Katie and the Mustang, Book 4 by Kathleen Duey Page A

fish.”
    No one even suggested traveling on until the fish were cooked and eaten. It was heaven, after all the months of beans and bacon, to eat the delicate, pink fish meat.
    Mr. Taylor and Mr. Heldon made hooks from old wire corset stays that Mrs. Kyler gave them.
    They used twine for line and baited the hooks with chunks of bacon. The salmon didn’t seem to be as tired of it as we were, because they took the bait and were pulled in, hand over hand, to the rocky banks. This was much easier than stringing nets, and all the men endeavored to make hooks and lines.
    We ate salmon whenever we could, and it was delicious every time. The bacon we carried had been half-rancid for weeks in spite of being salted until it was nearly intolerable and stung our mouths.
    But even though we got a welcome change in our meals, our stock did not. One night after supper, Miss Liddy pulled me aside. She looked sad.
    â€œI want to stop the lessons for a while.”
    I felt my heart sinking, but I knew why. “We shouldn’t work Genevieve at all, probably,” I said aloud.
    Miss Liddy nodded unhappily. “She’s losing flesh. They all are. This cursed sage,” she said, taking a sideward kick at a clump of the gray-green plant, “doesn’t nourish like grass does.” She shook her head. “And you can tell they hate it.”
    It was true. “The Mustang curls his lip—and he is eating less,” I told her.
    â€œThey only eat it because there isn’t much choice,” Miss Liddy said. “Ever wonder if you made a mistake by coming?” she asked me.
    It caught me off guard. “Sometimes,” I admitted. “If I can’t find my uncle...” I trailed off because I couldn’t think about it without feeling physically sick.
    â€œOregon City will have enough people to give our show,” Miss Liddy said quietly. “So we’ll make some money, enough to winter on, I expect.” She pushed her hair back. “Come spring we might head south to Mexico City if the war is over and travel is easy. I’ve never seen Alta California. I want to.”
    I was astonished at the idea of her going where the war was being fought now, of talking about traveling an inch farther than we had to. I was also fascinated by the idea. Mexico City! What was it like just to go places because you wanted to see them?
    â€œI’d like to travel one day,” I said quietly.
    Liddy nodded. “Then you should.”
    I looked at her. “The Kylers promised to get me to Oregon and help me find Uncle Jack,” I told her. “I can’t imagine that he’d ever let me go traveling on my own.”
    She smiled gently. “Circus life is hard work. And you’re right, most people wouldn’t let a girl your age go traveling. I did, but there wasn’t anyone to tell me not to.”
    â€œLiddy? We need your help here!”
    It was Mr. Le Croix, shouting from across the camp. She waved at him to let him know she’d heard, then she kissed my forehead, her hands gripping my shoulders. “You are going to have a fine home, Katie. You are a wonderful girl, and they will be lucky to have you.”
    I watched her walk away, feeling odd. The wagons would all separate when we got to Oregon City, I knew. The Kylers, the McMahons, the Heldons, the Craggetts, and the Taylors would be looking for land, I was sure. Who knew what Mr. Silas and his friends were thinking? They didn’t seem like farmers to me. I wondered where we might all end up—if we would ever see one another again.
    It made me sad to think I might not ever see Mrs. Kyler again. She had been so good to me. She was so funny, so patient; I knew my mother would have loved her.
    I felt tears seeping into the corners of my eyes, and I turned away, walking fast. I needed to graze the Mustang. Lately, no matter how hard I worked to find grass, he was getting thin.
    Maybe he was sorry he’d