6- Ocean of No Escape

When Jem is shanghaied along the San Francisco waterfront, he must “learn the ropes” of a sailing vessel and endure seasickness, storms, and rough sailors while looking for a way to jump ship and return home.

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Chapter 1

Iron Horse

Stockton, California, May 1865

“Will you take a look at that!”

Thirteen-year-old Jem Coulter pushed his new tweed cap back from his forehead and held his breath. Rumbling down twin rails, the Western Pacific locomotive headed straight for him. Thick, black smoke billowed from its tall smokestack.

A long, shrill whistle blasted. Metal wheels shrieked, braking against the rails, but the “iron horse” did not look like it was interested in stopping.

“Jem, watch out!” Ellie tugged on her older brother’s arm. Her fingers dug into his flesh. “You’re gonna get run over—”

Jem shoved Ellie backward and took a giant step away from the edge of the station platform. He stumbled, steadied himself, and watched the railroad cars roll by in a series of noisy clackety-clacks. His heart leaped, then settled into a pounding drumbeat against the inside of his chest.

That was a mite too close, he thought.

The engineer released another whistle blast, and the train slowed to a screeching stop. Ellie covered her ears. Steam hissed from between the locomotive’s wheels and rose in puffy, gray-white clouds. A bell clanged.

Jem looked up, and his eyes widened. Roasted rattlesnakes! It’s so . . . big.

Whoosh! A gust of air lifted Jem’s cap and sent it flying. He reached out to catch it, but powerful arms yanked him back.

“Whoa there, Son.” Pa pulled Jem back several yards. “That cap’s not worth getting crushed between the cars and the platform. Didn’t I warn you to keep your distance from the oncoming train?”

Jem felt heat creep up his neck. He nodded before carefully making his way back to the edge of the platform. No more than a foot separated him from the now-motionless train. The engine had moved down the line, but a red-and-brown passenger carriage sat within arm’s reach. Jem could touch it if he wanted.

He didn’t particularly want to.

Instead, he glanced down at the narrow space between the cars and the platform. A few feet below, his cap rested on the edge of a railroad tie. It’s a goner.

Jem would go hatless before he dropped on his belly to retrieve it. Not in the middle of Stockton’s busy railroad depot. Men, women, and children surged from the cars and crossed the platform in a steady stream. Most were dressed in their Sunday-go-to-meeting finery and carried satchels and carpet bags.

Jem would not fish for his cap in front of all these fine folks.

He returned to Pa’s side. “I thought the engine would slow down a lot sooner,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Did you now?” Aunt Rose stepped forward, her lips pressed tightly together.

Uh-oh. Auntie was gearing up for a scolding.

She curled her fingers around the armrest of her son’s wheelchair and lit into Jem. “I declare, Jeremiah! What got into you, scuttling so close to the edge?” Her voice trembled. “As if we don’t have enough worries on this trip. Now you’ve gone and lost your new cap.”

His cap? Aunt Rose was fussing over a silly cap? Then it hit him. No, she’s fussing because she’s worried about Nathan. “I’m sorry, Auntie,” Jem said quickly, before she found something else to scold him for.

Aunt Rose nodded. Then she sighed her weariness. “Could we please just board the cars?”

“She’s right, Son.” Pa winked to remind Jem that his aunt didn’t mean to fuss. “We’d better hustle. The stationmaster waved us through so we could settle Nathan before the rush.” He handed Jem a small satchel. “It’s been a long two days for your cousin.”

Jem nodded. It had been a long couple of days—not only for Nathan but also for the entire family. “Yes, sir.”

Pa squeezed his nephew’s shoulder. “The cushioned seats inside this first-class coach will be much more to your liking, Nathan.”

I hope Pa’s right, Jem thought.

The entire Coulter family had rattled around inside the Wells Fargo stagecoach like gravel in a gold pan. Jem could stand it during the day. But all night too?

He grimaced. Pulled by three pairs of sturdy horses, the coach sped toward Stockton around the clock. Jem and Pa had bumped and bounced whenever a wheel lurched over a rock or dropped into a rut.

Ellie fared just as poorly beside Aunt Rose.

Sleep came in snatches, and the two short stops during the day did little to revive Jem’s spirits. Worst of all, worry for Nathan had squeezed all the joy of this trip out of Jem.

Wells Fargo had rigged a hammock from the stage’s ceiling for their injured passenger. The canvas bed protected Nathan’s legs from banging around, but the constant swinging back and forth made him sick.

Jem wrinkled his nose at the remembered stink produced by his cousin’s queasy stomach. A heavy dose of laudanum finally put Nathan to sleep and brought peace to the rest of the family.

But nothing could rid the coach’s interior of the lingering stench.

“Hey, Cousin.”

Jem turned to the pale blond boy sitting a few feet away. “Hey, Nathan.”

He stepped aside to give his cousin’s wheelchair plenty of room to navigate. The platform had emptied of newly arrived passengers. Pa circled around and pushed the high-backed chair toward the railroad car.

Jem kept pace, watching the clumsy-looking chair lurch over the wood planks. Clunk-clunk . . . clunk-clunk. Nathan clenched his jaw and gripped the armrests at each jolt.

Jem winced and looked away. A month ago, his cousin had run races, wrestled, and panned for gold. Now, he sat confined to a wheelchair.

A month! Had it really been only a month since the accident at the bear-and-bull exhibition?

Guilt threatened to flood Jem all over again. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the bull shattering the log fence. If only I’d stayed in town. If only I hadn’t—

“It wasn’t your fault,” Pa’s voice whispered in his head.

Maybe it wasn’t Jem’s fault that Nathan’s legs were broken by flying fence debris, but it sure felt like it. Weasel-faced Will Sterling had mocked Jem about being a goody-goody sheriff’s kid, and how had he reacted? I ran straight to the arena to prove Will wrong.

Nathan had been only a few steps behind.

Jem squeezed the guilt into a corner of his mind and focused on his cousin. “Are you doin’ all right?”

“I guess.” Nathan heaved a deep breath and blew it out. “I am mighty glad to be out of that stagecoach, though.”

Ellie darted in front of the wheelchair and walked backward, grinning at Nathan. “We’re all tired of bein’ cooped up and churned like butter.” Her hazel eyes sparkled with eagerness. “I’ve never ridden the train before. It’s gotta be better than the stage.”

Nathan gave Ellie a tired smile. “I hope so.” He fell silent.

“Why don’t you two board ahead of us,” Pa said. “You’re holding things up.” He waved Jem and Ellie toward the metal steps that led to the passenger car.

Prodded by Pa’s suggestion, Jem tightened his grip on his satchel and took the lead. “C’mon, Ellie.” He grabbed the railing and swung himself up the three metal steps. Crossing the small platform, he found himself staring into the railroad car. A handful of passengers had remained on board, but most of the seats were empty.

Jem’s breath caught. He’d never seen such luxury.

Ellie gasped. “I thought the hotel in Sacramento last summer was fancy, what with all those”—she wrinkled her forehead—“chandelier lights, but this . . .” Her words trailed away as she craned her neck to gape at the high, curved ceiling.

Then quick as a spider, Ellie sprang into action. “I’m not wasting a single minute of this ride.” She brushed past Jem and hurried along the carpeted aisle. Ignoring the passengers, she stroked the red-velvet seats on both sides of the walkway. Instead of every double seat facing forward, the pairs faced each other.

Twelve rows of wide, fancy velvet seats, with plenty of legroom.

“Don’t touch anything,” Jem warned her. “Folks don’t want to sit where you put your dirty fingers.”

“My fingers aren’t dirty,” Ellie shot back. She raised her hands. “Aunt Rose made me wear these snow-white ‘young lady’ gloves.”

When Ellie reached the end of the car, she spun around, paraded halfway up the aisle, and plopped down on a cushion. “Time to make myself feel right at home.” She untied the ribbons of her new bonnet and yanked it from her head. Then she ripped the gloves from her fingers and sighed. “Much better.”

“Until Auntie sees you.”

Ellie tossed an auburn braid behind her shoulder to show her brother she wasn’t worried about their aunt’s reaction.

Yesterday afternoon, Aunt Rose had picked out gloves and a pretty bonnet for her niece from the nicest millinery shop in Stockton. Ellie’s jaw dropped at the sight of half a dozen fabric roses scrunched together along the wide brim, but she held her tongue when Pa gave her “the look.”

This morning, however, she let Jem know exactly how she felt. “Just cuz we’re rich now doesn’t mean I have to dress like snippety Maybelle Sterling,” she’d told him on their way to the railroad depot.

No wonder Ellie couldn’t wait to tear off her rich-girl finery.

Well, Aunt Rose might scold Jem up one side and down the other, but he would never slick himself up like Will Sterling. Not for anything.  

No, sirree. He smiled. I’m glad I lost my city cap.

“Aren’t you gonna sit down?” Ellie asked.

Pa clapped a hand on Jem’s shoulder. “You’re blocking the aisle, Son. Go and sit down across from your sister.” He took Jem’s traveling satchel. “I reckon you want a window seat too.”

Jem nodded. For sure he wanted a window seat!

He paused and swiped a hand across the backside of his knickers before slipping into his seat. He didn’t want travel dust to dirty the cushion any more than he wanted Ellie’s fingers to stain the rich velvet.

Jem’s eyes opened wide when he sat down. These cushions were nothing like the stagecoach’s wooden benches. He resisted the urge to bounce—after all, he was going on fourteen—and leaned his head back. His eyelids closed.

Last night’s stopover at the Stockton House seeped into his memory. For once, Jem was glad he owned more than one set of clean Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes. Pa and Aunt Rose had seen to that yesterday, when they bought him enough shirts, knickers, and shoes to keep him looking clean and sharp for a week. His new clothes felt scratchy, but they were free of travel dust and grime.

Jem paused. He had pulled on a fresh change of city clothes this morning. So, why in the world had he worried about leaving dirt on the red-velvet seat?

I reckon Goldtown is stuck in my blood, Jem thought with a sleepy smile. Dirt, dust, mud, and sweat. It was hard to break old thought patterns. The Coulter family had been dirt poor ever since Jem could remember.

All that changed when Jem, Ellie, and their miner friend Strike-it-rich Sam came home from a three-week prospecting trip with twenty thousand dollars’ worth of gold. Yes, sirree! After fifteen long years of setbacks and sorrows, the Coulter family had finally struck it rich.

And not a moment too soon. A portion of their gold would buy the expert skills of a famous surgeon, Dr. Toland, in San Francisco.

Jem’s insides tingled with the knowledge that Nathan had a chance to be made whole. Even if it takes every last nugget I dug, Jem promised his cousin the day he returned from the mountains.

He heard shuffling feet and cracked open one eye.

“Where should I put your boy, ma’am?”

Both eyes flew open. The slightly slurred drawl reminded Jem of his friend Silas from the riverboat last summer. He sat up and peered closer at the tall figure. Disappointment stung him.

It wasn’t Silas, only the porter.

The railroad man smiled, and his teeth showed brilliant white in his dark, friendly face. He carried Nathan up the aisle, not an easy task. Nathan’s splinted legs stuck out like two wooden peg legs. One was slightly shorter than the other.

Aunt Rose fluttered around Nathan until the dark-blue-uniformed porter stopped at the seat across the aisle from Jem. “Set him right here,” she instructed.

Pa stuffed the satchels onto the overhead rack and turned to help the porter settle Nathan. “Careful now. Easy does it.”

Aunt Rose propped a pillow behind Nathan’s head, and he leaned back against the window. The rest of his body sprawled across both spaces on the seat. Nathan looked miserable, but he managed a smile. “Thank you.”

The porter tipped his hat. “You’s most welcome, young sir.” He turned to Aunt Rose. “I’ll fetch the wheelchair to the baggage car and make sure you can find it when we gets to Oakland. Y’all have a pleasant trip now. If you need anything, let me know.”

Pa nodded. “Thank you.”

The words had barely left Pa’s mouth when people began to board. The porter went to work, carrying bags and valises, bringing pillows, and settling the rest of the first-class passengers. Soon, the car was nearly filled to the brim. Only a few empty seats remained.

The engine’s whistle blew.

“All aboard for Oakland!” The conductor called his warning from the steps at the end of the car. “All aboard!”

The train lurched forward.

Jem braced himself against the jerky movement and grinned at Ellie. She grinned back. They were about to embark on an adventure more exciting than finding a gold nugget. More exciting than visiting Sacramento. Better than—

“Wait up!” a desperate voice bellowed. A loud banging followed. Then a yelp of pain.

“Sir, please,” the conductor said. “You can’t—”

Jem craned his neck to see past the seated passengers. A man thrust something at the conductor. “Here’s my ticket. Let me pass.”

Without waiting for permission, a handsome older man made his way up the aisle. The train pitched forward. The man swayed but caught hold of the back of a seat. “Pardon me,” he muttered. “Sorry.”

When he reached the Coulter family, he pointed to the empty double seat facing Nathan. “This seat taken, ma’am?” He addressed his question to Aunt Rose.

She sat beside Ellie, her lips pressed tightly together. “No, it’s not, but I’d prefer if you sat somewhere—”

“Thank you kindly,” the stranger interrupted. “Don’t mind if I do.”

He tossed his valise onto the overhead rack and sat down.

Chapter 2

Surprise Seatmate

More jerks, another whistle blast, and the train chugged away from the station. Smoke and steam blew past the windows and then melted into the bright-blue sky. The conductor shut the door, shot an annoyed glance at the man who had boarded so forcefully, then set about checking and punching tickets.

Soon, the locomotive picked up speed, and the jolting lessened.

Clackety-clack. Clackety-clack.

Jem rested an elbow on the rattling windowsill and cupped his chin in his hand. The flat valley floor whizzed by, but he barely noticed. He was too busy watching the stranger from out of the corner of his eye.

A sudden frightful notion chilled Jem. Did the stranger know that the Coulters had struck it rich? Had he wormed his way into the nearby seat so he could act friendly and then rob them?

No, Jem decided. Pa was not so foolish as to carry thousands of dollars’ worth of gold in his bags. Better still, he’d already shipped most of their pile to San Francisco under heavy guard. The gold would soon be minted into five, ten, and twenty-dollar gold pieces.

“Never carry a fortune of gold on your person, Matt,” Earnest Sterling had advised Pa.

And Mr. Sterling should know, Jem thought. He was always shipping gold from his Midas Mine.

Besides, Pa had been a gold miner for years. Just because he was now Goldtown’s sheriff didn’t mean he’d forgotten how to survive as a prospector. Of course he would carry no more gold than he needed for daily business.

No, Pa would not be fooled by a rude, forward stranger. He was too smart for that.

Jem relaxed. Speaking of daily business . . .

He patted his hidden stash of gold nuggets and flakes to make sure the leather pouch appeared flat in the inside pocket of his new jacket. A fellow needed a bit of spending money. Gold worked just as well as coins, whether a miner lived in a gold camp or visited the city.

Jem flashed another sneaky look at the stranger. The man’s gaze flicked from Aunt Rose to Nathan and back to Aunt Rose. He smiled and tipped his hat’s wide brim with two fingers. “Howdy, ma’am.”

Not good, Jem thought. This fellow had obviously never read Aunt Rose’s favorite book about proper manners for gentlemen. A gentleman would not be so forward toward a lady with whom he was not acquainted. He would sit quietly and mind his own business.

Aunt Rose ignored his greeting. She clenched her hands in her lap and looked at Pa with an expression that screamed, Put this rude stranger in his place, Matthew.

Pa did nothing of the sort. He nodded at their new seatmate and returned his greeting. “Howdy.” Then he crossed his arms over his chest and settled back for the three-hour trip to Oakland. A faint smile played across his lips.

“It’s a wonder how fast these newfangled railroad cars can travel, ain’t it?” the stranger said. Pa’s “howdy” had released the floodgates of speech. “I hear tell that this here Western Pacific locomotive chugs along at a whoppin’ twenty-five miles an hour. Imagine that!”

A shiver skittered up Jem’s spine. I know that voice.

He stopped pretending to look out the window and focused on the stranger. The man was clean-shaven and wore what looked like a brand-new suit of city clothes. Not a wrinkle or a speck of dust spoiled his outfit. Aunt Rose would have called his appearance “spick-and-span.”

The man’s dark, gray-streaked hair was cut short and neat, at least from what showed from beneath his hat. Gray eyes twinkled as if he were hiding a funny joke. When he caught Jem gaping at him, he winked. “Howdy, young’un. Are you enjoying your first time ridin’ the cars?”

Jem’s jaw dropped. The stranger sitting across the aisle from Aunt Rose acted and sounded exactly like their miner friend Strike-it-rich Sam.

It couldn’t be. The Coulter family had left Strike back in Goldtown to manage the ranch. Their stay in the city might last several weeks, or even longer. A trusted friend must keep the Coulter ranch from falling apart while they were gone.

Pa trusted nobody more than he trusted Strike.

Jem pondered. This fine-looking gentleman seemed nothing like their miner friend. Besides, Strike was an old man, while this fellow appeared years younger.

“Tickets, please.”

The conductor broke into Jem’s whirling thoughts. He fished around inside his jacket pocket and drew out the ticket, which the conductor punched and returned. He moved quickly up the aisle.

Silence fell.

“Is . . . is that you, Strike?” Ellie asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes, sirree.” Strike chuckled and turned his gray gaze on Pa. “I tried, Matt. I surely did. But you hadn’t hardly left town when I knew I couldn’t stay behind. I warned you.”

“You did at that.” Pa’s smile spread. “How in the world did you catch up?”

“There’s more than one way outta Goldtown. I got friends.” Strike laughed. “I got gold now too. It helps a heap to have friends and gold. I got to Stockton late last night.” He rubbed his smooth chin. “Had to scramble early this mornin’ to get slicked up before the locomotive left.”

He winked at Aunt Rose, whose face had gone white. “After all, I couldn’t accompany such a fine-lookin’ family decked out like a poor prospector, now could I? I struck it rich, remember? It’s high time I started lookin’ the part.”

Pa laughed. “I reckon so. Some of your gold must’ve opened those shops mighty early this morning. It’s barely ten o’clock.”

Strike brushed his fingers down both sides of his new suit coat. “That’s a fact, Matt. Their doors opened wide for me.”

More laughter.

Jem was not laughing. He was too surprised. Pa didn’t sound angry, worried, or even surprised to see Strike sitting across the aisle. Jem opened his mouth to ask a dozen questions, the most important one being Who’s taking care of our ranch?

He clamped his jaw shut when Pa kept talking.

“I thought I recognized your hollering back there. You do like to make an entrance.” He gave Strike a worried look. “I trust you put my ranch into capable hands.”

“No worries, Matt. That young whippersnapper of a deputy, Rafe, told me he’s happy to mind the cattle and milk the cow in exchange for high livin’ on your ranch.”

Jem wrinkled his forehead. He’d never thought of the Coulter ranch as “high living.” More like a broken-down spread that needed chores and repairs from dawn ’til dusk.

Strike pushed back his hat. “Yes, sirree, Rafe was rubbin’ his hands together last time I saw him. Seemed happy as a miner who just struck gold to tend your spread.”

Pa grunted. “Does Rafe know what he’s getting himself into? That ranch is a heap of work and trouble.” A slight frown wrinkled his brow. “Not to mention that I left him in charge of the town.”

“Don’t worry.” Strike waved a careless hand in the air. “The youngster can do both jobs. His only real trouble will be keeping track of Canary.” He burst into another round of chuckles. “That ornery donkey will give Rafe more headaches than he can shake a stick at.”

Pa sighed. “I hope I’ll have a ranch to come home to.”

“Aw, Matt. Quit your fussin’. You sound like your sister. You got so much money now that if you don’t like how Rafe manages the ranch, you can tear down the house, the barn, and everything else and start fresh when you get back.”

“I reckon so,” Pa replied, but he didn’t sound happy about starting “fresh.”

“Really, Pa?” Ellie burst out. Her hazel eyes were shining. “Can I have a room of my own?”

Pa reached out and tousled Ellie’s hair. “Sure, sweetie. A room of your very own.”

Jem’s tongue felt tied in knots. His glance flitted from Strike’s face to the miner’s fancy outfit, then clear down to his expensive-looking boots. One thought spun faster than a top, turning Jem’s world upside down.

Strike isn’t as old as I thought he was.

A memory from a little over a week ago joined his spinning thoughts. He, Ellie, and Strike sitting around a campfire, enjoying their last night in the mountains. Strike announcing his plans to “clean himself up.” Jem and Ellie asking why he would do such a thing.

The answer sat across the seat from Pa. Aunt Rose sat stiffly beside Ellie and stared straight ahead. Laughter bubbled up inside Jem, but he swallowed it back. If Aunt Rose guessed the real reason why Strike had slicked himself up and come along to the city, she’d have a conniption fit.

Not to mention swoon or maybe die of shame.

“You look different, Strike,” Nathan remarked from his couch. “It’s nice. I like it. Don’t you think Strike looks nice, Mother?”

“He’s sure not a filthy roughneck anymore, is he?” Ellie piped up. “So, I reckon you can’t yell at him anymore when he—”

“Stuff and nonsense,” Aunt Rose snapped. Color flooded her cheeks. “Ellianna, mind your tongue.” She turned and faced Strike across the aisle. “Mr. Anderson, I am gratified to see that you made yourself presentable for this trip to the city.” She paused, and her wrinkled forehead showed her puzzlement. “Though why you’ve gone to all this trouble is a mystery to me.”

It’s no mystery to me, Jem thought. He caught the look in Ellie’s laughing eyes. It’s no mystery to Ellie, either. Or to Nathan, I bet.

It was as clear to Jem as the glass window in the railway car. Strike liked Aunt Rose. He liked her a lot. Jem turned his gaze back to the window to avoid embarrassing his aunt.

One glance took his breath away. “Ellie, look at that!”

Ellie pressed her nose against the window and sucked in her breath.

Just ahead, a huge wooden trestle spanned a river. The engine and passenger cars rounded a curve and were soon clattering their way across the bridge. Below, the sparkling water flowed to the north, branching into three waterways before it disappeared from sight.

As soon as the train crossed the trestle, it took an even sharper turn westward and picked up speed. The wheels clacked along the tracks. The passenger car swayed back and forth. The train seemed to roll beneath Jem’s seat.

All of a sudden, Jem’s belly heaved. He felt his breakfast creep upward and laid a hand against his churning stomach. He had never felt like this before, not even when he bounced around inside a stagecoach. He didn’t like this queasy feeling.

No, sirree!

Jem swallowed, determined not to give in to his nausea. Was this how Nathan had felt swinging in that hammock for two days? No wonder he couldn’t keep anything down.

The swaying grew worse as the train made its way around the rolling grasslands and began chugging uphill. An hour later, they passed a sign that read Livermore Pass—741 feet. Seven hundred feet didn’t sound like much of a pass to Jem, but it curved enough to make him feel thoroughly sick.

The Western Pacific had not cut a straight track through these rolling hills, which bore no resemblance to any real mountains Jem had ever seen. Instead, the tracks curled around one hill, then another.

At the same time, the train began plunging downhill.

Ellie didn’t seem to notice the rocking. She spent most of her time learning to walk along the carpeted aisleway without swerving or falling into the other passengers’ laps.

She returned from one practice trip breathless. “Somebody left this car, crossed the outside platform, and went inside the next car,” she exclaimed. “Can I see where it goes? Please, Pa? It might lead all the way to the locomotive, or at least to the coal tender.”

Pa shook his head. “You need to stay here.”

“What if Jem goes with me?”

The last thing Jem wanted to do was walk around a rocking passenger car. His breakfast threatened to come up. He shook his head.

“Well,” Ellie tried again, “there’s a little spout at the back of the car. I turned the handle and water came out. I drank two cups. I can get you some if you like.”

“No, thank you,” Pa said. Aunt Rose smiled and shook her head.

“You want some water, Jem?” Ellie asked. “I can show you how it works.”

Jem groaned.

“Jem’s not feeling well,” Pa explained at Ellie’s bewildered look. “He’s got motion sickness.”

Ellie’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean like Nathan on the stagecoach?” She backed up a step, eyeing Jem as if he might empty his stomach right then and there.

“Yes,” Pa said in a voice that meant no more questions.

“I’d like some water,” Nathan broke in.

Jem looked at his cousin.

“I know exactly how you feel,” Nathan said. “I’m still a little queasy, but it’s not near as bad as it was back on the stage.”

Jem nodded but didn’t reply. He turned back to the window and focused his gaze on Mount Diablo. Earlier, Strike had suggested that keeping the mountain in sight might help.

It helped for a while, until the train rounded the next grassy hill. Mount Diablo disappeared, and a wave of dizziness flooded Jem.

Noon came and went. The railroad car heated up. Jem felt sweat trickle down the back of his neck. Worse, the strong scent of pipe and cigar smoke tickled his nose and made his stomach protest even louder.

At least I’m keeping my breakfast down, he congratulated himself.

“It won’t be long now,” Pa whispered. “When we reach the flats, you’ll be cured.”

Jem didn’t believe him. “I’d rather ride the stage,” he hissed between clenched teeth.

Instead of laughing, Pa laid a strong arm around Jem’s shoulders. “That’s because the stagecoach travels in a nearly straight line along the valley floor. Nathan only felt sick because he hung suspended the whole trip. Hang on, Son. You’ll soon forget this unpleasant rail trip.” He chuckled. “Until we return home.”

Jem groaned. Pa was right. There was only one way back to Goldtown. The adventure Jem had looked forward to dissolved into counting the minutes until he could get out of this car and back on solid ground.

To Jem’s surprise, Pa was right about the flats. As soon as the locomotive came out of the hills, it veered north and headed for Oakland along a straight, flat track. The cars still rattled and rocked, but within a matter of minutes, Jem’s belly began to settle down.

Thank you, God! Things were looking up. He suddenly felt famished. “Are there any sandwiches left?”

Aunt Rose opened her wicker basket and passed Jem two napkin-wrapped sandwiches. Thick with butter and sugar, he gleefully wolfed them down. He glanced at Ellie, whose head rested on Aunt Rose’s shoulder. Her eyes were closed. “Hey, Ellie. Do you want to show me the waterspout in the back? I’m thirsty.”

Ellie woke with a start and slid off her seat. “Sure! Let’s see who can walk the best on this bucking iron horse.”

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