Page 16 of Caroline’s Compass

“The road has turned seven degrees north of yesterday's line,” she said. “It will meet the older trace near the creek.”

Mr. Daugherty looked at Thomas. “Is that so?”

Thomas could have answered. Instead he said, “Ask Miss Whitaker.”

Caroline's eyes met his.

She pointed toward a distant ridge. “The cottonwoods there run along water. Father's notes place the joining creek west-northwest of our last camp. The bearing and the land agree.”

Mr. Daugherty grunted. “A road is easier to trust.”

“Then you may wait until one arrives,” Caroline said. “The rest of us are traveling.”

Rebecca laughed from the second wagon.

By evening, they reached the creek exactly where Caroline predicted.

Thomas opened his route book beside the fire. He recorded the southern trace, the water, and the joining point. Under the bearing he wrote: Observed by Caroline Whitaker.

She sat across from him repairing Lucy's bonnet again.

“You need not put my name there.”

“It is your bearing.”

“It is Father's compass.”

“The compass did not read itself.”

Caroline drew the needle through the ribbon. “Father made the plan.”

“Your father did not travel this ground today.”

Her hands went still.

Thomas waited for anger. Instead, she looked toward the dark line of the creek. “No,” she said. “He did not.”

Thomas closed the book. “I am sorry for what I said earlier.”

“Which part?”

“That you prevent people from knowing what you need.”

“Do you no longer believe it?”

“I believe apologizing is sometimes wiser than being correct.”

She glanced at him. “Nathaniel taught you that?”

“Eleanor.”

Caroline smiled.

“The distance is wrong,” she said.

Thomas looked down. “By how much?”

“A quarter mile.”