ago.”

Nathaniel stood with Eleanor beside the fork. The familiar trail bent northwest over higher ground. The cutoff continued west through a shallow draw and disappeared between two low ridges.

Thomas examined the print, the nails, and the tracks at the road's mouth. Caroline watched him crouch to study a wagon rut.

“At least three companies used it this spring,” he said. “The latest passed after the heavy rain.”

“Did they return?” Mrs. Bell asked.

Thomas looked at the road. “Not by the same line.”

That observation did not improve the discussion.

Caroline returned to the Whitaker wagons and opened the supply ledger. They were not in danger of hunger, but every delay consumed flour, coffee, lamp oil, and patience. The animals needed better grazing than the trampled ground beside the known route offered. Two saved days mattered.

So did twelve wagons broken in a flooded ravine.

Rebecca looked over Caroline's shoulder. “What do the numbers say?”

“That speed is useful.”

“And the road?”

“That certainty is useful.”

“Excellent. We have learned nothing.”

Caroline closed the ledger. “We have learned not to choose yet.”

At the wagon council, Thomas proposed surveying the first miles of the cutoff.