Riding the Flume by Patricia Curtis Pfitsch Page A

his eyeswere shining in the dim light. Lewis Granger would cut down the tree for the money the lumber might bring. But Charlie would do it for the glory. She bit her lip and looked away. Money and glory. How was she ever going to stop them?

•   Chapter Ten   •
    B y the time they got back to the road leading into Connorsville, the first stars were showing in the sky. “We’re never going to make it back in time,” said Francie, “unless we run.”
    Charlie looked at her doubtfully. “Run all the way back to town? You’ll never be able to do it. At least, not in that skirt.”
    Francie knelt on one knee and began untying her heavy walking boots. “You can’t tell Papa.” She looked up at him. “Promise?”
    â€œWell . . .”
    Francie slipped her boots off, stuffed the stockings into them, tied the laces together and slung them around her neck, so they hung down her back. She unpinned her hat and put it into the cloth bag with the diary. “I can’t be late. If he gets worried, Papa might not let me come to thewoods ever again,” she said. She lifted the hems of her ankle-length skirt and petticoat and tucked them into the waistband of her apron so the skirt hung only to her knees. “You’ve got to promise.”
    Charlie’s eyes widened, watching her. “If Uncle James saw you like that he’d never even let you out of the house again!”
    â€œSo do you promise?” The seconds were slipping away.
    Finally Charlie grinned. “I promise,” he said. Suddenly he grabbed his hat off his head and took off down the road. “And I’ll beat you back to town,” he called back to her. His boots kicked up dust with each stride.
    Francie ran after him, praying that nobody she knew would come down the road at this hour. Her boots flopped against her back. The road was smooth, without many pebbles, and she could feel the cool dirt as she dug in with her toes. She held the cotton bag with the diary close against her side. The trees were turning from green to gray in the dusk, but overhead the sky still glowed blue. She let her breath find an even rhythm and relaxed her shoulders even as she increased her pace. Charlie didn’t have much of a lead, and she was closing the space between them with each stride.
    When she passed him, he only grunted. She grinned at him. “Hurry up,” she said between breaths, and moved smoothly on ahead of him. The coolness of the evening brushed her skin as she ran, and she could smell the scentof wood smoke in the air. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, remembering how much she used to love racing with Carrie and Charlie. It was one of the few times she could beat them, even though she’d been so much younger.
    In ten minutes she was on the edge of town, on the hill above the hotel. Across the street she could see that the lights were on in the kitchen and dining room. “Please let me be on time,” she whispered, sitting down in the grass at the edge of the road to put her shoes and stockings back on. She wasn’t even breathing that hard.
    She put on her hat and was arranging her skirt when Charlie came up beside her. “You’re still the fastest runner in town,” he said, bending over to catch his breath. “Next Fourth of July you should enter the footraces. I bet you could even beat Buck Murphy.”
    Francie chuckled, imagining the shocked looks if she showed up at the starting line. “Father would never let me enter,” she said.
    Charlie slapped his hat back onto his head. “I could have done better without my boots, though. Are we late?”
    â€œI hope not,” Francie answered, starting down the hill.
    They crossed the street and went around behind the house to the kitchen door. “Mama?” Francie pushed the door open and went in.
    Her mother turned from the stove. “There you