A Place Called Home Page 2

  Carl

  Christine sat frozen to the chair. She was in danger! Was Vince Jeffers involved? She read the letter again. He said to get out of the house tonight. She felt panic. She wasn't even sure where Fall Creek was. And who was this Mr. Franklin? She had to force down feelings of despair as she thought of leaving her home. With her grandfather gone, she didn't even feel she had a home. Thinking of her grandfather reminded her of how ashamed he would be if he saw her sitting there feeling sorry for herself. Her grandfather had trusted Carl Maxwell, and she would too. Her eyes went to the clock as she tried calmly to think of what she had to do

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  and how much time she had to do it. Putting the letter in the pocket of her skirt, she prepared to go out.

  At 11:20 p.m. Christine stood before the full-length mirror in her room and with a meticulous eye went over every inch of her appearance. Who would have thought the soberly dressed young woman who had walked sedately to the bank to withdraw money and then to the train station to check schedules could be standing here some hours later looking like the poorest beggar boy in town?

  Her eyes started their survey with her boots. They were so big it was hard to walk, but they were all she could find. They must have been an old pair of the stable boys' boots because they looked a hundred years old. Her pants were so large they had to be held up with suspenders. The suspenders were also old, and one side kept coming undone. She had horrible visions of them coming loose as she boarded the train and causing a scene which the town would never forget when her pants dropped down around her ankles.

  Her eyes traveled up to her shirt. The too-small camisole she had struggled into helped disguise most of her curves. The old jacket out of her grandfather's closet would finish the job. She blinked rapidly as tears came unbidden with thoughts of her grandfather. She had no time for tears.

  Gathering the mass of red-brown curls that fell down her back, she held them atop her head. She jammed the floppy brown hat down hard. The hair made the hat too tight, but at least it would stay in place. Eyes back on the mirror, she reached for the small container of dirt she had dug from the garden. Her white face shone like a beacon under the dark brim of her hat. She powdered the dirt all over her face and down her neck. She also did the backs of her hands. Resisting the impulse to wash it off, Christine knew she would be safer traveling this way. She simply had no choice.

  The clock now said 11:45 p.m. It was time to go, or she would miss her train leaving for Eau Claire at 12:45 a.m. She picked up her small bag (one of her grandfather's old cases

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  with very little inside), blew out the light, and headed for the door.

  Christine sat in the shadows of the train station waiting for the train to come in. She had her ticket and was trying desperately to stop trembling. She had gotten out of the house without a hitch and the walk to the train station had been no problem; she had been careful to stay away from the saloons. But the enormity of what she was doing was suddenly becoming real to her.

  Hearing the train whistle, Christine's thoughts raced with all she was leaving behind. She hadn't even been able to say goodbye to Mrs. Hall. She blinked rapidly as tears threatened, but was under control before leaving her place in the shadows to board the train. No one paid any attention to her as she found her seat and sat staring out into the night. Glad for the cover of darkness as the train pulled out, the tears began to stream down her face. As the dim lights of the train station faded, she wondered if she would ever come home again.

  Most everything was quiet in Spooner as the train pulled away at nearly 1:00 in the morning. But on the other side of town a light could be seen shining in the den of one of Spooner's most prominent citizens.

  "What took you so long?" The question was barked out in anger.

  A scruffy little man stood in front of the big desk twisting his hat in his hands. The man behind the desk scowled impatiently. "I said what took you so long?"

  "Well, sir, you said ta wait till all the lights was off."

  "There were lights on upstairs at 11:30 at night?" the man behind the desk asked in angry disbelief.

  "Weil, yes, sir, but it's all dark now and everythin's quiet."

  Still scowling, the man behind the desk asked, "Is everything ready for tomorrow night?"

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  "Yes, sir, me and the boys are all set. We'll be fast and quiet."

  "See that you are." He bent over the papers on the desk, a gesture of dismissal for the little man.

  "Uh, sir, about the fee..."

  "You'll get your money when I see the body, and not a moment before. Is that understood?"

  "Uh, yes, sir, yes, sir." The small man moved quickly toward the door, but stopped as the man at the desk spoke again. "Start keeping an eye on my new partner. Report back to me on his activities."

  The man at the door nodded and moved on, only too happy to escape this big house and the man inside.

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  ' The rocking of the train was comforting as Christine sat looking out into the darkness. The busy day and late hour were catching up to her, and her eyelids drooped with fatigue. Before the train had covered five miles she was asleep.

  When Christine awoke, it was daybreak and the train was pulling into Eau Claire. She was vaguely aware that a voice had called out stops along the way and she had dozed through them. She rubbed her eyes and snuggled her coat around her. She was completely unaware that her tears the night before, combined with the dirt she had powdered on her face, made her appear exactly as she had hoped-a tall, thin boy whose dirty appearance made him of no concern to anyone.

  Hoping that none of her hair had slipped out, Christine carefully checked her hat with a small movement, so as not to draw attention to herself. She need not have worried. The hat was pulled on so tightly that it made her head ache!

  She picked up her bag and moved into the aisle. The train station was crowded, but she made her way to the ticket window and was told the train to Fall Creek would be delayed. She took a seat further down the platform, being as inconspicuous as possible, and settled down to wait.

  By the time her train was called, hours later, she was hot and thirsty and her bottom ached from sitting on the wooden bench. Seated again on the train, she took notice of the other passengers. There was a young woman with a baby, a very thin man with a fat wife, an elderly couple, and a businessman. All seemed to be wrapped up in their own thoughts, and Christine turned her gaze out the window. All of this countryside was new to her. She had been to Eau Claire with her grandfather on several business trips over the years, but never beyond.

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  She let her mind drift to Fall Creek. Mr. Franklin. Carl Maxwell had said to find Mr. Franklin and no one else. Would Mr. Franklin be able to answer some of her questions? Did he know what the danger was or if Vince Jeffers was involved? A chill ran up her spine at the thought of Vince Jeffers. So many unanswered questions. Why couldn't Carl have stayed and explained things to her? She reminded herself that her grandfather had trusted Carl Maxwell. Carl would not send her away unless he knew she would be cared for. Having reasoned this out, she closed her eyes and tried not to think anymore. A rumble in her stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten today. Well, Fall Creek was the next stop. Hopefully Mr. Franklin would feed her.

  "Fall Creek! This is Fall Creek, folks. Next stop is Rose- dale. Leaving in 15 minutes. All out for Fall Creek." The conductor's voice sounded bored, as if he had said these words a thousand times before. But the words were far from boring to Christine's ears. At the mention of Fall Creek her heart began to pound and she was afraid her legs were not going to support her. Her hunger and tight hat forgotten, she moved along the near-empty platform toward the ticket window.

  "Where to, son?" The man behind the window was looking at her with bored expectancy.

  Being called "son" confused Christine into silence for a moment, and when she spoke her voice was stuttering and high-pitched. "Well, I, um, well, I'm looking for Mr. Fran
klin."

  The man's eyes seemed to soften slightly. "Are you a relative or a friend of the family?"

  "Uh, well, just a friend."

  "Well, son, I'm real sorry, but you missed the funeral. It was this morning at 10:00."

  "Funeral?"

  The man didn't seem to notice her confusion. "Yes, son, as I said, I'm sorry it was so sudden. But if you go on up to the house, I know the family will welcome you. Nice folks,

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  the Franklins. Why, I remember when my wife was sick, they brought us..."

  But Christine didn't hear the words. Dead! Mr. Franklin was dead! Buried just today. The day she was coming to him for help. Was it her fault he was dead? Did someone kill him to try to get to her? If that were the case, then she had to get out of Fall Creek, "All aboard!" the conductor yelled.

  The train! She must get back on the train. She moved for the door and fell into a seat just as the train began to move. She stared blankly out the window. In a few minutes the conductor came by for her ticket. She paid him for the trip to Rosedale and again retreated behind her wall of misery.

  She tortured herself with thoughts of a man named Mr. Franklin whom she never knew but might have died because of her. The finality of death weighed upon her as she thought of never seeing her grandfather again. Mrs. Hall, her home, and Vince Jeffers all crowded into her thoughts. Each time the conductor came by for her ticket she paid him to ride to the next stop. Unaware and uncaring of how many miles she had traveled, her mind was closed to everything around her.

  "Reedsburg! This is Reedsburg, folks. Next stop is Baxter. All out for Reedsburg. Next town is Baxter."

  Reedsburg! The fog began to clear as she said the word to herself. She remembered slowly that her grandfather had business dealings several years back with a man in Reedsburg. The man had wanted her grandfather to come down, but he was reluctant to travel the 200 miles in winter.

  She was over 200 miles from home! She was getting off at the next stop, not caring where it was or if she knew anyone. She just had to get off this train before it took her any further from home. Her bag was in her hand and she was ready to go when the conductor called Baxter as the next stop. Christine was sure she had never heard of it before.

  She was the only one to get off in Baxter, and her eyes

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  took in the small, near-empty platform. Her feet were on solid ground only a few minutes when she heard the conductor call "All Aboard!" She took a few steps away from the train and turned to watch it move down the tracks. There was a finality about it that scared her a little.

  Turning back toward the train station, Christine noticed for the first time that evening was falling. Her eyes went to the sign posted on the side of the ticket office: Baxter, Population 396. She took a deep breath and remembered again how hungry and tired she was. Well, she was in Baxter for at least tonight. She set off for what appeared to be the downtown section of Baxter, intent on finding a place to stay and something to eat.

  Back in Spooner, Mrs. Hall hurried to answer the knock at the front door. "Oh, Mr. Jeffers, it's you. I so hoped it would be the sheriff with some news."

  Vince Jeffers spoke as he stepped inside. "What news, Mrs. Hall? What's happened?"

  "Oh, haven't you heard? Christine is missing. She wasn't in her room this morning and no one has seen her since yesterday." The old woman wrung her hands and tears filled her eyes.

  Mrs. Hall did not see the angry clenching of Vince Jeffers' jaw as he fought to regain control of his emotions. With effort his voice came out calmly. "You did the right thing in calling the sheriff, Mrs. Hall. I'll go around now and see him to offer my help. If he's heard anything I'll come back and tell you."

  "Oh, thank you, Mr. Jeffers; I've been so worried."

  The polite mask falling from his face, he nodded to the woman and stepped out into the evening. Standing with his fists clenched, he trembled with anger at this change in his plans. He stood for some minutes getting control of himself before stepping off the porch with a determined stride, a new plan already forming in his mind.

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  Christine moved around the back of the train station. There were barrels and crates stacked against the building. A lone wagon was parked nearby. There was little activity with the darkness coming, but as she came around the corner of the building she heard music playing. Looking across at what appeared to be a vacant lot, she decided to ask for help over there.

  The backs of the other buildings she passed were as quiet as the train station had been. They had an ominous look, and she walked slowly and squinted into the darkness as she moved closer to the music.

  As she arrived at the building it occurred to her for the first time that it was probably a saloon. She hesitated before starting up the alley toward the street and front door. Hating the thought of entering a saloon, she nevertheless had to find a place to stay for the night and a meal. She would have to swallow her fear and ask inside.

  Halfway up the alley a voice spoke out of the shadows.

  "Where you headed, boy?"

  Christine gasped and backed away until she came up against the side of the building, A man then came out of the shadows. He didn't look very tall, but his upper body seemed massive in the dim light of the alley. If there was going to be a fight, there was little doubt in Christine's mind who would win.

  "What's in your bag? A little cash, maybe?" His voice was deep and gravelly. "I've got me a thirst, boy, and no money. Maybe your bag there can help."

  Christine moved the bag in front of her and grasped the handle with both hands.

  "Now, listen boy, I don't want to hurt you. Just hand over the bag so I can see it."

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  Christine felt like a trapped animal. Her eyes searched for an escape route, but he was too close. Her eyes came back to the man who was slowly approaching her. The injustice of it all began to weigh upon her. The last 24 hours were crowding in. She was tired and hungry and her hat was too tight. Without the money in her bag she couldn't even get home. Home! At this point she could barely remember where that was.

  The man was almost within arm's reach when he stopped and held out his hand. "Just give me the bag, boy, and you can be on your way."

  "No!" Christine could hardly believe she had said that.

  Before she could draw another breath the man moved. In an instant he held a large knife toward her. Christine's breath lodged in her throat.

  "Now, boy, I'll say it one more time. Hand over the bag."

  Christine acted before she thought. Still clutching the bag with both hands, she brought it up hard under the man's extended arm. His arm went up but he didn't lose the knife. Christine leaped away from him, but he was fast and she just barely missed being stabbed. Her fear turned to anger and new strength. She swung her bag again, but he grabbed it with his free hand. She saw him raise the knife and stood in stunned horror, knowing she was about to die. She heard a long, high-pitched scream, never realizing it was her own. She felt the bag wrenched away as a searing pain shot through her chest. She felt her knees buckle. Blackness engulfed her, and she knew no more.

  Christine felt weary at having relived in her mind the events leading up to being in this room. Her weariness led to loneliness as she thought of how alone and far from home she was. What would become of her now?

  Carrying a food tray, Maggie reentered the room at that moment. She reminded Christine so much of Mrs. Hall that

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  tears flooded her eyes. Maggie set the food tray down and turned to smile at Christine with such tender understanding that, try as she might, she could not stem the flow of tears beginning to pour down her cheeks. Without a word, Maggie sat down and gently embraced the crying young woman. Wrapped in the loving arms of Maggie, Christine gave way to the healing tears that were to signal a change in her life that she could never have imagined.

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  When Christine awoke again it was to the pressure of a hand on her brow. The room was shadow
ed, dim, and easier on her eyes. She focused on the owner of the hand. A tall, handsome man with deep blue eyes was smiling at her.

  "Welcome back. How do you feel?"

  "Thirsty." Christine's voice was a hoarse whisper.

  The man helped her drink and then settle back on the pillows before he spoke again.

  "You were asleep each time I checked on you today. Maggie tells me your name is Christine Bennett." She nodded and he went on. "I'm Dr. Mark Cameron. I brought you here from the alley. What were you doing in the alley after dark?"

  As he spoke, his hands were moving. He held her wrist for a minute and then checked her shoulder. He paused in his movements to meet her eyes, telling her plainly he was waiting for an answer.

  "I was looking for something to eat and a place to stay for the night." She had been raised to tell the truth. She would not answer if it meant lying.

  "You're not from Baxter?" He knew what her answer would be.

  "No."

  "Did you come in on the train?"

  "Yes."

  "You rode the train dressed as a boy?"

  He watched her lips compress and an angry sparkle enter her eyes. He knew she was pulling away from him. He placed his hands gently on Christine's upper arms and said in a quiet but firm voice, "Christine, don't close me out. I realize you don't know me, but I want to help you if I can." He paused and watched her face intently for signs of softening. "Whatever it is that made you dress up like a boy and

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  leave your home is not going to go away just because you ran from it."

  "You don't know how wrong you are!" she cried in a desperate voice. "I had to get out of Spooner."

  Spooner! Mark carefully masked his surprise at how far she was from home. Then a thought came to him.