Caught in the Act (15 page)

Mr. Friedrich slapped the handle of one shovel into Mike's trembling hands and gave him a push that nearly knocked him off balance. "You are responsible for this," he snarled. "You can be the one to dig."

Tom gave Mr. Friedrich a disgusted look and took the other shovel into his own hands. The loose earth flew aside in huge clumps as he worked next to Mike, and before long the metal edge of Tom's shovel thumped as it hit something hard.

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Mike held his breath as dirt was scraped away to reveal a wooden box a little more than a foot square in size, its comers trimmed with brass, its hinged lid fastened tightly with a padlock.

"Couldn't fit a man into a box that small," Ned said.

"Of course you couldn't!" Friedrich snapped. "I told you what is in the box! My valuables!"

"Better take a look, just to make sure," Tom said.

Mr. Friedrich's chest puffed out. "You can take my word for it," he demanded.

"The marshal's gonna ask what we seen," Ned told him. He pointed at the padlock. "Have you got a key for that with you?"

"I—I lost the key."

Ned bent and hefted the padlock. "It's not a very strong lock. I can break it open with the shovel."

Mr. Friedrich stepped forward. "Wait. I will open it." He pulled a key from his vest pocket, stooped, and opened the lock. Hesitantly he opened the hinged lid of the box.

Mike leaned forward with the rest of them to peer inside the box. It was half-filled with coins, many of them silver, some of them gold.

"Whoo-eee!" Tom said. "That's a powerful lot of money."

Ned's eyes were sharper. "But it's not U.S. money." He looked up at Mr. Friedrich. "Where'd this come from?"

"The German states," Mr. Friedrich said. "The guldens and ducats from Prussia, the larger coins from Wiirzburg." He suddenly slammed the lid down and locked the box again. "I brought this with me to the United States. I have taken good care of it, and now—because of your meddling—it is no longer safe."

"We aren't going to take your money," Tom said indignantly.

"But you will tell everyone!" Mr. Friedrich spat out

the words. 'The moment you are back to town your tongues will wag faster than a dog's taU!"

"I won't give that remark the answer it deserves," Tom said, and Mike could see him swallow hard, "because we are on your property, but you got no call to insult us like that."

When Mr. Friedrich didn't answer, the two men looked at each other. "Want us to bury it here again?" Ned asked.

"No! Do you think I am stupid?" Mr. Friedrich screeched.

The two men hoisted the box to ground level, and Mr. Friedrich struggled to pick it up. "Are you satisfied now that this boy has been lying?" he demanded as he cradled the box in his arms.

Both men turned to study Mike.

"1 thought—" Mike began. "1 thought that—" He took a long breath. "When Reuben disappeared in the middle of the night after that argument with Mr. Friedrich, I was afraid. Tm—Fm sorry I told everyone what I thought had happened."

Ned shot an angry glance toward Mr. Friedrich and cl2^ped a hand on Mike's shoulder. "No real harm done," he said. "Matter of fact, we still don't know what haj^ pened to that Starkey feller, do we?"

"1 told you that Reuben Starkey left!" Mr. Friedrich exploded. "You are all such idiots to believe that boy! Get off my property! Right now!"

"Now just hold on a minute," Tom said.

"1 don't know how we'll reach an answer to this unless someone can find Starkey," Ned said. "If you don't know where—"

Mr. Friedrich interrupted. "Go back to town and report what you found to those other stupid fools!" He glared at the men. "And tell them there is no use their looking for my money, because by the time they come

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sneaking around my land, I will have these things hidden somewhere else!"

Tom's chin jutted out, and he muttered, "You're accusin' a lot of good folks of being fools and thieves!"

He stepped toward Mr. Friedrich, but Ned put a restraining hand on his arm. *Tom, we'll give folks the message just like Friedrich gave it to us. And we'll tell the marshal there wasn't no sign of Reuben Starkey. Maybe he'll want to come out and do some more digging around this property."

"Go!" Mr. Friedrich shouted. "Get out of here!"

The men strode down the hill. Mr. Friedrich waited until they were out of sight, then snapped at Mike, "Come to the house, and bring those shovels with you."

Mike struggled with the two shovels, trying to keep up with Mr. Friedrich, who strode quickly in spite of the heavy box he carried. As they reached the house, Mr. Friedrich ordered, "Wait right here," then went inside.

Trembling, Mike clung to the shovels until Mr. Friedrich reappeared.

*To the bam," Mr. Friedrich ordered.

Inside the bam Mr. Friedrich grabbed the shovels and threw them against the wall. "Mrs. Banks will send for Andrew MacNair," he said, "and I will tell him what a troublemaker you have been. But 1 will tell him that I have decided not to send you back to New York. It is my duty to teach you to conquer your wicked nature and learn to be a responsible man. Mr. MacNair will agree with me. No one else will take you, and MacNair will not want to send you back to New York. I want you to think about what this means and about the gratitude you owe me, so until tomorrow morning you will be locked in your room upstairs."

"Mr. Friedrich," Mike tried to say, "I know I was wrong to accuse you without knowing the facts about Reuben, but I was frightened, and you wouldn't believe

that I hadn't taken that pocketknife, that Gunter had slipped it into my pocket."

"You are a wicked boy." Mr. Friedrich's low tone of voice frightened Mike more than when he had been shouting at him. Mike's stomach clutched painfully. Mr. Friedrich continued, "Do you know that people will come and trample my land, looking for a grave that does not exist? And even though they find nothing, forever after there will be those who will still believe that I killed Reuben Starkey."

"If we could find Reuben—if we knew where to search for him, then people would—"

"Before you are locked up," Mr. Friedrich said, as though Mike's words were no more than the buzzing of a fly, "you will be given the punishment you deserve."

As Mike realized what Mr. Friedrich meant, he tried to run, but Mr. Friedrich was faster. With his left hand he gripped Mike's arm, and he managed to tug off Mike's coat. Flinging it on the ground, he pulled the strap from the wall. As Mike twisted and squirmed, Mr. Friedrich brought down the strap across his legs and shoulders, crying out, "Ulrich! You are Ulrich all over again!"

Finally he dropped the strap and let go of Mike, who fell to the ground, racked by burning pain. He closed his eyes to shut it out, but stabbing streaks of white-hot light flashed through the darkness.

"Get up," Mr. Friedrich ordered. When Mike didn't move, Mr. Friedrich reached down and jerked him to his feet. Mike could hardly walk, but Mr. Friedrich poked and prodded him into the house and through the kitchen, where Marta stared at him with damp, red-rimmed eyes.

Upstairs, Mr. Friedrich shoved Mike roughly into his room. Mike threw himself facedown on the bed. As he heard the key turn in the lock and footsteps thump down the stairs, he burst into tears. However horrible prison nught be, this life had to be worse. "1 never meant

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to cause so much trouble, Ma," he murmured through his sobs.

Gradually it seemed to Mike as though his family had gathered to be with him in the room. Each of them looked at him with such a deep sadness it broke his heart. Ma held out her arms to him, and he struggled to reach her, but she stood too far away. There were tears on Peg's cheeks, and Frances softly called his name, but Mike hurt so much he couldn't leave the bed.

"What should I do?" he whispered.

Danny's eyes flashed. "Run away! Head for the mountains," he insisted.

Megan shook her head firmly. "That won't solve anything." She brushed back her dark hair and said, "Think, Mike. Think hard."

"Think about what?" Uttle Petey asked.

"Mike knows." Frances held out a hand to Mike and smiled. "Where would Reuben go?"

Mike groaned. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do!"

"Let him rest." Da moved forward as he spoke and began to stroke back the damp hair from Mike's forehead.

"It's your fault. Da!" Mike accused. "This happened because you left us!"

"Do you think I wanted to? I would never have left you willingly, Mike, my lad." There was so much pain in Da's voice that Mike pulled himself up and grasped his hand with all the strength he could find.

"I wanted to help," Mike explained. "Sometimes I was so fearful, and I didn't know what to do. I tried. I—"

"Hush, son. It's all right." Da put a finger over Mike's lips and whispered, "I love you, Mike."

"Oh, Da!" As he looked deeply into his father's eyes, the wall of anger and pain around him shattered, and Mike clung tightly to Da. "I need you," he murmured.

"rm here," Da answered. "I'm here." His words blended

with the gentle stroking of his hand to ease the pain, and soon Mike was breathing with the soft, steady rhythm. "Fm here. Vm here."

Frances stood beside Da. "YouVe never been down for long, Mike. YouVe got spunk and wit, and you know what to do next."

She held out a hand and opened her mouth to speak again, but a voice intruded. Mike's dream vanished as Marta whispered, "Mike! Mike, wake up!"

He raised his head, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and managed slowly and achingly to sit up.

"Your poor, poor back," she murmured. 'There's blood on your shirt. Mr. Friedrich has no right to take out his anger on you." From under Mike's coat, which she laid on the chair, she pulled out a thick parcel and shoved it into his hands. "There's meat and bread in there," she whispered. "Hide the paper when you're finished."

"Where's Mr. Friedrich?"

"He and Gunter are at work outside, and Mrs. Friedrich has taken to her bed."

"How did you get into my room? The door was locked."

Marta sat beside him on the bed. "Mr. Friedrich hung the key in its place in the kitchen. I just waited until I knew he would not be back for a while."

"I don't want to get you into trouble."

"It doesn't matter to me one whit how much he might shout at me." She lifted her chin. "I have made my decision. I am going to leave this place."

"To marry Corey?"

"Maybe," she said. "But first I will find work elsewhere. It won't be hard."

"Last night, while he was beating me, Mr. Friedrich called me Ulrich," Mike said. "Do you know why?"

She nodded, her cheeks flushing pink. "Because Ulrich was a thief. Mr. Friedrich has never been able to forgive

him for that. You see, Ulrich was his son—^his eldest son."

Mike gasped. "You told me you were married to Ulrich."

"I was very young, and my parents had just died," Marta said. *There was much poverty where we lived, but at least the Friedrichs had food on the table, and Ulrich was handsome and funny and ..." She paused. 'The FYiedrichs had food because of Ulrich."

Mike felt his own face become hot with embarrassment. "What happened to Ulrich?"

"He was finally caught and taken to jail. Mr. Friedrich was so furious with Ulrich that he would not go to see him or help him in any way, even when Ulrich became very ill."

"Is that how Uhich died?"

"Yes, and Mr. Friedrich blames himself."

"How about the—?"

"Hush!" Marta put a finger to her lips and glanced toward the doorway. Neither of them moved or even dared to breathe, until she said, "I thought I heard someone. We must not talk any longer."

She turned to leave, but Mike said, "Wait. I need your help." The pieces of his dream began to fall into place, and he knew what Frances and Megan had tried to tell him. No matter whaVs in store for me, he thought, Michael Patrick Kelly's never going to stay down and out for long,

"I'm going to leave, too," he told Marta. "I have to look for Reuben. Bringing Reuben back to St. Joe is the only way Til be able to change people's minds about Mr. Friedrich."

Her eyes widened. "You would do that for him, after what he's done to you?"

"I owe him thatj' Mike said.

"Then leave," Marta said. "Leave tonight, while the

family is asleep, so they won't know for hours that you have gone. Til see that the door is unlocked."

Mike shook his head. *Those stairs creak loudly enough to raise the whole family from sleep. Fll have to leave through the window."

Marta frowned. "The drop could break your legs."

"Not if 1 had a rope," Mike said.

Marta smiled. "You'll have your rope. I can get it for you." She went to the door and paused. "Good luck, Mike. I hope we'll meet again in happier times."

The door shut, and the key made a grating cUck in the lock.

Mike held his breath, the food in his hands forgotten. His heart hammered in his ears. Tonight he was going to run away!

Mike let go of the rope and dropped the last few feet to the ground. When Mr. Friedrich discovered the rope, he'd think that Mike must have hidden it in his room and planned this escape for a long time. He'd never believe why Mike had run away. One more strike against you, Michael, my lad, he thought. If only he could find Reuben and try to make things come out right!

Although Mike could find his way around New York City streets at night with no trouble at all, the heavy blackness that swallowed the open countryside made it difficult to travel. With only a thin moon to light the way—a moon often hidden by drifting clouds—^Mike occasionally stumbled as he walked the long road toward St. Joseph. His knees and the palms of his hands stung firom his falls, and his back and legs still throbbed with pain from the leather strap, but he wouldn't allow himself to stop. He had to reach the river landing where there'd be boatmen who might have seen Reuben. Thank-

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fully, as his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he was able to pick up his pace, and even though he had lost any notion of the time, it was stiD before dawn when he reached the houses on the outskirts of St. Joe. As he passed the first ones, Mike began to run toward the river.