Fortune's Journey by Bruce Coville Page A

go back to the wagon.”
    Aaron took her arm. “Stay a while,” he said softly. “Maybe you don’t mind being alone, but I don’t like it. I want some company. I’m lonely, Fortune.”
    He sounded on the verge of tears. But she had heard drunks cry before, and the sound did not raise sympathy in her. “I really have to get back,” she said, shaking her arm free of his grip. “Mrs. Watson might wake up. She’ll be worried if I’m not there.”
    â€œDon’t worry about her. She sleeps like a log.” He took her arm again and pulled her around so they were face to face.
    Fortune was glad that it was too dark to see him clearly—or for him to see her. She felt as if she were being torn in half. She had yearned so long for him to show her some attention, some affection. Yet the moment had been ruined by his foolish drunkenness.
    He pulled her closer, slipping his arms around her.
    â€œDon’t,” said Fortune, turning her head to avoid the smell of the liquor. “Aaron, don’t!”
    â€œListen to me.” His voice was desperate, his eyes flashing. “No. Don’t listen. Words are…stupid. They cut you.” Tightening his arms, he drew her toward him, moving his lips toward hers.
    Fortune struggled to break free of his grip.
    â€œHold still!” said Aaron roughly. “You’re such a…tease, bouncing back and forth between Jamie and me. I get sick of…I want to…they said…”
    He stopped talking and tried to kiss her. Though part of her longed to respond, she was revolted by the smell of the alcohol. Turning her face away, she hissed, “Let go of me!”
    When he didn’t relax his grip, she tried to tear herself from his arms. “Aaron, let go!” she shouted. With a burst of unsuspected strength, she finally managed to wrench one arm free. When she did, she slapped his face so hard it made her hand sting.
    Romeo, startled by the sudden movement, shied away from them. Juliet whinnied nervously.
    Aaron gasped in astonishment. He put his hand to his mouth, which was bleeding. He stared at her for a moment, then turned and stumbled into the darkness. She heard him start to vomit, and the sound made her own stomach twist with nausea. But her contempt for his drunkenness was tempered by memories of her father’s occasional “nights out,” and she wondered if she should try to help him back to the wagon.
    After a moment she followed his moans into the darkness. He was on his knees, shaking.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he whispered. “Sorry sorry sorry. It was a mistake. I can’t…they don’t understand. My fault, my fault…”
    Putting his head in his hands he began to weep.
    Fortune reached down to help him to his feet. “Come on. We’d better get back to the wagon before this storm hits.”
    That turned out to be impossible. They hadn’t gone ten feet before the rain began to fall with a force that astonished Fortune, pounding against her so hard that it hurt. Nothing she had read of the fierce prairie storms had prepared her for the reality of this one. Lightning cascaded across the sky like the wrath of the gods made real. The thunder that accompanied it seemed to shake the earth itself.
    When a bolt of lightning sizzled down terrifyingly close to them, Aaron threw himself to the ground and covered his head, whimpering in distress. Fortune looked at him in disgust. It was all she could do to keep herself from kicking him and shouting, “Get up, you drunken fool!”
    She stopped, frozen, realizing that she had seen her mother do that to her father once.
    A wave of sickness washed over her, and she fell to her knees herself. The rain continued to pound against them. She pushed the horrifying memory away. Using her hands, she found Aaron’s shoulders, then his head. Putting her mouth close to his ear, she shouted, “Aaron! Aaron,