Emily's Fortune (2 page)

“How will I get to Redbud?” asked Emily.

It was a long way off, the neighbors explained, and the journey would take many days. They would drive her to the train station themselves, and once she got to Trumpet Junction, a stagecoach would take her the rest of the way.

“I wonder if Emily can do this,” said Mrs. Ready anxiously. “She has never done much of anything before.”

Mrs. Aim looked at Emily. “Can you do this, child?” she asked. “Can you stand the stopping and starting, the thumping and bumping, the swinging and swaying, and the smell of four sweaty horses?”

“I
must,”
Emily whispered determinedly.

“And she
will!”
said Mrs. Fire. “A train leaves for Trumpet Junction this very day, so let's pack her things in a carpetbag and get her to the station.”

But somebody else
was on the way
to Luella's bighouse!
Now, who in
flippin' flapjacks
could it be?

B
ang! Bang! Bang!
There were three heavy knocks on the door of Luella Nash's big white house. With all the servants busy upstairs and the neighbor women at work in the kitchen, it was Emily who answered.

There stood a large woman in a gray dress, gray shoes, and a gray hat over her gray hair. She was holding a gray notebook in her hands.

“Emily Wiggins?” the woman asked. “The child who never goes to school?”

Emily swallowed. “Yes,” she said, in her teeny, tiny voice.

“I am Miss Catchum,” the woman said. “Your present circumstances have been brought to our attention. It is my job to find a place for you to live, now that your dear departed mother is gone.” She dabbed at her eye with a handkerchief, but Emily didn't see any trace of a tear.

“But I
have
a place to live,” Emily told her quickly. “I have an aunt Hilda down in Redbud.”

“I know, but she is only your aunt by marriage,” Miss Catchum said. “I have looked up your records and I see that your closest living blood relative is your mother's brother, Victor. According to clause number thirty-one D in paragraph ninety-two of section one hundred and eight of the Regulations Regarding Orphaned Children, such children are to be kept off the streets at all costs by residing with their closest living relative, their next of kin.”

Thumpa thumpa thumpa
, went Emily's heart.

“But…he won't want me!” she protested. “He doesn't even like me! He doesn't like children at all!”

“How do you know unless we ask him?” said Miss Catchum. “Our office gets a bonus for every child we place with a relative, and a super-duper-dinger-zinger bonus if it's the closest living relative of the mother herself. I'm sure your uncle Victor will look deep in his heart and provide for his orphaned niece.”

Emily was not so sure. The man with the silver-black hair of a wolf and the eyes of a weasel and the growl of a bear and the tiger tattoo had never sat Emily on his lap, never given her a hug, and
certainly
never sent cookies at Christmas. Emily knew without a doubt that if Uncle Victor looked deep in his heart, he would only see a way to get rid of her.

Mrs. Ready, Mrs. Aim, and Mrs. Fire had been listening from the hallway, and together they came to the door.

“Please let Emily live with one of us until the matter can be settled,” said Mrs. Fire. “We shall take the best care of her.”

“I'm afraid that wouldn't do,” said Miss Catchum. “She might get away, and then I would lose my super-duper-dinger-zinger bonus. The orphans' home will lock her in until her uncle can be found.” She turned once more to Emily. “Get your things together, dearie, and I'll be back around shortly to pick you up.” The woman in the gray dress and hat and shoes went out to her gray carriage with her gray notebook and shook the reins of her horse. A gray one.

As soon as she had gone, the neighbor women put their heads together.

“Now, that's a problem,” said Mrs. Ready.

“How can they send her to live with someone who doesn't even like children?” asked Mrs. Aim.

“They shouldn't and they
won't!”
Mrs. Fire declared.

“We must see that Emily is on that train before Miss Catchum comes to collect her.”

And before Emily could say “Ready…Aim…Fire,” the women finished packing her carpetbag, then hustled her and the little box that held Rufus out to their carriage next door.

Halfway to the train station, they saw a carriage coming toward them. A sign on the driver's door read:

CATCHUM CHILD-CATCHING
SERVICES
ORPHANS, STRAYS, AND
ROUSTABOUTS
ROUNDED UP QUICKLY

Mrs. Ready and Mrs. Aim pushed Emily to the floor, where she couldn't be seen, and Mrs. Fire kept her eyes straight ahead as they passed the Catchum carriage. When the danger was gone, Emily crawled back up on the seat, her bonnet dangling from one ear, and the horse galloped on.

When they reached the station, the kind women bought a ticket for Emily and gave her the lunch they had prepared. Then they took her out to the track, where the big black engine was belching smoke and shooting sparks.

“Remember, dear Emily, that you are a little child traveling alone,” said Mrs. Ready.

“And what should such a child do?” asked Mrs. Aim.

“She should keep her eyes open, her ears clean, and her chin up,” said Mrs. Fire.

“And be prepared for anything,” the three women said together.

Emily thanked them for their help and climbed aboard. The whistle blew, the engine belched again,
and the cars jerked forward. It was all Emily could do to remain upright.

•   •   •

She found a seat by a window and set the carpetbag at her feet. It was very crowded in the car and the benches were hard, with wooden backs. Emily pressed her face to the glass and waved to the three women who had been so helpful.

Far off in the distance she could see a tiny white speck up on a hill. She knew it was the last she would see of the big white house where she had lived since she was a baby.

Puff, puff, puff
, went the steam engine.
Wheet, wheet, wheet
, went the whistle.

Emily thought she might fall asleep to the rhythm, but suddenly a gray horse pulling a gray carriage came dashing along the platform. Emily looked over to see Miss Catchum leaning out her window yelling, “Stop! Stop!” and waving a handful of papers.

Emily gripped the edge of her seat with her fingers. But the big iron wheels of the train were going faster,
and before long Miss Catchum, the station, and the three neighbor women were far behind. Emily sat back and let out a long breath.

When her heartbeat had slowed to normal, she took Rufus out of his box with the small holes in the lid. She let him crawl along her arm so that he could see out the window too. She had no father, no mother now, and no home till she got to Aunt Hilda's. All she had was a little green turtle, some lunch, and a carpetbag of clothes. A tear rolled down her cheek and fell on the turtle's face. Rufus tipped back his head and drank it.

Then Emily remembered something else about Uncle Victor. The last time he had come to visit, two years before, he had made her mother cry, as usual, and Emily had glared at him from the doorway.

“Whatcha got there?” he'd growled, his weasel-like eyes looking at Emily's cupped hands. “Something for me?”

“No,” Emily had told him. “It's Rufus, my new turtle. Mother bought him for me.”

“Ha!” said Uncle Victor, and his “Ha!” sounded
like gravel hitting the side of a barn. “All a turtle's good for is turtle soup.”

Emily had run and hidden in a closet. And after Uncle Victor left the house that day with some of Mother's money, Emily had hoped he would never come back. Now, of course, there was nothing for him to come back
for
.

After Rufus had crawled around a bit, Emily gently put him back in his box. “You are all I have in this world, and I'll take care of you forever,” she promised.

Except for church on Sundays, Emily had never been with so many people all crowded together. Was everyone in the world going to Trumpet Junction? she wondered, looking at the dozens of bags and boxes tucked beneath the seats.

The man beside Emily was falling asleep. His head tipped back and his mouth fell open.
Sssnnnoooggghhh
, he went.

The woman next to him was knitting a cap.
Click, click, click
, went her needles.

The small child at the end of the row was wailing
loudly,
Wah, wah, wah
, and wiping her eyes with one smudgy fist.

Row after row of people filled the train car, and a potbellied stove in the middle kept some passengers too hot, while those around the edges of the car were too cold.

Every so often the train jerked, or rocked from side to side. If it rocked to the left, Emily tipped against the sleeping man. If it tipped to the right, the sleeping man leaned over on Emily and almost flattened her against the window.

After several hours, the small child who had been wailing wanted to see out the window, and Emily kindly agreed to change places. Now the mother and child sat by the window, and Emily sat at the end of the bench on the aisle. And next time, when the car tipped, everyone toppled over onto Emily, and Emily landed on the floor.

•   •   •

Once, when Emily opened the lid of Rufus's box and let him crawl around her lap, a short woman across the aisle looked at her in disgust.

“Throw that slimy creature away, child!” she scolded. “Did your mother teach you no manners?”

“My…my mother gave him to me,” Emily tried to explain, but the short woman shook her head.

“Don't lie,” she told her, and Emily put Rufus back in his box. It was no surprise to her that many grown-ups didn't listen.

As the hours went on, the air grew stale and smelly. Some people were eating supper. Some of the men were smoking cigars. At different stops, vendors would hop aboard and race up and down the aisles, selling soap or soup or bread before the train moved on again.

Emily had no money to buy food, but she did have the lunch bag the neighbors had given her. She opened it up and found a feast: a piece of cold chicken, a sausage, a round of cheese, a half loaf of bread, some carrots, an orange, and a thick slice of caramel cake. She ate the chicken but saved the rest, and gave Rufus a tiny bite of carrot.

As darkness fell, the conductor lit the oil lamps so that passengers could see their way to the foul toilet in
a closet at the end of the car. Emily held her breath when she used the closet. She couldn't imagine wealthy Miss Nash, who had liked things clean and tidy, ever using such a dirty closet at all.

When it was time to sleep, Emily wondered if she possibly could. But she placed her carpetbag on her lap as a pillow, laid her head on it, wrapped her arms around it, and fell into a deep slumber.