Free Fortune's Journey by Bruce Coville

derby, he said, “We’ll be late for supper if we’re not careful.”
    He held out his arm. When Mrs. Watson slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, he seemed to relax visibly. Even so, he caught Fortune’s eye and without words asked her, Have I got anything to worry about?
    â€œI can’t stand it!” cried Fortune.
    Walter and Mrs. Watson blinked in astonishment.
    â€œSupper,” said Fortune hastily. “This town is certainly an improvement over Busted Heights, but the food is just awful. I can’t stand another meal here.”
    â€œWell, I’m famished!” said Mrs. Watson. She and Walter took off at a near gallop, heading for the boardinghouse.
    Fortune crossed to a nearby tree and leaned against the rough, sturdy trunk. Until Jamie had joined them, the tensions and relationships in the troupe had been set and predictable. Some things were good, some were bad, but she had been able, for the most part, to have a clear expectation of how people would react in any given situation. Edmund’s arrival hadn’t changed that slightly; he was an irritant, but nothing that they couldn’t live with. But somehow Jamie was like a stick thrust into a pond and stirred around. Things were swirling, and who could tell where they would land when they finally settled down again?
    On Saturday morning Plunkett’s Players rolled out of Bevins and headed for Independence. Their performance of The Squire and the Lady the night before had been acceptable, though hardly inspired. It was the funniest play in their repertory, and at least they had gotten most of the laughs they expected.
    The most notable aspect of the evening had been Jamie’s sheer pleasure in the event. Aaron and Edmund had made a number of cynical comments about his wide-eyed enthusiasm. But Fortune had enjoyed seeing it, partly because it had reminded her of how much she sometimes loved performing herself.
    As usual, Aaron and Fortune now sat at the front of the wagon, Aaron guiding Romeo and Juliet with his firm, steady hand. Jamie was riding his roan mare, Dolly, though occasionally he tied her to the back of the wagon and sat inside so that he could talk with the rest of the troupe.
    Equally often, one or more of them would climb out of the wagon to stretch their legs by walking part of the way. Only Mrs. Watson rode the entire distance.
    â€œI don’t know how she does it,” said Mr. Patchett to Fortune when they stopped to take a break. “If I sat like that for an entire day, my legs wouldn’t work at all by the time we stopped for dinner.”
    Given the length of his legs, this didn’t surprise Fortune. What she was more interested in was the way that he and Mrs. Watson had managed to patch up their differences. It was as if nothing at all had happened.
    She had talked to Walter about it the previous night, during the first intermission. “Can a simple apology be that effective?” she had asked in amazement.
    â€œIf it’s sincere,” he said, looking down at her with his kindly old bear expression. Then he broke into an impish grin and added, “Of course, it helps if it’s totally unexpected and out of character.”
    Fortune had laughed. But the question still intrigued her. She had never been good at apologies herself. It always seemed so painful to admit she was wrong.
    And the more wrong she was, the harder it got.
    Well, it was something to think about. In the meantime, there was the trek west to be faced. She realized she had been avoiding thinking about it, partly because she knew it was going to be long and difficult. Her father had clipped many of the letters the earliest overlanders had sent to the newspapers describing their experiences. He had also read the troupe long sections of Mr. Parkman’s wonderful book The Oregon Trail, and she remembered vividly the hardships that it had described. Fortune did take some comfort in knowing the