Riding the Flume Read Online Free Page B

was beginning to turn pink. Summer was short inthe high Sierras, and the birds didn’t waste a moment of daylight. Francie’s eyes still burned, and she was already tired, but she made herself get up. She didn’t intend to waste any of the day, either. Her mother needed her in the hotel kitchen, but first she would talk to Charlie.
    She pulled on an old dress, tied her apron over it, and tiptoed down the stairs. The house was silent—Mama and Father must still be in bed, she thought. Slowly she lifted the latch and opened the heavy front door—it moved smoothly on its hinges without even one squeak—and then she was out in the chilly dawn.
    Across the narrow side street, her father’s hotel loomed up twice as tall as any building around it. When they’d first moved to Connorsville, when Carrie was a baby, the family had actually lived in the hotel along with the guests, but when Francie was born, Mama had put her foot down and insisted they move to a real house.
    Francie’s old shoes made no sound in the dirt as she ran along the street. She turned the corner onto Main and glanced up, wishing as she often did that she could have a room on the top floor of the hotel. She would have a bird’s-eye view of the whole town and the woods beyond; it would be almost like a tree house. But she knew better than to suggest it—she had heard her mother say often enough that owning a hotel was one thing; living in it was quite another.
    She hurried down Main Street past the general store,the post office, and the hospital and doctor’s office. Lamps were being lit in the buildings now, and she could hear the rumble of voices and the clatter of pots and pans in the dining hall where the loggers were eating breakfast. They were at work by six o’clock, so they were up even earlier than the birds.
    â€œHey, Francie!”
    She looked up to see Charlie take off his hat and wave from the dining hall porch. He crossed the street in three big strides and stopped in front of her, blocking her path. “Where are you headed so early, pretty lady? Looking for me, I hope?” He flashed her his famous winning smile, but he put his hands on her shoulders as if she were his little sister.
    Francie blushed anyway. Her cousin, Charlie Spencer, was nineteen and so handsome he could have his pick of any girl in town. He was dressed for work—Francie recognized his red plaid flannel shirt and saw that it still had a hole in the elbow. “Hi, Charlie,” she said. She knew he was being nice to her only because of Carrie, but she really was glad to see him. “I’d heard you made it back for another season after all. We thought you’d given up logging altogether when you didn’t show up last week.”
    â€œNo chance of that,” he said. “This is the year I’m going to ride the flume!”
    Francie laughed. “You say that every year.”
    Charlie winked at her and ran his fingers through his curly hair, making it stick up even more than usual.“Actually, I’m headed out to Camp Four this morning—that’s where we’re working now. I’m just glad they were willing to hire me back on.”
    Francie chuckled. “Who else would they get to be chute rider?” She shook her head. “You probably could ride the flume. You’re the only one who actually enjoys risking your life like that.”
    â€œNot the only one,” Charlie said, grinning. He clapped his hat back on his head. “Where are you headed so early in the morning?” he asked again. “May I walk with you?” He offered her his arm.
    She took a breath. “Actually, I was looking for you.”
    â€œI knew it!” Charlie crowed, and the two loggers who had followed him out of the dining hall grinned and poked each other.
    Again, he proffered his crooked elbow and Francie rested her hand lightly on his arm. “It’s not what you