Read Online Jo's Journey by Nikki Tate - Free Book Online

weather, and easier ways of making a living.

Chapter 13
    To say the trek from Quesnelle Forks to the diggings was difficult would be like saying a tooth extraction was a tad uncomfortable.
    After two days of hard climbing along the sides of sheer cliffs we reached Keithley’s Creek, a sad town where the shopkeepers had so little to sell they tried to buy our meager provisions. And while we could have made a pretty profit by selling some goods, we refused to part with even a cupful of flour.
    Just past Keithley’s, on the third day beyond the Forks of Quesnelle, rainfall that had begun during the night worsened and became a downpour. Soon the rain turnedto sleet and then hail, and still we pushed on. We pulled up our collars and tugged down our hats and slogged on, water dripping everywhere. I fixed my gaze on Bart’s heels and plodded along. The two men from California moved faster than the rest of us and soon disappeared ahead, so close now to the gold that perhaps they felt they were better off without our company.
    Creeks swollen with melting snow from high in the mountain passes churned and rolled below us as we crossed over sorry excuses for bridges that swayed and bucked beneath our feet.
    It was on such a bridge of rough-hewn planks, slick with rain and spray from the roiling water below, that Bart lost his footing and plunged into a bubbling seething creek.
    â€œBart!”
    I leapt to the other side of the bridge, threw down my pack, and waded out into the strong current as Bart’s head bobbed to the surface and then disappeared under the water, pulled down by the weight of his pack.
    I leaned forward, ready to throw myself into the water after him when a heavy hand grabbed the back of my coat and pulled me out.
    I tumbled backward on top of Nigel. “Ain’t no need for both you boys to drown!”
    â€œNo!” I pushed at his hands, but he held me tight from behind. “Let me go!”
    With all my strength I jabbed him in the stomach with my elbow and broke free. Bart had disappeared around a bend in the creek, and I raced to find a route downstream. Splashing in and out of the water, I clung to rocks and tree roots, bashing my knees and elbows with every step. All the while I scanned the water, searching for Bart.
    â€œBart!” I screamed. “Bart!”
    On and on I struggled, not caring about the cold, the rain, the water hissing and gurgling around my legs, pulling at me, dragging me along. I lost track of time and pressed on, long past the point when there was any reasonable hope I would ever see Bart again. Tears wet my cheeks, but I did not stop calling and calling into the rain.
    Ages later I threw myself over a huge boulder and found myself in an eddy, sheltered from the angry roar of the swollen stream. And there, half in and half out of the water, was Bart. I splashed into the water, grabbed him under the arms, and started to drag him away from the water. Gasping and panting, I called on every ounce of strength remaining in my exhausted limbs to shift him, inch by inch, to drier ground.
    â€œBart! Open your eyes!”
    His skin was a ghastly shade of blue-white and glistened with moisture. I shook his shoulders and slapped his chest, furious at him for falling in, for leaving me alone in that hideous unforgiving land.
    â€œBart!”
    I threw my head on his chest and gave in to the sobs that wracked my whole body. Sobs for Ma and Pa and my brothers and everyone else who had ever left me behind. When I finally stopped weeping, I was queasy and shivering, but I was able to hear a soft thump-thump, as weak and fluttery as a bird’s heartbeat, deep in Bart’s chest. I rolledhim on his side and he twitched, coughed, then vomited water onto the rocks.
    â€œJoe?” His voice was scarcely louder than a whisper, and I had to lean close to hear him.
    â€œBart! You’re alive! Thank you, Lord!” I hugged him to me and squeezed his sodden body as