Emily's Fortune by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

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?”
    â€œI 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.”
    â€œWhere you headed?” asked the man named Horace.
    â€œI’m going to live with my aunt Hilda in Redbud,” Emily said.
    â€œShe’s expecting you?” the man asked.
    â€œShe 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.
    â€œWell, looks like you’ll be here at Parsnip Pass till day after tomorrow,” the first man said. “But don’t think you’re going to hang around here gettin’ into mischief. You want to eat, you got to work. What’s your name?”
    â€œEli,” Emily told him.
    â€œThen come along, Eli, and I’ll show you how to muck the stable.”
    For the next few hours, Emily fed the horses and forked out the muck from the floor of the stable. She pulled up buckets of water from the well, brushed the horses, rinsed the tin plates after dinner, washed the men’s socks, soaked beans, and generally made herself useful.
    Her arms were stronger than when she’d first left home. Her legs were steadier, her back was straighter, and she had a good appetite at mealtime. The way-station men let her put Rufus in a little pen outside the door, where he had fresh water, fresh grass to crawl through, and whatever bugs he could catch.
    When another coach to Redbud arrived two days later, the way-station men were sorry to see her go.
    â€œGood luck to you, Eli,” they told Emily as she climbed aboard with Rufus in his little box.
    The driver of the stage wasn’t especially glad to have her, as there were six Chinese workers on board already, heading west to build a railroad; he did not know how well a small boy would get along with them.
    But Emily was used to being quiet, being alone, and being polite. The six workers spoke to each other in Chinese and ignored her, so Emily played with Rufus and tried to imagine how shocked everyone in the stagecoach must have been—Uncle Victor in particular—when they’d discovered she was missing. Because she had slipped out in the middle of the night, it would have been hours later and several waystations farther before anyone had realized she was gone. Jackson was so good at lying, she was sure he had made up a good story, and Mr. Muffit, who was really an inspector, would have backed him up.
    All afternoon they rode, and after the next stop, where Emily got off and stretched, she curled up on the backseat. She knew that by the following morning, she would be in Redbud. This was such a happy thought that she began to doze at once, Rufus’s box clutched in her hand, and finally fell asleep to the rocking of the stagecoach and the snoring of the Chinese workers.
    The next way station was not a place for passengers to get off—just to change horses—and Emily opened her eyes only long enough to see a fresh team being led out from the stable as the station men with their lanterns led the other team back to the barn.
    But suddenly, before the stagecoach started off again, it dipped and swayed. Someone sat down on the seat next to her, and a low voice said, “You’ve come to the end of the line, Emily Wiggins.” The man with the tiger tattoo had a tight hold on her arm.

E mily stared in dismay at her uncle. How could this be?
    While the Chinese workers sat dozing, Uncle Victor continued in his growly voice, “The next stop is Redbud. If that aunt of yours is there waiting for you, you’ll tell her you’ve decided to live with me. We’ll go to the