Spirit Riding Free--The Adventure Begins

by Suzanne Selfors

  It was unusual for Cora to sleep in, but she wasn’t used to train travel and had been feeling out of sorts. By mid-morning she appeared, dressed in a high-necked blouse with a string of pearls and matching pearl earrings. Her hair was arranged in its usual tidy bun, but the look on her face was anything but usual. “Oh dear,” she said, placing a hand over her stomach. “I’m a bit… unsettled.”

  “Maybe you need some fresh air,” Jim suggested.

  “It is my professional opinion that you are suffering from motion sickness,” a man said. Jim had struck up a conversation with two passengers from another first-class cabin and invited them back for coffee and cake. This fellow’s name was Dr. Merriweather. He stood not much taller than Lucky, was rather thin, and his round eyes reminded her of the cod Mrs. MacFinn often brought back from the fishmonger’s store. The other guest was the opposite of Dr. Merriweather—grand in size, with legs that stretched out so far, they kept tripping the attendant. His name was Mr. Bart and he owned a cattle ranch.

  Mr. Bart took a long drink of coffee. “Nothing to be ashamed of, ma’am. Even a big fellow like me can get train sick.” He propped the china cup on his belly. The cup looked ridiculously small compared to the fellow’s large hands.

  Lucky felt sorry for her aunt. But she was also happy that she wasn’t suffering from motion sickness. She’d hate to miss out on the cake. Of course it couldn’t be as good as the cake Emma was serving at her birthday today. Lucky hesitated mid-bite. She imagined that Emma would be getting ready, putting on her party dress, helping to decorate the house. Lucky was supposed to get there early and help, too. Then they’d wait together at the front window, watching as the carriages pulled up and the guests arrived. Lucky would sit beside Emma while the presents were opened, keeping a list of names so Emma could write thank-you cards. Lucky and Emma would partner up for all the games, as usual. She sighed. Happy birthday, Emma, she thought. Her thoughts were interrupted when Dr. Merriweather cleared his throat.

  “Allow me to ease your suffering,” he told Cora. “I have a special tonic, brewed for this kind of situation.” He reached into a black leather satchel and pulled out a corked bottle. Lucky happened to be sitting closest, so he handed the bottle to her.

  She read the label out loud. “Dr. Merriweather’s Homebrewed Tummy Tonic, guaranteed to relieve symptoms of digestive assault, including dizziness, discombobulation, nausea, gaseous outbursts—”

  “Lucky!” Cora interrupted.

  “That’s what it says.” Lucky handed the bottle over to Cora.

  Cora inspected the label, then narrowed her eyes. “Dr. Merriweather, where, exactly, did you get your medical degree?”

  Dr. Merriweather cleared his throat. “My degree, my dear Miss Prescott, is not of the medical variety. I am a doctor of philosophical matters and a maker of tonics. Which I sell. That particular bottle is available for purchase.”

  “No, thank you.” Cora handed the bottle back to Lucky, who returned it to the doctor. “I have no need of any homemade tonic. I will wait until we get to Miradero, where I shall consult with a medical doctor.” She frowned and, once again, placed a hand over her stomach.

  “As you wish.” He blinked his bulbous eyes, then tucked the tonic back into his bag. “But you never know if you’ll find a doctor out West. And you do seem discombobulated.”

  “I am discombobulated, dear sir, because I am going to a godforsaken place where there may or may not be a doctor.”

  “Calm down, Cora. I’m sure we’ll find a doctor in Miradero.” Jim tried to change the subject. “Isn’t this cake delicious? Would either of you like another piece?”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Mr. Bart said, turning two slices into a single hefty serving.

  Dr. Merriweather politely declined. But he continued to talk to Cora. “I have other tonics that might be of interest to you. For the various troubles that can arise in the Wild West.”

  Now this was getting interesting. “What kind of troubles?” Lucky asked.

  “I had a customer—out in Porter, bless her soul.” He ran his fingers along his thin mustache, smoothing the edges. “She was minding her business putting on her boots one morning and was overcome by a terrible sharp pain. When she turned the boot over, guess what fell right out?”

  Cora’s hand flew to her heart. Lucky sat up straight. “What?”

  “A rattlesnake. They hide in the most inconvenient places.” He pulled out another corked bottle. “However, if she’d possessed Dr. Merriweather’s Vitality Tonic, she might be alive today. It vitalizes the nervous system. And also removes stains.” He smiled, revealing a gold tooth.

  “Those rattlers are a dang nuisance,” Mr. Bart confirmed.

  “Well, that’s a good lesson for us to remember,” Jim said. “Always check our shoes in the morning.”

  Cora ignored the bottle, so Dr. Merriweather returned it to his bag and grabbed another. “There was a gentleman last month, minding his own business out in Dunlop, just sitting on a rock enjoying his lunch when, well, you can guess.”

  “He got bit by a rattlesnake?” Lucky asked.

  “Worse. He was attacked by a scorpion. If he’d taken Dr. Merriweather’s Daily Healthful Tonic he might have survived. But instead, he keeled over, right on the spot.”

  “I daresay that’s enough,” Cora said.

  “It also smoothes wrinkles and fades freckles,” added Dr. Merriweather.

  “Ain’t just the critters you’ve got to worry about.” Mr. Bart wiped chocolate cake from his face, then pushed back his cowboy hat as if he had really important news to deliver. “There’s dangerous folk out there, too. Got cattle rustlers and bank robbers. Why, a train was robbed just last week. Bandits came onboard and took everyone’s jewelry and money.”

  Jim nodded with concern. “Train robberies are on the rise, unfortunately. JP & Sons has issued wanted posters up and down the line, but we haven’t caught them yet.” Lucky imagined their train being robbed. She’d have her first adventure to write about. What a letter that would make for Emma.

  “They haven’t been caught ’cause there ain’t enough sheriffs to go round,” Mr. Bart said. “Some of the newer towns got no lawkeepers at all.”

  “No police?” Cora began fanning herself with a silk fan. She looked near to fainting.

  “Ma’am, are you suffering from the vapors?” Dr. Merriweather asked. “I’ve got a—”

  “She’s fine,” Jim assured him. “Cora, let’s not get all worked up before we get to Miradero.”

  “How come you folks are going to Miradero?” asked Mr. Bart.

  “I’m going to oversee the extension of the railroad from Miradero to the Pacific,” Jim explained.

  “You don’t say. Sounds like a big job. And what about you, little lady?”

  “I’ll be going to school,” Lucky replied happily. “Have you ever been to Miradero? Do you know what the school is like?”

  Cora stopped fanning. “Indeed, I have been wondering the same thing. Is the private school for boys only? I hear that is often the case in small towns, but I’m hopeful they will make an exception and allow girls to attend classes.”

  “Private school?” Mr. Bart looked puzzled, as if they’d just asked him what road led to the moon. “There ain’t no private school, ma’am. Last time I was in Miradero there was a schoolhouse at the end of town, just past the blacksmith shop. There’s one teacher for all the kids.”

  “One teacher?” Lucky asked. At Madame Barrow’s she’d had a math teacher, a language teacher, and a history teacher.

  “There’s no need for more than one teacher, on account there’s just one room in the schoolhouse.”

  “One room?” Cora’s fan dropped to the carpet. “How can you possibly give children a proper education in one room? Where do they study music? Where do they practice art? What about a school library?”

  Lucky tried to imagine one room with everyone crammed into it. She began to imagine the kids, too. What did they look like
? What did they wear? How different would she be? Would she fit in?

  “One room is unacceptable,” Cora declared.

  Once again, Jim tried to keep his sister from blowing things out of proportion. “Cora, we can’t know the answers to these things until we get there.” He returned the fan to her.

  Cora beat the air with renewed vigor. “If the school is not up to our standards, then I will take over teaching Lucky.”

  Lucky cringed. Cora as her teacher? This was terrible news. How could Lucky possibly make new friends if she was stuck at home with her aunt all day?

  How difficult would it be to find a rattlesnake, capture it, and stick it into Cora’s boot? Lucky wondered. Of course, she didn’t want the snake to bite her aunt, just scare her enough to go back home and leave Lucky and her dad in peace!

  11

  First came the chugging of an engine in the distance and the vibration of wheels against tracks. Then a long trail of smoke appeared, twisting in the air like a snake. The stallion stood, his hooves firmly planted, waiting with anticipation. His cousins gathered around him, their gazes fixed on the horizon.

  And then it appeared, the black creature that carried people to this place. Long and sleek, it moved toward the herd. Closer and closer, louder and louder. The stallion snorted and stomped his hoof. He playfully tossed his head. Then he called to the younger horses, the ones like him who wanted to run. It was a game they were fond of, a race to see who could gallop the fastest. The older horses shook their heads, for they knew the dangers that could arise if one broke away from the safety of the herd. They snorted. The stallion ignored them. He was stubborn, a trait that came in handy during winter searches for food when he refused to give up.

  But being stubborn can also lead to trouble.

  The stallion’s sister butted him with her forehead, trying to move his attention to other things. But at that moment he wasn’t thinking about anything except the chase. He stepped away from her, his willful nature fixated on one thing—to prove himself the fastest.

  He would wait for the rolling beast to come closer.

  12

  They spent a third night on the train, and the following morning the first stop was the town of Winslow, where most of the passengers disembarked—among them Dr. Merriweather and Mr. Bart. Though small, Winslow was considered a bustling metropolis in this part of the world, and it was the last stop before the train headed into the high desert. Since very few passengers went all the way to the end of the line, most of the passenger cars were replaced with cars carrying livestock and supplies. Lucky was allowed to get off the train with her father. “Don’t get your dress dirty!” Cora called after her.

  What a relief to be outside. While Jim bought a local newspaper, Lucky stretched her legs. She played chase with a boy and his dog. She bought a bag of peppermint candy. She explored every nook she could find. There was a barbershop where a man wearing a golden badge was getting his beard trimmed. A real sheriff, Lucky realized. There was a hat shop that sold mostly cowboy hats. She tried one on but it was much too big. She watched while a man ushered some enormous pigs up a ramp into one of the livestock cars. She peered inside a crate that was full of fluffy golden chicks. And everywhere she looked, she saw cowboys, with their leather britches and colorful bandanas. I’m really here. In the Wild West.

  “Lucky,” her father called, waving her over. “You’ve got to try these. They’re tortillas.” Just outside the train station, a woman sat beside a small fire, rolling dough and frying it in butter. Jim handed a tortilla to Lucky. It was golden and warm. She held it in her hand and took a bite.

  “Delicious,” she said. She ate two more. Good thing Cora couldn’t see her eating without utensils. What a scene that would be!

  “Lucky, do you remember why this town is so special?” her father asked.

  “Of course I remember. It’s where you met Mom.”

  He nodded, then pointed. “The circus tent was set up right over there.”

  Images filled Lucky’s mind as Jim’s story came to life at the end of the street. He and his fellow ranch hands waiting in line to see the circus. The monkey who collected their tickets. Her mother riding around the ring on horseback. Without this town, Lucky might not have been born. She smiled and finished her tortilla. “I like it here,” she said. “Will Miradero be this nice?” But she knew her father didn’t have the answer.

  The train whistle blew and they made their way back to their cabin. Lucky passed the time by finishing Journey to the Center of the Earth, but then she had nothing to do. She didn’t know how she’d endure another long morning stuck in there. Cora’s motion sickness seemed to be wearing off, but that meant she was more talkative. Cora’s stories weren’t about scorpion attacks or bank robberies. Rather, she talked about a Russian art exhibit one of her committees had organized for a museum. “We should all be exposed to great works of art,” Cora said. “Art enlivens the soul. I’m sure Miradero doesn’t have an art museum with majestic paintings like these. They probably go only to rodeos or to the circus.”

  “Cora,” Jim said.

  Cora looked at Lucky with sincere regret. “Oh, dear, I didn’t mean that as an insult.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “I’m sure your mother’s circus was the loveliest show. But you understand, don’t you, when I say the circus isn’t art? It’s entertainment.”

  “El Circo Dos Grillos was an amazing circus,” Jim said. “I wish you could have seen it, Cora; you’d change your mind. What I witnessed was truly art.” Lucky wished she could have seen her mother’s performance. Even though her father’s stories were vivid, nothing could beat actually being in the audience. What a thrill it would have been to watch her mother dance with the horses. “Milagro wasn’t only a master at handling the horses; she earned their trust,” Jim continued. “Their full trust, as if she were one of them. As if she were part horse.”

  “I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous,” Cora said. “A person is a person and a horse is a horse. Horse riding is dangerous. Those animals are powerful beasts and cannot be trusted. You never know when they might toss you right off their backs.”

  Lucky didn’t feel like arguing with Cora. She could deal with not riding horses, but what she couldn’t deal with was all this sitting. Sitting and sitting. She desperately wanted to get off the train again. To run! To see her new home. To explore her new neighborhood. This was becoming worse than recitations. That familiar twitchy feeling crept into her legs. She stretched them out, accidentally kicking Cora. “Sorry.”

  “We’re almost there,” her father told her. “Soon. Very, very soon.”

  Very soon wasn’t soon enough. Lucky could barely contain the excitement that was building. She felt like a teakettle about to whistle.

  While Cora yammered on and on about the importance of art, Lucky grabbed her drawing supplies and tried sketching. She scribbled some patterns, swirls, flowers, and hearts; then she drew a birthday cake. Jim sat across from her, watching while she added little rosettes to the icing. “Hey, sweet pea, missing your friends already?”

  “Yesterday was Emma’s birthday. I bet they had so much fun.”

  “But we’re doing something even better; we’re having an adventure.” Jim leaned forward and nudged her, but it was hard for Lucky to muster a grin. Sure, the adventure had begun, but thus far they’d been stuck on a train. And to make matters worse, there was nothing interesting to look at anymore. Gone were the cities and towns. Gone were the grand forests and snowcapped mountains. Sometimes they’d pass a pile of equipment left behind by railroad workers, or the occasional abandoned wagon wheel. But mostly there was an endless expanse of land. Lots and lots of land. When would Miradero appear?

  Lucky pushed her drawing pad aside and rested her arms and chin on the window ledge. She pressed her face to the window. “How come those mountains look weird?”

  “They’re called mesas,” Jim explained. “Mesa means ‘table’ in Spanish. Think of them as tabletop mountains, because th
ey have those flat tops.”

  “How come they’re red?” Lucky asked.

  “The color is from iron oxide. Wait till you see them when the setting sun hits them. It’s quite a sight.” Jim’s face took on a dreamy look. Was he remembering a moment he’d spent with Lucky’s mother?

  A shrill sound startled Lucky and Jim from their thoughts. “The train whistle,” Lucky said. “We must be passing by something exciting. Can I go out and see?”

  Jim shrugged. “Sure.”

  “Certainly not,” Cora said. “It’s dangerous out there. A train is no place for a young lady to go gallivanting about.”

  “We aren’t in the city anymore, Cora. Maybe it’s time to give Lucky a little more freedom.” And thus began an argument Lucky had heard way too many times in her life—her aunt taking the protective stance, trying to keep Lucky from getting hurt; her father pointing out that they couldn’t protect Lucky from everything. All those times Lucky had asked to ride a bike, or asked to ride a horse, Cora had always won the argument because somehow Cora always knew someone who’d gotten hurt in that very activity.

  “My friend Lucy’s cousin’s husband’s employer fell off a train and was never seen again!” Cora told Jim. “And you’re going to allow your daughter to go out there?”

  The whistle blew again, and what it said to Lucky was, Hey, get out here, you’re missing something!

  Lucky didn’t wait for the argument’s outcome. While Cora and Jim battled, she made her getaway, hurrying out of the first-class car and into a car filled with luggage. Moving as quickly as she could, she passed her own trunks and Cora’s, with the initials CP. Why had the whistle blown? Was there something too close to the tracks? Like a wild animal?

  Or train robbers?

  During the stopover in Winslow, where cargo cars had been added, a caboose had been added as well. Lucky opened the door and found herself in the conductor’s office, complete with a desk, a bunk, and a sink. The conductor wasn’t there. Surely he wouldn’t mind if Lucky took a peek outside. She hurried through, then flung open the back door. Fresh air greeted her as she stepped onto the caboose’s balcony.