Jo's Triumph Read Online Free

and wriggled into them. My, didn’t it feel strange to be wearing a man’s pants! When I reached up to touch what was left of my hair, I felt stranger still.
    I tucked my nightdress and my braids under the loose board. Then, with the moon spilling cold light acrossthe wood floor, I crept from my bed, pulled David’s cap low over my ears, and slipped along the hall to the sewing room to replace the shears.
    â€œOh!” I gasped aloud as I caught sight of my reflection in the looking glass. For a moment I thought David was in the sewing room with me and I clapped my hand over my mouth to stop myself from screaming. But when I touched my other hand to my cap, the person in the glass touched his cap, too, so it was me all right. I turned to the side and then back the other way. A boy. I looked like a boy for certain.
    There was no time to waste admiring myself. I tiptoed down to the kitchen. Once, I stepped on a loose floorboard and the creaks sounded as loud as a baby’s wailing. I stood stock-still and held my breath. But the place remained quiet save for the
tick-tock-tick
of the big grandfather clock in the front entry hall.
    At last I reached the kitchen door. As I struggled to lift the stiff latch, it occurred to me I’d best take some kindof food along. I helped myself to half a loaf of bread and pushed aside my guilty feelings. All things considered, it was a small enough contribution for the orphanage to make to the rest of my life.
    Just like that, I was outside making my way through the dark streets of Carson City. I had to find a place to hide as soon as possible because, come morning, they would be looking for me. I dodged from shadow to shadow, keeping my eyes down and staying out of the way of the few men who staggered along the main street.
    Trouble was, I had no idea where to go. My plans had only extended to escape from the orphanage walls. Ormsby House was out of the question. Mrs. Ormsby would send me right back. The night was cool but the breeze carried the smells of early summer. In the distance, a dog barked. From somewhere in the hills, the eerie wails of coyotes answered.
    I skirted around the edges of town and when the dawn began to break Itook refuge in a deep pile of straw in the back corner of the stable behind the freight station. I slept uneasily, jumping at each rustle in the straw. Once I sat up, convinced someone was trying to saw a hole in the wall, but it was only the wind working a loose board back and forth.
    My growling belly woke me. Every part of my skin scratched and prickled from all the hay. All I could think of was how much I wanted to go back, even if that meant begging for forgiveness from Miss Critchett.
    Then I remembered something my pa always used to say, Don’t never think on an empty stomach.
    Gnawing on the last of the bread, I tried my best to ignore the uneasy squeezing deep in my belly. What had I gone and done? Without a penny to my name I would never be able to get to California. Heck, as it stood, I couldn’t even buy me another loaf of bread.
    â€œHere he comes!” someone shouted from just outside the barn. I eased back into the shadows.
    Horse’s hooves pounded toward the barn at a gallop. They stopped outside and I heard men talking and the heavy breathing of a horse that had been run hard.
    â€œHere, let me walk him.” The tired horse’s breathing moved farther from the barn.
    â€œAny trouble on your run?”
    â€œSome Indian fires in the hills, but no trouble.”
    â€œAye — those militia patrols are doing a good job of keeping the trail open. Bad news, though — the rider didn’t show. I heard tell he’s been drinking again.”
    â€œSo, I got to go on?”
    â€œâ€™Fraid so. Be a bonus in it for you, though.”
    The rider gave a short laugh. “Assumin’ I’ll be in any shape at the other end of the ride to claim it.”
    I heard the smack of leather and the