They hurried to the workbench, where Joey tugged on a string to light a bare bulb dangling over the work area. Ernie placed their treasure on the coarse tabletop. Like two expert archaeologists, they studied their discovery with intense concentration. Though they could hear the rumble of adult voices overhead, they were too involved with the chest to care. The baby’s face was carved in intricate detail, and under the light his mischievous expression came alive. Ernie tried to open the lid, but it was locked. He ran his fingers over the curves of the baby’s face, searching for a hidden lock. He peered into its mouth.
“Wax,” he said at last.
“What?” whispered Joey.
Ernie opened the bench drawer and rummaged around until he found a pack of matches. He ripped out a match and lit it. Joey helped him tilt the chest upside down while he held the flame to the baby’s lips. Wax dribbled down its chin.
“Quilt Baby’s lips were sealed,” he whispered, then blew out the match. He wriggled a small screwdriver inside the baby’s mouth until he heard a clicking sound. When he opened the lid, a few dandelion puffs floated into the air. Euphoric, they carefully examined the items inside the immaculate interior: a rattle, a baby bottle, an acorn cap, a mobile of hand-carved farm animals, a small belt made from bark with tiny pouches, a braid of wheat looped like a lasso, and a Snow White lamp.
Joey rattled around in the drawer for batteries. She popped two double AAs into the back of the lamp and the bulb lit beneath her skirt. “Good as new,” Joey whispered excitedly. She picked up the mobile and spun it while Ernie emptied the belt’s pouches. There was nothing but dust inside. He pondered the rattle, even shaking it a couple of times. Suddenly he turned to Joey. “The picture!”
“What picture?”
Sticking the rattle in his pocket, he hustled toward the cellar stairs that led up into the house.
“Wait up!” said Joey in a hushed voice. She stuffed Snow White and all the baby things back into the chest, hid it beneath some burlap sacks, then hurried to catch up.
At the top of the stairs, Ernie cracked open the door and spied through a narrow slit. He had a clear view into the living room, where the sheriff, a pudgeball of a man with small eyes behind thick glasses and thinning hair on a round head, was doing his best to placate an agitated group of neighbors. A vivacious woman with long, brown hair and fiery brown eyes, in faded jeans and a red tank top, was laying into him with both barrels.
“That’s bunk, Tom—this whole town is elbow deep in Harvey Holsapple’s pocket, and you know it. Everyone in this room tonight has made complaints to you about any number of problems, but you haven’t done squat about it.”
Joey gave Ernie a jab in the ribs and proudly mouthed the words “That’s my mom.”
Sheriff Dashin was just as emphatic. “That isn’t true, Betty, and unless you got hard evidence, you can’t go around accusing that family of foul play.”
Betty’s reply was sharp and quick. “Oh, yes I can, and it won’t be the last time, either!”
At the cellar door, Ernie made his move. Joey grabbed his shirttail. “Wait!” she whispered, but he pulled out of her grip and slipped into the kitchen. Frustrated, she followed. They tiptoed down the hall until they had to stop at the entry to the living room. It was a large opening, and if they continued, the adults would see them. Ernie peeked into the room, waiting for an opportunity to cross and get to the crib room.
“What about Russ’ combine, Tom?” blurted Emil Goetz. He was on the sofa next to his wife, Elsie, and their strapping son, Neal.
Joey whispered in Ernie’s ear, “Before the drought, the Goetzes had the prettiest farm on the whole plateau—apple orchards in back, a string of cherry trees…”
“Shhh!” Ernie ordered.
The pudgy sheriff seemed to have an answer for everything. “A blown engine ain’t no crime in itself and you know it.”
“Like hell it’s not,” fired Betty. The room erupted with angry accusations.
Tugging Ernie’s shirt, Joey urged, “Now’s our chance, let’s go!” She shoved him forward, but just at that moment Russ spoke and the room fell silent. Retreating abruptly, Ernie bumped into Joey. Wincing, she rubbed her forehead as they crouched in their hiding spot.
“Listen, folks,” said Russ. “We’ve had rough years before and always found a way to make it. Let’s just stick together. We’ve done it before and we’ll do it again.”
“Fine and dandy,” said Emil gloomily. “But who’s gonna fill my wells? Who’s gonna make it rain? Russ Frazier?”
“C’mon, Emil—you’re not going to sell the land your folks worked and their folks before that, are you?”
“With this drought, I’ll be lucky to get ten percent of what I planted.” Emil tried to say it matter-of-factly, but his voice cracked.
Elsie took her husband’s hand. “It’s not just the drought, Russ. We’re sick of the strong-arming and the threats.”
Flushed with anger, old Doc Thorpe set down his coffee. “Jack Voisine’s not here tonight, but just last week I treated him for two cracked ribs and a broken thumb. He was afraid to file a complaint, but I’m not.”
In the hall, Joey pressed against Ernie, whispering, “That was Dicky Cobb and the twins, no doubt about it—the sheriff acts like a big shot, but he never does diddly.”
“Sorry, Doc, but Jack Voisine will have to speak for himself,” said the sheriff. “I’m open for business at eight sharp. If he wants to file charges, he knows where to find me.”
“No, Tom,” he said. “I suspect where he’d find you is up at that monstrosity they call a house, drinking Harvey’s coffee. Isn’t that where you start your day?”
The sheriff laughed, though his face reddened with embarrassment. “That’s a good one, Doc. Monstrosity—I’m gonna write that down.”
“Here’s the thing,” said Gramp Atwater. “Those dollars Holsapple’s offering are nothing to sneeze at.” He was on the love seat next to Eleanor, his wife of forty-five years.
“Oh, Dad, please,” pleaded Betty. “Not you, too.”
Joey was back in Ernie’s ear. “Those are my grandparents. They’re really old.”
Ernie shushed her again, keeping his attention on the room.
“What you don’t know, Betty,” Gramp continued, “is they were out to our place this morning.”
“Ours, too,” added Neal Goetz.
Ernie was running out of patience. Motioning for Joey to get low, he crawled past the opening. She followed, scurrying across the floor. When they got to the other side, Ernie spied back around the corner. Russ was staring straight at him and he looked none too pleased. Ernie expected he’d be cleaning the bathroom and maybe the kitchen, too. He thought Russ was about to come over, but Joey’s grandfather started talking, and Russ stayed put.
“We just can’t keep up anymore,” Gramp said sadly. “Gram and me are thinking, what with the debt growing every year and now this drought…it might be time to get out of farming altogether.”
“There’s a way out of this, John, and we’re going to find it,” assured Russ. “We can’t let ourselves be intimidated by the likes of the Holsapples. We’re not quitters.”
Ernie figured there was no time to waste. He hustled to the door at the end of the hall, with Joey on his heels.
In the living room, Russ tried to make eye contact with Gramp Atwater, but the old man refused to meet his gaze. He turned to Betty. “We’ll fight back, we’ll help each other.”
She nodded her agreement, but the others just stared at the floor.
The crib room was dark. Joey wanted to turn on the overhead light, but Ernie insisted on using the matches so they wouldn’t attract attention. They went directly to the old photograph hanging on the wall. Ernie struck a match, then compared the rattle from the cedar chest to the one baby Shawn held in the picture. The decorative pattern was identical—farm animals in alternating colors of pink and blue. Ernie gave the rattle a shake as if to punctuate their discovery.
/> “One and the same,” he whispered as the match burned out.
They hadn’t noticed that the voices in the living room had shifted to the kitchen. A sudden knock and the overhead light came on. They spun around to face Russ standing just inside the room.
“What’s going on in here?” he asked. Ernie’s shirt was ripped and missing most of its buttons. He was wearing only one sock, and there was dried blood on his chin. Joey’s knees were scraped and the smell of sulfur from a burned match was in the air. “Are you guys okay?”
Joey couldn’t contain her excitement. “Oh, Russ, you won’t believe what we found…”
“… yeah, some bear tracks,” interrupted Ernie. “Up in that field across the ridge.” He nervously fingered the rattle concealed behind his back.
Catching on, Joey stammered, “Oh, oh yeah, up there behind Emil’s bee keep. Can you believe it, Russ—bears, right here in Illinois.”
Russ raised an eyebrow but went along good-naturedly with a look to Ernie. “And I’m guessing you got to wrestling with that same bear and looks like you got the worst of it.”
Ernie was starting to regret the bear story when Betty entered looking stressed. The sight of her daughter standing next to a wild-looking boy in a dusty Cubs cap and ripped shirt didn’t brighten her outlook. “I hope you have a good reason for getting back after dark, Jo Virginia—I’m already on the boiling point, and when my spout blows, I’m not going to be whistlin’,” she warned.
Joey improvised, “Well, Mom, you see, we were playin’ a big old game of hide-and-seek and Ernie was having some trouble finding me, and it got late, but I didn’t want to leave him, seeing as he’s new around here, so I finally just came in.”
Betty laughed. “I’m sure you don’t expect me to believe that.”
“It’s all true, mostly, hey, Mom—meet the Cubber, just in from Chicago.”
Betty extended her hand while keeping a skeptical eye on her daughter. “Hi, Cubber. I’m Betty Woodruff.”
Ernie slipped the rattle into his back pocket before shaking Betty’s hand. “Ernie Banks,” he said.
“It must be nice for you to get away—from the city, I mean.”
Ernie shrugged.
“We sure hope you enjoy your stay,” she said with a smile.
“He can do magic, Mom,” proclaimed Joey, then tugged Ernie’s arm. “Make something disappear.”
Ernie looked pained under the glare of the adult spotlight. Betty squeezed her daughter in a hug and kissed her forehead. “Think you could make this one disappear?” she asked playfully.
“Mom!” complained Joey.
Betty frowned. “How on earth did your clothes get wet?”
“It’s called water, Mom. You know, like what comes out of the hose.”
Betty shook her head. “And you shouldn’t be wasting it.”
“No baths tonight,” joked Russ as he herded everyone out of the room. “C’mon, I want Ernie to meet everybody, and we better get you guys some supper before it’s all gone. Oh, one more thing—I’ll take those matches now.”
Ernie sheepishly handed them over. As they walked toward the kitchen, he gave Joey a look, warning her to keep silent.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Secret
AFTER SUPPER, Ernie and Joey wandered out to the corral and sat on the top rail of the fence. Beneath a moon that hung so low in the sky Ernie felt he could touch it, they discussed their discovery. Why was everything so tiny in the kidnapper’s hideout! What made that puddle float in the air? Where was Shawn Frazier now?
They fell silent when Russ and Betty came outside to bid the neighbors good night. Joey and Ernie listened to the friendly exchanges as everyone got into their cars and pickups, then watched the parade of vehicles motor up the dusty drive. Russ and Betty lingered by the porch, looking at the stars. Her Jeep was the only vehicle left in the yard.
After a few moments, Ernie turned to Joey. “I like your mom.”
“Yeah. So does Russ. He says she’s the only mom in the whole county who can fix her Jeep and paint a picture and do it on the same day. She paints barns, mostly. Not real barns, just pictures of barns and some other stuff, too. Russ says they belong in a gallery somewhere, but most of them end up in people’s houses. Oh, and our mailbox, too. It looks just like that,” she said, pointing to the stars.
Ernie nodded as he considered his next question. “So what happened to your real dad?”
She answered matter-of-factly. “My daddy got run over by his tractor on a mud slide up along East Creek when I was a little kid.”
“Oh.” Ernie wondered if a father dying was worse than never having one at all. “You think your mom and Russ’ll ever get married?”
She shrugged. “She sure talks about him enough.”
Ernie tried to stop himself from asking the next question, but it just spilled out. “Would you like it if you got a new dad?”
“Yeah,” answered Joey.
“You’ll probably get the crib room,” he speculated.
“I doubt it. My mom says if it don’t rain soon, Russ is gonna lose this farm.”
“He can’t lose his own farm,” protested Ernie.
“Shows you know nothin’ about economics—the bank can take it when he don’t make a cent on one acre out of twenty-five.”
Ernie wasn’t exactly sure what she was talking about, but he gave her the benefit of the doubt, considering she was a farmer and all. He decided to change the subject. “How long has Russ been bringing orphan kids out here?”
“Ever since I can remember. My mom says it makes him feel like he’s doing something for little Shawnie.”
“What’s that bat and glove doing in the basement?”
“It’s Russ’,” she replied. “He used to play ball with the Tigers.”
Ernie’s jaw dropped. “No way! The Detroit Tigers?”
“Yup,” she said casually. “Didn’t you see all those trophies? Russ didn’t get ’em riding the pine—he was a star, until he blew out his knee sliding into home plate.”
“Wow,” he said, shaking his head in awe. “Is that why he limps?”
“Obviously.”
Their conversation was interrupted when Betty called from the porch, “Joey, time to be getting home.”
“Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll have Sassy fed and watered before you get there.”
“Don’t give her too many oats—that pony’s wild enough already.”
“I know, just one can,” she answered, then turned to Ernie with a shy expression. “Now it’s time for their big smooch.” They watched as Russ and Betty disappeared arm in arm into the kitchen. Joey whistled for Sassy. Her pony trotted over and nuzzled against her.
“You afraid of blood?” asked Ernie.
“Not hardly,” she responded.
“Good,” Ernie said as he pilfered a sliver from the fence. He didn’t like the sight of blood any more than the next person, but this was something that had to be done. He pricked his thumb and blood oozed from the wound.
“You crazy?” she blurted. “What’d you do that for?”
Ernie looked Joey in the eye. “You and me know something nobody else knows in the whole world, and now we got to trust each other, like family.”
“Oh, jeez—why’s everything got to be such a big secret with you?”
“’Cause grown-ups mess things up and that’s no maybe—it’s a fact,” he asserted.
“But it’s Russ’ kid we’re talkin’ about here, not some stranger,” she reminded.
“We’ll tell him when the time is right and not before.”
Joey gave him a long look. “So what you’re asking is for me to be your blood brother?”
“Yeah, basically, for the sake of Shawn Frazier.”
She sighed deeply, then held out her thumb. He pricked it with the sharp sliver.
“Ouch!” she cried.
All business, Ernie took her thumb and pressed it against his, then looked her in the eyes with a solem
n gravity. “You promise to never abandon a brother in time of trouble or war?”
“Yes.”
“To never tell what can’t be told?”
“I guess,” mumbled Joey.
“Yes or no,” snapped Ernie.
“Yup.”
“You promise all the way to Kingdom Come and back?”
“Where’s that?”
Just promise!
“Yes!”
Ernie pressed his thumb tight against hers and rotated a quarter turn. “We’re brothers now.”
“Brother and sister, but don’t get soppy,” she said as she put a foot in the stirrup and swung up into the saddle. Sassy snorted and pranced impatiently, ready to go home. “What about tomorrow?” she asked.
Ernie dangled Holsapple’s keys.
Joey’s eyes grew wide. “No way, nohow, never.”
Ernie smoothly palmed the keys, banged his fists together, then magically made them disappear.
“Yes,” he insisted. “The kidnappers’ hideout was up on Holsapple property, and it’s up to us to find out if there’s any connection. The answer could be somewhere inside that house.”
Joey considered his logic with a wry smile. “You’re dangerous, Cub. You could really get a girl in trouble.” She reined Sassy to the side and gave her a quick kick with her heels. “Giddy-up!”
Ernie watched the pony and rider depart in a cloud of dust, then wandered back across the yard, mulling all the questions surging through his mind. He padded across the porch to peer through the screen door. Inside, Russ and Betty were doing the dishes, but he could tell it was more than that. They were laughing and whispering. Embarrassed, he slipped inside and, averting his eyes, walked through the kitchen. Betty looked up, suds on her cheek, and smiled. “Hey, Ernie.”
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