The Track Above the Bend

Miller returned from the clerk’s office with a fresh line on the map and mud on one boot. He laid the paper beside my unfinished mark of the creek.

“The northern track reaches the water,” he said. “Charcoal cutters used it before the upper woods were cleared. The clerk says it comes out upstream from the old crossing.”

I leaned over the map. The line was thin and faded, ending in a small notch where the paper had been folded. “Can a cart use it?”

“No. It’s a footpath. The mill driver took a handcart there once, years ago, and had to haul it out by rope.” Miller pushed the map closer to me. “The clerk doesn’t know the creek itself. We’ll have to look.”

The word we made my fingers press against the table. I wanted to go. I could picture the road bending around the rise, the tower somewhere beyond it, and the fence I couldn’t remember clearly enough to draw. But the splint pressed against my ankle, and I knew how far the bakery door was from my chair. The creek was farther.

Miller didn’t ask me to come. He waited while I studied the new line.

“Does it join the road past the rise?” I asked.

“The clerk couldn’t say.” He tapped the map’s blank space. “He only knew where the path reaches the water.”

That was the part I needed. The old crossing and the track were two different ways to reach the same creek, or perhaps they weren’t. I ran one finger along the thin line and stopped before its end. “If it comes out upstream, the creek might be on the other side from the road. I don’t remember which way it turns there.”

“That’s useful,” Miller said.

I looked at him. He wasn’t saying it to make me feel better. His paw stayed beside the map, waiting for me to go on.

“I remember the creek was on the left when I came toward the tower,” I said. “But I don’t know if I was already past the bend. I could have come around another way.”

Miller nodded once. He marked the unknown section with a small question mark. “We’ll keep that as a question.”

Clara came from the kitchen with a basket of rolls. “You two have the map open again.”

“The northern track may reach the creek above the slump,” Miller said. “The mill driver can take me out there this afternoon.”

Clara set the basket near the counter. “And Toby?”

“I’ll stay here,” I said before Miller could answer. The words came out quickly, as if I needed to get them said before I could change my mind. “I can help with the map.”

“All right,” Clara said. She moved the basket a little farther from the edge. “Then we’ll make sure you can reach the pencil without leaning over your ankle.”