by Jo Schaffer
“A place you should be familiar with; a boxcar,” Lincoln said. “As to where we’re going, I have no damn idea. My guess is wherever that train station was designed to take folks.”
A cold chill ran up Stanley’s spine. The Winnowing. He looked at his left arm and saw the black, numbered tattoo on his swollen, red skin.
He racked his brain, trying to remember the numbers in Evelyn’s diary. Stanley realized the first numbers meant he was not going to be exterminated. At least, not yet.
The smell of sweat and urine permeated the boxcar, and Stanley coughed.
“Keep quiet, you filth,” a voice said from the other end of the car. The young boys across from him cowered and whimpered in fear.
A man emerged from the dark, wearing a black mask with only eye holes. He carried a wooden stick, lifted up.
“What are you gonna do with that?” Stanley said.
“Shut up, man,” Lincoln said in a low hiss.
“I’m going to knight you, Lord Stanley.”
The stick came down on his arm faster and harder than Stanley expected. Pain shot through his arm, but he gritted his teeth. He would not give this bastard the satisfaction of crying out.
“Enough, Legion. This dog requires stronger medicine.”
That voice. The one he heard in the church before he blacked out. And the one that haunted his dreams.
“Charles Chouteau.”
“Very good, Fields. I’ve enjoyed watching all the hero attention you’ve been getting. It’s very amusing,” Charles said as he emerged from the dark. A long, ragged scar marred his otherwise flawless face. Stanley couldn’t help but smile. Artie did him a good one.
“But too bad you didn’t know when to quit. And what a shame little Artie is not here with you. He’s a slippery, little fellow.”
Stanley wished Arthur was there too. The kid would go savage on this goon, chains or no chains.
Charles walked over to the boxcar door and opened it. The dark landscape rushed by as the wind blew into the compartment.
“Ah, what a beautiful night for a hanging, wouldn’t you say, Fields?”
Stanley tried to stand, but Lincoln jerked him back down. “Don’t man, not now. He just wants an excuse to do something,” he whispered.
Lincoln was right. But it made Stanley crazy to play by this loony’s rules. “If you’re gonna kill me, Charles, do it, and spare me the evil villain speeches.”
Charles laughed. “No, Fields, you’ve not earned your death yet. But your Dad did. Your smelly, Italian friend did. And poor, little mommy.”
Stanley growled, “You … piece of garbage …” He squeezed his fists together, remembering how Peggy had fallen to the ground.
“Oh, pardon me, I’m forgetting someone,” Charles went on, ignoring Stanley’s outburst.
He walked into the dark at the other end of the car and brought back a hooded figure. The other captives in the boxcar scrambled back against the walls. Stanley’s heart thumped hard when he saw a rope like the one that hung Vinnie, encircling the figure’s neck like a leash.
“Speak, you Irish dog,” Charles said, jerking the rope.
The figure shook his head. Wind swirled in from the open door, and the sound of the tracks seemed to grow louder.
“Tsk. Tsk.” Charles took out something from his pocket and stuck it in the person’s arm. A sharp cry of pain echoed through Stanley’s brain.
“Seamus. No. No. No.” Stanley lurched forward, but Lincoln had gone dead weight, pinning him down.
“So you recognize the prisoner. Good. Makes things so much easier. Now, Fields, I want to know who is supporting this paper you’ve started and who is opposing us. And, for good measure, I want the diary of that piece of filth, baseball slut.”
“Don’t get them anything, lad. Not a damn thing,” Seamus said with a muffled voice.
“Typical hero response. But Stanley gets the final say,” Charles said, as he took the end of the rope and wound it around a steel bar near the open door of the boxcar.
“So, Lord Stanley, Pendragon of the Order of St. Louis, if you don’t give up everyone, you’ll kill off the rest of your family tonight. And Detective Seamus Fields will no longer protect and serve the good citizens of St. Louis again.”
Stanley stared at Seamus, the man who raised him. He could not give up the Order, Father Timothy, Brother Martin, or Mr. Malloy. But he couldn’t commit Seamus to a horrible death either.
As if reading his mind, Seamus said, “Lad, I’m prepared. I went to confession before mass.”
Charles hit Seamus on the head and pushed him to the edge of the boxcar. “Last chance, Fields.” He raised his voice over the sound of the speeding wheels on the track.
Stanley steeled himself and tried to empty himself of any emotion. He wondered if Charles was bluffing. But then he remembered the caves. Swallowing hard, he said, “Go to hell.”
Charles stared at him for a moment with a blank expression. And then said, “Well, according to Seamus, he confessed and was absolved. Let’s test to see if that will keep him from Hades, shall we?”
With that, he leapt into the air and kicked Seamus in the back. His uncle stumbled through the door and into the rushing air. He flew outside, and the rope pulled taunt. The body beat against the metal side of the boxcar with loud thumps as it continued to bounce in the wind.
Stanley let out a deep scream of rage and horror. The train whistle joined him as he screamed. “By all the saints in heaven and on earth, I’m going to end you!”
Charles whipped out a long, curved knife, went over to the rope, and cut it. The body gave one last bang and then the train left it behind, speeding mercilessly into the night.
“We will talk more, Fields, when you get to the island.”
Acknowledgements
Writing a second book in the world of Stanley and Hazel was like traveling to a familiar place and hanging out with old friends … except that people were dying and the world was catching on fire. I’m grateful for good kombucha and dark chocolate to get me through the long nights, dodging Legion and prowling the streets of 1934 St. Louis on my keyboard.
It was a challenge to finish this book amid my college courses, job and being a mom, but I had a lot of support and love to keep me going.
Huge thanks to Jonathan Weyer, who helped create it all and gave me half his brain to use. Thanks to my kids and my huge family for their support as I devoted so much time to telling this story. To Katie Jarvis, and Jessika Stephens for reading early drafts and making it all seem possible and to my famous uncle Mike Guido for making me feel like a big deal. Also to my uncle Paul O’Connor who reads my stuff with enthusiasm and gave me Irish cred for Seamus and Peggy.
Thank you to my parents who love me and my writing despite any shortcomings. Special thanks to my sister Ali Durham who helped make my first book launch a blast. To my niece, Eden Durham, who is my Hazel and Colin Weyer for being the OG Stanley.
Forever grateful for Jennifer Jenkins, Margie Jordan, Lois Brown, Tahsha Wilson, and James Lewis, who are the best writing group ever.
A shout out to Georgia McBride and the Month9Books crew for helping me bring my vision to life, and adopting Stanley and Hazel into a good home.
I’m indebted to the works of Frank Capra and Cole Porter, and to the silver screen legends I loved to watch as I grew up.
Especially you, Clark Gable.
Jo Schaffer
Jo Schaffer was born and raised in the California Bay Area in a big, creative family. She is a YA novelist, speaker, and taekwondo black belt.
She's a founding member of Teen Author Boot Camp, one of the nation’s largest conferences for teens where bestselling authors present writing workshops to nearly a thousand attendees.
Jo has worked in film and is a writer for BYUtv. She loves being involved in anything creative, and that promotes literacy. She is passionate about community, travel, books, music, healthy eating, classi
c film and martial arts. But her favorite thing is being mom to three strapping sons and a neurotic cat named Hero. They live together in the beautiful mountains of Utah.
www.joschaffer.com
OTHER MONTH9BOOKS TITLES YOU MIGHT LIKE
STANLEY & HAZEL
DARK TOMORROW: RISE OF THE CROW
YELLOW LOCUST
Find more books like this at http://www.Month9Books.com
Connect with Month9Books online:
Facebook: www.Facebook.com/Month9Books
Instagram: https://instagram.com/month9books
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Month9Books
Tumblr: http://month9books.tumblr.com/
YouTube: www.youtube.com/user/Month9Books
Georgia McBride Media Group: www.georgiamcbride.com