Emily's Fortune (3 page)

The next morning she was awakened by the conductor calling, “This is as far as the train goes, folks! All out for Trumpet Junction.”

The weary passengers picked up their squabbling children, their bawling babies, their boxes and bags and coats and bonnets, and started for the door.

Emily got off the train with the others, but she wasn't sure where to go next.

Wagons were rattling back and forth in front of the train station. Horses and riders, carts and bicycles.

She was following the crowd to a building with a sign that read
OVERHILL STAGECOACH COMPANY
when suddenly her heart began to pound, her hands began
to sweat, and her knees began to tremble, for a carriage was rolling right toward her.

And who in
creepin' creation
do you suppose
was in it?

P
ainted on the door of the carriage was a sign that read:

Emily jumped behind a mail cart so fast that she bumped into a boy in a faded brown jacket.

“Hey!” he said. “Watch where you're going!” And then, “You're an orphan too, aren't you?”

Emily could hardly see the boy's eyes because he wore a flat round cap that stuck out over his forehead. But she noticed that he had freckles like hers and the same color of brown hair sticking out from under his cap. And though he appeared to be a year or two older than she was, he wasn't that much larger.

But how
rude
he was! And how did he know she was an orphan? She stared down at her clothes, almost expecting to see the letters
o-r-p-h-a-n
on each of her high-topped shoes.

“How did you
know?”
she asked him.

He shrugged. “Saw you trying to hide from the Child Catchers, just like I used to do.”

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Who knows?” answered the boy. “Got me a ticket to some family out west, but they probably won't like me any more'n the last family did.
Child Catchers will send you anywhere if they can make a buck. I'm Jackson,” he told her.

“I'm Emily,” she said.

“What you got in your bag?” Jackson asked.

Emily noticed that Jackson had only a small parcel tucked under his arm and was wearing shoes that looked a little too big.

“Just…clothes,” she answered, and added, “I don't have any money,” in case he was going to ask.

Jackson pointed toward the door of Overhill Stagecoach Company. “They told us if we go in there, they'll give us something to eat before we get on board,” he said.

So Emily followed him inside, where a large map on the wall showed the stops the stagecoach would make between Trumpet Junction and Redbud, and the stops beyond that, all the way to the ocean. It would take five days and five nights just to get to Redbud, according to the man who was checking tickets. That was a long time to be bumping along on your bottom, Emily thought.

A woman behind a table was ladling soup into tin cups and offering them with crackers to all the passengers. Emily was surprised to see that there were no spoons, so she sipped her soup daintily. But Jackson greedily gulped his down, then gave a loud belch.

Beside the map on the wall, there was a large sign:

Hints for Travelers

1. Don't complain about the food
.

2. Don't smoke a strong pipe
.

3. Don't lop over on your neighbor when sleeping
.

4. Don't spit on the floor
.

5. Wash your feet before starting the trip
.

Emily had taken a bath the night before she'd gotten on the train, but she was quite sure that some of the other passengers had not. Jackson, in fact, looked as though he hadn't washed his face for a week.

“So what happened to your ma?” he asked her.

“She died in a carriage accident,” Emily said, and tears came to her eyes, just remembering.

“What about your pa?”

“He died when a steamboat sank,” Emily told him.

“What you got in that box?” asked Jackson.

Emily opened the lid and showed him her turtle. “His name is Rufus, and he's my best friend in the whole world,” she said.

Jackson gave a snort, but Emily let him hold the turtle for a minute anyway. And she noticed that when he returned Rufus to the box, he did it gently.

Then he went to the door and looked around. “The Child Catchers are gone,” he said. “Want to go outside and see the horses?” Emily picked up her bag, Jackson picked up his parcel, and out they went.

The Overhill stagecoach was bigger than any Emily had ever seen. It was bright red. The four horses with yellow harnesses pawed at the ground, eager to be off.

A man with a whip came out of the building and Emily shrank back in fear. Then she realized that he was the driver, dressed in a dark blue jacket with gold buttons.

“Stagecoach to the West!” he called. “Gather here!”

Emily could not believe the number of people who
moved forward. She could not believe all they carried. A box poked her in the back. A basket bopped her on the head. She had thought that perhaps four people could fit inside, and after three women and two men got aboard, then Jackson, who pushed on ahead, she was afraid there would be no room for her. Yet two more men got on, and finally the driver picked her up with her bag and squeezed her onto a seat.

Three people sat on the backseat, facing forward. Three people sat on the middle seat, and three people sat on the front seat, facing backward. Bags and boxes were crammed under seats and on laps. Emily kept her lunch sack and carpetbag on her lap so she could take out Rufus's box and let him have a bit of air.

When everyone was settled at last, the coachman sprang up to the driver's box outside. After a blast of his bugle and a crack of the driver's whip, the stagecoach lurched forward with a creak and squeak, and headed west.

•   •   •

Emily had been looking forward to seeing new places, but she soon discovered how tiresome it was sitting in the same position for hours at a time. When the windows were up, it was too warm. When the windows were down, dust blew in, filling her nose and making her sneeze.

She was sitting in the front row, with Jackson facing her. His cap was tipped backward now, and she could see that his eyes were green like her own. But every time he caught her looking at him, he made a face.

Then he started the copycat game. If Emily crossed her arms over her chest, Jackson crossed his arms. If Emily sighed, Jackson sighed. If she ignored him completely, he slid down in his seat until his bony knees were bumping hers, and kicked her shoes with his feet.

Please stop it
, Emily mouthed at him.

Please stop it
, Jackson mouthed back.

Were all boys this rude? she asked herself. No wonder Luella Nash hadn't wanted her to go to school with the other children.

The coach stopped every fifteen miles or so for a fresh team of horses. Sometimes the driver let the passengers get out and stretch a bit. Other times, a new team was harnessed and ready, and the coach wheels hardly stopped rolling before they were off again.

Finally, a blast of the driver's bugle announced their arrival at Callaway's Inn, where all the passengers were given a meal. It was a busy place, and even the porch was crowded. Some people sat on benches, others sat in rockers, and still more stood reading the daily newspapers that had been tacked up on the porch wall.

Inside the inn, Emily was almost too tired to chew. But she knew she ought to eat when she was given food, so that she could save what was in her lunch sack for later. She ate until she was full, and Jackson reached over to take what she'd left on her plate.

When it was time to get on board again, the driver came up to the table where Emily and Jackson were sitting.

“We have a problem,” he told them. “There's a lady and her husband whose daughter out west is very sick. They need to get there as soon as possible, so
we're asking if you'll give up your places in the coach. We'll make sure you get on the next one.”

“Yeah, and when will that be?” asked Jackson.

“Another will be along in two days, and the innkeeper says you may stay here until it comes,” the driver said. “The Overhill Stagecoach Company will pay for your room and board.”

Emily did not want to keep the man and woman from seeing their sick daughter. She knew that Aunt Hilda did not expect her at any particular time, and that if she did not arrive on a stagecoach one day, she would arrive another. She would willingly give up her seat if only they would take Jackson. She did not want to have to stare at him and his silly faces all the way to Redbud. But no, two seats were needed, not one.

“This is certainly a fine pickle of a problem,” Mrs. Ready would say.

“Should she go or should she stay?” Mrs. Aim would ask.

And Emily could almost hear Mrs. Fire give the answer: “She should stay so that the couple can see their sick daughter, and she should tell that Jackson boy to mind his own business.”

“I'll give up my seat if I can ride the next stagecoach,” Emily said at last.

Jackson only shrugged. “She stays, I stay,” he said.

So Emily and Jackson could only watch as the other passengers climbed back in, along with the man and woman whose daughter was sick.

The bugle blew, the whip cracked, and with creaks and squeaks, off went the coach, leaving Emily and Jackson looking after it. But with all the people who were crowding the porch, as well as the rooms inside,

where in
tumblin'
tarnation
was Emily
supposed to sleep?

I
f she had to spend the next two days with someone, Emily thought, why couldn't it be a quiet girl with a book under her arm?

But Jackson motioned for her to follow him.

“Come on!” he said. “Let's look around.”

She might as well, Emily thought, because the inn was full of people—peddlers wanting a mug of tea, visitors needing a place to sleep. Little groups of travelers stood around on the porch reading the newspapers, and families milled about in the front yard, letting their
children tumble and yell before they started off again on their journeys.

Emily put her lunch sack and Rufus's box in her carpetbag, then grabbed its wooden handles and followed Jackson around the inn. There were other buildings out back—a springhouse, a carriage house, a stable, a barn.

She peeked inside the springhouse when Jackson opened the creaky door. It was just a small hut built over a spring. Crocks of butter and eggs cooled in the trickling water.

Jackson grinned as he closed the door again. “When everyone's asleep tonight, we could take those eggs and smash 'em on the porch,” he said.