On Track for Treasure Read Online Free PDF Page B

it.”
    Frances wanted to agree, but she couldn’t help but stare at the sunlight glowing through the slats of the boxcar. The sun was getting lower.
    What if they were running out of chances?

5
    W ELCOME TO KANSAS CITY
    A ccording to Ned, the best way to slip off a train was to jump before it stopped. Otherwise the “bulls,” the railroad men who patrolled the tracks, might catch you.
    â€œStay close to the rail yard fence,” he advised. “And whatever you do, don’t go inside the depot.”
    â€œBut there’s a place in there that has stick candy!” George said. He’d come out west on an orphan train that had stopped in Kansas City, and he’d seen the inside of the depot. More than once Jack had overheard him talking about it. “They got the cinnamon kind. Sassafras, wintergreen, horehound,” George continued. “I swore that if I ever got away from the Pratcherds, I’d go back and get a whole lot of those sticks.”
    â€œForget it, Glims,” said Ned. “The town clowns are in the depot, too. The local cops, I mean. You’ll want to stay clear of them and stick to the rail yard. That’s where you’ll look for the California train. . . .”
    Jack did his best to pay attention to Ned, but all the while he kept his eyes on the space in the big sliding door, which provided a narrow window to the outside. The scenery was changing—they had just gone over a great iron bridge, over a river that glittered in the late-day sun. Now they were passing an area that was crisscrossed with wooden rail fences, and Jack could see that they were pens filled with cattle: dozens, no—
hundreds
of them crowded in this vast grid, bumping and nudging against one another. Jack realized it had to be the famous stockyards of Kansas City, where thousands of cattle and hogs and other livestock were sold. The strong, ripe smell of manure wafted in, and while he noticed some of the others in the train car were wrinkling their noses, he seemed to be the only one looking out at the view.
    He’d never seen so many cows all at once. It was a stunning sight. Yet somehow it made him think about the orphan train and the ranch—all those times when he and all the other kids were made to line up and shuffle along single-file, herded together just like all that cattle. He turned away and tried to shake off the reminder.
    A few minutes later, the wheels below them made a dull
thunk
, and the train began to slow down.
    â€œIt’s almost time,” Ned told them. Jack glanced outside again and saw taller buildings along the tracks; it was looking more like a city. Now they could all hear a growing din of clanging bells, chugging engines, and hoarse steam whistles.
    The train was moving slowly enough that they could stand without losing their balance. Alexander shot up and helped to pull George and Harold to their feet. Not to be outdone, Jack stood, too.
    The hoboes slid the freight car door open wider. Ned stuck his head out to look around, then turned back and nodded at the children. “You want to jump first?” he asked Jack.
    â€œBut I’m—” Alexander began. Jack could tell that Alexander wanted to go first, that he wanted to say that because he was the one who’d founded Wanderville—
he
was the leader. But he seemed to stop himself from saying so. Instead he went, “Go ahead, Jack. I’ll make sure everyone gets off safely.”
    Jack nearly rolled his eyes at that. Still, he nodded goodbye at the hoboes and shook Ned’s hand, then stood ready at the doorway of the train car.
    â€œCareful, now,” Ned advised. “You’ll stumble a bit when you hit the ground.”
    Jack grinned. “I know.” It wasn’t the first time he’d jumped off a train, after all. Or the last, he reckoned. The air rushed past his ears as he leaped—then, one heartbeat later, hit ground.
    He