Caught in the Act

by Joan Lowery Nixon

  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.

  As soon as Gunter was out of sight, Mike ran back up the steps and slipped into the parlor, seating himself next to Mrs. Banks. Although she gave him a quick, surprised glance, the adults were so deeply into their discussion they paid little attention to Mike.

  "You are telling me I don't know how to raise boys?" Mr. Friedrich huffed. "I raise them the way my father raised them, the way I should have raised Ulrich!"

  "Boys should not be beaten," Andrew said firmly.

  "Beatings are all that boys understand," Mr. Friedrich shouted.

  "Obviously we don't agree, Mr. Friedrich," Andrew said. "I can't allow Mike to stay with you. He can gather his own things together, and we'll take him with us to town."

  There was a conunotion in the kitchen, which Mr. Friedrich ignored. "A^ein.'" he said. "We have an agreement! The committee—"

  Just then Gunter slammed down the hallway yelling, "Papa! Come quick! Michael set fire to the privy! I saw him! He set the fire and ran!" By this time he was inside the parlor, gripping the doorframe and wheezing heavily. "I saw—" he managed to get out before he looked directly at Mike.

  "How could this be? Michael has been here with us." Mrs. Friedrich gazed at Gunter in astonishment.

  For an instant there was a shocked silence. Then Gunter shouted, "I don't want him to live here! I don't need another brother! When Ulrich was alive he was the most important just because he was the first, and Michael—^you give him special treats. He—" Gunter stopped suddenly, as though he'd remembered something, and mumbled, "The privy really is on fire."

  Everyone ran through the house and out the kitchen door to join Marta, who had already beat out a small blaze at one side of the outhouse where an obvious pile of small sticks and leaves lay.

  Mr. Friedrich stared at his son with such misery he looked as though he were fighting back tears.

  Mrs. Friedrich pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. "Oh, Michael," she said, "we have been much to blame. Could we have another chance?"

  Mike was glad he didn't have to answer, because he liked Mrs. Friedrich. Andrew took Mike's hand and said firmly, "I'm sorry, but I've made the decision. Mike will have a new home. It's better that way."

  There were tearful hugs from Mrs. Friedrich and a smiling hug from Marta, who whispered, "Never fear, I'll soon be seeing you again."

  Mike turned to give Marta a last wave as Katherine drove the buggy out onto the road to St. Joseph.

  He leaned back against the leather seat, watching Mr. MacNair, who rode ahead. Maybe someday he'd be tall and strong, with broad shoulders like Andrew MacNair's

  and a horse and saddle to call his own, and he*d ride over the countryside with the sun beating on his back. But that was far into the future.

  Mike sighed and turned to Katherine. "Andrew said Fd have a new home, but I'm thinking he'll have a hard time finding someone who'll want me."

  Katherine smiled. "There's someone who wants you very much, if you're willing."

  Mike sat erect. "Who?"

  "Remember Captain Joshua Taylor?"

  "I could never forget him," Mike said. "He's a fine man."

  "He thinks you're a fine person, yourself. I received a letter from him just a few days ago. His wife has joined him, and they wrote to ask if there were any chance you'd be free to come to Fort Leavenworth in Kansas to live with them."

  Mike knew he was gaping and gasping like a fish thrown out of water. "Live in a real fort?" he managed to say. "And with Captain Taylor and his wife? Oh! Wouldn't that be grand!"

  "Life on an army post might be more difficult than life on a farm or in a town," Katherine said. "We've never placed a child with a family on an army post, and there may be problems we can't foresee."

  Mike saw himself flattened along the back of a small, spotted pony, rifle slung over his shoulder, battered hat pulled over his eyes as he raced ahead of a whooping, battle-crazed tribe of Indian renegades. He had to reach the fort. He had been the only one brave enough to carry the message to the wagon train, and now he was the only one who would dare to ...

  Mike brought himself out of his daydream to grin at Katherine as the happiness bubbled up inside of him. "Well now," he asked her, "do you think I'd ever in my life let a few problems get the best of me?"

  As Grandma closed the journal, Jennifer reached for it. "What happened to Mike when he went to Fort Leavenworth to live? Can you tell us?"

  "Of course I can," Grandma said, and tried to look mysterious. "But some of Mike's story comes much later in Frances Mary's journal. I think you should hear about Megan's new family next."

  "Megan—was she younger than Mike?" Jeff asked.

  "No," Grandma said. "She was twelve—a year younger than Frances and a year older than Mike—^but I told you Mike's story before Megan's because he was the one who involved his brothers and sisters on that orphan train journey to the west."

  "Wasn't Megan the responsible sister?" Jennifer asked.

  Grandma nodded. "Yes. Responsible ... in spite of her fears."

  "What fears?" Jennifer leaned forward to listen.

  "When Megan was very young she was badly frightened by an old woman who grabbed her hand, read her palm, and cackled that bad luck would be with her all the days of her life. 'A bad penny you are,' the gypsy had said and, unfortunately, Megan believed her."

  "What happened to Megan?" Jeff asked. "Did she really have bad luck?"

  "It depends upon what you call luck," Grandma said. "Goodness knows some terrifying things happened to Megan."

  "What?" Jennifer asked.

  "Well, there was the time Megan was trapped by hunger-crazed wolves, and another time when she came face-to-face with an escaping outlaw."

  Grandma stood and stretched. "I've got some errands to run in town," she said. "Who wants to go with me?"

  "Grandma! Don't stop there!" Jeff groaned and flopped over on the sofa.

  m "When are you going to tell us about Megan?" Jennifer complained. "I mean, youVe told us this much and—" Grandma put a finger over Jennifer's lips and laughed. "Oh, there's much more to Megan's story than you can imagine," she said, "so Til save it until we have more time. How about tomorrow?"

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Joan Lowery Nixon is the acclaimed author of more than sixty fiction and non-fiction books for children and young adults. She is a three-time winner of the Mystery Writers of America Edgar Award and the recipient of many Children's Choice awards. Her popular books for young adults include the first three books in the Orphan Train Quartet, A Family Apart, Caught in the Act, and In the Face of Danger, as well as Star Baby, Overnight Sensation, and Encore, the books in the Hollywood Daughters Trilogy. She was moved by the true experiences of the children on the nineteenth-century orphan trains to research and write the Orphan Train Quartet.

  Mrs. Nixon and her husband live in Houston, Texas.

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