Emily's Fortune (10 page)

Now what in a
devil's doughnut
should Emily do?

T
rapped! As Emily crawled into the coach with Uncle Victor behind her, she felt as though the man with the tiger tattoo had chained the door after them. Jackson was shaking too as the stagecoach moved off again.

They crawled onto the backseat with Mr. Muffit as they had before, but Uncle Victor was on the first seat, facing backward, guarding the door. There were only a few more rest stops between here and Redbud, the driver had said. And now, instead of running into Aunt
Hilda's arms, Emily would have to go with Uncle Victor.

Strangely, her uncle did not announce to the others that Emily was his niece and had deceived everyone into believing that she was a boy who could not talk. Perhaps he felt that if he did, he would also have to explain to the others why she was hiding from him.

How Emily wished that Mrs. Ready, Mrs. Aim, and Mrs. Fire were here to advise her!

Mrs. Ready might say, “The problem is that many grown-ups think children should be seen and not heard.”

And Mrs. Aim would say, “What if Emily tries to explain and no one believes her? Won't that just make things worse for her?”

And Mrs. Fire might say, “She musn't say a word. Even if they do believe her, Uncle Victor might promise them a share of the ten million dollars just to keep quiet about it.”

So Emily was to remain Eli for the rest of the journey, but now that Uncle Victor knew who Eli really was, what would happen next?

Jackson was taking no chances. That night, all the
passengers stretched out on the sleeping platform while the stagecoach bounced along in the dark. Emily lay behind the elderly gentleman and Jackson lay behind her. As the others snored, Jackson whispered in her ear:

“Listen, Emily, we're got to have a plan. Your uncle could do away with you before we get to Redbud, just to get your fortune for himself. I heard the driver say we'll make the next change of horses about midnight. It's not a rest stop, so no one will be wakened to get off. You've got to climb out and hide. Leave everything but your turtle behind. I'll cover your carpetbag with my jacket, and they'll think we're both here asleep. Stay hidden long enough that the station man can't put you on a horse and catch up with the coach when he finds you.”

Emily turned her head and stared wide-eyed into the darkness.

Jackson continued, “I'll ride on to Redbud and look for your aunt at the station. I'll give her your bag and tell her Victor's here too, trying to find you to get your money.”

“But Uncle Victor will be mad at you when he finds I'm missing,” Emily whispered back.

“Don't worry about me,” said Jackson. “It's you he's after.”

“But what will become of
me?
I'll be all alone!” Emily whispered, her voice faltering.

“You'll take a chance, Emily, that's what you'll do,” whispered Jackson. “It'll be the bravest thing you ever did. Tell the men at the way station that you got off when the team was changed. Tell them you fell asleep and the coach went off without you. They'll put you on the next stagecoach coming through to Redbud. You'll just get to your aunt's a couple days later, that's all.”

At that moment Mr. Muffit rolled over slowly until his whiskers were in Emily's face. His voice was so low that Emily could hardly hear him, but this time he didn't sound old at all:

“Listen to me,” he whispered. “I am a secret stagecoach inspector. My job is to ride all the way to California to see how well the drivers do their job. No one must know who I am. Do as your friend says,
Emily. I'll help him make it appear that you are asleep here in the coach.”

Emily and Jackson couldn't see the man's face in the darkness, but they lay openmouthed in surprise. His fake beard scratched Emily's forehead.

Emily wondered what the three neighbor women would suggest.

Mrs. Ready might say, “Emily must decide whether she can do the brave thing!”

Mrs. Aim would ask, “But should she trust the inspector?”

And perhaps Mrs. Fire would answer, “I'd trust him before I'd trust that snake of an uncle!”

Emily could hardly bear the thought of another delay in getting to Aunt Hilda's, but she whispered her thanks to the stagecoach inspector and turned to Jackson once again.

“You've been a good friend, and I wouldn't have made it this far without you. I hope you find a good family to live with in the West.”

It was just as Jackson had said. The coach stopped around midnight only long enough to change horses.
Most of the passengers went on snoring, and fortunately, Uncle Victor was one of them. As it was still dark and the stationmaster was busy with the animals, no one noticed the small child being helped out the window by a man with a beard. Emily dropped silently to the ground and ran around a corner of the way station.

A few minutes later the driver cracked his whip and the stagecoach was off again, each bend in the road taking Jackson farther and farther away.

Emily had never felt so alone—
really
alone. She crept back to the stable where the horses and mules were kept and dug a little nest for herself in the hay. She was still in Jackson's britches, still in Jackson's shirt. Her socks were filthy, her little boots were muddy, and her hair stuck out in short brown spikes all over her head. Meanwhile, her dress and petticoat and bonnet were on their way to Aunt Hilda's.

She opened Rufus's box and kissed his little face. His skin and shell looked dry. “Oh, please stay alive, Rufus!” she told him. “You're all I have from my mother.” As soon as it was light, she would find some
water for him to drink, some bugs for him to eat, and some grass that he might crawl through.

She wished she could explain to him that it would be only two more days before another stagecoach arrived to take her to Aunt Hilda's, but she kissed him instead, and he tucked his head back under his shell. Emily fell asleep.

•   •   •

Something cold and metallic touched the side of Emily's leg, and she jumped and opened her eyes.

A man's voice said, “Where the dickens did
you
come from?” He was standing there with a pitchfork, feeding the mules and staring wide-eyed at Emily. “Horace!” he called. “Come see what we got here!”

A second man, carrying a bucket of oats, came around the corner of the stall. “How'd you get here, boy?” the first man asked. “You come in with that stagecoach a few hours ago?”

“I guess so,” said Emily, and it seemed strange to be talking out loud. Her voice sounded strange even to her. “I must have missed it when it took off again, and crawled back here to sleep.”

“Where you headed?” asked the man named Horace.

“I'm going to live with my aunt Hilda in Redbud,” Emily said.

“She's expecting you?” the man asked.

“She says she'll expect me when she sees me, and she'll be meeting each stagecoach as it comes in till I get there,” Emily answered.

“Well, looks like you'll be here at Parsnip Pass till day after tomorrow,” the first man said. “But don't think you're going to hang around here gettin' into mischief. You want to eat, you got to work. What's your name?”

“Eli,” Emily told him.

“Then come along, Eli, and I'll show you how to muck the stable.”

For the next few hours, Emily fed the horses and forked out the muck from the floor of the stable. She pulled up buckets of water from the well, brushed the horses, rinsed the tin plates after dinner, washed the men's socks, soaked beans, and generally made herself useful.

Her arms were stronger than when she'd first left home. Her legs were steadier, her back was straighter, and she had a good appetite at mealtime. The way-station men let her put Rufus in a little pen outside the door, where he had fresh water, fresh grass to crawl through, and whatever bugs he could catch.

When another coach to Redbud arrived two days later, the way-station men were sorry to see her go.

“Good luck to you, Eli,” they told Emily as she climbed aboard with Rufus in his little box.

The driver of the stage wasn't especially glad to have her, as there were six Chinese workers on board already, heading west to build a railroad; he did not know how well a small boy would get along with them.

But Emily was used to being quiet, being alone, and being polite. The six workers spoke to each other in Chinese and ignored her, so Emily played with Rufus and tried to imagine how shocked everyone in the stagecoach must have been—Uncle Victor in particular—when they'd discovered she was missing. Because she had slipped out in the middle of the night, it would have been hours later and several way
stations farther before anyone had realized she was gone. Jackson was so good at lying, she was sure he had made up a good story, and Mr. Muffit, who was really an inspector, would have backed him up.

All afternoon they rode, and after the next stop, where Emily got off and stretched, she curled up on the backseat. She knew that by the following morning, she would be in Redbud. This was such a happy thought that she began to doze at once, Rufus's box clutched in her hand, and finally fell asleep to the rocking of the stagecoach and the snoring of the Chinese workers.

The next way station was not a place for passengers to get off—just to change horses—and Emily opened her eyes only long enough to see a fresh team being led out from the stable as the station men with their lanterns led the other team back to the barn.

But suddenly, before the stagecoach started off again, it dipped and swayed. Someone sat down on the seat next to her, and a low voice said, “You've come to the end of the line, Emily Wiggins.” The man with the tiger tattoo had a tight hold on her arm.

E
mily stared in dismay at her uncle. How could this be?

While the Chinese workers sat dozing, Uncle Victor continued in his growly voice, “The next stop is Redbud. If that aunt of yours is there waiting for you, you'll tell her you've decided to live with me. We'll go to the nearest courthouse or whatever they've got, and we'll sign a paper saying that you're Emily Wiggins, daughter of Constance Wiggins, my sister, and I'm your legal guardian.” He gave her arm a little twist.
“And from now on, you scheming, sniveling good-for-nothing, you'll do as I say.”

A week ago, perhaps, Emily Wiggins would have cowered before her uncle, too frightened to speak. But the long sleep in the stagecoach had refreshed her, the work at the way station had given her confidence, and the food had given her strength.

Emily stared into the eyes of the man with the tiger tattoo and said, “I won't.”

A look of surprise flashed over Uncle Victor's face, and then he growled, with a cruel smile, “You will!”

It was then that Emily realized he was holding Rufus's box.
Thumpa thumpa thumpa
—her heart almost stopped. She reached out to grab the box, but Victor only narrowed his eyes and held it out of reach.