about a skull on top of a high rock, she looked at the elderly man to see if he believed it. She wasnât sure, but for a moment one eye seemed open and one eye closed; then he seemed to be sleeping again as usual.
But the man with the tiger tattoo wasnât sleepy, and he told no tales. Emily was already shivering in her wet and muddy clothes. And in the near darkness inside the stagecoach, when Uncle Victor turned his head to look out the window, his face had such an angry, scheming look that she shivered all the more.
â¢Â   â¢Â   â¢
The next morning, Jackson wasnât saying much either, because he had come down with a fever. WhenEmilyâs arm touched his, she could tell that his skin was warm beneath his shirt, and his lips looked parched.
âMercy, I hope he doesnât have something that will bring us all down!â Marigold said worriedly. She and Petunia traded places with the children so that Jackson could have a bit more air on the middle bench.
Emily let her lap be Jacksonâs pillow. Mr. Moffit and the two sisters leaned over the seat and fanned the boy. Oscar, Angus, and Jock kept Jacksonâs tin cup filled with water from their own jug. But the man with the tiger tattoo only watched from his end of the row.
Sometimes Jackson moved his lips and sometimes he asked for more water. But once, when he opened his eyes and saw Emily wiping his face with a wet cloth, he said, âEmilyâ¦.â
Startled, she put one finger over his lips.
Thumpa thumpa thumpa
, went her heart. The two sisters continued fanning. Oscar, Angus, and Jock had fallen asleep, and so had the elderly man. But Uncle Victor stared hard at Emily, the pupils of his eyes as small and dark as those of a rat.
What in the
hunky monkey
do you suppose
he was thinking?
T he next day, Jackson was feeling better, and he and Emily took their seats in the back row once again.
âYou were right sick there for a while, son,â Oscar said. âGood thing you had your brother to care for you. He was worried about you, even though his brainâs not all there. Time or two you called out for someone named Emily.â
Emily saw Jacksonâs eyes widen with alarm. âGuess I was dreaminâ about our ma,â he said quickly.
âWhere
is
your mother?â asked Petunia.
âSheâs passed, maâam. Died when I was six. And weâve been bounced around from pillar to post ever since,â Jackson said.
Emily was amazed at the stories Jackson could tell. He had told
her
that his ma had run off. She wondered if
any
of his stories were true.
âTwo little orphan boys, alone in the world,â Marigold murmured, and sighed as she turned her attention once more to the window.
Emily stole a look at her uncle, but she couldnât tell from his weasel eyes whether he believed Jackson or not. If only she could get to Redbud before he discovered who she was! There had been so many fresh teams of horses, so many different drivers.
She imagined the big red stagecoach pulling up to the Redbud way station. She could almost feel Aunt Hildaâs arms around her. But each time Emily looked up from her daydream, the man with the tiger tattoo was watchingâ¦watching out the window as though he might see his niece crouched behind a rock, a tree. Watching the way stations to see if sheâd been droppedoff there. Watching Jackson and Emily when they ate their meals. Watchingâ¦
There was only a trace of a road in desert country, and here and there a lone tree. Sagebrush took the place of bushes, and large outcroppings of rocks stood in place of buildings. The latest driver was young and impatient. He ran the horses hard, eager to reach the next stop. But one of the wheels hit a rock, turning sharply; the frame broke, and over the stagecoach went, at the very edge of a deep ravine.
The door of the coach flew open, and everyone spilled out. Oscar and Angus and Jock and
But the man with the tiger tattoo wasnât sleepy, and he told no tales. Emily was already shivering in her wet and muddy clothes. And in the near darkness inside the stagecoach, when Uncle Victor turned his head to look out the window, his face had such an angry, scheming look that she shivered all the more.
â¢Â   â¢Â   â¢
The next morning, Jackson wasnât saying much either, because he had come down with a fever. WhenEmilyâs arm touched his, she could tell that his skin was warm beneath his shirt, and his lips looked parched.
âMercy, I hope he doesnât have something that will bring us all down!â Marigold said worriedly. She and Petunia traded places with the children so that Jackson could have a bit more air on the middle bench.
Emily let her lap be Jacksonâs pillow. Mr. Moffit and the two sisters leaned over the seat and fanned the boy. Oscar, Angus, and Jock kept Jacksonâs tin cup filled with water from their own jug. But the man with the tiger tattoo only watched from his end of the row.
Sometimes Jackson moved his lips and sometimes he asked for more water. But once, when he opened his eyes and saw Emily wiping his face with a wet cloth, he said, âEmilyâ¦.â
Startled, she put one finger over his lips.
Thumpa thumpa thumpa
, went her heart. The two sisters continued fanning. Oscar, Angus, and Jock had fallen asleep, and so had the elderly man. But Uncle Victor stared hard at Emily, the pupils of his eyes as small and dark as those of a rat.
What in the
hunky monkey
do you suppose
he was thinking?
T he next day, Jackson was feeling better, and he and Emily took their seats in the back row once again.
âYou were right sick there for a while, son,â Oscar said. âGood thing you had your brother to care for you. He was worried about you, even though his brainâs not all there. Time or two you called out for someone named Emily.â
Emily saw Jacksonâs eyes widen with alarm. âGuess I was dreaminâ about our ma,â he said quickly.
âWhere
is
your mother?â asked Petunia.
âSheâs passed, maâam. Died when I was six. And weâve been bounced around from pillar to post ever since,â Jackson said.
Emily was amazed at the stories Jackson could tell. He had told
her
that his ma had run off. She wondered if
any
of his stories were true.
âTwo little orphan boys, alone in the world,â Marigold murmured, and sighed as she turned her attention once more to the window.
Emily stole a look at her uncle, but she couldnât tell from his weasel eyes whether he believed Jackson or not. If only she could get to Redbud before he discovered who she was! There had been so many fresh teams of horses, so many different drivers.
She imagined the big red stagecoach pulling up to the Redbud way station. She could almost feel Aunt Hildaâs arms around her. But each time Emily looked up from her daydream, the man with the tiger tattoo was watchingâ¦watching out the window as though he might see his niece crouched behind a rock, a tree. Watching the way stations to see if sheâd been droppedoff there. Watching Jackson and Emily when they ate their meals. Watchingâ¦
There was only a trace of a road in desert country, and here and there a lone tree. Sagebrush took the place of bushes, and large outcroppings of rocks stood in place of buildings. The latest driver was young and impatient. He ran the horses hard, eager to reach the next stop. But one of the wheels hit a rock, turning sharply; the frame broke, and over the stagecoach went, at the very edge of a deep ravine.
The door of the coach flew open, and everyone spilled out. Oscar and Angus and Jock and
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