Fortune's Journey (9 page)

Fortune's sense of warmth and safety evaporated the next day when Jamie forced her to come face to face with how woefully under-prepared they were for the journey facing them. Greenhorns that they were, they had been totally oblivious of this fact until he suggested they take an inventory of their equipment.

“After all,” he said, “we're going to be traveling close to two thousand miles, and this is our last good chance to stock up. Better to pick up some small thing you've forgotten now than to have to borrow it on the trail.”

His slight smile made Fortune wonder if he harbored suspicions they might have forgotten more than “some small thing.”

Yet even that hint did not prepare her for his shock when they unpacked the wagon to show him what they had. For a time he just stood in front of the pile of gear, shaking his head in amazement. “Did you think you were going to find stores all along the way?” he asked at last.

Fortune would have resented the sarcasm inherent in the question if he hadn't sounded as if he actually thought they were so inexperienced this might be the case.

Finally he heaved a deep sigh. “Well, there's nothing to do but go get what you need. You're going to get scalped for it—the storekeepers here love to make a killing on last-minute items people suddenly realize they can't live without. This may be more like a massacre. I'll do the best I can for you.” He turned to Fortune. “How much money do you have?”

The question was greeted by a frozen silence. The troupe's finances were a strict secret between Walter and Fortune.

“How much do you have?” repeated Jamie.

“Not much,” said Fortune tartly. “What's really necessary here, anyway?”

“Food, for one thing! What do you think we're going to feed seven people for the next four or five months? You had no gun for hunting until I joined up with you. You have almost no staples; a few pounds of flour, a little sugar, and some coffee. That's it. Who does the cooking for this outfit anyway?”

Like children caught in a lie, they glanced at one another from the corners of their eyes. They all hated cooking.

Jamie read the message. “Well, don't worry about that. I'll handle it while we're on the road. What about tools?”

“We've got an ax!” said Mr. Patchett resentfully.

“That will be very helpful for digging you out of a mud hole,” said Jamie, trying to contain his scorn.

“Look, we're not going west to settle,” said Aaron. “Most of these people are going to build houses or start farms or search for gold. Of course they need tools. We're just going to act. And we still have to replace the props and costumes we lost in that fire. We don't need to spend money on a bunch of tools.”

“It's true that you won't need many tools once you get there,” agreed Jamie. “But you've still got to get there!”

“All right,” said Fortune, stepping into her position as leader of the troupe. “You've made your point. Make a list of the things you think we can't live without, and we'll see how many we can afford.”

“The only things on that list will be items you can't
afford
to do without,” said Jamie sharply. It was clear he was getting angry at the troupe's response to his attempts to help them.

Walter brought Jamie a pencil and a scrap of paper. He spent the next hour working on his suggestions. When he brought the paper to Fortune, an uncomfortable silence fell over the group.

She raised her eyebrows as she examined it. “Lariats, a spade, a tent, an extra wagon tongue…What are we going to do with all these things?”

“The real question is what you thought you were going to do without them. If you'll give me the money, I'll go get them for you.”

Aaron laughed out loud. “You must think we're really stupid. Do you expect we're going to hand our money over to a stranger and let him walk out of town with it?”

Jamie flushed with anger. “All right, go west your own way! I'll see you in California
—if
you make it!”

He turned and stalked away from the wagon.

“Wait!” cried Fortune. “Where are you going?”

“To see Abner Simpson. He offered me a scouting job last year. I imagine it's still open. If not, there are at least two other wagons I've spotted where I know people who will let me come along. Thank you for the companionship. I enjoyed being in your play. Now I'll get out of your hair!”

His eyes were flashing, his cheeks red with anger. Fortune groped for something to say as he turned and started away again.

“Wait!” she called. “I'm…I'm sorry for what Aaron said. I…” She swallowed, then spoke words that came very hard for her: “I need your help.”

The look on his face softened. He smiled at her, and it was like the sudden sun that follows a storm. “Why don't you come with me?”

So she did. And it was on this afternoon that Fortune finally realized what a stroke of luck it had been for her when she agreed to let Jamie Halleck accompany the troupe to California.

To begin with, he appeared to be known by everyone who sold anything in the town of Independence. Even better, they all seemed to like him and were willing to go out of their way to help him. After catching her breath at initial prices given, Fortune would feel a sense of relief flood through her as Jamie cheerfully managed to talk the merchants into prices far lower than she would have thought possible.

“How do you know all these people?” asked Fortune, after their fourth stop.

“My father and I used to come here in the spring. There were always lots of high-paying odd jobs to pick up. It was a good way to make some honest money fast.”

Fortune continued to be amazed both by how many people knew Jamie and how fond they were of him. Before the day was over he had not only done a lot of hard bargaining, he had called in a handful of old favors, in the process saving Plunkett's Players a bucketful of money.

She was smiling as they returned to camp that evening, leading a mule laden down with supplies. Though the mule was borrowed, the bacon, coffee, rice, beans, axes, ropes, and other essentials were all theirs.

When they were all unpacked, Walter bent down and hissed in her ear, “How much did all that cost?”

“About twice what I wanted to pay,” she answered. “But less than a third of what they were asking. Jamie saved us a bundle.”

Walter straightened his derby, scratched his beard, and smiled down at her. “That's good. Jamie's a good boy.”

Two days later they paid a ferryman to take their wagon across the Missouri River into Kansas. When they finally stood on the far bank of the river, Fortune had a sense that they had left their old world behind them and were truly facing the great unknown.

The wagons assembled.

Abner Simpson gave the call “Wagons West!”

Aaron shook the reins and urged the team into motion.

The real journey had begun at last.

Chapter Nine

The morning of their third day out, Fortune was sitting next to Aaron in her accustomed spot at the front of the wagon. They had traveled about thirty miles so far, and she was astonished by the vast emptiness of the land around them.

She glanced at Jamie, who was riding his horse just off to their right, and felt a surge of gratitude for all he had accomplished during the last few days.

Rolling along on the far side of Jamie was another wagon, drawn by a team of six oxen. Fortune noticed and shook her head. “I can't believe there are so many people on this trip!” she said to Mrs. Watson, who was sitting in the wagon behind them.

She was used to traveling alone, as they had done for so long. Now when their wagon bounced its way over the ruts and bumps of the prairie, it was merely one of a crowd. Whether Fortune looked ahead, or behind, there were wagons as far as she could see, a great writhing snake of them. And each had the same goal—the golden dream of California.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a lurch and a thump, followed by a terrible cracking sound.

“Whoa!” cried Aaron, drawing up on the reins. “Whoa!”

The team jerked to a stop.

“What is it?” asked Fortune.

“We've broken an axle,” said Jamie. His face was grim.

Fortune said one of those words that always made Mrs. Watson turn white, then sprang off the wagon to look.

It was a miserable sight.

The troupe gathered around her.

“Oh, Minerva! What do we do now?” cried Mrs. Watson, wringing her hands.

“We fix it,” said Jamie simply.

“I suppose you know how,” snorted Aaron.

Jamie looked at him darkly. “As a matter of fact, I do. But I'll need help.”

The others settled down to wait as Jamie and Aaron went to work. After a moment Jamie called Walter over and asked him to hold something. The giant gladly obliged, happy to be helping.

Watching the way Jamie took charge, Fortune realized that he was a born leader. She almost wished he had been with them from the start. She could have used someone like him.

She chased the thought from her mind. She didn't want any help. The troupe was hers and she would lead it in her own way!

Other wagons rolled by as they sat waiting. Most of them slowed, as if to offer help, but continued on when they saw the three men hard at work. Fortune was pleased. She didn't like to accept any more help than was necessary.

She reminded herself that she was accepting
Jamie's
help, then told herself it wasn't the same thing, because he was one of them. The thought shocked her. She examined it again and decided it was true. Somehow Jamie Halleck had managed to make himself a part of Plunkett's Players.

The spring sun was hot, and after a while Jamie and Aaron stripped off their shirts. Fortune couldn't help but compare their bodies as they worked: Aaron's was lean and wiry, his skin fair and smooth; Jamie's solid and muscular, with broad shoulders and a light dusting of chestnut-colored hair across his deep chest.

They're nice to look at,
she said to herself, almost uncomfortable with how much she was enjoying the view.

To her surprise she noticed that Mrs. Watson was also watching them intently.

She surprised herself again by thinking,
Well,
we're both women.

She let it go at that.

Her drifting thoughts were snapped back to the present by an angry shout from Jamie. “Dammit, Aaron, hold that tighter!”

Fortune was astonished by the dark look that twisted his usually cheerful face. Aaron shouted back, and for an instant she feared they might actually start to fight. Then Walter placed himself between them, his towering bulk a virtual living wall, and after a moment the tension simmering between the younger men began to subside.

When the axle was finally fixed, it was clear to all of them that without Jamie they would have been delayed a great deal longer.

“By gum, young man, I'm sure glad you were along,” said Mr. Patchett, clapping him on the shoulder. “Turns out trying to make this trip without you would have been like trying to put on
Hamlet
without—”

He cut himself off, glancing nervously at Fortune.

“Jamie is worth his weight in gold,” said Aaron, his voice bitter with sarcasm. Slinging his shirt over his shoulder, he retreated to the back of the wagon.

Fortune hurried around to talk with him. “What's wrong?” she asked.

Aaron shrugged himself into his shirt. “Nothing. I just hate wasting time. The sooner we get to California and build our theater the better.”

He spun away and stalked to the front of the wagon. Springing into the seat, he shouted for the others to get ready to roll. “We've lost enough time today. Let's move!”

Fortune decided to walk for a while. Almost unconsciously, she found herself falling into place beside Jamie. Soon he slid from the saddle and walked beside her, leading his horse.

“Don't be upset with Aaron,” she said after a moment. “It's hard for him to have someone do things he can't.”

Jamie laughed. “I'm not upset. It's his problem, not mine. I feel sorry for him.”

“Well, you needn't!” cried Fortune, her temper flaring. “There's plenty he
can
do, too! He's a fine actor, for one thing.”

“I'm sure that's true,” said Jamie coldly “Sorry if I offended you.”

The conversation was hopeless after that. In a little while she drifted over to walk beside Walter, who was always happy to have her company. He entertained her with a story about his childhood in England and soon lifted her out of her dark mood.

When she rejoined Aaron at the head of the wagon, he was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, it was to ask in a malicious tone, “Well, did you tell our Jamie how proud you were of him?”

“Oh, be quiet and drive,” she snapped.

Then she crossed her arms and said nothing else for the rest of the day. It wasn't worth the risk.

The evening was better, for after they had cleaned up from their supper, Walter and Fortune hauled out their instruments, which attracted several of their fellow travelers. Fortune noticed one in particular, a quick, bright-eyed girl who stayed at the edge of the firelight but looked at her with a kind of hunger that she had come to recognize long ago. The girl was struck by the glamor and strangeness of a troupe of players.

The gathering broke up when Abner Simpson came striding by and reminded everyone that he expected them to be ready to roll early the next morning.

“I'm beginning to hate that man,” said Fortune when he had disappeared into the darkness.

“I think he's very handsome,” said Mrs. Watson.

“I'll tell you the one I hate,” said Edmund. “It's the one who blows the bugle.”

The chorus of groans from the others indicated that Edmund had managed to say something they all agreed with, a rarity for him. The troupe was used to both late nights and late mornings, and the discipline of the wagon train, which required everyone to rise at six, was difficult for them. Only Jamie was unaffected by it, since, as he said, he was used to his mother waking him for his day's chores at five.