Caught in the Act (16 page)

There were lights on the water and men moving about, although most of the stem-wheelers were moored. The Missouri River was treacherous enough in the daytime, Reuben had told Mike. At night it was even worse, a dark, deep ribbon of hidden logs and rocks which could rip out the bottom of a large boat.

Light spilled from some of the buildings near the landing, and from the nearest one came voices raised in loud laughter and piano music. Mike stopped under its swinging, creaking sign as he saw a group of men approaching from down the street. He went to meet them, asking, "Have any of you gents seen a man called Reuben Starkey?"

Two of the men shook their heads. "Who's he?" one muttered. But a short, wiry man said, "Haven't seen the man, but I've been hearin' things about him."

Mike let out a long sigh of relief. "Do you know where he is?" It was hard for him to keep from grabbing the man's arm in his eagerness.

The man chuckled and elbowed a companion in his ribs. "Depends on what story you want to believe. I heard tell that Starkey vanished, and word is that he was murdered in cold blood." As Mike groaned, the man said, "On the other hand, a couple'a days ago someone told me he'd just talked to Starkey."

"Who was it? Where is he?"

"Don't recollect," the man said. "1 just remember he said Starkey told him he was heading upriver."

The men, impatient to be inside the saloon, edged past Mike, who hesitated, wondering where to go next.

He had turned, his back to the door, when suddenly a voice spoke so close behind him that he jumped.

"Watch where you're going, boy!"

Mike stumbled aside to let the man leave the saloon, but a hand clamped on his shoulder, and he cried out.

"What*s this? The KeUy boy!"

A face leaned to peer into his own, and Mike groaned. Mr. Crandon!

'Trying to run away, are you?" Mr. Crandon demanded.

"No!" Mike insisted. "I came to try to find Reuben!"

A few men had joined them, curiosity in their eyes, and Mike looked to them pleadingly. "Has even one of you seen Reuben Starkey, who works the flatboats?" But they shook their heads. "I have to find him!" Mike cried out.

"A likely excuse for your running off in the middle of the night," Mr. Crandon said. "Well, you won't find me as lenient toward your shortcomings as the Friedrichs have been. Come with me." He gripped Mike's upper right arm and almost jerked him off his feet.

"W-Where are you taking me?" Mike stammered.

"Since neither the marshal nor MacNair's in town, Fm going to turn you over to Mrs. Banks, who can see with her own eyes how wrong she was to trust you."

Mike gasped with relief, then knew that Mr. Crandon had nusinterpreted it when the man smiled smugly and gave a satisfied grunt. He pulled Mike down the street and up a nearby hill. Mike had to run to keep up with Mr. Crandon's long steps, but he went with the man willingly. Katherine Banks would understand. If anyone could help him, she'd be the one.

They reached the top of the hiU before Mr. Crandon stopped, puffing and coughing and wheezing for breath, in firont of a short flight of steps that led to a trim clapboard house facing the river. Not releasing his grip on Mike for a minute, Mr. Crandon climbed the stairs

and pounded with his free fist on Katherine Banks's front door.

It took a few minutes before a light moved behind the windows and Katherine called out, "Who is it?"

"Amos Crandon! And Fve brought you a runaway scallawag!"

The door flew open, and Katherine—holding a small oil lamp and drawing her dressing gown around her— stepped aside so they could enter. "Mike!" she cried. "What happened?"

"I was trying to find—" he began, but Mr. Crandon interrupted.

"Oh, he*ll have some tall stories to tell you, Tm sure, ■ but the fact is that he was running away—^trying to cross the river, no doubt." He gave Mike a shove forward and stepped back to the door. "I have no more time to waste with this affair," he said. "The boy is in your hands now, and the sooner you send him back to New York, the better it will be for all of us." He slammed the heavy door as he left.

Mike could feel the tears running down his cheeks. He couldn't make them stop, but he had to explain the truth to Mrs. Banks. "I was so afraid," he said. "I thought that Mr. Friedrich had killed Reuben and buried his body, but he hadn't. When we dug up the place behind the hickory trees, we found only a chest of German coins that Mr. Friedrich had buried."

Katherine moved toward him. "Oh, poor Mike," she said. "Look at you. You're bruised. Your hands are bleeding. Come into the kitchen with me. Here—I'll light another lamp."

But Mike backed away from her. "Please let me finish the telling," he said. "The men called Ned and Tom said they'd come back to Mr. Friedrich's farm with the marshal, and there'd be other places to dig up to search for Reuben's body." He paused and took a deep breath.

"Don't you see, Mrs. Banks? I know now Reuben has gone up the Missouri River. If I find him and bring him back to St. Joe, then no one will suspect Mr. Friedrich. If I can't find Reuben, then I've caused more trouble than I've ever thought of in my whole life."

He paused and said, ^That's why Mr. Crandon found me at the river."

Katherine put down her lamp, knelt, and enfolded Mike in her arms, but as she stroked his shoulder he couldn't help crying out from the pain.

She rested back on her heels. "What is it, Mike?"

"My back is a bit sore, that's all," he said.

Her eyes narrowed. "Has someone beaten you?"

When he didn't answer, Katherine said, "Let's take off your coat, Mike. I've got some ointments on hand. Maybe there's one I can put on your back to help you feel better."

Mike took off his coat, and Katherine cried, "There's blood on your shirt!"

She led him into the kitchen and tenderly removed the shirt. With a cool cloth she sponged the raw spots on his skin and lightly rubbed them with some of the ointment. During the process she didn't say a word, but when she had finished and stepped away to wrap Mike in a clean shirt of her own, he could see her eyes glittering with angry tears.

"Now you'll have hot milk, with a spoonful of brown sugar in it," she said. "Then I hope you'll tell me all that has taken place since you went to live with the Friedrichs. And when Andrew comes, we'll tell him, too."

"I don't want to go back to New York and prison," Mike whispered.

"I pronuse you won't," Katherine said. "Trust me."

So Mike began to tell her all that she wanted to hear. He went on until 5leep so slowed his words that they tripped into dreams of a warm bed, a hot wrs^ped brick

for his feet, and Katherine's soothing murmur mingled with a deep voice in the hallway.

When sunhght splashed Mike's face, it took him a few moments to remember where he was. As he sat up in bed, he discovered that the pain in his legs and back wasn't as terrible as it had been. His face flushed in embarrassment, until he remembered that Andrew Mac-Nair had come, and it was he who had removed the rest of Mike's clothes and appbed the ointment to his legs.

Clean clothes lay waiting for him on the chest by the bed. Mike quickly dressed and ran down the stairs to the kitchen, where Mrs. Banks was stirring some eggs into a heated pan.

"I heard you up," she said. "Your breakfast will soon be ready."

'Thank you for all that you did for me," Mike said shyly. "And Mr. MacNair ..."

As he glanced to each side, Katherine said, "Andrew is still at his own home, but it's early yet. He'll be here soon, so that he and I can pay a call on the Friedrichs."

"But your store—who will take care of it?"

"I have a fine assistant. He knows what needs to be done."

Mike sat at the table and put his head into his hands. "I have to find Reuben."

Katherine sat beside him and gently ruffied his hair. "Andrew's taken care of that," she said. "He agreed with your idea that Reuben had gone back to the Missouri and, being a flatboatman, would have headed upriver. So Andrew said he would put out word with the other boatmen to get in touch with Reuben."

"WiU they find him? Soon? Could they telegr^h?"

"There are no telegraph lines to the west of St. Joe, but don't ft-et. Word of mouth often can be faster than telegraph."

Mike sighed with relief and leaned back in his chair to eiyoy the breakfast that Katherine set before him. As he took his last bite, he heard a stomping and wiping of boots outside the back door. The door opened wide, and Andrew MacNair entered the kitchen.

Andrew's warm smile quickly changed to a look of concern. "Mike, Fm sorry about what happened to you. You won't have to go back to the FYiedrichs again. Ever."

Mike jumped to his feet, almost knocking over his chair. "But I do have to!"

Andrew frowned. "Mike, you don't understand. No one will make you go back to New York or stay with the Friedrichs. I will not tolerate Hans Friedrich's beating you."

Mike shook his head as his words tumbled out. "I don't want to stay with them. I'll take my chances with some other family—if anyone will have me—but I need to go with you and Katherine to explain. I have to tell Mr. FYiedrich that we are going to find Reuben."

Andrew and Katherine gave each other a look. Then Andrew rubbed his chin and said, "Well, in that case— yes, you may go with us."

As Andrew on horseback and Mike and Katherine in her small four-wheeled buggy pulled into the ft-ont yard of the FYiedrich house, Mr. Friedrich and Gunter came slowly fi:-om the bam to meet them.

Mr. Friedrich squinted against the sunlight, then—^as his glance fell upon Mike—nodded with satisfaction. "Good," he said. "You have brought him back."

Andrew swung fi:-om his horse and looped the reins through the hitching post. "Mike came of his own accord," he said.

"Even better. It shows that discipline is a good master. We will make a law-abiding man of him yet"

Gunter's eyes widened, and he blurted out, "Papa! You said you would send Michael back to New York!"

"I spoke those words when I was upset I have changed my mind. I have an obligation, and I cannot shirk it."

Gunter's face darkened and twisted in anger, and Mike saw him clench his fists. Wait till you find out that ril soon be gone, you scheming bucket of tallow! Mike thought. Of the two of us, FU be much the happier to get away from you!

Andrew, who had tethered the horses, took Kather-ine's hand as she stepped from the buggy. Mike scrambled do^\Tl the opposite side.

"May we go inside?" Andrew asked. 'There are things which need to be said."

"Of course," Mr. Friedrich answered. He led them through the front door and into the parlor, where Mrs. FYiedrich joined them, eyes wide in amazement.

"Oh, Michael!" she cried. For an instant she held her arms out as though she wanted to embrace him. Instead she shot a fearful glance at her husband and meekly folded her hands together at her waist.

"Please sit down," Mr. Friedrich said as he plopped into the largest overstuffed chair. "Irma, tell Marta to bring something to eat and drink."

Katherine raised a haind. "No, please. We won't be here long."

Mike, who stood as the others took seats, tried to ignore Gunter's scowling face and said in one long breath, "Mr. Friedrich, I wanted to tell you why I left your house during the night. I went to the river to try to find news of Reuben Starkey, and to send him word to come back to St. Joe so that people would know he was all right and no one would think badly of you and come to your land to bother you."

"I do not care what people think!" Mr. Friedrich said.

"But I do," Mike said.

Mr. Friedrich looked puzzled and asked, "Why should you care?"

Mike wondered himself why he felt pity for Mr. Friedrich, but he did. "Fm sorry about Ulrich," he said.

"Uhich! He shamed me!"

"He did the wrong thing—as I did—" Mike said, "because he was trying to feed you."

Mr. Friedrich staggered to his feet and paced to one end of the room and back. "Ulrich was a thief. He liked being a thief! Because he was clever and was not caught, he stole more than we needed. You have seen the money."

Before Mike could answer, Mr. Friedrich shouted, "It was after Ulrich was arrested that I found the money he'd hidden away! What could I do with it? How could I give it back? Ulrich was arrested for petty theft. If I turned in that money, it would have gone harder for him! All these years IVe kept it, but Til have you know, I have never spent a single coin! WeVe worked for all we have in this country!"

Mrs. Friedrich choked back a sob, and her husband turned to her, holding out the palms of both hands. "How could I know Ulrich would become ill in jail, Irma?"

She wiped her eyes and pleaded with Andrew. "We have always been afraid someone would suspect we had the money and come after us. We began to think Reuben was the one. But we did nothing to harm him. He was sent away, and that is the truth."

"Reuben will be found," Andrew said. "I can promise you that."

Mr. Friedrich fell back into his chair and rubbed one hand over his chin, breathing heavily, until the dark red flush left his face and he could speak calmly again. "Is there anything more that Michael has to tell me?"

"Just—just that Fm— Vm sorry," Mike said.

"Very well, you have said it. Now—^there are chores

to be done, and you are wasting time." He frowned at Andrew. "We are all wasting time."

"What I have to say won't take long," Andrew said.

Mike heard Gunter snicker and quickly glanced at him. On Gunter's face was that wicked snule Mike knew meant trouble. Gunter had plans. Well, this time he wouldn't get away with it. Mike was determined to stick close to Mr. MacNair and Mrs. Banks.

Or maybe—this would be Mike's last chance to see Gunter caught. He interrupted Andrew. "Fd like to go out to the bam while you talk with Mr. Friedrich."

"That's probably a good idea," Andrew said.

Mike left the house by the front door, ran down the steps, and quickly ducked to the side, where he squatted and flattened himself against the wall. In just a few moments he heard footsteps clattering down the steps, and he peered out to see Gunter heading around the opposite side of the house.