Page 76 of Caroline’s Compass

Caroline walked the line before sunrise with Thomas’s route sheet in one hand and the repaired compass in the other. She placed the Bell wagon first because its team was strongest, the Avery wagon second because Mr. Avery would complain less if occupied, and the Whitaker wagons in the middle where they could lend or receive help.

“You have put us eighth,” Rebecca observed.

“Our rear axle carries the flour chest. The ground will be packed by then.”

Rebecca nodded. “I was hoping there was an insulting reason.”

“I can supply one if it improves your morning.”

Thomas rode in the Bell wagon with his left leg stretched across a padded crate. From there he could see the approach and call measurements without pretending he could walk. His ankle remained tightly wrapped. Each time he forgot and tried to shift his weight, the older Mrs. Bell struck the wagon seat with a wooden spoon.

“I fear her,” he told Caroline when she passed.

“Good. We have finally found effective treatment.”

The first wagon climbed without sinking. The second slewed near the crest, but Caroline had already placed Coleman with a rope team above it. By noon, all twelve wagons stood on the ridge.

The western descent tempted them with a straight green slope. Mr. Avery pointed down it. “Why make a long turn south?”

Thomas opened his mouth, but Caroline answered first. “Because the green covers clay. Your wheels will cut through, and the wagon behind you will climb over your cooking stove.”

Mr. Avery looked at Thomas.

“Her assessment agrees with mine,” Thomas said.

“Mine agrees with his figures,” Caroline corrected. “You may choose whichever explanation makes you turn south.”

Mr. Avery turned south.

The western descent consumed the rest of May sixteenth and most of May seventeenth because Caroline refused to treat one successful wagon as proof for the next eleven. She checked the turn after every third descent. Thomas watched from the Bell wagon, calling soil notes and accepting the older Mrs. Bell's wooden spoon whenever he attempted to rise.

On the first afternoon, they lowered four wagons around the southern bend. Men held drag ropes from above while Rebecca walked beside each rear wheel and called the distance from the clay. Caroline remained at the turn where she could see both the ridge and the lower shelf. When the fourth wagon reached firm ground, the sun was already sliding toward the flooded plain.

Nathaniel halted the work before failing light could turn caution into guesswork. The eight wagons still on the ridge formed a short upper camp; the four below made a second camp beneath them. Families carried supper between the two by the safe footpath. The Whitaker sisters spread their bedrolls beneath the upper wagons and a low canvas fly. Caroline checked every wheel block twice, then accepted the first watch from Rebecca only after Rebecca threatened to wake Eleanor.

Thomas remained in the Bell wagon below. Caroline could see its lantern but could not reach him without descending the dark path. He raised the lantern once, their agreed signal that his ankle was settled and the route notes were ready for morning. She answered with a brief lift of her own. The distance was less than a quarter mile and felt unreasonable.

Work resumed at first light on May seventeenth. Damp rope stretched under the first load, so Caroline ordered it replaced before a wheel moved. Mr. Daugherty objected to losing ten minutes. Mrs. Bell handed him the frayed length and invited him to choose which relative should stand beneath it. He found urgent business elsewhere.

By noon, the lower shelf held nine wagons. The final three carried the heaviest stores, and Caroline shifted flour, iron, and water before sending them down. Charlotte recorded every transfer. Martha fed the rope crews where they stood. Lucy carried messages until she began improving them, at which point Grace was assigned to translate.

The tenth wagon descended cleanly. The eleventh reached the turn just as a gust pushed rain-cooled air over the ridge. Its canvas snapped, the off ox shied, and the rear wheel jumped the shallow guide rut. Caroline called a halt before anyone pulled against the frightened team. Rebecca covered the ox's eyes with a folded grain sack while Coleman reset the rope. Thomas watched from below and raised one hand, waiting for Caroline's decision instead of shouting an answer uphill.

Caroline walked the bend again. The wheel had not reached clay, but the margin had narrowed to the width of her palm. She moved the upper anchor around a limestone knob, ordered two trunks shifted to the uphill side, and sent every person not holding rope away from the slope. Lucy protested that watching was a useful duty. Charlotte assigned her to count the spectators moving back, which turned disobedience into arithmetic.

On Caroline's count, the team leaned into the harness. The wagon eased around the bend and reached the shelf without another slip. Only the Whitaker flour wagon remained above. Rebecca looked at Caroline and asked whether being last was still an honor. Caroline said it had become a warning against carrying so much iron. Martha called from below that no one complained when the iron held the cookpots.

They lowered the final wagon with both spare teams, four ropes, and almost no conversation. Caroline walked beside its rear axle until the wheels touched level ground. Then she placed one hand on the flour chest, felt the wagon settle motionless beneath it, and counted all twelve vehicles from the Bell wagon to the rear Whitaker team. For the first time in two days, every member of the company occupied the same safe shelf.

At the western turn, the Coleman wagon began sliding toward the clay line. Caroline ordered the uphill rope shortened and the rear wheels checked with stones. Rebecca shifted the spare team forward. The wagon stopped inches before the green surface broke beneath it.

Mr. Avery stared at the clay. “It looked firm.”

“So does Mrs. Bell's pudding,” Thomas called. “Neither supports a wagon.”

Mrs. Bell raised the spoon. “My pudding supports my son!”

“Through fear,” Mr. Bell said.