Emily's Fortune by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor Read Free Book Online Page A

gold,” bragged the third man. “Oscar, Angus, and Jock, that’s us, and I’m Jock. Who might you ladies be?” He lifted his shirt and scratched his belly.
    The sister with the orange hair made a face and helda handkerchief to her nose. But the sister with the bright red lips answered, “I’m Petunia and she’s Marigold.” And then, to be polite, she turned around and asked the old man behind her his name.
    â€œEh?” said the old man next to Emily, cupping one hand to his ear.
    â€œWhat’s your name?” asked Petunia, more loudly.
    â€œMuffit,” he shouted back as though no one else could hear either. “Mortimer Muffit.” And he nodded off.
    No one seemed the least bit interested in learning the children’s names, because as Luella Nash used to say, children were best seen and not heard.
    As Marigold and Petunia turned their attention to the window, the three rumpled men began talking among themselves.
    â€œHow long you figure before we get to Deadman’s Belch?” Jock asked the others. “That’ll be the halfway point.”
    â€œNot Belch, stupid,” said Oscar. “Gulch! Deadman’s Gulch.”
    â€œIt’s a long way yet,” said Angus. “Got to go throughSnakeville and Bull’s Eye, then down Lantern Hill to the ferry.”
    Emily hardly knew what she was afraid of most. She was glad to be leaving Callaway so the Catchum Child Catchers couldn’t get her. But even the thought of Deadman’s Gulch or a place called Snakeville wasn’t as frightening as the thought of living with Uncle Victor for the rest of her life. She felt sure that he would send her off to a horrid boarding school while he went to work spending her money. She had heard the servants talk about such things back in Miss Nash’s big white house, for they had worked in other places.
    To comfort herself, Emily took Rufus out of his box and let him crawl around in her lap. The good thing about sitting in the last row was that the people in front of her couldn’t see her turtle. The old man beside them opened one eye and watched for a minute, then nodded off again.
    Jackson was swinging his legs and accidentally kicked the back of the seat in front of him. Marigold cast a scolding look over her shoulder and said to hersister, “For charity’s sake, I hope that fine man in the black boots finds his niece, but if he does, he’d better not try to squeeze her in here. Two squirming children are enough.”
    Emily cupped her hands over Rufus to hide him.
    â€œAnd what
are
your names, boys?” Marigold asked.
    â€œI’m Jackson and he’s Eli,” Jackson answered.
    â€œWell, just don’t do a lot of squirming back there,” the woman said. “Your brother seems a bit shy, if not backward, but let’s hope he doesn’t whine.” She turned forward once again.
    What Emily had hoped was that once she left Callaway’s Inn and her uncle behind, she could be Emily again. That in one of the way stations, she could change out of Jackson’s scratchy britches and put on her dress and petticoat. That she could take off Jackson’s cap and cover her short scruffy hair with the little blue bonnet.
    Now she knew she would have to go on being Eli for a long time. How could she keep pretending that she had been kicked in the head by a mule?
    As the stagecoach bounced along, Emily began to realize that the backseat was probably the most uncomfortable of the three benches, for she felt every bump in the road. When the coach turned a corner, however, everyone was tossed this way and that.
    Once, when the horses made a particularly sharp turn, the three rumpled men fell over on each other.
    â€œYour boot’s on my foot!” complained Jock.
    â€œYour foot’s on my leg!” said Angus.
    â€œAnd your leg’s in my lap!” said Oscar, pushing them back into place.
    After many