The Last Renegade (37 page)

Finn sighed heavily. “So was I until Mr. Irvin told us he was an undertaker. Rabbit and me had it all suspicioned that he was the new headmaster.”

“Rabbit and I,” said Kellen.

“What?”

“Rabbit and I. Not Rabbit and me. And I don’t know what to say about ‘suspicioned’ except to note that the sooner the school has a headmaster, the better it will be for my ears.” He heard himself, grimaced. “And I am not thanking you for causing me to draw upon my father’s voice or one of his lectures.”

Rabbit frowned. “I never said you should draw on your
father. Didn’t even know you could. Seems like the kind of thing that Finn might do.”

“Sure would get me in trouble,” said Finn.

Kellen surrendered, casting a glance to the heavens.

Enjoying himself, Walt just chuckled. He put out a hand to restrain Finn’s legs the same way Kellen had done to discourage Rabbit. “Did you boys bring in all of Mr. Irvin’s belongings or is there something for me to do?”

“He only had two leather satchels,” said Rabbit. “Nothing that Finn and me…Finn and
I
couldn’t carry.”

Finn nodded. “We told him about the place next to the feed store where Mr. Hood used to have his print shop. It’s been empty since Mr. Hood came back to town in a box. Mr. Irvin was interested in that. The place, I mean, not about Mr. Hood. I suppose he figured he missed his chance to be a help there.”

Cecilia arrived with hot coffee for Kellen and Walt and glasses of root beer for the boys. “Mrs. Sterling’s got the chili back on the stove, and she’s warming what’s left of the cornbread in the oven. She says I should tell you that it won’t be long. Boys, she says she has a big slice of apple ginger cake that she’ll split for you if you like.”

“They like,” said Kellen as the brothers nodded eagerly in unison. When Cecilia was gone, he asked them, “What’s this about John Hood owning a print shop?”

Rabbit sipped his root beer and licked the sweetness off his tongue before he answered. “He printed flyers and posters, mostly for the merchants.”

“A newspaper?”

“Not like the
Rocky
or the
Prairie Farmer
.”

“A newssheet?”

“Sure. Charged two pennies for it. Mr. Hood liked to say folks were always getting their two cents’ worth from him.”

“I think I misunderstood your grandfather,” said Kellen. “I didn’t realize Bitter Springs ever had a paper. No one tried to take it over after John Hood?” The answer was obvious to him when the boys looked at him as if he’d grown a third eye. “I guess not.”

Walt said, “Someone destroyed the press after Mr. Hood left town.”

“Suspects?”

“The usual ones, but no one saw anything, leastways not so they’re talking about it.”

“Did Mr. Hood report on the trial?”

“He couldn’t. Not while it was going on, what with him being a member of the jury, but when it was over, he had some opinions, especially after Isaac Burdick escaped the marshals. Some folks warned he should temper himself, but like the boys said, he had two cents to give.”

Kellen understood more clearly why John Hood was one of the first to be killed. Fleeing town couldn’t save him, not a man with his talent for writing and stirring opinion. Kellen remembered clearly what he’d told Uriah yesterday about the pen being mightier than the sword. That sentiment rang hollow now. Uriah Burdick had used the sword to better effect.

Finn fiddled with his glass, turning it round and round to keep from drinking all of his root beer before the apple ginger cake arrived. “I miss Mr. Hood. He let Rabbit and me take the newssheets around sometimes.”

“He didn’t pay us,” Rabbit reminded him.

“No, but sometimes people gave us a penny for bringing it to them. It was a fine thing to buy candy at Johnson’s Mercantile.”

Rabbit agreed. He lifted his bony chin in Kellen’s direction. “Granny says I’m supposed to ask if it’s true that you and the Widder Berry are hitched.”

Kellen managed not to sputter before he swallowed his mouthful of coffee. “Bitter Springs really does not need a newssheet.” He returned his cup to its saucer. “Yes, Widder Berry and I are hitched.”

“Ain’t that somethin’?” said Rabbit. “That means you lost your chance, Finn.”

The tips of Finn’s ears turned red, but he shrugged his narrow shoulders manfully. “I didn’t think it was proper to ask until I was in the sixth grade anyway, and Mr. Coltrane could be dead by then.”

Kellen was very glad he had put down the coffee. “You’re a deep thinker, Finn, to contemplate the future like that.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Kellen could only shake his head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Walt was doing the same. The boys quieted when Cecilia came to the table bearing steaming bowls of chili, cornbread, and two plates of apple ginger cake. Rabbit and Finn tucked into their dessert as though they were starving, while Kellen and Walt were only marginally more restrained.

After a few bites, the brothers returned to form. Finn wanted to know about the body. “Was it shriveled like my granny’s hands after she’s had them in the wash all day or swelled up like a cow’s belly that’s been too long dead in the sun?”

Walt choked, and Kellen had to clap him on the back. “I don’t think your granny or your pap asked you to come home with that much detail.”

“No,” said Rabbit, “but it’s something we should know. Finn and me are just about sure that we’re going to be detectives someday. That book you gave my pap—
Nat Church and the Chinese Box
—well, that got us thinkin’ that it might suit us. I would like to figure out what’s in the Chinese box, and Finn, he’d like to have the girl.”

Kellen saw Walt’s puzzled expression. “I’ll explain later, Walt. In fact, I’ll give you one of the books.”

“I’m not much for reading, but I know all about Nat Church. Adam Berry, then Ellen, used to tell me about him.”

“Then I’ll read it to you.” Kellen intercepted the brightening expressions on the boys and crushed them. “Not to you two. Maybe when Finn’s in the sixth grade as long as I’m not dead.”

“Won’t matter,” Finn grumbled. “I’ll be able to read it for myself by then.”

Two things happened simultaneously that saved Kellen from coming up with a better retort. The first was that Walt lightly smacked Finn on the back of his head, causing the boy to lose the bite of cake teetering on his fork, and the second was Raine’s timely return from the lobby.

She waved Kellen and Walt back in their seats as they started to rise and pulled a chair from another table to sit with them. “I just need a moment,” she said. “Walt. I told Mr. Irvin that you would take his bags up as soon as you were finished
eating. He could have easily carried them himself, but he liked the idea of someone else doing it. I hope he gives you something for your trouble.” She glanced at the door to the kitchen. She could hear the occasional rattle of pots and pans, but no raised voices. “Mrs. Sterling’s in there with all three of the girls?”

Everyone at the table nodded at once.

Impressed, Raine’s eyebrows lifted. “They must be too tired to bicker. It’s unfortunate that it takes such a sad series of circumstances to bring it about.”

“You mean finding Mr. Weyman’s body,” Rabbit said.

“Yes. And the questions. And the speculation.”

“What’s speculation?” asked Finn.

Kellen explained, “That’s when people who don’t know very much talk as if they do.”

“Huh.” Finn stabbed another piece of cake. “That happens a powerful lot around here. A powerful lot.”

Raine chuckled. “It does, doesn’t it?”

“Folks don’t know what we know, do they, Rabbit?” Rabbit gave his brother a warning glance, but Finn was undeterred. The boy asked Kellen, “What do you call folks who talk speculation?”

“Speculators.”

“Well, then, me and Rabbit aren’t—”

Raine interrupted, correcting him. “Rabbit and I.” She looked at Kellen and Walt, bewildered when they both laughed under their breath.

Frustrated, Finn blew a puff of air that scattered cake crumbs across his lower lip. He licked them up and went on. “I and Rabbit ain’t speculators, and that’s a fact. We saw what we saw and we know what we’re talking about.”

“Only one of us is talking,” Rabbit said out of the side of his mouth. “And he’s not supposed to. We
agreed
.”

Kellen pushed his empty bowl out of the way and leaned forward to rest his forearms on the table. He looked from one boy to the other. “Is there something you want to tell us?”

“No,” Rabbit said.

Finn didn’t answer.

Raine’s approach was gentler. “Boys? Is there something you
should
tell us?”

“Pap wouldn’t like it,” said Rabbit.

“Do you mean you already told him, and he wouldn’t want you to repeat it?” she asked.

Finn shook his head. “He doesn’t know. We wouldn’t be sitting here so easy if he did.”

“He’d have taken a switch to you?” asked Walt.

“Sure,” said Finn. “After we went to the graveyard that night a ways back, we had to make a promise.”

Rabbit jumped in to explain. “Pap understood, but Granny gave him a stern talkin’-to anyway, especially on account of him having whiskey on his breath, and then she made us all swear we wouldn’t do it again. I don’t know what Pap promised exactly, but Finn and I crossed our hearts and inside ourselves we were both thinking we wouldn’t drink whiskey.”

Kellen remained perfectly straight-faced, but it was a test of his endurance. “I see. Then you didn’t precisely break the promise you made, did you? Because I’m thinking that you boys might have ventured out again on your own.”

“That’s speculation,” said Finn.

“It is. If you confirm it, it will be a fact.”

Rabbit said, “Maybe it’s better if you just stay a speculator.”

“All right,” Kellen said. “I’ll speculate, and you boys listen. How will that be?” He watched them exchange glances. Their small, expressive faces telegraphed their thoughts almost as clearly as if they had spoken aloud. It would be years yet before Rabbit and Finn would be able to school their features, and Kellen was prepared to take unashamed advantage of that.

Raine saw that Walt had finished his chili and was putting the last bite of cornbread in his mouth. “Would you take Mr. Irvin his bags now? They’re sitting at the foot of the stairs. I gave him the key to the room vacated today. Sue assured me that she had time to clean and freshen it. I would take it as a favor if you would look around and make certain that’s so.”

“Right away.” Walt stood and started to clear the table.

“Leave all that, Walt, but thank you for thinking of it.”
When he was gone, Raine said to Kellen, “You may begin to speculate.”

“Thank you.” He nodded gravely at the boys, but when they bent their heads to scrape the last crumbs from their plates, he winked at Raine. “Rabbit. Finn. I think that you were out of your house again the night after you helped Mr. Jones.” Neither boy looked up, but they did look sideways and fiddle with their forks. “I know you boys are brave.” Their heads dipped in the briefest of nods. “But sometimes a man needs to prove it to himself…or his brother.” This time Finn shot a surprised look at Kellen and a more accusing one at Rabbit. “I’m imagining there was a dare, or maybe a small wager, and you waited to leave until your pap and granny were snoring too loudly to hear you.”

The boys pressed their lips together to suppress giggles.

“I think you started out for the graveyard by a different route, one that brave and clever young men would use when they do not want to be discovered, one that would not put them on the street but in the alleyways behind the buildings.”

Rabbit’s eyes widened. Finn’s mouth parted a fraction.

“You never made it to the graveyard because you saw someone…” He paused because the boys looked at him blankly. He amended his statement. “You saw some
thing
that made you think better about going on because you are not only brave and clever, but you are also wise.”

The boys bit their lips again.

“And here you are after the news of finding Mr. Weyman’s body is all over town. It’s no wonder that I’m speculating. You saw something that night that made you turn around and go home, but it probably didn’t seem important then, only a little frightening. It was finding the whiskey drummer’s body today that made it seem as if it might have been important.”

Finn looked sideways at Raine, partially cupped his hand around his mouth, and whispered, “He’s a good speculator.”

Raine nodded and whispered back, “Reporters frequently are.”

Kellen’s mouth twisted to one side as he thought. “You were close to the Pennyroyal when you saw it.” He could see Rabbit
worrying the inside of his cheek. “Behind the hotel?” The boys offered blank stares again. “Close but not behind.” Kellen tried to think where they might have been hiding. “Mr. Stillwell’s barbershop is nearby, and there are stairs at the back going up to his second floor. You saw something and hid under the stairs. Very clever.”

Two thin chests puffed out a little.

Kellen considered what he had learned thus far and saw no alternative except to take a stab at what the boys might have seen. Not someone. Some
thing
. “Mr. Weyman had two bags,” he said, watching Rabbit and Finn closely. “I think you might have seen…” He stopped again because while Rabbit was staring straight ahead, Finn was rolling his eyes. It couldn’t be one or both of the valises that they had seen behind the hotel. The bags would have been relatively difficult to see sitting on the ground at night, especially since the boys had gotten no closer than the barbershop. If they had witnessed the bags being lowered from or raised to a room or the roof by means of a rope, that would have roused their curiosity, not their fear.

What they saw was not directly connected to Mr. Weyman.

“You saw something that you knew belonged to someone other than Mr. Weyman. You weren’t even concerned about the whiskey drummer at the time.” Finn began to jiggle in place as he started to swing his feet again. “You were worried about the person this thing belonged to, and it had to be big enough for you to see it clearly at night. It wasn’t a gun. Or a knife. No, not a weapon of any kind. Something…” He paused to give the boys time to calm themselves. They both had the jitters now. Raine had taken to rubbing Finn’s back in slow, soothing circles.