Page 12 of Caroline’s Compass

Thomas let her sight along the closed compass case while Caroline held it. Lucy announced a cottonwood directly ahead. Charlotte noted that the cottonwood was a mile wide because it was an entire grove. Grace congratulated Lucy on discovering trees.

Lucy refused to be discouraged. She sighted again and announced an ox behind them.

“That is Mr. Hall,” Lydia said.

Mr. Hall, walking close enough to hear, said, “I have been called worse by people who knew me better.”

Lucy apologized. Mr. Hall accepted, then asked whether the compass had offered any opinion about his better side. Thomas said an instrument built for direction could not perform miracles. Caroline had to take the compass back before Lucy dropped it while laughing.

The lessons made the miles pass quickly. Caroline began reading direction from sun and shadow before opening the case, then using the needle to check herself. Thomas praised only what was accurate. Because he did not flatter, every quiet “correct” warmed her more than it should.

At the noon resting place, the new entry in the route book became public knowledge because Lucy considered ink a community matter.

“Mrs. Caroline Whitaker,” she read over Thomas's shoulder. “Why are you Mrs. if you are not married?”

“It is a respectful form of address,” Charlotte said.

“Then why does no one call me Mrs. Lucy?”

Rebecca handed her an empty bucket. “Because respect must be earned.”

Lucy accepted the bucket. “How much water earns it?”

“Enough to fill that.”

Grace examined Thomas's notation. “You have made Caroline official.”

“She made herself official,” Thomas said. “I recorded it.”

Lydia brightened. “Can you record that I have driven farther than Rebecca this week?”

“Only if you wish me to record why.”

“The ox sneezed.”

“Three times?” Rebecca asked.

Caroline rescued the route book before family history replaced geographic fact. “Mr. Reed records miles, water, grades, and hazards.”

Thomas dipped his pen. “I am considering a separate category for Whitakers.”

“Under hazards?” Grace asked.

“It will require its own volume.”

Chapter Three

April 30, 1854

South Trace

By the third morning after Eleanor's wedding, Caroline had acquired all of Eleanor's former duties and kept every one of her own.

This was not precisely true. Eleanor remained co-captain, oversaw the rear wagons, settled disputes, checked camps, and watched Nathaniel's injured shoulder with such attention that he could not lift a spoon without considering whether it was worth the argument.

But Caroline had the lead Whitaker wagon, Father's papers, Charlotte's mileage questions, Rebecca's reports about the teams, Martha's supply concerns, Lydia's complaints, Grace's missing shawl pin, and Lucy's bonnet ribbon, which had torn for the second time.

“Hold still,” Caroline said.