Emily's Fortune

by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

  “Well, it’s smelly,” said Petunia. “I can smell it from here. Probably has fleas and every kind of lice known to man.” She picked up a stone and threw it at the animal. It studied her with its enormous eyes, then went on eating.

  “Leave it be, I said,” called the driver. “I’ll have this wheel back on in a little while.”

  But Marigold picked up an even bigger stone and hurled it at the buffalo. It struck him on the nose. “Shooo!” she yelled. “Get!”

  And suddenly, the buffalo lowered its head and charged.

  Emily gasped as the big animal barreled toward the two sisters and knocked them down. Then it charged the driver, who dived behind the carriage. The buffalo turned around in circles, pawing the ground, and all Emily knew then was that her legs were moving, her feet were hitting the ground, and she and Jackson were running like the wind.

  She had no trouble keeping up with him this time. Emily had never known she could run so fast. She ran so fast she couldn’t think. All she knew was that she still had Rufus and his little box deep in one trouser pocket.

  When Jackson told her at last that the buffalo had gone back to the herd, Emily collapsed to the ground and sat catching her breath while she and Jackson watched the uproar back by the stagecoach, and the scolding the two grown sisters got from the driver.

  Fortunately, neither Marigold nor Petunia was seriously hurt. Their bonnets had been crushed and their clothes trampled, but at last the carriage was upright, the trunks and boxes were back in place, and everyone climbed aboard.

  But inside the coach, passengers sniped at each other as the stagecoach took off again. Oscar and Angus called the two sisters insane; Marigold and Petunia said that the men’s chewing tobacco made them sick; Uncle Victor told them all to quiet down, that he had some thinking to do; and Marigold patted his hand and said she would be as quiet as a little mouse sitting beside such a big handsome tiger man. Mr. Mortimer Muffit on the bench beside Emily and Jackson didn’t seem to be quite himself, his beard awry, whiskers going in every direction.

  “Are you all right?” Jackson asked him.

  “Eh?” he said.

  “Are you hurt?” Jackson asked.

  The elderly man shook his head. “No,” he said, and closed his eyes.

  Emily was glad to be moving again, but she was still shaking inside. How quiet her life had been back in Luella Nash’s big house. If only the kind neighbor women could be on the coach right now instead of the two fussy sisters; if only her dear mother were here instead of Uncle Victor, how much better a trip it would be. All she had now were Jackson and Rufus.

  What in

  pickin’ poppies

  could possibly happen next?

  When they reached the river at Muleback Crossing, the water was low. There was a new, more careful driver, who feared that any extra weight might sink the raft that would carry them over the river. He asked all the passengers to take off their shoes and wade across. Then he led the horses, which tossed their heads and whinnied.

  “I never learned to swim!” cried Marigold, holding her shoes high in the air.

  “This is the end of us!” wailed Petunia.

  “Don’t I wish,” said Oscar gruffly, and edged them forward. “Keep moving.”

  Emily was frightened too. Terrified, actually, but leaving Rufus and the carpetbag in the coach, she followed Jackson into the water. Her feet sank down into the sand, mud oozing between her toes. She had never in her life been this dirty. Never crossed a river holding her little boots over her head.

  “Stay next to the raft, folks, because I know the lay of the land here. You don’t want to be stepping too far to the right,” the driver called from the front.

  Emily tried to stay to the left, but every so often her foot went down into a hole and she teetered. Each time, however, she managed to get close to the raft again. Once, though, when she had moved away a little, she felt someone coming up from behind, squeezing between her and the raft. She was jostled out into deeper water and sank down as far as her chest. Holding her boots even higher, she tried to get back in line, but the person was coming on through, and Emily found herself even farther out into the river.

  Now she was in water up to her neck. She started to scream, to call out to Jackson, but she knew that once she said his name aloud, she would no longer be the silent brother who couldn’t talk.

  She looked up at the person who had so dangerously come between her and the raft, and the man with the silver-black hair only stared down at her with his weasel eyes and made no move to reach out and save her.

  Luckily for Emily, Jackson glanced around at that moment to see how she was doing, and saw only the cap she’d been wearing afloat in the water.

  “Eli!” he yelled, plunging after her.

  It was Mr. Muffit, however, straggling along behind, who saw what had happened and managed to swim over to Emily. He pulled her, gasping and choking, back to safety, while Jackson rescued the cap.

  “Thank you, mister,” Jackson told the old man, whose beard was woefully wet.

  “Eh, eh, eh,” Mr. Muffit murmured, and sloshed on through the water.

  Emily held on to the raft with one hand as she trudged forward, and Jackson came right behind. She was still coughing up water, and it dripped from her ears and eyelashes.

  “Keep ahead of me from now on,” Jackson told her, and didn’t take his eyes off her the rest of the way across the river.

  • • •

  They finally reached the other side, but their travel got no easier. Now they entered the fearsome Deadman’s Gulch that Oscar, Angus, and Jock had talked about. Once again they had to get out and walk, for the sand was so deep that the wheels of the stagecoach kept sinking.

  By the time they could get back inside, Marigold had decided that she and her sister should get a turn sitting on the front bench, which was a bit less bumpy than the back and middle seats. So Oscar, Angus, and Jock took the middle seat, and the two grown sisters and Uncle Victor now faced backward.

  Uncle Victor did not seem to appreciate this exchange at all, for he obviously preferred to see where he was going rather than to look at where he had been. But Emily hated it even more, because now and then his eyes fell on her directly. Still, she was so exhausted from her close escape in the water that she rested her head on Jackson’s shoulder and soon fell asleep.

  She did not know how long she slept, but she woke with a jolt as the stagecoach came to a sudden stop.

  “Now what?” Uncle Victor exclaimed.

  Emily sat up and looked out.

  A fallen tree blocked the way, and huge boulders on either side kept the horses from going forward. The driver called out for a few strong men to help move the tree.

  But at that very moment, two bandits emerged on horseback around one of the rocks. One pointed his pistol at the driver, and the other opened the door of the coach. Marigold and Petunia screamed. Emily was frozen with fright.

  When Uncle Victor tried to rise from his seat, the bandit placed his pistol against Victor’s head and said quietly, “Nobody moves unless I tell him to.”

  So nobody moved, not even the man with the tiger tattoo. Emily wondered if anyone in the coach was even breathing.

  The bandit spoke again: “Now…easy-like…empty your pockets and open your bags. All of you.” He started with Uncle Victor. When Emily’s uncle hesitated, the bandit pressed the gun even harder to his head. “Give me all that’s in your pockets,” he said.

  Uncle Victor had to obey. Out came a few silver coins and a couple of gold pieces. The bandit took it all. Uncle Victor looked as though he could chew the bandit in two, but not even he dared to move with a gun at his head.

  When the bandit turned to the two sisters, however, Marigold fainted in Uncle Victor’s lap, while Petunia reached over Marigold and clutched at his shirt.

  “Save us! Save us!” she cried as Uncle Victor tried to pry her fingers loose.

  The bandit started to laugh. “You got your
hands full, mister,” he said. “You want to get away, we got an extra horse out there.” He took a ring off Marigold’s finger as she opened her eyes, and she fainted all over again.

  After he had taken Petunia’s necklace and emptied the pockets of Oscar, Angus, and Jock, he took a few coins from the elderly man. Then he turned to Jackson and Emily.

  There was nothing in Jackson’s pockets but a piece of bread and a few crackers. When Emily opened her carpetbag for the bandit, she hoped he would not take out her dress and petticoat for all to see, and he didn’t. He pointed to the little box with Rufus in it.

  “Open it,” he said, his gun still trained on the men.

  No! No! Emily thought in terror. Not Rufus! She opened her mouth to protest, but Jackson elbowed her in the ribs.

  “Open it, Eli,” he said.

  Emily lifted the lid of the box. The bandit saw the turtle and laughed. “Keep it, kid,” he said. “Ain’t got no use for a turtle.”

  But the horrible, awful truth was that Uncle Victor had seen Rufus too. Emily did not dare look at him but kept her eyes on her lap.

  The bandit took all the gold and silver he had collected, the rings off the fingers of the ladies, and the watches from the pockets of the men, and stuffed it all in a sack, then backed out of the coach. He robbed the driver of both his money and his pistol as the second bandit trained his gun on them all. Finally, firing two shots in the air, they galloped off and were soon lost among the rocks and shrubs.

  The men in the coach began to howl and growl, and the sisters sobbed and wailed. The driver came back to see that no one was hurt.

  “We’re all poorer than we were when we started, but we’re alive,” he said. “And I still need that tree removed from the road so we can continue the journey. Why don’t you all get out and walk a little to calm yourselves.”

  So Oscar, Angus, and Jock moved the tree while the other passengers walked around to settle their nerves.

  “I hope those bandits are caught and spend the rest of their lives in prison!” Marigold said.

  “They ought to hang!” said Petunia. “I’d tie the noose myself.”

  Emily and Jackson walked over to the shade of a straggly tree, and stood staring at each other.

  “That’s about as scared as I’ve ever been,” Jackson told her.

  Emily had been frightened too, but she was not thinking about the bandits.

  “He saw!” she said to Jackson, her voice trembling. “Uncle Victor saw Rufus!”

  “Maybe he’s forgotten Rufus,” Jackson told her. “He’s thinking about that ten million dollars; that’s what’s on his mind.” They turned as they saw the others getting into the coach again.

  Something behind them moved. Uncle Victor grabbed Jackson by the back of the neck and Emily by the arm. And before either of them could speak, he looked down at Emily and said, “You fooled me once, Emily Wiggins, but you won’t fool me again. There’s not a soul in this carriage who will help you if I say you’re my runaway niece. Either you come with me when we get to Redbud, or you won’t get to Redbud at all. I’ll deal with the boy later.”

  Now what in a

  devil’s doughnut

  should Emily do?

  Trapped! 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 late
r 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.