Caught in the Act (12 page)

had told him and would visit Marta while the Friedrichs were gone?

As his mind wandered he thought about himself. Sooner or later Mr. Friedrich would begin to wonder how much he knew about what they had done, and Mr. Friedrich would come up with a plan to get rid of him. Who'd miss a poor, homeless boy? No one—even Andrew MacNair—would question whatever they said about him. "How sad," the Friedrichs would sigh. "Poor Michael fell into the well and drowned." Or, "That ungrateful boy ran away. Where did he go? We have no idea." Mike shuddered, in dread fear for his life. And Reuben? Marta? How was he going to manage to save any of them?

Mike's mind was still in a turmoil when he heard other horses and voices and realized they had arrived at the church grounds. Dutifully he climbed from the wagon and followed Mr. Friedrich and Gunter at a safe distance into the church. Gunter sat on the bench to the left of his father, and Mr. Friedrich pulled Mike down on his right. On the other side of the church Mrs. Friedrich— smiling and murmuring—seated herself with the women.

Mike liked the singing. He found himself aching with longing to hear Ma's strong, full voice. Oh, if she were only here, wouldn't everyone in this building know it and be glad for it!

Mr. Friedrich nudged him sharply with an elbow, and Mike sang louder, stumbling through the unfamiliar hynm. Thankful when they had reached the last note, he flopped into his place on the bench. He tried not to daydream during the rest of the service, well aware of Mr. Friedrich's sharp elbow, but his thoughts kept skittering. The preacher spoke about loving thy neighbor, which Mike decided he agreed with. He liked the Blairs, although he couldn't understand why they believed in slavery. Mike thought he knew how it felt to be a slave. He threw a quick

glance sideways at Mr. Friedrich, hoping the man couldn't read his thoughts.

But it turned out not to be just neighbors like the Blairs the preacher was talking about, but everybody. RidicaUms! Mike thought. There was no way he wanted to love the judge who had threatened him with Tombs Prison, or Mr. Crandon, or Mr. Friedrich, or Gunter. Sure and the preacher might have a fine idea of what heaven would be like, but the man didn't know the Friedrichs very well or he'd think twice about that business of loving everyone.

When the service was over, people met outside, clustering in groups to talk and laugh. Mike noticed that although a number of the women were friendly with Mrs. Friedrich, not too many of the men came to talk to Mr. Friedrich. Two girls with pigtails down their backs stared with curiosity at Mike, but they stuck out their tongues when they saw Gunter and ran away giggling.

Some of the women had already spread cloths on the ground and were putting out bowls of food from the baskets they had brought, but Mr. Friedrich glanced impatiently at the sky, which was muddying to a darker gray, and strode over to the cluster of women around his wife. He touched the brim of his hat to them, then reached for her arm and pulled her from the group. "We will start home now. I want to get back before it begins to rain."

"But we haven't eaten," Mrs. Friedrich complained.

"We will eat in the wagon."

Mike saw Mrs. Friedrich look at her friends with longing. "I look forward to this time to talk." Her eyes lit up. "I just discovered that Evelina Pritchard and her husband will be blessed with their first little one in late spring."

"We have no time for gossip," Mr. Friedrich snapped. "I have no liking for a long ride in a downpour."

It took only a few moments for Mrs. Friedrich to say good-bye to her friends. Mike climbed back into the wagon bed, and Gunter hoisted the basket up to the front seat.

To bolster his courage as they drove down the road toward home, Mike began to hum under his breath, "Three fat sausages, Gunter in the middle ..." His stomach began to rumble so loudly he wondered if they'd think it was thunder, and he clapped a hand over his mouth to smother the laughter that welled up inside him.

Mr. Friedrich turned his head and motioned to Mike. "Here is your share. Come up here and get it."

Mike crawled to a spot just behind the wagon seat and reached up for a cloth bulging with food. He opened it on his lap and moistened his lips as he looked down at a feast of apples, molasses cake, and cold meat. Balancing himself against the dips and lurches of the wagon, he eryoyed every bite of his meal.

Although the sky grew darker, it had not begun to rain by the time the horses turned into the Friedrichs' front yard.

"We could have stayed," Mrs. Friedrich complained. "Alma had a new length of blue silk cloth, sent to her by her parents in Virginia. I wanted to hear about it and how she would style her dress."

Suddenly Mr. Friedrich pulled up the horses so sharply that they all had to fight to maintain their balance. "Hans!" Mrs. Friedrich cried. "What are you doing?"

Mike shuddered at the tone of Mr. Friedrich's voice, which was every bit as low and threatening as the sky, as he demanded, "Whose horse is that?"

Mike climbed to his knees to peer over Gunter's shoulder at the horse that was tied to the hitching post. He immediately recognized the spotted gray and gasped.

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Of course—^they had come home long before they had been expected.

Gunter let out an explosive giggle and said, "Ps^a, you know who owns that horse! It belongs to Corey Blair!"

Reuben came from the house to tend to the Friedrichs' horses and wagon, the dogs at his heels. Mike followed Reuben back to the bam to lend a hand and to be far from Mr. Friedrich when his fury erupted. Even from the bam he could hear the argument as it spilled from the house into the front yard. He couldn't resist peeking from just inside the door to see what was happening.

Mr. Friedrich shook with anger. "I gave an order!" he shouted at Corey. "You disobeyed me!"

"No mle says I got to obey you!" Corey yelled back.

*This is my property!"

"But Marta ain't! We can see each other anytime she wants."

"She is a fool to waste her time with a young scalawag like you!"

Corey's voice lowered, and he leaned threateningly toward Mr. Friedrich. "You got no right to talk like that. You better be careful, Mr. Friedrich."

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"Or what?" Mr. Friedrich blustered. "Or you and your ruffian brothers will come to steal and bum my property as you do with the Kansas settlers?"

Corey took another step forward and raised a fist.

Mrs. Friedrich, who had come onto the porch with Marta, gave a little shriek. "No, Corey!" Marta shouted. "Don't pay attention to what he says! Go home now! Please!"

There was silence for a moment as the two men stood like frozen statues in the yard. Then Corey untied the reins of his horse and climbed into the saddle. As the horse galloped onto the road, Mike exhaled with a whoosh, then heard a noise behind him and realized he hadn't been the only one holding his breath.

"A man with a violent temper is a dangerous man," Reuben murmured. Mike knew he wasn't talking about Corey.

At that moment Mr. Friedrich exploded in Malta's direction. "You tried to deceive me! I will not allow you to do that!"

Marta only gave a flip of her skirt and said calmly, **Very well. I will pack immediately. Reuben can drive me to St. Joe. It will not take long for me to find a fanuly who will appreciate the hard work 1 do."

Mrs. Friedrich grabbed Marta around the shoulders and clung to her. "You can't leave us!" she shouted. "Hans! Think about what you are saying!"

"I am the one who gives the orders here," he grumbled.

"Hans!"

Mr. Friedrich sputtered for a few moments, then seemed to get himself under control. "Marta," he said, looking up at her, "1 want you to stay."

"Very well," Marta said, "but only until I make my decision."

"What does that mean?" Mr. Friedrich demanded of Marta.

"My private thoughts are my own," she said and disappeared into the house, Mrs. Friedrich rushing after her.

Mike admired Marta's courage. FYances would have been just as brave, he thought, and for a moment he pictured his sister flouncing through the door with the same toss of her head. But Marta couldn't stay for long. She'd have to leave this house.

Marta didn't know that her life was in danger. Mike would have to find a way to talk to Marta privately and tell her what he had overheard.

Suddenly Mike found himself being pulled back into the bam. "Be quiet," Reuben whispered. "All his anger hasn't been spent. He'll be looking for someone to vent it on, and I don't want it to be you."

"Gunter!" Mike heard Mr. Friedrich yell. "Have you done your studies? Why are you wasting your time when there are things to be done?"

"But Papa!" Gunter whined, and Mike could hear the fi-ont door slam behind them.

"1 have to talk to Marta," Mike whispered to Reuben. "I think she might be in danger."

"Not now," Reuben said. "Nothing is going to happen to Marta. She's well able to take care of herself."

"But—"

"Listen to me," Reuben told Mike. "Go quietly into the house through the back door and change your clothes. Try not to be noticed. We'll go into the woods, and I'll read to you. We'll have an hour or so of rest before it's time to take care of the evening chores."

Mike hesitated. "Do you really think that Marta will be safe?"

"Yes," Reuben said. "I do."

"How much do you really know about Mr. Friedrich?" Mike asked.

"No more talk about Mr. Friedrich." Reuben's voice

was firm. "If you want to go with me, then do as I say."

"Right," Mike said, and he raced toward the house.

The afternoon was a pleasant one. Reuben seemed to taste the words as he read them aloud. His voice was as soothing as water sUpping over stones or wind hunmiing through the pines. Mike didn't understand everything the poets meant to say, but even later, as he tended the animals, the words rested comfortably in his mind.

But at supper Mr. Friedrich still sinmiered with anger, and Mike was careful not to do anything that might cause that anger to boil over like thick soup in an undersized pot.

Mike was grateful when supper had ended and he could go to his room to get ready for bed. He opened the window only an inch, wanting the fresh air but none of the chill that too much of it would bring. Mindful that Mr. Friedrich's hanunering at his door would come only too soon, Mike scrunched down under the quilt and tumbled quickly into sleep.

He knew he had not slept long when the grumble of angry voices woke him. At first he wondered if they were again part of a bad dream, but as he groggily sat up he knew it was a real argument he was hearing, and it was coming from the direction of the bam.

Moving quietly to keep the floorboards from creaking, Mike crept to the window and knelt with his arms on the sill, looking out into the night.

The bam door was open. Mr. Friedrich and Reuben stood just inside. Mr. Friedrich's long shadow waved and wobbled grotesquely in the flickering lantern light. "You woolgathering book reader!" Mr. Friedrich shouted. "You are not worth what I am paying you! I am feeding a pack of leeches who turn on me, who take advantage of my good nature."

Mike couldn't see Reuben or hear his answer except for the low murmur of his words. Was Reuben angry, too?

"Yes, I mean Marta, and the boy, too!" Mr. Friedrich snapped.

Again Reuben spoke, the sound of his words clipped, his answer short.

"Oh, I know all about you!" Mr. Friedrich's voice grew even louder. "I know why you're here, what youYe after! Well, it won't do you any good!"

Still Mike couldn't hear what Reuben was saying, but in answer Mr. Friedrich raised a fist and shook it. "You dare to talk to me like that?" He moved farther into the bam, out of sight, but his shadow jerked violently as though it were lunging toward someone. Mike strained and heard the sound of a dull thump.

Now Mike strained with all his might, but heard nothing more. The bam was silent, and even the shadow had disappeared. Mike shivered and waited, scarcely able to breathe as he stared at the bam.

The moonlight grew stronger, and soon Mr. Friedrich appeared again. In one hand he carried the lantem. In the other he held a shovel. He began to walk toward the hill. Suddenly, as though he were aware that someone was watching, he looked up at the house. Mike ducked so quickly that he banged his forehead against the win-dowsill. He crouched below the window, mbbing his aching head and hoping that Mr. Friedrich hadn't seen him. He waited for the sound of the back door closing.

When the sound didn't come, he slowly, carefully, raised his head until he could see out of the window. Mr. Friedrich was not in sight. Neither was Reuben.

Mike watched at the window until his eyes grew too heavy to keep open. He felt himself dozing and forced himself to stay awake. With the bam door open and Mr. Friedrich outside somewhere, Mike knew that whatever

had taken place wasn't over. He forced back the worries and fears that tried to crowd into his mind, not allowing himself to guess at what had happened.

It was painful to stay awake. His head was so heavy that his neck was sore and his eyes burned, but Mike refused to give up.

When the clang of metal woke him, Mike realized he had been sleeping in a crumpled heap on the floor. For how long? He scrambled to his knees and saw Mr. Friedrich pick up the shovel he must have dropped, then enter the bam. In a few moments he emerged, shut and barred the doors, and walked toward the house.

Mike scurried to get back into bed before Mr. Friedrich came into the kitchen. If he heard footsteps over his head, he'd know that Mike was awake. Shivering, Mike huddled under the quilt, his feet chunks of ice. What had Mr. Friedrich done? Where was Reuben? Why would Mr. Friedrich be using a shovel so late at night? Mike tugged the quilt over his head as though it would shut out all the terrifying answers.

He wished he could talk to someone. He thought of his sensible and practical sister Megan. She'd chase away all his wild, irrational fears and tell him, "You know your imagination sometimes gets the best of you, Mike. In the morning you'll work with Reuben just as you have been doing. If it will make you feel better, then tell him about the argument you overheard. He'll probably quote some line of poetry about it, and you'll know there was nothing to be afraid of."