Free Fortune's Journey by Bruce Coville Page A

journey wouldn’t be as rough now as it had been for the very first ones to cross.
    Papa, are you watching over us? This is really your trip after all.
    She turned away from that line of thought, which sometimes led to a bitterness for her father that she did not want to feel. Besides, it was no longer true. She had made the journey her own, and she had every intention of getting the troupe to San Francisco.
    She turned her thoughts to the spring morning that surrounded them. The sky was clear as crystal, blue as a cornflower. The air was sweet and pure, and the land covered with a veil of light green that was as lovely as anything she had seen in a long, long time. Suddenly she felt at peace with herself, and eager about the journey to come. They were going to cross territory that had been a mystery until the last few years, hardly seen by anyone other than Indians. It was an adventure!
    She asked Walter to hand up her guitar. As the wagon jounced and the axles creaked and the horses plodded along, she began to pluck out the chords of the overlander’s popular “Oh, Susanna.” After a moment, she began to sing. The others joined her, and the unexpectedly pleasant sound of Jamie Halleck’s tenor voice harmonizing with Aaron’s pure baritone sent a little chill running down her spine.
    Even though Jamie had told them what to expect, Fortune’s first sight of Independence left her amazed. The town was in the midst of its annual spring explosion, and permanent structures were far outnumbered by wagons filled with pilgrims ready to attempt the westward adventure. According to Jamie, Independence was one of the three main jumping-off places for wagon trains, and ever since the discovery of gold in California, hopeful travelers had gathered here each April to wait for the prairie mud to dry before launching their daring journey.
    It’s like a city without buildings, thought Fortune. All these people, with nothing to live in but wagons.
    For the first time it really sank in that a wagon was what they, too, would be living in—or out of—for the four or five months it would take to make their way to San Francisco. Until now they had stayed in boarding houses, except for those few nights when they had not been able to reach a town. On those occasions the men had slept under the stars—or under the wagon if it was raining—while she and Mrs. Watson shared the wagon floor.
    Fortune smiled at the memory. One of the floorboards had a hole in it, and more than once she had been able to peek through and watch Aaron sleeping. She liked to look at him that way. The hard expression left his face then, and his tousled hair was…
    She shook herself out of her daydream. Sleeping in the wagon was no longer to be a once-in-a-while situation. It was the way they were going to live!
    Fortune fought down a surge of panic and tried to think about what she had read of San Francisco—how it was a booming town to rival or even outstrip the most exciting cities in the East, a place where entertainers could find fame and fortune virtually overnight if they somehow caught the public fancy, and where gold was changing hands as fast as buckets in a bucket brigade.
    Others have done it. We can, too.
    Her brave words to herself were deflated by another small voice inside her, a voice that said, They were outdoorsmen; we’re actors. We know nothing about surviving in the wild.
    She tried to quell that fear by reminding herself that this was the reason they were joining a wagon train. The others would help them get through…
    Aaron guided the horses through the bustle of the streets to a spot at the edge of town where there was room to stake them out.
    Mr. Patchett looked around at the crowded camp and sighed happily. “People, Fortune. Lots of people. And believe me, before this trip is over, they’ll be bored and wanting entertainment. I wish your father was here, sweetheart. He would have