Leapholes

by James Grippando

  "Never did anything?" said Jarvis, groaning. "You are so clueless. For seventeen years I was a loyal apprentice. I did everything Hezekiah ever asked me to do. I studied, I worked overtime. I was just counting the days until Hezekiah would retire and name me his replacement. And then what does that ingrate do in the end? He says I'm not Legal Eagle material. He decides he's going to pass the baton to some school kid named Ryan."

  "That wasn't my fault," said Ryan.

  "I don't care whose fault it was." Jarvis turned to the marshal and said, "Now, give me that gun."

  "No," said the marshal.

  "Give it to me, or I'll take it from you."

  The marshal pulled back. "I'm not getting involved in your jealous game of revenge."

  Jarvis was suddenly on top of the Marshal like a T-Rex on lunch. Abigail screamed as the two men wrestled to the ground. They were punching and kicking, each trying to control the gun. Ryan started left and then right, but no matter which direction he moved, the gun seemed to be pointing right at him.

  "Ryan, run for it!" shouted Abigail.

  "I can't just leave you!" said Ryan.

  "Go! You've already kept your promise to Hezekiah. I can take Hannah and her baby from here. It only gets easier as we go north."

  Jarvis and the marshal were still locked in a wresting match. Ryan caught Abigail's eye, and he wished there were time for a proper goodbye. But there wasn't.

  "Just git!" shouted Abigail.

  Without another word, Ryan sprinted past Jarvis and the marshal. He burst from the tight alley as if it were the last day of school, and he hit the street at full speed. He wasn't sure where he was headed. Abigail had never said the name of that well-known lawyer from Springfield. But she did mention where his office was.

  At the corner, Ryan stopped a well-to-do gentleman who was dressed smartly in a business suit. "Sir, can you tell me where the federal courthouse is?"

  "Yes, of course. It's in the Tinsley Building. That redbrick building on the next corner."

  Ryan could see it from where they were standing. He smiled a little, but then he glanced back toward the alley, and his excitement faded.

  Jarvis emerged from the alley, the apparent victor in the battle with the marshal.

  A half-second later, the marshal stumbled into the street and took aim with his revolver. "Stop, or I'll shoot!"

  Jarvis kept running. The marshal was ready to squeeze off a shot, but a stagecoach rolled past, followed by a wagon. "He's got a gun!" shouted someone, which sent screaming pedestrians scurrying in every direction. There was too much traffic to let bullets fly, too high a risk of hitting innocent bystanders. The marshal gave chase on foot.

  Ryan dashed off toward the Tinsley Building. This was his only chance to escape. He was betting everything on the hope that the best lawyer in town was a Legal Eagle. All he had to do then was find the stovepipe. His focus was on the building, totally on the redbrick building.

  He didn't see the horse-drawn carriage coming from his right.

  The horses neighed and the carriage twisted. It wasn't a direct hit, but Ryan took a hard tumble and landed face down in the street. He pushed himself up and shook off the dizziness. Jarvis was barreling down on him. Ryan turned and ran as fast as he could, but Jarvis was gaining ground. The gap closed to within two steps. He could hear Jarvis breathing heavily behind him. Ryan did a gut-check, reached inside for the afterburners, and started to pull away.

  Just ahead, the sign on the door read Law Office. Ryan knew that he was in the right place. Courtesy dictated a knock, but he couldn't let Jarvis catch up. The door was unlocked, and Ryan burst inside. A man rose from his desk and said, "Can I help you, son?"

  "I'm looking for a lawyer."

  "This is the courthouse entrance. The law office is on the third floor."

  Before Ryan could thank him, the door floor open. Jarvis entered with a flurry. Ryan scurried up the tight wooden stairwell. He whipped around the turn at the second floor. He was halfway up the stairs to the third when he felt the firm grasp of a huge hand around his ankle. Jarvis had him.

  Ryan kicked like a mule, which sent Jarvis tumbling back down the stairs. He landed with a crash at the bottom step. At the top of the staircase, a door opened. Standing in the doorway was a very tall, thin-faced man.

  "What's all the noise out here?" he said.

  Ryan climbed to the top of the steps, and salvation came into view. Resting on a chair in the foyer next to the man's coat was a black hat. It was a tall, thin hat. A stovepipe hat.

  Ryan took a good look at the man. He was clean shaven, which confused Ryan for a moment. But then he remembered that the beard had come only after the presidential inauguration. "You're Abraham Lincoln," said Ryan.

  "Yes, I am. And who are you?"

  Ryan grinned and said, "I'm the happiest person on earth."

  Jarvis was charging back up the stairs. "Stop that kid! He's a lawbreaker."

  Ryan had no time to explain, almost no time to think. Lincoln's hat was resting on the chair. Its opening was round and black and seemingly bottomless-just like the open end of the leapholes in Hezekiah's jar back at his office. Ryan dug into his pocket for the spent leaphole-the one that had brought him from Hezekiah's office to St. Louis. He wasn't exactly sure what he was doing, but he remembered that Kaylee had used her spent leaphole when activating a return leaphole. It was the only way back to the starting point.

  Jarvis was just three steps away when he dove for Ryan's ankles. On impulse, Ryan lunged toward the hat. As he soared across the threshold, a seed of doubt sprouted in his mind. What if this doesn't work? But his thoughts turned to Hezekiah and the old legend of the rainmaker's shackle, and all doubt evaporated. He buried his hand in the hat's opening. The power pulsated in his hand. Like lightening, it surged up his arm and throughout his entire body. Perhaps it was the power of Lincoln's leaphole. Or perhaps it was just the urgency of the situation. In a single flash of orange light, Ryan was sucked into the opening without delay.

  The futile cries from Jarvis were just an echo in the distance. "Ryan Coolidge, don't you dare leave me here!"

  Right away, Ryan realized that this was no ordinary leaphole. This had to be some kind of supercharged, highspeed reverse legal leaphole. It was only befitting of one of the most courageous lawyers the world had ever known. At first, he experienced only the intense vibration of forward motion, as if he were being launched into another universe. Wind and heat caressed his cheeks, a surge of pure energy. The blinding light ahead was like staring straight into a spotlight. The noise was as deafening as a freight train. In fact, he could hear the clacking of iron wheels on rails. The noise grew louder and louder. The oncoming spotlight became more and more intense. Around him, outside the beam of light, there was only darkness. It was as if he were speeding through a tunnel. Suddenly, he heard the familiar steam whistle of a locomotive. He was on a train. This was indeed a railroad, and then Ryan realized what was happening.

  The leaphole had found a real underground railroad.

  The steam whistle blew again. The locomotive sped off even faster. Ryan was hanging on by his fingertips for a spectacular journey. In a flash, the train whipped through the nineteenth century. Snippets of history flashed in the darkness. It was all happening so quickly that Ryan could barely process the images, but he recognized some things. He saw soldiers falling as men in blue and gray uniforms clashed at Gettysburg. Teddy Roosevelt and the Rough Riders were charging up San Juan Hill. With another flash, he was suddenly into the twentieth century, passing the Wright Brothers and their first airplane.

  Then, in an even bigger flash, the sounds of the old steam locomotive gave way to the rumble of an even greater force. It hardly seemed possible, but the speed intensified. Ryan was aboard a roaring diesel engine. He could barely hold on as he zipped past the horrors of war in Europe and the Pacific. He sailed over a sea of civil-rights marchers on the Washington Mall, and then past the space shuttle on its journey to outer sp
ace. Ryan was both frightened and exhilarated. In some ways, he didn't want the trip to end. But he could feel the train gathering momentum. He braced himself for something even faster than diesel.

  Finally, he was hanging on for dear life on a speeding bullet train, barreling toward home in the twenty-first century.

  Chapter 35

  Ryan landed in Hezekiah's law office. Hard.

  "Man, I need to work on those landings," he said to himself as he massaged the pain out of his tail bone.

  Hezekiah's office was even more of a shambles than Ryan had remembered. The beginnings were such a blur to him. He remembered the SWAT team invasion, but it had happened so fast. There had been no time to assess the damage before he and Jarvis took the leaphole to the nineteenth century. As he looked around the room, he was seeing for the first time the mess they had left behind. Nearly every bookshelf was down. Several lamps were broken. Chairs were overturned. Countless case books lay scattered across the room.

  Ryan picked himself up from the carpet and walked slowly to Hezekiah's study area. He sorted through the jumble of books atop the table. The old one from 1857-the one that contained the Dred Scott decision-was missing, which was no surprise. Kaylee had brought the book with her to nineteenth-century Missouri. But if she was now back in the twenty-first century, why hadn't she returned it?

  If she was back. That was the question.

  Hezekiah had seemed confident that Kaylee would return safely to the twenty-first century. Only Ryan and the others had been thrown off course into Illinois when Jarvis broke the human chain. But what if she, too, had been thrown off course? Was it possible that she'd landed somewhere between 1857 and the twenty-first century? It was a disturbing thought. If she had fallen short on her return, that meant she was still out there, somewhere, God only knew where-without a leaphole.

  She would have no way home.

  Ryan was getting worried. To be sure, it felt plenty good to be back. He wanted to tell his mother to stop worrying, that he was safe. He wanted to hug his sister Ainsley and tackle his dog Sam. He was glad to be away from that double-crossing Jarvis. But the loss of Hezekiah was beginning to feel like a death in his family, and his new concerns about Kaylee weren't making it any easier to cope.

  Ryan glanced under the table, then did a double take. He noticed Hezekiah's jar. The last time Ryan had laid eyes on it, the jar had been filled with leapholes. Now, it was completely empty.

  Something very strange was going on here.

  Suddenly, there was a curious vibration beneath his feet. It was almost unnoticeable. It reminded Ryan of being in that sod house in southern Illinois, the way the ground seemed to shake right before the posse arrived. Ryan put his ear to the floor and listened. Maybe he was crazy, but he was almost certain that he detected the faint clatter of horse hooves.

  Soon, it was no longer just a vibration in the floor. He could hear the sound of a galloping horse on the roof, in the walls, all around him. The noise grew louder until he could have sworn that a thoroughbred was racing through the room.

  Then he heard the unmistakable neigh of a horse and a man crying Whooooaaaaa!

  A rush of wind whipped through the library, followed by a bright blast of light. Ryan dove beneath the table just in time to avoid being trampled by a speeding thoroughbred.

  "I said Whoooooaciar shouted Hezekiah. The excited horse stopped short. Another two feet and it would have slammed into the wall.

  "Hezekiah!" Ryan shouted.

  "In the flesh," he said as he turned his horse to face Ryan. Only then did Ryan notice that Kaylee was hanging off the other side of the horse.

  She righted herself and said, "Where the heck did you learn to ride, Hezekiah? Next time I take the reins."

  Ryan was so happy he was about to burst. "How did you two get here?" he said, his voice racing.

  "Kaylee came back for me," said Hezekiah.

  "So, you didn't get thrown off course when the rest of us broke away?" said Ryan.

  "No way," said Kaylee. "There was no malfunction. You guys broke away only because Jarvis let go."

  "He let go?" said Ryan.

  "Yes," said Hezekiah. "It took us a while to see his true colors. But Jarvis was apparently planning all along to leave you and me trapped in the nineteenth century."

  "I know. He told me everything after you rode off on horseback toward the posse. He was angry at you for not picking him as your replacement, and he was jealous of me for getting selected. He sold you out to Old Man Barrow."

  "Well, Old Man Barrow sure didn't get his money's worth. The posse never caught me."

  "How is that possible?" said Ryan.

  Hezekiah gave his thoroughbred an affectionate pat on the neck. "You're looking at the great, great, great, great, greatgrandfather of aTriple-Crown-winning racehorse by the name of Seattle Slew. There was absolutely no way those other horses in the posse were going to catch this stallion."

  "That's awesome," said Ryan. Then his excitement turned to concern. "But, what will happen to Jarvis now? I had to leave him in the nineteenth century."

  "You made the right choice," said Hezekiah. "That's where Jarvis belongs: Where the brood follows the dam."

  "So, that's where Legal Evil lives?" said Ryan. "In the nineteenth century?"

  "Yes, but don't be misled, Ryan. It's not the only place it lives. Where the brood follows the dam is where Legal Evil is most obvious. The fact is, it lives in every city, in every country, in every century. Sometimes it's just not so easy to see it."

  Ryan considered those words for a moment. Suddenly, it was as if the proverbial lightbulb had blinked on over his head. If it lived in every city, in every country, in every century, and if it wasn't always easy to see, maybe he'd actually seen Legal Evil before. Maybe he just hadn't recognized it.

  Maybe his father was innocent.

  Hezekiah climbed down from his horse. "Ryan, you have shown great courage over the past few days. Over and over again, you have proven yourself worthy of distinction, honor, and respect. It's time now for your reward."

  "My reward?"

  He stepped closer, placed his hands on Ryan's shoulders, and looked him squarely in the eye. "Congratulations. You are ready to become a Legal Eagle."

  Ryan didn't know what to say. "Thank you," were the only words he could muster.

  Kaylee smiled and said, "Congratulations, Ryan. You'll love the swearing-in ceremony. It's the most amazing party you've ever seen."

  "Can I get my leaphole first?"

  "What?" said Hezekiah.

  "My leaphole. Kaylee said you get a leaphole and a return leaphole when you become a Legal Eagle. I'd like to get mine before the swearing-in ceremony, if I can."

  "What's the rush?" said Hezekiah.

  "There's something very important I need to check out."

  "I'm sure there is," Hezekiah said proudly. "What would you like to do first? Go back to Philadelphia in 1776 and witness the signing of the Declaration of Independence? Or perhaps you'd like to see Clarence Darrow do battle with William Jennings Bryan in the Scopes monkey trial."

  Ryan shook his head. As interesting as it would be to meet the greatest lawyers of all time, he didn't want to go back that far. Not nearly. He had already resolved to use his first leaphole to travel back just a matter of months.

  "I want to go back to the case of State versus Coolidge," said Ryan. "I want to know if my father is really innocent."

  Chapter 36

  Ryan shot like a comet through his first leaphole. The distance was short, so the trip was a mere blink of an eye. One moment, Ryan was standing in Hezekiah's office, his leaphole in hand. A split second later, he was crouched behind a bushy potted plant, hidden from view in the corner of a strange room. A woman wearing a gray business suit was seated behind an antique mahogany desk. Her law school diploma hung on the wall beside her. In the chairs facing the lawyer's desk sat a man and a woman. Ryan recognized them both immediately. The man was his father. The woman was his
mother. They both looked distraught.

  The lawyer said, "As I've told you from the beginning, the value of this emerald makes this a very serious crime. We're talking grand larceny, a first-degree felony."

  "We know that," said Dr. Sharon Coolidge. "But where's the proof?"

  "I just met with the prosecutor this morning. He laid out the evidence for me. The case against you is very strong, I'm afraid."

  "That's not possible," said Mr. Coolidge. "They must be making things up."

  "They have videotape," the lawyer said gravely. "When Dr. Coolidge was on the beach saving that little girl, the excitement apparently drew a crowd."

  "Yes," said Ryan's mother. "Lots of people gathered round."

  "One of them had a video camera," said the lawyer. "Some tourists were celebrating their son's birthday at the beach. When they saw all the commotion, they turned their camera toward the emergency."

  "I don't understand," said Dr. Coolidge. "The only thing that could be on that tape is me saving that little girl. That's hardly a crime."

  The lawyer sighed and said, "Let's watch the tape, shall we? Then we can talk." She rose and walked toward a television set in the corner. She inserted the tape into the player. The screen turned bright blue, then snow followed. She pushed another button, and the image came into focus.

  Ryan watched the screen. For a moment, he was reliving that day. The child was choking and turning blue. The lifeguard was trying desperately but unsuccessfully to dislodge the emerald in her throat. Ryan's mother stepped forward and took the child in her arms. On her third attempt, the stone shot from the child's mouth and landed in the sand. The child was revived, and the crowd cheered with delight.

  The videotape kept running.

  "Watch carefully now," said the lawyer.

  The crowd scattered as a team of paramedics rushed in. The little girl's mother and grandmother were half-crying and half-celebrating, not sure whether the ordeal was over yet. Dr. Coolidge was doing her best to assist the paramedics. She offered medical suggestions and gave them details about the child's status. Amidst all the chaos and confusion, Ryan's mother stooped down, raked her hand through the sand and found the big precious stone. Quickly-it happened in just a few quick frames of videotape-she tucked the green stone into the side pocket of the camera bag. The bag belonged to Ryan's father. She had been carrying it with her all day, taking photographs.