Taking the Reins (17 page)

Emma became aware that both horses had stopped walking once more. She had no idea how long they had been standing this way with her going on about herself.

“I'm so sorry, Emma. I had no idea...”

“An' it's not your fault for not knowing,” Emma snapped. She hoped Katherine understood it wasn't her she was angry at. She took a quick breath and slowed her words. “I ran away and that horrid bailiff was too old and fat to catch me. So I kept on walking, right out of Manchester to the countryside my mother always said was so beautiful but I had never once seen.”

She told Katherine how frightened she had been,
travelling at night, hiding during the days. At last, cold, half-starved and exhausted, she found her way to the door of a parsonage, and the parson's wife, Mrs. Barnes, took her in. “I thought Mrs. Barnes liked me and if I worked hard would let me stay. But come summer she sent me off on the
Tynemouth
with sixty young girls, mostly orphans plucked from the streets and workhouses. They stuffed us in the hold like cargo and kept us there. Even when the steamship arrived at Esquimalt Harbour, they never would let us out for three more days.”

Her words sped up again, remembering. “An' they lined us up an' marched us like cattle through the streets with all those disgusting men gawkin' and shoutin' vulgar things.” Emma felt her face flush with the anger and humiliation of that day.

“And that's when I first saw Edward.” She sat up straighter in the saddle. “He was the only one decent enough to look embarrassed at the men's behavior. Edward smiled at me and made me feel less ashamed.”

“Emma, it's those men who should be ashamed, not you.”

Emma couldn't think how to answer. Anger churned inside her like a wild beast she could not control. “We should take a run before dark,” she said, and took off at a gallop.

Darkness crept around them as the two girls walked their horses toward the barn. Katherine removed Nugget's saddle and turned to face Emma. “Which way do the men intend on going?”

“Is there more than one way?”

“They could catch a boat to Yale and head through the canyon. Or they might travel by sternwheeler up Harrison Lake to Port Douglas and from there by several boats and trails to Lillooet. It depends on where they plan on looking for land.”

Emma tried to think. “I only remember Tall Joe talking about a river. It has a pretty name and it's after you cross over the Fraser River on some ferry.”

“Cook's Ferry?”

“Yes. That's it! And I remember now, there's land Ned Turner heard tell of on the Nicola River.”

“That's good then, because I expect they'll stop at the general store in Yale for horses and supplies. We'll need to leave tonight and be on the steamer first thing in the morning.”

“This very night? But how can I tell Mrs. Douglas I'm running off? If Governor Douglas hears of it, he'll never let us on that steamer. He's a strict man who doesn't believe any young unmarried girls should go off travelling on their own.”

“Don't worry, Emma, because you won't be on your own, and neither of us will be a young, unmarried girl.”

“Wot? An' have you gone daft? What can we be but unmarried girls? And those men at the dock won't let us on the boat. They'll send for Governor Douglas to take us back home, an' that's for certain-sure.”

“All right then, Emma, you must promise not to tell anyone, not even Mrs. Douglas. Once you tell a secret even to one person, you lose all control of it.”

“But Mrs. Douglas is so good to me, an' she'll worry if I up and leave.”

“Then I'll write you a note to put on your bed.”

Emma hesitated. Did Katherine realize she could never write such a note on her own? “If you help me, I can write it my own-self. My mother schooled me some when there was time and we weren't too tired.”

“Good then, that's what we'll do.”

But Emma still felt bad. “Mrs. Douglas needs my help.”

“Can't she manage on her own for a time? From all I've heard, she is quite capable.”

Emma considered. “She is. And young Martha has been learning how to help out too.”

“Then I'm sure they'll get by for a few days.”

“Maybe. But how do we get ourselves on that boat?” Emma asked.

“I have an idea. Tell me what you think.”

16

E
mma rose in the chill black of early morning. She felt her way through solid darkness down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she felt safe enough to light a candle. She stoked up the fire in the woodstove and set about preparing porridge for the Douglas family's breakfast. Just as she placed it to simmer on a back burner, there came a quiet tap on the back door. She scurried to open it. A dark figure slipped inside.

Emma stepped back in surprise. Outlined against flickering candlelight was the clear outline of a man's wide-brimmed hat, and below the hat a jacket and long trousers.

A hand flew up, whipped off the hat, and plunked it on Emma, where it settled over her forehead. The same hand pushed it back to sit more comfortably. “We will make a man of you yet, my son.” Katherine giggled.

“But is that really you, Katherine?” Emma whispered. “I would never have known it.”

“Splendid, because isn't that our plan?” She bowed from the waist. “And now, if you will allow me to introduce myself, my name is Albert Jones.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Albert.” Emma curtseyed.

Emma led Katherine up the dark staircase to her attic room. Once inside with the door shut tight, she lit a candle and turned around for a better look at this Albert Jones. In her man's shirt, vest and jacket, and those trousers that hung down over her boots, Katherine could easily pass as a boy.

“You've cut your hair again!” Emma remarked. “An' it was already short for a girl.”

“I had to, Emma, it was getting too long to pass as a boy.” She picked up the hand mirror from Emma's dresser and gazed into it. Her straight brown hair lay against her neck at the back and stopped slightly below her ears at the sides. “I think it suits me just fine, don't you?”

“You look like a boy, but wearing clothes too big for him.”

Katherine took off her jacket. Removing her little cloth bag from the pocket, she wrapped her fingers around it. “Which is why you will wear George's old clothes. They'll fit you better than me. I only wore them here to avoid being noticed by men leaving the saloons. Did you find an outfit for me?”

Emma gave her a neatly folded pile of clothing. “These are clothes young James hasn't worn for some time, as he's growing so fast. The breeches are knee length, but by the look of them they'll fit you well enough. There's a shirt and wool jacket. There's even a cap.”

The girls changed quickly into their new clothing. “You'll never look the part of a young man with those two long braids trailing beneath your hat,” Katherine said. “Sit down while I cut your hair.”

Emma picked up the mirror. She swung her head side to side, watching her braids fly out, catching the candlelight. “Couldn't I simply pin it up under my hat?”

Katherine shook her head. “That's what I thought, but William insisted on cutting it and I'm grateful he did, or I would have been found out more than once.”

Emma couldn't look while Katherine snipped her hair away. But as soon as she finished, Emma picked up the mirror. The face looking back was so much like Tall Joe that she slammed the mirror down. “Joey Bentley at your service,” she sighed.

“Not quite,” Katherine said. “Just look at your hand.”

Emma gazed down at her ring. She touched her fingertips to it. Slowly, she pulled it from her finger. “I used to wear it on a string around my neck so no one would see.”

“That's too risky,” Katherine said.

“But I can't simply stuff it in my pocket, what if it got lost?”

Katherine pressed her lips together, thinking. “All right then.” Slowly, she pulled the little cloth bag from a pocket in her new breeches. “Let's slip your mother's ring in here with Susan's nugget, and we'll leave them both in a bureau drawer until we return.”

Halos of misty light encircled every gas lamp as the two made their way through town. Emma shivered in her new clothing. Katherine pulled the wool cap low over her forehead.

Men milled about the docks, but none gave a moment's notice to a couple of young men who kept their distance. When it came time, the taller one purchased tickets for his young friend and himself.

“We've done it, Joey,” Katherine whispered, as the steamship pulled away from the dock. “We will switch to a sternwheeler in New Westminster and by tonight we should reach the farm. Won't George be surprised?”

Emma shifted uneasily on the seat. Why should she care what George thought, one way or another? She had never met Katherine's brother. But Tall Joe, there was another matter. The man would be shocked to see her, and that's for certain-sure. And he might decide he didn't want a daughter after all, not one who behaved in such unseemly fashion. And if he tossed her out of his life, Emma wondered, how would that feel?

Not so good. Not good at all.
And what are you doing here, you foolish girl? Setting yourself up for disappointment, that's what. Looking forward to living on that farm and having a father to care about you? With a friend who lived not so far away to visit now and then? Riding a horse and exploring the countryside when there's time to spare?

No good ever came of looking forward to things that never would come true. And no good ever came of letting yourself care about another person. She should have stayed where she was, as a housemaid for Mrs. Douglas. She was safe enough there.

“What's wrong?” Katherine asked.

Oh. Emma realized she had made an odd little sound in her throat and now couldn't think how to answer. Katherine would never understand this fear deep in her belly, this dread that if you got your hopes up, they would come crashing down around you.

“Because if you're hungry, I can fix that.” Katherine opened her bag and pulled out a neatly wrapped package. She handed Emma a thick slice of bread with butter and jam.

“Thank you.” Emma bit into it, relieved she wouldn't need to explain. “Thank you, this tastes good.”

After a long day's travel, the girls disembarked and walked along Hope's main road, guided by lamplight that spilled from windows and lanterns held high by townspeople who milled about, greeting other passengers. Katherine watched Emma looking around as she walked, her huge eyes taking in everything. She poked Emma in the ribs with an elbow.

“Why did you do that?”

“You have got to look more a man of the world,” Katherine whispered, “not some young girl gawking at everything she sees. And Joey, don't take those dainty little steps of yours, as if your legs are confined in a long skirt. William showed me how to walk like a boy, with long strides and your head held high. He said to hold your arms out from your body and turn your elbows out. Watch me.” Katherine walked ahead, exaggerating the length of each stride, pressing her shoulders back, trying to look bigger than she really was. She held her arms at her sides, elbows bent as if about to draw a gun from a holster.

Emma stood tall, changed the position of her arms, and took a long stride. On the next step, her weight landed on her right leg and she toppled forward. Catching herself, Emma adjusted her stride until she walked with a noticeable limp but took longer steps than usual. In this way they followed the road out of town under an almost full moon and a sky brilliant with stars.

“Is your leg hurting badly?” Katherine asked.

“It's not so bad. And there's nothing to be done about it.”

“But are you certain of that, Emma? Have you seen a doctor?”

“I don't need a doctor to tell me my bones never did grow right, crawling under machines from the time I was small,” Emma said. “I'm far from the only one, and my leg isn't so bad compared to most.”

Here was something else she never knew, Katherine realized. English children forced to work until their very bones became deformed. One day she would ask more about it, but since Emma's leg seemed such a sensitive topic, Katherine decided instead to inquire about Tall Joe. “Emma, I know it makes you cross to talk about it, but I still don't understand why Tall Joe left you behind where you and your mother suffered so. He seems like a decent enough man who wants to be a father to you.”

“An' he's a bit late, don't you think? My mother died because of him.”

“Then why do you want anything to do with him?”

“I didn't at first, I was that angry. Growing up, my mother told me he died of the typhus.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Seems like Tall Joe and my mother loved each other, but he had so little money her father refused to let them marry. The man was a country parson who had big ideas of bettering himself.”

“Like my father?”

“No, not so much, not by buying land for himself. The parson wanted my mother to marry an old man who owned land and a fine house.”

“What happened?”

“My mother refused. Then Tall Joe heard about gold being discovered in California and next thing you know he and Ned Turner up and left. Just as they've done to me now.”

“And he never wrote?”

“Those two men didn't do so well in California. And even if he did write, it was too late. My mother found I was on the way and went to her father for help, but that man kicked her out of his house and never spoke to her again. That's how she ended up dying a pauper.”

“Oh, Emma, how dreadful. I can't imagine a father being so cruel, even if your mother did make a huge mistake.”

“But, Katherine, aren't you afraid of your own father learning about your friendship with William?”

“That's different. Father would be angry and I wouldn't like that, especially if he took it out on William. But my father loves me and would never kick me out of his house no matter what. Anyway, with a little help from me, he would get over his grumpy mood soon enough.”

Emma limped along for several yards. “Then your father is a more reasonable man than Tall Joe, who has his own set ideas of how a girl should conduct herself. And I'm not so sure I can behave well enough to keep him happy.”

“Emma, if that's what's worrying you, I can help. You see, I've had a father all my life and have learned how to handle them. Fathers need to be taught how to behave. They don't know it on their own. They think they must get cross if you don't do things their way. They don't understand you can think for yourself and do what's right all on your own, so you need to show them. My sister understood that and tried to tell me, but I wouldn't listen. It was only after Susan died that I figured it out for myself.”

“Figured what out?”

“That getting angry doesn't work, not on fathers or anyone else.”

“Well an' that's not so easy then,” Emma said. “Sometimes anger grows so big inside me I can't do anything but let it out on whoever's near.”

“An' seems like I've noticed that, Emma. Seems like I have.” Oh! She had done it now. Katherine hadn't meant to make fun of Emma or copy her way of speaking. She had only meant to lighten Emma's mood. But those words had spilled out of her now and she couldn't get them back.

Emma's head whipped around.

Katherine winced. She searched for words to make things better. None came to her.

“An' if gettin' angry won't work on you,” Emma said, “I may as well try somethin' else.”

“May as well.” Katherine laughed. She sighed then and shifted her bag from one arm to the other. It seemed heavier with every step.

“There's something I don't understand about laughter,” Emma said, “since I never did it much before. Isn't laughing supposed to make you feel better?”

“Of course. A good laugh can turn bad times into good.”

“Then why does it sometimes make you sad?”

Oh. Katherine stopped, put down her bag. “It's because of Susan. We used to laugh so much together.”