Page 5 of Caroline’s Compass

Charlotte leaned around Caroline. “He means the wheels.”

“Thank you,” Thomas said.

Caroline's mouth moved. She had a restrained smile, as if amusement were another supply to be rationed.

During the first break, Thomas spread his map on the ground. Caroline brought the pouch. She unfolded her father's pages with care, smoothing each crease before allowing the wind to touch it.

“He drew this from a guide published before the flood,” Thomas said.

“He corrected it twice.”

“And correctly, for the road as it was then.”

Caroline glanced at him. “You are careful when disagreeing with dead men.”

“The living repeat the argument.”

They compared the next day's landmarks. Her father's notes described a split near three cottonwoods and a shallow creek bending north. Thomas's map showed the creek cutting south after two wet seasons.

Caroline reached deeper into the pouch. “There may be another page.”

Her fingers closed around cloth.

She drew out a small parcel wrapped in faded blue wool. Inside lay a brass pocket compass.

Thomas had seen finer instruments. This one was scratched, the hinge worn bright, the glass clouded at one edge. Her father's initials had been cut into the case.

“Father's,” Caroline said. The word came quietly. She opened the lid. The needle trembled, swung, and settled.

“It still works,” Thomas said.

“Did you expect it not to?”

“Most things still work after being properly kept.”

“Then my family is safe. We are very properly kept.”

He looked at her. “Are you?”

Caroline closed the compass.

Thomas wished, not for the first time, that he possessed a better sense of when a question should remain unasked. He was thankful when Nathaniel called for the company to move.

The first day with Caroline driving the lead Whitaker wagon also revealed that her sisters had confused a change in authority with an invitation to renegotiate every rule. Lydia wanted to walk beside the second wagon instead of the first. Grace wanted Lydia beside the first wagon because Lydia sang. Lucy wanted everyone far enough away that no one noticed when she gathered flowers.

“You may gather flowers at the noon halt,” Caroline said.

“They may be gone.”

“Flowers do not migrate.”

Thomas rode past. “Some close at midday.”

Lucy pointed at him. “The surveyor understands.”

Caroline assigned Thomas to stop encouraging dissent. He said his contract did not cover flowers.

At the next rise, the second wagon dropped too far behind because Rebecca had stopped to fix a trace buckle. Caroline halted the lead wagon, sent Charlotte back with the spacing order, and adjusted the walking sisters so someone reliable remained near each vehicle. Lydia objected to being classified by reliability. Caroline assured her the categories were temporary.