A Place to Belong (16 page)

He had barely secured the knot when he heard the horses approaching at a gallop. He sucked in his breath, flattening himself against the open barn door. Hoofprints had muddied the ground, so the dark twine wouldn’t be as obvious as it would have been against clean snow.

When the first horse fell it was like a horrible nightmare, a wild jumble of screaming and shouting. The other horses tripped and stumbled, and the men on their backs went flying. A gun bounced on the ground near Danny’s feet, and he snatched it up.

As the fallen horse staggered to its feet, Danny gave a loud sigh of relief. One by one, the horses ran off, reins swinging free and stirrups flapping from their empty saddles. One of the men on the ground lay without moving, his chest heaving as he breathed. A second man grabbed his left leg, rolling back and forth and groaning. Danny turned to see a third man stealthily creeping on hands and knees toward him. It was Mundy.

Danny whirled and aimed the gun.

At the same time Alfrid burst from the house. “Mundy! Stop where you are!” Alfrid ordered and raised his rifle.

Mundy hesitated, crouching like an animal.

“I mean what I say. If you try to harm my son I’ll shoot you.” There was an anger in Alfrid’s voice that Danny had never heard there.

Mundy dropped flat, rested his forehead on his arms, and muttered angrily under his breath.

The door slammed open as Ma and Katherine ran from the house. Without taking his eyes from Mundy, Alfrid gave a sharp nod toward the other two men on the ground. “Will you see to them, please?” he asked the women.

They worked quickly in spite of the cold. Katherine and Alfrid bound the three men and secured them inside the barn, while Ma, Danny, and Peg scattered the remains of the smoldering haystacks and doused them with buckets of water.

As Ma and Katherine went ahead into the house, Danny hung back, telling Alfrid that Mundy had been collecting money for a Southern army and then keeping it.

“You should have told me sooner,” Alfrid said. “Mundy was stealing. He should have been stopped.”

“I was afraid to tell you. You said that if we left Mundy alone, he’d stay away from us. I didn’t want him to come back and hurt you.”

Alfrid put his hands on Danny’s shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes. “My own father gave me a saying to live by. Supposedly it was first said by a British statesman named Edmund Burke, who lived during the last century. I want you to listen carefully and always remember these words: ‘The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.’ ”

Danny nodded, repeating the words in his mind. “I won’t forget. Ever.”

Alfrid put his arm around Danny’s shoulders, and they began to walk toward the house. “Mundy won’t fare well with his Southern sympathizers when they hear what he’s been up to,” he said.

While Alfrid tacked boards over the broken windows, Ma heated some water so they could all wash their sooty
hands and faces. Danny, who was exhausted, splashed his face gladly.

“I’m proud of you,” Alfrid said to Danny. “You chose a good plan of action.”

Danny beamed. “We work well together, you and I.”

“That we do,” Alfrid said.

The expression on Ma’s face, however, wasn’t one of agreement. “That was a very dangerous thing to do, Danny,” she said. She turned to Alfrid. “I think we need to talk.”

Danny didn’t want any part of that talk. He scurried into the parlor, where he added some wood to the fire in the fireplace and lay in front of it, soaking up the warmth. He could hear Katherine and Ma and Alfrid, out in the kitchen, talking on and on. Danny was glad that Alfrid could do the explaining to Ma. He wouldn’t want to. It was much nicer to lie by the fire and doze.

Katherine’s voice interrupted his dream. “Danny, wake up,” she said gently. “It’s time for us to leave.”

Danny fought his way to wakefulness and struggled to his feet. “What about Mundy and the other men in the barn?” he asked.

Katherine put on her coat, rubbing her hands together. “When we get back to St. Joe, we’ll send some men to take those three into custody,” she said.

Ma strode into the room, dressed to go outside. She was carrying a bundle of clothing. Danny gasped as he recognized his own clothes. “Ma! What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m moving you back to St. Joseph with me,” she said. “Katherine says she’ll be glad to have you come and stay.”

“But I can’t go!” Danny cried. “Alfrid will be all alone!”

“He’s a grown man,” Ma said. “He can take care of himself. It’s you I’m concerned about, love. It’s not safe for you here.”

“Ma! It was only Dr. Mundy! He’ll be put in jail. He won’t cause us any more trouble!”

“Trouble? There are troubles all around us. These are dangerous times. If it’s not Dr. Mundy causing the trouble, it could be someone else. Danny, I want you with me, where I can keep an eye on you.”

Danny flung himself into a chair. “I don’t want to go! I want to stay here with my father.”

“Danny,” Ma began, sudden tears glittering in her eyes.

But Danny suddenly saw a solution to the problem and interrupted, throwing his arms wide. “Ma,” he said, “this is a silly thing to argue about—whether I stay here or whether I go with you. There’s no more reason for you and Alfrid to wait to get married. Why not do it tomorrow? Then we can all live here together.”

For a moment no one spoke. Then Ma answered, her voice sorrowful, “Danny, love, it seems as though I’ll be hurting you again. Alfrid and I have decided. We aren’t going to marry.”

15
 

D
ANNY FELT THE
horror creep into his chest, and he clenched his hands together. “Ma! I don’t believe it!” he stammered. “You—you came out here just to marry Alfrid!”

“Not
just
to marry!” Ma said quickly. “Oh, Danny, love, I missed my children so much, I jumped at the chance to be with you.”

As his mother moved toward him, her arms out, Danny backed away from her. “Do you mean you never intended to marry Alfrid?”

“No! That’s not what I said. I did intend to marry him, and I had every intention of keeping my promise, but—” Ma grasped for the arm of the nearest chair and plopped into the seat. A tear ran down her nose, and she fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, then looked up at Danny with determination. “You may find this hard to understand,” she said, “but Alfrid and I—I admire him greatly, but—”

Alfrid had come into the parlor. Now he stepped forward. “Danny,” he said, “your mother and I are very different people. While we like each other’s company, it is not enough of a foundation on which to build a marriage.”

“Melba said that people don’t have to love each other to get married!” Danny insisted.

“It makes a marriage stronger if they do,” Ma said, and began to blush, red creeping up to stain her cheeks.

Danny stared at her, puzzled. Ma drew Peg to her and held out a hand to Danny, who ignored it. “I have met a man who loves me very much, and I love him,” Ma said.

Danny was appalled. “Not that John Murphy!” he shouted.

“Yes,” Ma said. “I hope you will wish us happiness. Alfrid has.”

“No! I won’t!”

Danny fled from the room and dashed upstairs, throwing himself facedown on the bed that was no longer his. He cried in rage and frustration, hitting at the mattress with his fists. Finally, too exhausted to cry any longer, he rolled over on his back and discovered Alfrid patiently sitting in the chair next to the bed.

“Ma’s not being fair!” Danny cried out to Alfrid.

“Not fair to whom?” Alfrid asked.

Danny sat up. “Well, to—to you.”

“She’s been very fair,” he said. “She’s been honest with me about her feelings for Murphy, and she’s paid back every cent of the money I sent for her train fare.”

“But she was supposed to marry
you
,” Danny moaned.

Alfrid leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. “Danny, just between you and me, I am relieved at Noreen’s decision. She is a vital, energetic woman, and, truthfully, I want a home that is a place of comfort and peace.”

“But Aunt Melba said you should get married.”

“One reason was to have someone to care for you and Peg, but now that you won’t be living here—” Alfrid’s words broke off, and he cleared his throat.

With a cry Danny leapt up and flung his arms around Alfrid. “No matter where I live, you’ll still be my father! You will! And I’ll think of something. I’ll think of a plan. I’ll—”

“Danny,” Alfrid interrupted, his voice heavy with unhappiness, “it’s time for you to go downstairs to join your mother. She and Katherine have been waiting patiently for you. They’re ready to leave.”

I will think of a plan
, Danny promised himself as he walked down the stairs with Alfrid. He couldn’t lose another father. He was determined to work out a way.

On the drive back to St. Joseph, Ma put an arm around Danny and hugged him, in spite of the fact that he stiffened, refusing to hug her back. “I couldn’t marry a man I don’t love just to please my children,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Danny grumbled, spitefully adding, “My father doesn’t love
you
, either.”

He was sorry he’d said the words the minute they were out of his mouth, but Ma didn’t react the way he’d expected. She smiled and said, “See. There you are. It worked out well for the both of us.” She hugged him again and added, “Danny, you and John may have—well—got off on the wrong foot with that wild tale you told him about your rowdy brothers and sisters, but I know you’ll soon come to like each other.”

Danny shook his head. No matter what anyone said, John Murphy had stolen Ma from Alfrid.

They rode the rest of the way in silence.

Danny wasn’t to be spared John Murphy’s company and conversation. Murphy appeared at Katherine’s house the following evening. The moment that he and Danny
were alone together, Murphy tilted his head and gave Danny a sardonic grin. “It’s a good thing I decided to set things straight with your ma about her wild children,” he said. “Honesty turned out to be the best policy.”

Danny shrugged and said, “I—I know what I told you wasn’t the truth, but I didn’t want you to get in the way.”

“In the way, is it? Why don’t you like me, Danny?”

Danny stared at his shoes. “You’re not Alfrid.”

“No, I’m not, and thank goodness for that, or your ma would have been bored with me as well.”

Danny clenched his fists and glared at Murphy. “Alfrid is
not
boring! He’s kind, and he cares about people! And he’s not—”

“Hold on now,” Murphy said. “Perhaps I was making too light of the situation. A little attempt at humor, you understand.”

“What you said wasn’t funny.”

“Ah, I’ve got you riled, and I apologize for that,” Murphy said. He held out his right hand. “Let’s call a truce and start over again. I’d like us to be friends.”

Danny grudgingly held out his hand, allowing Murphy to shake it.

“I’m hoping to be friends with your brothers and sisters, too. Sure, I’ve heard all about them from Noreen and Peg. We’re hoping they’ll all be able to come to the wedding.”

Danny could only stare. Finally he managed to say, “But they’ll all be coming here to live, won’t they?”

“Well now,” Murphy said as he rubbed his chin, “it seems I’ve blundered again. I should have made sure that Noreen had explained everything to you.”

“Explained what?” Danny demanded.

Ma put her hands on Danny’s shoulders, and he jumped. He hadn’t heard her come up behind him. “It’s not that easy, love,” she said. “For one thing, the others
have been placed into happy homes. They love their foster parents just as you love Alfrid.”

“They don’t want to come back?” Danny was astounded. As Ma hesitated, something she’d said struck Danny. “You said ‘for one thing.’ What’s the other?”

“Well,” Ma began and took a deep breath. “It’s hard for a man to take on the care of a wife and
six
children. John has promised me that we’ll travel to see the others as often as possible. He said I could go to them anytime they need me, and we’ll make a fine home here for you and Peg.” She paused as she studied his face. “Danny, we have to be practical. There was no way that Alfrid could have taken us in, either.”

“Alfrid didn’t say that!”

“We discussed it.”

Danny was heartsick. “I don’t believe it!”

Murphy’s smile vanished. “Don’t speak to your ma like that, lad. If she said it’s so, then it’s so. Alfrid Swenson sent for a wife to care for the two of you children. Isn’t that right?”

Numbly, Danny nodded. “We didn’t talk about the others coming. I just thought—”

“You’ve been thinking too much.” His tone softened. “Apologize now to your ma, and we’ll hear no more about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispered.

This wasn’t the only apology he had to make, but he hurt so much already that he knew now was the time to take care of the other one. Danny asked Katherine for the loan of paper and pen, and he wrote a letter to Mrs. Pratka explaining all about the so-called shopping list and why he had written it. Then, with a clear conscience but an aching heart, he went to bed.