by Kirby Larson
Min leapt into action, running back toward President’s Park. Most specifically, toward the White House stables. As she bounded across the lawn, she did her best to avoid the gathering citizens, already lining up for their annual chance to shake the President’s hand. The cat zigged this way and zagged that to avoid clumsy feet. Her tail dodged several near misses, but on she ran.
As luck would have it, the objects of her mission were advancing in her very direction.
“Min!” Audie ran to her friend and scooped her into a hug. “Where did you disappear to?” Juice caught up to them. Daddy Dub, hobbled by his advanced years and bum knee, lagged a significant ways behind.
“This is my friend Min,” Audie said.
Juice grinned. “We’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”
The cat purred and rubbed her head on the underside of Audie’s chin. And then she did something surprising. She nipped the tender flesh at Audie’s neck.
“Ouch!” Audie was so startled, she released her grip and Min thumped to the ground.
“Rowr. Rowr.” Min’s tail whipped impatiently.
“Looks like she wants us to follow her,” Juice said.
Audie and Juice chased after Min in fits and starts. They had to hurry to keep up with the cat, but pace themselves so as not to lose Daddy Dub. Progress was also slowed by all the citizens lining up for the New Year’s reception. After a few blocks, Min dashed up to a brick building, found some kind of cat-sized entrance, and disappeared inside.
Audie ran to the front door and tugged. “Locked.”
Juice found a stick nearby and gave a whack. The padlock held firm.
Daddy Dub soon reached them, panting. “These are the Ardmore’s old stables.” He wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand. “Looks like the hotel’s selling the building.” He pointed at a FOR SALE sign. “I bet it’s empty.”
Audie’s left ear felt as if a mosquito were trapped inside, it was buzzing that crazily. “I don’t think it’s empty,” she said slowly. “I think this is where they’re keeping Dorothy.” That had to be why Min led them here. “We have to get her out,” she said. “Before the Commodore comes back.” It was painful to even say that name. Though she had been dubious about him from the start, she had never dreamed he would cause anyone harm. Least of all two innocent girls.
“Hold your horses, Audie.” Juice put his hand on her arm. “We don’t know who all’s in there.”
Audie chewed her lip. Juice was right. Perhaps someone was inside, guarding Dorothy. Maybe Cypher? Or maybe the brute?
“Here’s what we’ll do.” Daddy Dub rubbed his grizzled chin. “You children keep an eye here. My friend runs a café a few blocks away. I’ll go up there, ask to use the telephone, and fetch that help I talked about.”
“But—” Audie feared there might not be time to wait.
“I’ll be back before you can say Jack Robinson.” Daddy Dub hobbled down the sidewalk. “Stay put.”
“Yes, sir!” Juice called after him.
Daddy Dub was scarcely out of sight when Audie grabbed Juice by the arm.
“Follow me.”
“Daddy Dub said stay put.”
“I know she’s in there, Juice.” Audie stared into her friend’s eyes. “And I don’t know if we have time to wait any longer. Do you? Really?”
Juice returned her gaze and then sighed. “Whatever you say.”
They hurried to scout the building’s perimeter. Pausing on the far side, Audie pointed. “If we could get up to those windows, we could look inside. See what we’re up against.” Our quick-minded heroine also deduced that those windows would likely have to serve as their entry point as well, owing to the enormous padlock on the front doors.
Juice stretched himself up tall. “Even if I boosted you, you couldn’t see in.”
Each second that passed ate into the likelihood of rescuing Dorothy. Audie glanced around. “I’ve got an idea.” She pointed at a horse and buggy across the way.
“I hope you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.” Juice tugged on his cap. “They still hang horse thieves around here.”
“Come on.” Audie wiggled out of her right boot. “I only hope you have your grandfather’s touch with horses.”
Juice groaned. But he did just what Audie asked.
Dorothy snugged the rough wool blanket around her shoulders. It was cold in this place. Cold and dark. She shifted to find a more comfortable position on the wood floor, trying to avoid the sharp ends of dried hay straws. Her feet accidentally knocked over the glass of milk that horrid bellman had left. What was his name? Stanley? If she got out of here, she was certainly going to remember that name. He would regret his involvement in this despicable affair.
She rolled away from the spilled milk so she wouldn’t get wet, knocking over the untouched breakfast tray. On a good day, oatmeal was something she could only manage to swallow down. And whatever they’d drugged her with had left her feeling sick at her stomach. Not one bite of that porridge would pass between her lips. Besides, she could not be assured it wasn’t drugged as well. She shifted herself gently, careful not to jog her head, which felt like it might wobble right off her neck.
With every fiber of her being, she forced all terrifying thoughts to a far corner of her mind. Why was she here? What did they want with her? Uncle William and Aunt Nellie would’ve been worried sick when she didn’t show up for supper. What must they be thinking now? Of course, Charlie wouldn’t have noticed she’d gone. If he had, his only thought would have been: Goody. One fewer tiresome cousin. No more charades.
Dorothy sniffled, running her tied hands under her nose. She thought about the kitchen girl. Annie. What had she thought when she came back with the parsley to find Dorothy missing? Of course, she was only a servant. She would have accepted whatever story that awful cook fed her. Dorothy was confident of one thing. Annie wasn’t part of this kidnapping plot. There’d been something so honest and true about her. Under other circumstances, they might have been friends. Had she not been hired help.
Something rustled nearby. Dorothy froze. Please don’t let it be a rat. Please. That would be unbearable. She pulled her knees up to her chest, shrinking as small as possible. Less likely that the rat would crawl over her that way.
Another rustle.
Dorothy could not remain silent. “Is someone there?” Her voice caught in her throat like a wad of cotton. She coughed. Tried again. “Anyone?” Held her breath, awaiting a reply.
It came in the form of a meow. And following that meow, around the wooden half wall, slipped a cat. Dorothy wasn’t sure why, but she burst into tears. The first tears shed since the onset of her ordeal.
“Hello, puss.” She patted the floor next to her clumsily. The cat padded closer, sniffing at the spilled milk and then at the rope tightly knotted around the girl’s wrists.
“I’m so glad to see you!” If there were rats in this horrid place, this tabby looked capable of dispatching them with ease. Dorothy wiggled her fingers and the cat sniffed at those, too, then padded closer to wash away the tears on her cheek with a sandpapery tongue. “Thank you, kitty. Thank you.”
“Meow.” The cat tilted its head, as if trying to communicate something to Dorothy. Its golden eyes sent waves of comfort and hope washing over the girl. Then it turned and darted away, and, with a flick of a tail, left her alone, all alone, once again.
It had pained Audie greatly to part with that gold coin. Not that she cared for money, mind you. But it did hurt to give up one of the two remaining keepsakes from her parents. It could not be helped. The owner drove a hard bargain. “Do you want the steed or not?” he’d asked, scratching his head under his filthy cap.
Audie wanted to say “not,” but the scabbed and bony horse clearly needed rescuing as desperately as she needed its help rescuing Dorothy. She pressed the gold coin to her heart, then handed it over to the rapscallion. She was certain her sweet mother would approve of this expenditure.
He
sniggered as he handed her the reins. “Not much of a horse trader, are you?”
With every ounce of pride she could muster, Audie took the horse’s bridle and tugged him over to where Juice waited.
“Did you steal him?” Juice asked.
“No. Bought him fair and square.” That was a lie; a true horse trader like Daddy Dub would say the horse wasn’t worth the price Audie had paid. But the horse—she would call him Samuel after her father—looked at her so gratefully that Audie quickly moved on to a discussion of the rescue plan. What was money after all? Merely a burden unless put to good use.
“Hurry up!” Juice tugged at the horse’s bridle to get the animal situated precisely under the window. “This horse looks like nothing but trouble.”
“Samuel understands working for the greater good,” Audie said calmly. “He is a tremendously wise creature.”
Juice looked the animal over. “Wise creature, my behind,” he muttered under his breath. With a final bit of maneuvering, he got the horse properly placed. “Okay, okay. Climb aboard.”
Audie grabbed hold of the harness breech strap and pulled herself up. Juice lent a hand getting her hind end up high enough to straddle Samuel’s back. At the same time, Audie raised her right leg and placed her booted foot under her. She repeated the same action with her left side and was now crouching, froglike, atop the steed. Samuel balked at the unfamiliar weight.
“Hey, there. Shuh, shuh, shuh.” Juice held the bridle tight, speaking calming nonsense words to the horse, stroking gently right between its eyes.
“On the count of three,” Audie said.
“I’ve got him. He’ll be fine. Won’t you, horse?” More stroking between the eyes.
“His name is Samuel,” Audie said.
Juice spit. “He’ll be fine. Won’t you, Samuel?” An unlikelier horse hero could not be found in the entire city.
“One, two—” On that last word, Audie pushed herself to stand, teetering on horseflesh. “Three!”
“Hold on!” Juice encouraged.
Audie wiggled her feet, feeling the remaining gold coin under her left toes and taking confidence from it. She steadied her breath and her legs, leaned toward the window, and peered inside. It was as dark as Cypher’s heart but she could make out a dozen stalls, nearly all of their doors hanging ajar.
A motion caught her eye. “Min!” She tapped on the window and the cat turned its head toward her. “Is the coast clear?”
“You think that cat’s going to answer you?” Juice asked.
“Yes.” Audie kept her eyes on her feline friend. All seemed quiet. Deserted. No sign of Cypher. Or anyone else. She shivered at the thought of the brute.
There was no sign of Dorothy, either.
“I hope we have the right place.” Audie shifted her weight to get more evenly balanced. She scanned the room inside again, carefully, thoughtfully. Maybe she’d missed something. But what? She squinted and focused intently.
Wait. All the stall doors were opened. Except for one. She gripped the window frame and shoved. Hard. “Oh, dear.” She tottered like a tightrope walker about to fall off the tightrope.
“Hang on!” Juice caught one of her flailing hands to help right her.
“I’m okay. This window’s stuck.” She pushed again and the window budged. Push. Budge. Push. Budge. Finally, it slid all the way up in the wooden sash. “I’m going in,” she whispered over her shoulder.
“Daddy Dub’s going to read us the riot act.” Juice shook his head. “I hope you’re doing the right thing.”
“I am.” Audie shinnied herself up on the sill. “Now keep an eye out. And run if there’s trouble.” She squirmed to a sitting position, ready to push through the opening. It didn’t look like too long a drop.
“I’m not going anywhere unless it’s for the police. You’ve got five minutes in there,” Juice warned.
“Deal.” And with that, Audie disappeared.
She landed with a hard thump, but muffled her cry with knuckle to mouth. Shaking out her skirt and her legs, she padded toward the closed stall door, heart pounding loud enough to be heard across town. Min appeared next to her, then with a single easy bound, lit atop the stall’s half wall.
“Who’s there?” a small, shaky voice wobbled out to her.
“Dorothy?” Audie called.
“Annie!” Dorothy cried. “You’re all right! I’m so relieved!”
Audie fiddled with the latch on the door and swung it wide. “We’ve got to get you out of here and fast.” She removed the dried straw from Dorothy’s clothing, looking her over for injuries. “Can you run?”
Dorothy nodded. “As soon as I get untied.”
Audie reached into her coat pocket. Actually, Juice’s coat pocket. Thankfully, the boy carried a small but excruciatingly sharp pocketknife to cut the twine that bound his paper bundles. Audie was certain Juice wouldn’t mind her using it on Dorothy’s ropes. She pressed on the brass bee decoration and a blade snicked out. “Hold still.” She sawed the blade back and forth, back and forth, across the coarse rope fibers. Min batted at the bits that curled to the floor.
“Hurry!” Dorothy urged. “I don’t know when they’re coming back.”
“I’ve almost got it.” A few more sawing motions and the fibers released their hold on one another and on Dorothy’s wrists. Audie reached for Dorothy’s newly freed hands and tugged the other girl to her feet. They darted back the way she’d come. Audie came to an abrupt stop. It was one thing to drop down from that window. It was far too high to climb out.
“Juice!” she hissed. “Are you there?”
Dorothy squeezed her hand as they awaited an answer. None came.
“Juice?” Audie called again, a bit louder this time.
“I’m here.” His voice was muffled by the distance it traveled from the ground outside.
Audie confessed to having failed to plan an exit.
Then she heard another voice. “I told you to stay put.” Daddy Dub was not pleased.
“I know. And I’m sorry.” Audie glanced at Dorothy. “But I have what we were after.”
“All right, then. All right.” Something in Daddy Dub’s voice slowed the quick step of Audie’s heart. “I’ve sent Juice to my friend’s café. He’ll be back in a flash with a hacksaw.”
“Is the other help coming?” Audie asked.
Daddy Dub grunted. “Couldn’t reach my friend. Got some gob with hay for brains instead. We gotta get to the White House.”
Audie squeezed Dorothy’s hand. “We’ll get you home, don’t worry.”
Dorothy didn’t say anything. The girls quietly made their way toward the front of the stables. By the time they got there, they could hear the metal rasp of the hacksaw chewing on the padlock. It seemed a day passed before Juice cheered and the door swung open.
“Don’t ever do that to me again.” Juice tugged his cap lower across his forehead. “You were in there forever!”
“Miss Dorothy Taft, meet Juice. And his grandfather Daddy Dub.” Out in the light, Audie took stock of the rescued girl. Her face was white as bleached muslin, except for the faint purple shadow of a bruise on her cheekbone. “Are you sure you can walk?”
“Walk?” Dorothy tugged the rough blanket around her shoulders. “Right now, I am so happy, I could fly.”
“Attagirl.” Juice patted her shoulder. Then he looked at Audie with a question in his eyes. “Where to?”
“Where else?” Audie exchanged glances with Daddy Dub. “The White House.”
“What about Samuel?” Juice asked.
“Samuel?” Dorothy asked.
Audie quickly explained about the valiant old steed.
“Seems like I best find Samuel a home next to Murphy and Selma for now.” Daddy Dub motioned for Juice to heft him up onto the horse’s back. “You three make your way to our stables, too, you hear? Then we’ll go on from there.”
“Yes, sir.”
Audie took Daddy Dub’s rucksack from Juice, slipping th
e strap over her shoulder before wrapping her arm around Dorothy’s waist. They began to tear along, with Min and Juice hot on their kid- leather heels.
Within a few minutes, they were hemmed in by throngs of handshake-seeking citizens. Their numbers had trebled since Audie and Juice had passed earlier. They were salmon swimming upstream in their effort to meet up with Daddy Dub. Audie surveyed the situation, tugging Dorothy toward a hole in the crowd.
Then she stopped, jerked Dorothy back, and motioned frantically to Juice. “Bees and bonnets!” She pointed to the Commodore, a black woolen coat over his customary white garb, and Mrs. Finch, wearing a dreadful hat on which was perched an entire stuffed bird of some sort.
“We can’t let them see her.” Audie nodded at Dorothy. She shook off the dual disgust at seeing the pair and at Mrs. Finch’s grotesque hat. “Time for evasive action.” She drew her friends into a nook behind a gigantic evergreen shrub and divvied up the items Daddy Dub had packed in the rucksack. Within minutes, Juice looked a proper footman, Dorothy a kitchen maid, complete with white kerchief and apron, and Audie a newsboy. Thankfully, her hair fit neatly under Juice’s cap. And his knickers were only slightly too long.
They each straightened up their costumes and took a last look. “Ready?” Audie asked.
“For what?” Dorothy said.
Audie tugged on her cap and grinned. “Why, to shake the President’s hand, of course.”
“We’re supposed to meet up with Daddy Dub,” Juice warned. “We gave our word.”