CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Harry walked to town in the wee hours of the morning. The leather bag his ma had made was strapped across his chest. He wanted to do something special for Miss Lillian and Jimmy. His new friends weren’t mean at all. They treated him like Ma used to treat him. And that made him feel good inside. Maybe one day he could live with a nice family like that.
It wasn’t that he didn’t love his brother. He did. It’s just that Brother wasn’t always nice.
Harry shook his head. He should never think bad thoughts about his brother. Mama had told him many times that Darwin had problems that were heavy to bear. That made Harry sad.
Darwin could be good. In fact, he even gave Harry some money the other day so he could get food. Brother said he was gonna be out of town for a while. But since Miss Lillian had given Harry some extra food, he’d had money left over. So he was gonna use the money to buy them something nice.
The morning sun was over the horizon when he arrived in Angels Camp. The Stickle brothers owned the general mercantile, and he liked it better than the Clarks’ general store. Mrs. Clark was always nice to Harry, but Mr. Clark didn’t like him and shooed him away whenever she wasn’t looking. He decided to go to the Stickle brothers’ store.
Inside, he picked up a sugar stick for Jimmy and a wooden whistle. He counted his coins and realized he had plenty left, so he found some pretty ribbons for Miss Lillian. Green. Just like her eyes.
Too many people had come into the store now, and it made him nervous. He dropped a couple coins and fell down when he tried to pick them up. A boy in the corner laughed at him.
“It’s all right, Harry. I remember you.” Mr. Stickle—Harry couldn’t remember which one—waved him toward the counter. “Come over here.” The man sized him up. “Why, I haven’t seen you in years. Looks like you grew another foot.”
Harry shook his head and looked down at his feet. “Nope. I still have just two.”
Mr. Stickle laughed, but it was a good kind of laugh. “Well, let me see what you have.”
Harry paid for his things and Mr. Stickle wrapped them in brown paper. Harry was glad the man hadn’t asked him anything. Darwin would be so mad if he knew Harry had come to town.
“Thank you.” Harry tried not to look at the boy in the corner. He could hear him saying mean things about the man who was an idiot. He tucked his package in his leather bag.
Harry’s bottom lip quivered. He wished Ma were here.
“You’re always welcome, Harry,” Mr. Stickle whispered. “You head on out. I’ll take care of those youngsters. They just need their mouths washed out with soap.”
As he left the store, he felt sad. Why did people have to be so mean? He wasn’t an idiot. No. No. No.
On the outskirts of town, he realized he still held the change in his hand. Opening his fist, he found a note. He couldn’t read it, but he would bring it to Miss Lillian. So he tucked the note in his bag, as well. The thought of seeing his friends brought a new smile to his face. He counted his coins again and tried to think of another surprise. Mrs. Rolleri!
He raced back to the Hotel Calaveras and knocked on the back door to the kitchen.
Mrs. Rolleri answered it and smiled at him. “Why, Harry, I haven’t seen you in ages. I’m so sorry about your mama.”
“She’s in heaven.”
“I do believe she is, Harry.” She hugged him. “Now, what can I do for you? I’m making some ravioli right now. Would you like the first ones?”
He nodded. A lot. “I want to do something nice for my new friends. Do you have enough I could share with them? I’ve got money.” He held out his coins.
“You put your money away, young man. This is a gift from me. I’ve thought of you many times wondering what I could do to help you after your mama passed. Let me do this for you, yes?”
“Yes. Yes. Yes.” He nodded again and smiled as he tucked the money back in his pocket.
“You wait here, and I will be just a moment.” She went back into the kitchen.
Harry sat down on the steps and wondered what the note said. Miss Lillian would read it to him, he knew she would.
Mrs. Rolleri returned with a bucket. Harry stood up and peered inside. It was full of ravioli. Mrs. Rolleri was famous for her ravioli, and Harry’s mouth started to water.
“Oh, thank you, thank you, Mrs. Rolleri!” Harry jumped up and down. It would be a perfect gift.
“Here’s a note on how to finish them. And here’s a jar of my sauce.” She tucked the jar and note into his bag since his hands were full with the bucket. She covered the bucket with a towel. “You come back and see me again, yes?”
“Yes.”
She kissed his cheek and said good-bye.
Then he ran down the street, he was so excited.
But a big, hairy man stumbled out of one of the saloons and almost knocked Harry down. “Hey, watch it! You dumb or somethin’?”
Harry backed up and checked the bucket.
“Hey! I was talkin’ to you. Get outta my way.”
“I’m sorry. I’m not in your way.” He shook his head. Harry couldn’t understand why the man was mad.
“Idiots like you are always in the way.” The man shoved Harry and made him fall down on his backside. “Get outta town, you big oaf. Nobody wants you here.” The man’s words slurred like Uncle John’s when he’d gone drinking.
Harry sat on the ground, hugging his bucket and bag. He wasn’t an idiot. Why did people call him one?
He peeked under the towel and found all the ravioli were still okay. Looking at the ground around him, he sighed. He hadn’t spilled any. Knowing how hard Mrs. Rolleri worked to make all the ravioli by hand, he didn’t want to see anything happen to them.
A wagon pulled up beside him and stopped.
Harry crawled away and cowered until he looked up. Relief flooded through him. “Mr. Stickle!”
“You all right, Harry?” The man frowned.
“Uh-huh.” He hopped up.
Mr. Stickle looked behind him. “Harry”—he blew out a big breath—“some people are mean just to be mean. I’m sorry for what that man did to you.”
Not all people were mean. And Mr. Stickle’s kindness made Harry feel good. He smiled up at the man.
“I need to make a few deliveries. Which way you headed?”
“That way.” Harry pointed with his elbow.
Mr. Stickle chuckled. “Can I offer you a ride . . . that way?”
“Thank you, yes! It’s a long way to walk, and Mrs. Rolleri gave me ravioli.” He held up the bucket for inspection.
“I see that.” Mr. Stickle took the bucket while Harry climbed into the wagon.
“You’re a nice man, Mr. Stickle.”
“You are too, Harry. The world needs more people like you.”
The nice comment made Harry want to sit taller and puff out his chest. As he took the bucket back and cradled it in his arms, he wondered if Ma was watching from heaven.
“No, not quite. That note is a D, not a C. Can you find all the rest of the Cs?” Lillian smiled at her little charge, his face focused and determined.
After a moment of thinking, he nodded and played the correct note, looking to her for approval.
She clapped. “Yes, good job! C is always on the left of two black keys. The pattern is always the same. Now play the rest.”
As the rest of the notes resonated from the beautiful grand piano, Lillian patted his back and smiled some more. “You’ve got it. Now let’s find all the Ds. Where would all the Ds be?”
Jimmy stuck out his tongue and squinted. Pointing to the correct key, he looked up again for approval.
“Very good. Now play the rest of them.” She glanced out the window and found the sky a brilliant blue. After they finished up at the piano, it would be a good time for a spell spent outside in the fresh air.
When Jimmy had successfully played all the notes in a row, Lillian was satisfied they were making grand progress. “All right, young m
an, you are doing brilliantly.” She hugged him. “Now, I think it’s time to go outside. What do you think?”
He hopped off the bench and nodded.
“You go see Mrs. Goodman for a snack and then meet me on the porch in a few minutes, all right?”
He turned on his heels and ran to the kitchen.
Lillian hurried to her room and grabbed her bonnet and her book Guide to the Study of Insects by A. S. Packard, Jr. She hoped her enthusiasm for learning about bugs as a child would be equaled in her young charge.
As soon as she sat on the front steps, she opened the book to the page that showcased Plate 8. The sketches of moths and larvae in all different stages sent a little thrill of excitement through her. She had loved bugs growing up. Grandmother encouraged her learning and curiosity until Lillian left a jar of her collection open in the parlor one day. After a disastrous afternoon tea with the Ladies’ Auxiliary, Grandmother stopped the actual bug gathering and shifted the focus to books about bugs.
Lillian giggled with the memory. Always a spirited child, she pondered how much work it must have been for her dear grandparents. The thought sent a pang through her chest. If only Grandfather would respond to her letters.
Jimmy sidled close to her and pointed to the page.
Her attention quickly back on task, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Do you like bugs?”
He nodded and pointed to the words at the bottom of the page.
“It says, ‘Transformations of Moths.’” She placed a finger under each letter. “T. R. A. N. S . . .” and then sounded it out for him. “See the m? You have two of them in Jimmy.” She took the slate and wrote his name.
He nodded again and leaned into her a little more.
Oh, the things this child could do to her heart. How incredible to be loved and trusted so unconditionally. She explained what she knew about each picture, and he traced the drawings with his fingers.
A movement down the lane caught her attention, and Lillian squinted into the distance. “Why, look, it’s Harry.”
Jimmy needed no further encouragement. He got up and ran to meet his friend. Lillian set the book aside and stood to wave. She walked down to join them near a bed of various rose bushes. Just the day before she and Jimmy had weeded this particular bed, and she’d very much enjoyed the sweet scent of the blossoms.
“Harry, it’s so good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too.” He smiled and looked down at the flowers. “You took out the weeds.”
Lillian was surprised by his knowledge. “Jimmy and I did it yesterday. Do you like roses?”
He nodded. “I do. My ma planted them.”
“She planted roses?” Lillian smiled as Harry nodded. “I’ll bet they were beautiful.”
Harry nodded again and then held out a bucket. “I brought a surprise.” His eyes twinkled with merriment.
But Lillian found herself hesitant to look. Surely, big, sweet Harry wouldn’t put a snake or anything else slithering in a bucket to give her, right?
“It’s okay. It’s a good surprise.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” Lillian accepted the gift and lifted the towel. “Ravioli—my goodness—how . . . where . . . ?”
Harry clapped his hands together. “Mrs. Rolleri is famous for her ravioli, and she made them herself just a little bit ago.” He reached into his bag. “And here’s a note on how to fix ’em and her special sauce, too.”
Words seemed stuck in her throat as emotion welled up. “But how did you . . . ? Did you walk all this way?”
He looked down at the ground and put his hands behind his back. Toeing the dirt with his boot, he peered up through his hair in the front and then looked back down. “Oh, it was nothin’, Miss Lillian. I got up real early and walked to town and then Mr. Stickle gave me a ride in his wagon for most of the way out here.”
“Come on with us up to the house, Harry. You must be ready for a rest. What time did you leave this morning?”
“A couple hours afore the sun came up.”
And here it was almost noon. Lillian blinked back the tears. What an amazing young man. But she didn’t want to embarrass him, so she acted like everything was normal.
“I have a favor to ask.” Harry stopped and dug around in his bag.
“Of course, what can I do?”
“Could you read me this note?” His hand shook as he held out a crumpled piece of paper.
Lillian smiled up at him. “Sure.” She took the paper. “It reads: ‘Harry, you are a good man. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise. George Stickle.’” She wanted to cry. Someone else had seen the beauty inside this young man. If George Stickle was in front of her right now, she’d give him a kiss on the cheek.
Harry beamed and held out his hand for the note. He closed his eyes and tried to repeat the note. “Harry, you are a good man. Don’t ever let no one tell you otherwise.”
“Anyone,” she inserted.
“Anyone,” he repeated. “Thank you. Ya think you could teach me how ta read, Miss Lillian? My ma used to help me make letters and numbers.”
“I’d love to! And maybe you could teach us about flowers.” She looked down at Jimmy. “We could work on some lessons together, couldn’t we?”
Jimmy’s little head bobbed as he smiled up at Harry and reached for his hand.
“It’s time for our noon meal. Why don’t we eat some of this yummy ravioli Harry brought us?” She took hold of Jimmy’s other hand. “Wasn’t that a wonderful surprise?” Lillian felt like she could float to the house.
“Wait, wait, wait, Miss Lillian.” Harry stopped and dug in his bag again. “I almost forgot. I’ve got more surprises.” He pulled out a brown package and handed it to Jimmy. “You’ll have to open it together, since Mr. Stickle wrapped it together. I wanted to bring presents to my nice new friends.”
If her heart could have melted any more for him, it would have in that instant. “Harry, your friendship is present enough.”
He beamed. “I like being your friend.”
“We like being yours.” They reached the steps of the porch and she set the bucket down.
Jimmy stared up at her.
“Go ahead. You untie it.” She placed her hands under the brown paper just to make sure nothing fell out.
Jimmy gasped and ran over to hug his older friend, a sugar stick in one hand and the whistle in the other.
Lillian couldn’t help the tears this time and allowed them to slip down her cheeks. He’d bought her ribbons. Green ribbons. She walked over and joined the hug.
“What’ve we got here?” Mrs. Goodman’s voice came from the porch. “Can I get in on that hug?”
The two boys walked up the steps and hugged the older woman.
“Mrs. Goodman, I’d like to introduce you to Harry. Harry, this is Mrs. Goodman.”
The housekeeper received another hug and then patted her hair. “Well, land sakes, dearie. I figured this was our Harry I’ve heard so much about. Welcome.” She smiled at their guest.
Jimmy picked up the large bucket and tried to hold it aloft for Mrs. Goodman’s inspection.
“What’s this?” She peeked under the towel. “Do I smell Olivia’s famous ravioli?”
Harry nodded. “Yes, yes, yes. All for us.”
She inhaled deep and closed her eyes. “She makes the best, and that will definitely beat the sandwiches I was going to make. Let’s get to it, then. I’m practically starved.”
Lillian stood back and watched the trio walk inside, her heart bursting at the seams. She started in after them, then remembered her book. She turned to pick up the volume, but then a tingling chill raced up her spine. For a moment she froze. She clutched the book close and drew a deep breath. Was someone watching her? She glanced around the front yard and beyond to some of the outbuildings. Perhaps it was just Woody passing by, but surely he would have called out in greeting.
Laughter erupted from inside the house, and she shook her head. Must be
her wild imagination. But movement beyond the large oak tree at the end of the lane made her look back a second time. Someone was there.
And they’d been watching.
Darwin watched the farmhouse from behind a large oak, certain that no one would spot him. When the pretty lady came out on the porch, he’d moved a little closer to get a better look. Had that Mr. Colton taken another wife?
He froze in place. The woman looked straight at him. Could she see him? Darwin didn’t so much as breathe. He supposed if she called out to him, he could make a run for it. But he sure didn’t want to create a scene and stir up trouble for himself. It was bad enough that he’d seen someone going into the house who looked an awful lot like Harry. But that was silly. Harry knew better than to come back here. He’d warned him enough times, and Harry was generally obedient.
The woman went back into the house, and Darwin let out the breath he’d been holding. He needed to figure out how he could go snooping around the place without getting caught. He’d been watching to see what kind of routine they kept, but it seemed no one, save Mr. Colton, did things on a regular basis. They didn’t even go to church on Sunday, which was pretty unusual. Of course, Darwin had heard rumors about Colton being blamed for his wife’s death. That thought made him smile. It was nice to see somebody else get blamed for bad things besides himself.
He moved off in the brush and trees and skirted around the property until he had a clear sightline to some of the outbuildings. From his perch he could see there were four or five men working to load and unload barrels and crates. From time to time he’d catch sight of Colton himself.
“It oughta be me running that place, not you,” he muttered.
He thought of what Harry had said about relocating the gold. Stupid kid thought he was doing the right thing, but Darwin felt certain no one would have found the gold he’d hidden. Of course, Harry had found it, but he’d no doubt been watching Darwin bury it.
Darwin squatted down and picked a long blade of grass. In time Harry would remember, but time was something Darwin didn’t have a lot of. If he couldn’t get Harry to tell him soon, it was going to be too late, and Darwin wasn’t about to let all of that gold slip through his fingers. Even if it cost that pretty lady her life—he would get his gold.
0764214101 Page 12