Fortune's Journey (19 page)

Even worse, she knew that she would be worrying about the weather, too. They had a performance scheduled in the next town up the line tomorrow; if the weather was too bad they might not make it.

Yet once the show began she didn't worry about the weather. She was swept away by being on stage again, being in front of an audience that responded to what they did, cared what happened to the people they were pretending to be. With a jolt of surprise, she realized how much she had missed making people laugh, making them cry. And, being honest with herself, she admitted the addiction she had tried for years to deny. She had missed the applause!

Though the “gullywasher” didn't materialize that night, the next morning it was still raining, a gentle drizzle that didn't prevent travel, simply made everything wet and uncomfortable. Complaining heartily, the players packed the wagon, harnessed the horses, and headed south.

Except for Aaron, who had to drive, everyone sat in back to stay out of the rain.

The road was preposterous, a slick trail of mud that sucked at the wagon wheels, clung to the horses' hooves, and seemed to actively try to keep them from moving at all.

“Maybe we should turn back,” said Mrs. Watson. The wagon cover was beginning to leak, and a rivulet of water was running along the spot where she usually sat.

“I don't want to miss a playing date if we can help it,” said Fortune, speaking loudly to be heard above the drum of the rain. “It's not professional.”

“Fortune, you'd better come up here,” called Aaron.

Leaving Mrs. Watson to stew, Fortune scrambled up beside Aaron. The rain was coming down harder now, and almost instantly her clothes were soaked through and clinging to her skin.

“Look,” said Aaron.

Ahead lay a stream, swollen over its banks, the water a churning mass of brown.

Fortune frowned. “Can we make it across?”

“I don't know. That's why I called you up here. I'm a little nervous about it. I'll try if you want…most of the other streams we've come to out here weren't very deep.”

She turned back to the others and made a choice. “Edmund—I need you to go ahead of us and see how deep that stream runs.”

“Are you crazy?” he replied, his voice surly.

“Afraid you'll get wet?” she asked, trying to jolly him a bit.

For an uncomfortable moment they stared at each other. Fortune wanted desperately to turn away, but telling herself that Lola would never let a mere man stare her down, she decided that neither would she. And even though her stomach seemed to be churning as rapidly as the water beneath them, her gaze never faltered.

After what seemed like an eternity Edmund looked at his shirt, which was already clinging to his skin, and laughed. He climbed out of the back of the wagon and headed around it to the stream. By the time he was halfway across, the water was still no deeper than his knees.

“Looks safe,” said Aaron, shaking the reins and urging the horses forward.

“Wait!” said Fortune. “He might not have reached the main bed yet.”

But in another moment Edmund was standing on the far bank. He turned and waved them on. As he did, rumble of thunder shuddered through the sky.

Aaron shook the reins. “Gee, Romeo. Haw, Juliet. Let's roll!”

They splashed into the water. As if on signal, the skies chose that moment to unleash their load. What had started as a drizzle and gradually turned to a moderate rain became, suddenly and instantly, a torrential downpour.

“I can't see!” cried Aaron.

Fortune grabbed his arm. The rain was so heavy it felt as if they had actually fallen into the water. From behind her she heard an angry voice yelling, “Oh, Minerva! I should have been born a duck!”

The horses whinnied in fright, and when a jagged streak of lightning slashed down nearby, Romeo—his eyes rolling in terror—lifted his hooves and pawed at the air.

Aaron slashed at the gelding's rump with the reins. At the same time he yelled to Fortune, “I don't know what to do! I can't see to get across and I can't back them up.”

“Then stay here.”

“We can't do that!”

“Why not?” she asked, surprised by the urgency in his voice.

“This streamed could flood fast if this keeps up! The water washes off the hills and—”

He was interrupted by Walter poking his head up from behind them. “I'll lead the team across!” he shouted. “I think it's the safest way.”

Fortune could feel Aaron's relief. “Watch your footing,” he called. But Walter was gone already, making his way back into the wagon to exit through the rear.

Fortune had expected the intensity of the downpour to diminish after a short time. To her amazement it continued unabated, as if the air itself had turned to water.

She realized that every muscle in her body was knotted like a cord and told herself to relax. Aaron knew what he was doing; worrying wasn't going to help.

Her body refused to obey the command. She tasted blood and realized she had bit her lip until it was bleeding.

Walter went splashing past them, and a moment later the wagon began rolling forward. Aaron cursed.

“What is it?” asked Fortune.

“The water is getting higher already. Look!”

Leaning over the edge of the wagon, Fortune could actually see the frothing stream creeping up on the wheels. Without intending to, she gasped. “We've got to get across fast!”

“We can't go any faster than Walter can lead us,” said Aaron. “Damn!” he added, in response to a lurch of the wagon.

“What is going on?” demanded Mrs. Watson, appearing behind them.

Before Fortune could answer, she found herself clutching Aaron's arm for support as the right front wheel lifted over a little hump and fell into a hole. The wagon jerked to a stop, listing dangerously to the side.

“Damn,” said Aaron again. He threw down the reins and leaped over the side. Fortune scrambled down after him.

“Fortune Plunkett, you come back here!” cried Mrs. Watson. “I promised your father I'd take care of you. I—”

Her words were lost in the storm. Fortune slogged through the stream, hardly able to tell where the water left off and the air began. The lightning was more frequent now. Juliet, always nervous in a storm, was whinnying and kicking. Mr. Patchett, who had come around from the back of the wagon, was standing with Aaron. They were both studying the wheel.

“How bad is it?” she asked, stepping between them.

“I don't know,” said Aaron. “I wish Jamie was here. He always knew what to do in this kind of situation.”

“We've got that long wooden bar he insisted we buy back in Independence. It's one of the few things that didn't fall out on the mountain that day. He said it was to pry up the wagon if we got stuck.”

“I'll get it!” said Mr. Patchett. As he began splashing back toward the wagon, Fortune realized the water was halfway up his long legs.

“I'll go get Edmund,” she said. “We're going to need all the help we can get.”

“Be careful!” roared Aaron, shouting against the storm.

Fortune started off, using the horses as a guide.
I can't even see the other side,
she thought in panic.
How will I get there?
Her panic flared even higher when she bumped into a dark shape in the rain and it reached out and grabbed her. “Fortune! What are you doing?”

It was Walter. She had forgotten that he had gone ahead to lead the team across.

“I'm going to get Edmund,” she told him. “We need him back there.”

“I'll go. You stay here and keep the horses calm. You're better with them than I am anyway.” Fortune started to object, then decided he was right. She watched fondly as the giant waded toward the far bank, knowing that he was still trying to make up for the night that he had lost all their money.

Suddenly Romeo threw back his head, trumpeting in terror. The movement pulled her off her feet, and it was only her grip on the harness that kept her from being swept away by the current. She tried frantically to calm him again.

It seemed an eternity before Walter returned with Edmund. The water, rising steadily, was midway up Fortune's thigh when she heard Edmund's angry voice sputtering about fools who couldn't drive.

Shut up, she thought. Just shut up and help.

Then suddenly it didn't make any difference whether Edmund helped or not. The rain tapered off as quickly as it had begun.

Fortune almost collapsed with relief.

Mr. Patchett smiled. “Well, well—that feels as good as remembering a line that you thought you had lost.”

The moment of relief was broken by a piercing scream from Mrs. Watson.

Snapping around, Fortune saw a wall of water roaring toward them. It was far up the creek bed, but rolling forward at an appalling rate.

“The horses!” she cried. “Help me free the horses.”

Walter was at her side at once. Her fingers, chilled by the rain, felt as if they were made of lead. The straps, resisting her fumbling efforts to loose them, seemed to have taken on a malevolent intelligence of their own. Fortune thought she was going to scream in frustration. Glancing back, she could see the water getting closer. Mrs. Watson had surrendered to hysterics.

“Edmund!” cried Fortune. “Get her to shore. Hurry!”

She turned her attention back to Juliet's harness. “Come on!” she urged the stubborn leather. “Loosen up!”

But the moisture had caused it to swell so much that it seemed hopelessly jammed.

“Got it!” cried Walter, freeing Romeo. He slapped the gelding's rump. “Go on, boy! Get to shore!”

He hurried to where Fortune stood fumbling with one of the stubborn straps. Behind her she could hear Aaron and Mr. Patchett trying to free the wagon wheel from the hole.

“Enough!” cried Mr. Patchett. “Head for the bank!”

“I can't leave Juliet!” cried Fortune.

Before she could say another word, the water was upon them. It struck her like a falling tree, sweeping her feet off the river bottom. She clung to Juliet, but the horse staggered and fell, too. Then the wagon went over. Fortune could hear the wood cracking and splintering.

I've got to get this undone or Juliet will drown!
The fear seemed to give her a strength she had never known before. With one last burst of effort she managed to undo the harness.

Juliet thrashed desperately, trying to get to her feet. Fortune continued to cling to the horse's neck.

Together, they were swept away by the flood.

Chapter Twenty

Fortune, her fingers twined in Juliet's mane, tried desperately to keep her own head above the rushing water. It seemed that no sooner would she break the surface, gasping for air, than the water would close over her again. It was as if she were in the grasp of some great and powerful god who was picking her up and tossing her down at his whim. She fought in vain against the merciless rush of the current, the tangling of her sodden clothes, the desperate need for air.

Juliet's terrified whinnying rang in Fortune's ears as she struggled against the freezing brown water that swirled around them. Her efforts were nothing in the face of the flood's power. A sense of crushing helplessness overwhelmed her. She was sure she was going to die until suddenly…there was hope.

As she pieced it together afterward, what saved her was that Walter had clung to the harness traces when the flood swept over them. Rather than fighting the water, he had let it carry him away—perhaps because, unlike Fortune, he had nothing solid to hang on to. That had changed when the current thrust him against a tree standing in the flood path. With great effort the giant had managed to get himself on the far side of it. Struggling to keep his head above water, he wrapped the leather strap around the trunk.

That was all the help Juliet needed. When the harness caught, there was a wrenching jolt. Then the mare braced herself against it. For a long time her hooves were unable to find sure footing. But by bracing against the strap she was able to lunge up out of the water so that she—and Fortune—could breathe.

Fortune had struggled desperately to hold on and keep her head above water as much as possible. Long after that day she would wake in the night, remembering again the muddy smell of the flood, the force of it against her body, the fierce chill of it on her skin, the roar as it surged past her.

And then, as rapidly as it had struck, the worst of the current had passed by. They would learn later that what had caught them had been more than just a foothills flash flood. A few weeks earlier two miners attempting to get at more gold had temporarily diverted part of the stream from its normal bed. The heavy rains and rapidly rising water had broken their dam, and it was the freeing of that pent-up water that nearly cost the troupe their lives.

She hadn't known that at the time though. She simply knew she was wildly grateful when the dreadful pounding stopped and Juliet was able to stagger to her feet.

Then she saw Walter's body, dangling from the lowest branches of the tree. She began to scream, convinced that he was dead. At the same time Mr. Patchett, Edmund, and Aaron—who had been pounding along the bank, trying to keep up—came splashing through the water toward them. Edmund grabbed Juliet and led her to safety. Then he splashed back out into the stream, because though Mr. Patchett had freed Walter from the tree, it took Edmund's strength as well to drag the big man back to the bank.

Fortune saw them struggling with Walter's body as Aaron was lifting her from the water. After that she collapsed and became unconscious.

An hour or so later, when she awoke, the first thing she did was reach into her dress for Jamie's letter, which she had carried with her throughout the winter.

It was nothing but a sodden mass of ink-stained paper.

Tears welled up in her eyes. She had read the letter every night before she went to sleep. Now it was gone, and she mourned its loss even more than the loss of their faithful old wagon, which had been shattered by the flood.