Page 49 of Caroline’s Compass

“I am also being honest.”

They shared a smile.

Thomas covered her hand with his, careful not to disturb the compass. “Then that will be our first rule.”

“What will?”

“We tell the truth, even when it makes us look foolish.”

“You have an advantage. You are accustomed to that.”

“Captain Caroline, I am wounded.”

“Not until tomorrow. Martha packed bandages.”

His thumb moved once across her knuckles. The touch was smaller than a kiss and somehow more intimate.

Their practical courtship questions continued until the campfires burned low. Thomas asked where Caroline would live if every place were equally possible. She described a house near her sisters but not sharing a wall with any of them. Caroline asked what work he would choose if pay and reputation were equal. He said work that left something useful after he departed, then paused over the word departed.

“You assume leaving even in an imaginary future,” she said.

“I told you honesty might make me look foolish.”

“It is performing admirably.”

He asked whether she could imagine a husband traveling for weeks at a time. Caroline did not answer quickly. She could imagine enduring it. She did not yet know whether endurance was the same as choosing it. Thomas did not press. He wrote no conclusion in his notebook. Their first honest courtship evening ended with more questions than answers, which was perhaps the most honest result possible.

At dawn they would ride onto an uncertain road, seeking proof of what lay beyond the ridge. Tonight Caroline sat beside Thomas with Father's compass between their hands and accepted that they couldn't choose every direction in advance.

But the promise mattered.

Whatever they found on the cutoff—and whatever waited at Fort Kearny—they would tell each other the truth.

Chapter Eleven

May 8, 1854

The Cutoff

Mr. Avery's horse came up lame before sunrise.

The animal merely favored its right foreleg, but Rebecca refused to let it travel six miles. When Mr. Avery protested, she invited him to walk while carrying his saddle.

Mr. Hall, who had come to see the party away, offered to take Avery's place. His wagon had nearly wandered into a marsh two days earlier, and he wanted to recognize bad ground before it recognized him.

The scouting party's departure took longer than planned because everyone believed four riders required advice from forty people. Mrs. Bell packed extra biscuits. Martha added bandages. Lucy brought a spoon in case they encountered soup.

Rebecca inspected every saddle, including Thomas's, and rejected one girth strap. Thomas said it had held for three hundred miles. Rebecca said that described its past, not promised its future.

Mr. Hall borrowed Avery's oilskin and found one sleeve shorter than the other. Avery explained this improved pistol access. Hall said it improved rain access.

Caroline checked the compass against the morning light. Thomas asked whether she wanted him to verify the bearing. “No.”

“A confident no or an irritated no?”

“Both can point in the same direction.”

Nathaniel repeated the return deadline. Eleanor handed Caroline a small packet of dried apples and told Rebecca not to shoot anyone unless necessary. Rebecca asked who would define necessary. Eleanor said Caroline.