The Curse of the Buttons (13 page)

Albirdie nodded.

“Meet me here,” Ike said. He drew an
X
where he’d passed the men on tall horses. “There’s a blanket on the straw next to Barfoot. Bring that, too. Whistle to let me know you’re there.”

Ike paused at the levee and let the activity swirl around him. Two boats were docked, the
Eagle
and the
Menominee.
The
Eagle
was full of kitchen stoves, which were being unloaded into wagons. It took a half dozen men to lift and transfer each one. Soldiers inspected the decks of the
Menominee
. It was the largest steamer Ike had ever seen. A grand lady stepped off it and swished past him in a wide crimson Southern gown. Crimson! On a Thursday afternoon!

Ike followed the riverbank, trying to remember the spot where he’d gone into the woods before he saw Mary. It was quite a ways, and he broke into a run. Just down the shore, a skiff like the one Milton and Morris had taken was pushing off, moving slowly away. A man in a wide-brimmed hat faced Ike as he rowed, whistling like an owl. Beyond, a steamer puffed into view, and the skiff grew smaller as the steamer grew larger. Ike fought off the familiar sting of disappointment at being in Keokuk.

He looked back toward the levee for Albirdie and Barfoot, but it was too soon for his slow horse to have brought them. He paused, recognizing the spot where he’d seen the men on horses. He’d thrown a stone. He stood at the edge of the brambles.
Two volumes . . . bound in black.
If he did find the boys, then what? Surely, panning for gold was easier than this.

Ike ducked into the brush, trying to re-create the path he’d taken before.

“Hello,” he called weakly, hoping for no reply. He paused. This was not the kind of adventure he’d wanted. He would go back to Albirdie and tell her he’d tried. It was no different from missing the
Jeannie Deans,
or from losing Milton and Morris. One quick walk through the woods and he could relieve himself of this duty. He could go back to Barfoot and his nest of straw and could sulk in peace.
I needed your help. Good at strategy.

Just a few more steps and then he’d turn around. He whistled softly as he walked, but stopped abruptly. A rustle? He stepped around a tree, expecting to see . . . to find . . . but it was just a man relieving himself.

“Scoundrel! Get on!” the man bellowed. “Can’t a man make water in peace?”

Ike’s nerves released and he laughed. Mary’s boys weren’t here. He had tried. He would go home now and do any chore Aunt Betsy asked. He’d polish the stove. Scour the floor. Write to his brothers. He’d even face Mrs. Hinman.

He kicked a stone and whooped and hollered and turned to take a shortcut, and came face-to-face with a boy, a colored boy, holding a fat stick, feet spread wide.

“Turn around,” the boy commanded quietly. “Put your hands up. You saw nothing.”

Ike turned, but not before glimpsing a smaller boy behind this one. He could run now, and no one would be the wiser. He thought about what Mary had said about her boys . . . something about sweets and silver.

These boys did not look sweet.

Ike raised his hands and took a step.

“Keep moving,” the boy threatened, his voice cold and hard.

Ike took another step. He wanted to deck him. Here Ike was trying to help, and this was the thanks he got? Maybe these weren’t even Mary’s boys.

Ike stood still. “David?” he said. “John?”

The stick jabbed into his back again.

“Ow! Stop that!”

“Don’t hurt him, Davey!” cried a small voice.

“There’s no David or John here,” said the older boy.

“I’m Johnny,” said the younger boy.

“Quiet!” said the older boy in a low voice. “Who was the man you were with?” He pressed the stick harder against Ike’s back, then released it.

“No one. It was just a fisherman or something.”

The boy prodded him again. “Why should I believe you?”

Ike paused, scrambling for something to say. “Have you read
The Irrepressible Conflict
?” The question sounded absurd when Ike said it out loud. They hadn’t read it at his school. But the coloreds had their own school. Maybe they read different books.

“No,” said the boy, but the pressure released from Ike’s back and he turned around.

Ike looked into his captor’s face. They were the same height. This boy’s shirt was faded red, streaked with dirt, and torn. His feet were bare. The legs of his pants were soaking wet. The boy held the stick out, marking the space between them.

“Are you Mary’s sons?” Ike asked.

The younger boy limped toward Ike, but David held up his free hand. “Stop, Johnny.” He thrust the stick at Ike again. “How do you know her name? How do you know our names?”

Ike looked at the younger boy’s foot. It was swollen and red. He glanced behind him, nervous now that the fisherman or someone else would find them. Ike reached slowly into his pocket and removed the note. He tried to give it to David, but David held the stick, unwavering.

“Read it out loud,” he said.

Ike read the note and looked up.

“Drop it on the ground and step back.” David snatched up the note and put it in his pocket. “What else do you know?”

“Are you going to keep pointing that stick at me?”

“I’ll put it down, but keep your distance. If you so much as raise your voice . . .” He slashed the stick in the air, then lowered it.

Ike told about meeting their mother and about Albirdie and the posters and the Reverend and the note and about Mr. Cutts and the bounty hunters.

“Where’s our mother now?” said David. “Can you take us to her?”

“I don’t know where she is. I thought she might still be here,” said Ike. “I’m just supposed to keep you out of sight.”

“Until when?” said David.

“Until Albirdie gives the signal,” said Ike.

They stood, listening to the rustle of the wind through the trees and the far-off whistle of the steamboat coming upriver.

“Were you on that skiff ?” Ike asked. “I saw a man rowing away. Your pants are wet.”

David shook his head, but Johnny piped up. “Yes,” he said. “And I was scared. It was rocking, and I had to stay way in the bottom.”

“Hush,” said David.

“Stop hushing me,” Johnny said. He scowled at David and turned to face the other way. “Maybe I’ll go on without you.”

“Don’t you ever say that,” said David. “Brothers stay together. Don’t you
ever
say that again. Why do you think we crossed that river anyhow?” Johnny took a step farther, then sat down, still facing away from them.

“I just want to go home,” he said.

“You’re home right now, wherever you are with me,” David said. “Hear me?”

Ike slumped, suddenly envious of David and Johnny. Leon and Jim had no such notions. Palmer didn’t either.

“I want Mama,” Johnny whimpered.

“This person in the note, J.M.J.,” Ike said. “I think he can help us find your mother.”

A warbling whistle came through the trees, then another.

“Albirdie!” said Ike.

Johnny sprang up and grabbed Ike’s hand. David pulled him away, turning to Ike. “We’ve made it this far on our own. Why should I trust you? How do I know this isn’t a trap?”

Ike’s anger boiled over. “You don’t. You don’t know. You can trust me or not. But now there’s a boat coming. Soon there will be lots of people to get past, and my friend Albirdie is out there. And my horse. I’m going with them.”

He stomped through the trees and found Albirdie right where she said she’d be, with Barfoot pulling the wobbly cart.

“Barfoot!” Ike said. He stroked Barfoot’s face, then walked around to inspect the cart. Albirdie had put a straw bale in the back, and the blanket.

“Did you find them?” she asked.

“Yes, but I don’t think they’ll come with us. I tried. Let’s go.”

The steamboat sounded again, its tall stacks like dark giants. Ike reached for Albirdie to help him up on Barfoot’s back, but she pointed instead, whispering, “Look.”

David and Johnny stood in the shadows.

Ike climbed in the cart and pulled the bale apart, making a deep nest. He grabbed the blanket and jumped down, then waved David and Johnny over. David and Ike lifted Johnny into the cart, and David climbed in after, taking the blanket and pulling it over them. Ike stood back and studied the effect. The cart had an open back. David’s feet poked out, so Ike covered them with straw, then sat on the back of the cart, his feet dangling.

“OK, Albirdie. Let’s go.”

The cart rolled slowly along the shore, and Ike turned and looked past Barfoot to the levee. A stove had dropped off the end of a wagon. Deckhands were running over to help. The new steamer was just pulling in.

“It’s the
Hawkeye State
!” Albirdie exclaimed. “Captain Hinman’s boat! And look, Ike, on the upper deck.”

Ike hopped out of the cart and ran ahead to look. “Milton and Morris!” He jumped into the cart and crouched down. “Mrs. Hinman will be here soon if she isn’t already. Hurry!”

Ike kept his eyes on the levee and the
Hawkeye State
as Barfoot pulled them slowly up Main. They stopped in front of Day Bros. “I’ll wait here,” Albirdie said. “Go tell Mr. Jenkins.”

Ike walked stiffly, feeling as if the knowledge of the boys was written on his face. A small dog scampered up and barked at his heels as a trio of women paused at Stern & Co. Clothing House.

“Sweet puppy,” they cooed. Ike shooed the puppy and hurried on, stopping in the shade of Ohmer’s Saloon’s awning. He looked across the street at Mr. Jenkins’s barbershop. There were men outside. Two large horses were tied up. The horses looked familiar. The men were leaning against the window, so that Ike couldn’t see past them into the shop.

The day he had thrown the rock. The day he’d found Mary. They were the bounty hunters from Missouri. Ike slipped into the narrow passage between buildings and watched them. They put cigarettes up to their mouths. They wouldn’t be moving for a while.

Ike ran back to Albirdie and the cart. “See those men outside the shop?” he said softly. “They’re the men hunting Mary. I can’t talk to Mr. Jenkins.”

“We can’t stay here,” Albirdie said. “We can’t take them to the church. Where should we go?”

Ike didn’t know which way to go. Uncle Palmer only had to go west. His brothers only had to go south.

Johnny coughed. Ike and Albirdie flinched.

“My house,” Ike said. He hopped into the cart and slid back, bumping into David and Johnny. “Go, Barfoot!”

The cart lurched forward, but slowly.

As they passed Cutts & Simms Umbrella, Mr. Cutts hurried out and past them, shouting at the men in front of the barbershop. “I got news! Captain Hinman seed with his long-distance glass the colored boys come off a skiff! We got to get to the river!”

As they approached Button Row, Ike hopped off the cart and hurried to Albirdie.

“Hopefully everyone will be in back,” he said. “I’ll go ahead to make sure. Pull up to the front door of my house, really close.”

Ike stepped gingerly onto the front porch. He peered through Aunt Betsy’s front window. She was in the kitchen, a baby on her hip. The kitchen door was open and the little girls were running along the back porch like they did. Next door at Aunt Sue’s he saw his mother lying on the sofa, a cloth over her face. And through his front window he saw a jumble of empty chairs and the flag pulled tight on a quilt stretcher in the middle of the room.