Cherry Ames Boxed Set 13-16

by Helen Wells

  There was a pause in their conversation. In the face of last night’s ugly development, neither of them knew what to say.

  “Well, Cherry,” Hal said, “keep your eyes open on your visits for a sample—just in case Snell tricks us this afternoon.”

  “I will. See you late this afternoon. I wish us luck.” Cherry hung up, conscious of her aunt trying not to overhear, but worried all the same.

  Cherry paid quick visits to six trustworthy former patients. Every one of them, acting on her and Dr. Hal’s earlier instructions, had thrown away Nature’s Herb Cure. No sample there for Mr. Short to collect. Nor had these persons seen the old pedlar. They thought he must have changed his route.

  At noon Dr. Hal notified Cherry at her office that he had driven across the river to Missouri that morning, and talked with the Swaybills’ cousins. Neither they nor their neighbors had kept any of the fake remedy. They had not seen the old pedlar, either. No other pedlar sold the stuff.

  Cherry heard something interesting from one of the other doctors in the county when she called him to report on one of his patients. Dr. Boudineau, who travelled all over the county, said he had not observed ginseng growing anywhere except on the abandoned farm. And he told her that the pedlar had been seen in Red Oaks two or three days ago. It was a small town in an area where, so far, Cherry had no patients. Old Snell had tried to persuade a druggist there to stock and sell Nature’s Herb Cure, and had offered profitable terms. The druggist would have nothing to do with the plan.

  So the pedlar was trying to expand the racket in several new places! He was changing locations in order to evade her and Hal’s public warnings!

  Unfortunately, her afternoon’s schedule took her not to individual patients who might have a sample of the stuff, but to one of the county’s rural high schools, in a far corner of the county. Dr. Rand, one of the county’s physicians, had asked her to assist in giving inoculations against typhoid.

  Cherry assisted with the immunization clinic at the rural high school. Her work took up most of the early afternoon. Afterward, she spent a few more precious minutes talking to the teenage boys and girls.

  Many of them belonged to the 4-H Club, sponsored by the United States Department of Agriculture, and told Cherry they hoped to win awards at the fair. The boys were raising fine bulls, hogs, colts, and were growing prize corn and vegetables, here in the richest soil in the nation. The girls grew flowers of all kinds, did fine baking, breadmaking, canning, and preserving, and sewed everything from clothing to curtains and quilts.

  The girls asked Cherry whether she would head a 4-H Club project for them in health, nursing, and first aid. A good many of the boys wanted to take part in that, too. Cherry was happy to say yes. She left it to them to decide, and notify her, when and where they would hold their meetings. It was all she could do to break away from these friendly boys and girls.

  Cherry left the school building and started back toward Sauk. On the way she stopped at a highway telephone booth and called Jane Fraser. Both Hal and Mr. Short wanted to learn from Jane where Floyd was today.

  “Between this party line and that talkative parrot, I’ll have to choose my words carefully,” Cherry thought. She listened to the operator ringing the Barkers’ number and hoped Floyd would not answer.

  Jane’s voice came on. In a kind of double talk, Cherry conveyed her question. All Jane was able to reply guardedly was: “I don’t know for certain. I think our friend went rabbit hunting.”

  Rabbit hunting in the woods? Near Snell’s shack? Cherry said, “I’ll be in touch with you soon again. Right now I have an appointment with a patient.” She wished she could tell Jane that the “patient” was herself.

  CHAPTER XII

  The Old Pedlar Reappears

  PHOEBE GRISBEE WAS AS GOOD AS HER WORD. SHE HAD ready several coats and scarfs for Cherry to choose from, and a box of pale face powder to tone down her rosy cheeks. Working together, they managed to make Cherry resemble a wan country cousin. Cherry hid her dark hair under a scarf and added a pair of dark glasses. Even so, she wasn’t sure the pedlar would not recognize her as the county nurse.

  “Talk in a high-pitched voice,” Phoebe Grisbee advised. “Drawl, like the Missourians do.”

  Cherry tried it and thought she wouldn’t fool a soul. She’d better say very little. She still didn’t look sick; she made herself slump and droop.

  “You look almost as miserable as Henry feels.” Phoebe Grisbee chuckled. “A joke on us, pretending you’re the patient. Hope I drive all right, excited as I am.”

  They went out to the Grisbee’s garage. Getting into the car, Cherry discovered that Dr. Hal, Mr. Short, and Mr. Steeley, the sheriff, were already on the floor in the back of the car. They must have slipped in under cover of gathering dusk. Hal grinned at her; he was so tall, he had to crouch. Sheriff Steeley carried a revolver in a holster. Cherry saw the bump it made under his jacket.

  “All right,” said the sheriff, “let’s be on our way. We have the warrant of arrest. Ladies, stay in the car while you talk to the pedlar. Don’t go into the shack. If there’s a fight, get down on the car seat or floor. Is that understood, ladies?”

  They said yes. Paul Short had instructed Cherry yesterday what she must say to the pedlar.

  Mrs. Grisbee backed the car out of the garage and drove out of Sauk along a back street. Sweat stood out on her round face by the time she drove within sight of the woods. No one in the car spoke. The palms of Cherry’s hands grew clammy. She watched but saw no other cars.

  They entered the woods. Mrs. Grisbee evidently had come to the pedlar’s shack before, for she knew the trail to follow. They passed Snell’s ramshackle car, parked in a clearing. When the shack hove into view, Cherry saw that this time it had a light in it.

  “Park as close to the shack as you can,” Mr. Steeley muttered from the back of the car. “Leave your headlights off.”

  Cherry was glad of that, and of the half-dark of the forest; the hazy dimness aided her disguise. Mrs. Grisbee parked the car and called out:

  “Oh, Snell! Sne-ell! It’s Mrs. Grisbee.”

  They waited. Was the pedlar suspicious of the girl with her? Cherry heard Phoebe’s heavy breathing. The door of the shack creaked. Old Snell came toward them.

  For the first time Cherry had a close look at him. He was like a figure out of an old folk tale, or out of a disturbing dream—odd, uncouth, like no one she had ever seen before. It was no wonder some people credited him with almost magical powers. Except, Cherry thought, that his strangeness was part of a carefully calculated act.

  “Hi, Mis’ Grisbee,” he said in a cracked voice. “How’s yer husband today? Feelin’ better after that herb cure I gave ye?”

  “Yes, thanks, Snell, he’s better,” Phoebe Grisbee lied. “Your medicine is good stuff.”

  “I told ye ’t’was. I know a thing or two about herbs and nat’ral cures. Who’s that ye got with ye?”

  “My cousin, Hettie Grisbee. She’s from Missouri—Leaderville—on the other side of the river. She came over today to visit me.”

  Cherry nodded to the pedlar, not trusting herself to speak yet. He said “Howdy” and stared at her.

  “I guess our Iowa air don’t agree with Hettie,” Mrs. Grisbee said. “She’s feeling poorly today.”

  The old pedlar walked closer to the car, so close to Cherry that she could have reached out and touched his faded garments.

  “Got a headache?” he croaked at Cherry. “Stomach bother ye?”

  She nodded and said in a high, thin voice, “I feel hot and cold all over and dizzy.”

  “Hah! Then I know what’s the matter with ye and what’ll cure ye. If ye don’t object to some old-time doctorin’?” he asked sharply.

  “We-ell—” Cherry pretended to hesitate, as the Food and Drug man had coached her. “Cousin Phoebe thinks you can help me.”

  “Yes, that’s right!” Mrs. Grisbee picked up the cue. Her voice was too loud. It rang out in these lonely woo
ds. “I told Hettie I was coming over here to get more of that Nature’s Herb Cure for myself, and maybe it’d help her, too. I thought maybe we’d each buy a jar from you.”

  “I—I don’t like to dose myself with a lot of medicines,” Cherry said for the pedlar’s benefit. She tried to drawl, like a Missourian. “When I go back home to Leaderville tonight, I’ll just sleep off this sick feeling.”

  The pedlar was not one to miss out on a sale. “Now looky here, Miss Hettie,” he said. “Why’n’t you listen to Mis’ Grisbee and me? I ain’t a quack. Why go on sufferin’ all the way back to Leaderville and all night—when my Nature’s Herb Cure’ll fix you up in a jiffy?”

  “It’s good, Hettie.” Mrs. Grisbee pretended to urge her. “I can testify to that.”

  “Sure it’s good,” Old Snell said. “There ain’t hardly an ache or fever or sickness that this here medicine won’t help. That’s because,” he explained, “only the purest, strongest, nat’ral herbs are in the makin’s. I don’t claim it’ll cure ye if ye’re half dead already with lung trouble or somethin’ dire. No, ma’am, I wouldn’t be honest with ye if I claimed that. But go ask Mis’ Grisbee’s neighbors, and they’ll tell you by the dozens that it got them over a lot of sickness. Without foolin’ around with a doctor and all his newfangled ideas and a big fat bill, neither. These here herbs cured my parents and my grandparents before them, and what they taught me’ll cure you, too, Miss Hettie.”

  The pedlar spoke with such conviction that Cherry wondered whether he half believed in his spiel. At least she had obtained the seller’s statement of false claims, which the Food and Drug inspector needed.

  Mrs. Grisbee said loudly, “Snell makes it himself. Don’t you, Snell?”

  He said “Mmm” vaguely. Cherry knew that the Food and Drug inspector, listening from the floor of the car, could not count that as a statement. She leaned back as if a wave of nausea came over her.

  “Look at the poor girl!” Mrs. Grisbee exclaimed. The pedlar did look. Cherry held her breath as he peered at her with the shrewd, heartless eyes of a fox. “Look at how sick she is!” Mrs. Grisbee said. “We’d better stop talking and buy some medicine.”

  “Come on into the shack if ye feel sick,” the pedlar invited her.

  And face the light in the shack! Cherry shook her head and drew the scarf closer around her face. The pedlar was watching her.

  “How much is the medicine?” Cherry asked, to distract him. “If it’s as good as you both say, maybe I’ll take two jars back to Leaderville with me.” She said this to establish the interstate commerce part of the sale.

  “Ye can do that. It’s five dollars a jar, nine-fifty for the two jars,” the pedlar said, “and a wild bargain considerin’ what a doctor’d charge. If ye want some more next week or so, Miss Hettie, I’ll fetch it to ye next time I drive across the river. Just let Mis’ Grisbee know ye’ll expect me. Uh—I’d appreciate it if ye’d keep mum about this, because the confounded health politicos around here are cuttin’ in on my work. Scared of their jobs, I guess. Can’t meet my competition. They ain’t fair to me,” Snell complained. “So the less ye talk, the better. After all, I’m helpin’ ye get well and savin’ ye money, so maybe ye can do me a favor and hold yer tongue.”

  Cherry muttered “Okay,” although his lies made her very angry. One worthless man like this made many persons sick, and put the responsible house-to-house salesmen with their excellent wares in a bad light.

  Snell went back to the shack to get the medicine. Cherry and Mrs. Grisbee watched him wrap three labelled jars in old newspapers. Snell appeared to be alone in the shack. A hunting rifle stood against the wall of his one room.

  Cherry heard a whisper from one of the three men hiding in the back of the car. She could not make out the words.

  The pedlar came back to the car. He handed Cherry two jars, Mrs. Grisbee one jar.

  “Here’s yer Nature’s Herb Cure, ladies, and I guarantee satisfaction. That’ll be fourteen dollars and fifty cents.”

  As instructed by the Food and Drug inspector, they opened their purses, paid Snell, and took the fake medicine. The sale was completed.

  At that instant the car’s back doors flew open and the three men sprang out. The sheriff grabbed and collared the surprised pedlar.

  “Sheriff, I ask you to arrest this man on this warrant,” said the Food and Drug inspector, holding up a legal paper, “for delivering an adulterated, dangerous drug for introduction into interstate commerce.”

  “Who’re ye? Let me go!” the pedlar howled. “I ain’t done nothing wrong!”

  He lashed out and broke free and started to run. Dr. Hal came on the run from the other side. He seized Snell and hung onto him.

  “Snell, this man is a Food and Drug inspector whom I’ve called in,” Dr. Hal said. “Today’s the last time you ever sell that foul medicine.”

  The pedlar cursed and kicked at the young doctor.

  The sheriff advanced with a pair of handcuffs. “All right, Snell, you might as well give in.” He tried to put the handcuffs on him.

  “It ain’t fair!” the pedlar yelled. “I been tricked!” He made a lunge toward Cherry at the open window of the car, but Hal quickly placed himself in the way. “I been framed! Why pick on me?”

  “You’ll get a fair trial,” the sheriff said. This time he slid the handcuffs on Snell and snapped them shut.

  Then, with the other handcuff on his own wrist, the sheriff pulled the pedlar into the car. Mrs. Grisbee gasped, “Oh, me! Poor Snell!” The pedlar heard and shouted accusations at her.

  “Don’t waste your pity on him,” Cherry said to Phoebe Grisbee.

  “Mr. Short! Dr. Miller!” the sheriff called. “What are you doing in the shack? Making an inspection?”

  “Yes, looking for evidence,” the Food and Drug inspector called back. “Just a minute—”

  Cherry took off the dark glasses, carefully placed the two jars of the medicine on the car seat, then went to take a look inside the shack. It held a little crude furniture and a shelf full of merchandise, chiefly jars of the remedy.

  “No sign that the concoction is brewed here,” Dr. Hal said to her.

  They left the shack untouched, padlocked the door, and returned to the car. The pedlar snarled at Cherry, “So ye’re the county nurse, Miss Hettie!” She did not answer him but got into the front seat with Hal and Mrs. Grisbee. Hal drove them back to Sauk.

  On the way, the sheriff and the Food and Drug inspector tried to get Old Snell to talk. The sheriff had known Snell for years. “It won’t hurt you, you know, if you’ll tell us about the others.”

  “What others?” the pedlar retorted. “Ye aim to find out anything, find it out by yourselfs.”

  They reached the Sauk jail in the county courthouse with their prisoner. Snell was turned over to a deputy sheriff, and locked up. The sheriff did not think they could take further action until tomorrow. He did not want to enter the abandoned farmhouse and risk a fight in the dark.

  “Mr. Short, if you’d care to stay overnight at my house, you and I and Dr. Miller could talk over our strategy for tomorrow.” The inspector agreed. “Ladies, thank you very much, both of you.”

  Mr. Short thanked them as well. Cherry handed over to him three samples. Hal pressed her hand and whispered, “You did a terrific job.”

  “Oh-h!” Mrs. Grisbee moaned. “Now that it’s all over, I feel nervous as a flea.”

  Cherry said she would see her safely home. She did, returning on foot to her aunt’s house.

  Aunt Cora jumped out of her chair when Cherry came in.

  “Cherry! Are you sick? You’re so pale. What are you doing in those old clothes?”

  Cherry giggled and collapsed into the nearest chair. “I’m perfectly healthy. Phoebe lent me her clothes to disguise myself.”

  The whole story came tumbling out. Cherry apologized to her aunt for not having been able to tell her sooner. She emphasized that it was still necessary to keep the situation a secret, since
Floyd and the two St. Louis men still remained to be apprehended.

  “Yes, by tomorrow Floyd will realize the peddler is missing—” Aunt Cora hesitated.

  “That’s it. Floyd may try to flee with all the evidence. The two St. Louis men may try to vanish, too. We’ll have to move fast. And boldly.”

  CHAPTER XIII

  Bad News

  THEY HAD BEEN WAITING FOR TWENTY MINUTES NOW IN the county health office—Hal pacing up and down, Cherry slumped down in a chair, both of them watching the clock’s hands creep toward eight.

  “He said yesterday he’d be here really early this morning,” Cherry fretted. “He knows Floyd and those two men may run off at any minute.”

  Hal answered, “Maybe he’s still with the sheriff, since he stayed at Mr. Steeley’s house last night.”

  The telephone rang. Hal answered it on the first ring. He listened, said, “Oh, I see…. We didn’t know that.”

  He motioned to Cherry to come and listen, too.

  Mr. Short said: “I’m just leaving Sheriff Steeley’s house to go talk to the newspaper editor.” Sauk, the county seat, supported a weekly newspaper. “I have to talk with him about printing a warning to the public against the fake remedy. Persuading the editor often is the toughest part of this job.”

  It would require courage on the editor’s part to attack a medicine that many people believed in. They would resent being told they were wrong, and the newspaper might or might not be able to convince them that the remedy was dangerous. Many were old friends of the pedlar and would take Snell’s side out of blind loyalty. In other FDA cases, editors had lost subscribers and had been sharply attacked. Mr. Short expected he would need a little time to explain the whole problem to the newspaperman. The Food and Drug inspector would rather go after Floyd first, but early this morning was the only time he could see the editor; he had tried in vain yesterday, and today the editor was leaving for the state capitol to stay several days.