Free Emily's Fortune by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor Page B

Victor will be mad at you when he finds I’m missing,” Emily whispered back.
    â€œDon’t worry about me,” said Jackson. “It’s you he’s after.”
    â€œBut what will become of
me?
I’ll be all alone!” Emily whispered, her voice faltering.
    â€œYou’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:
    â€œListen 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.
    â€œYou’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 later 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 somewater 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.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    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