A Place Called Home (3 page)

Christine was not hungry, but as she looked at Mrs. Hall, this precious woman who cared for her and the closest person she had had to a mother since she was six years old, she knew she couldn't hurt her.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hall.” Christine tried a smile that was even more wobbly than Mrs. Hall's.

Mrs. Hall squeezed Christine's hand and shut the door as she left the room and Christine to her own thoughts.

Christine reached for the coffee and tried not to let her thoughts wander. She noticed that the rain had ended. It looked like a good day for a ride on Raven, her mare. She would need to sneak down the stairs and go out by way of the kitchen so her grandfather wouldn't catch her in the boy's pants she wore when she rode astride. Christine felt tears sting her eyes as she realized where her thoughts were headed.
Her grandfather was gone.
She decided against riding.

Knowing that if she stayed in bed she would continue to cry, Christine jumped up and began to dress. Her grandfather would not have wanted her depressed. She pushed her sad thoughts aside and was dressed and brushing her hair when another knock sounded at the door.

Opening the door revealed Mrs. Hall again. “Christie, Carl Maxwell was here and he—”

“Oh, Mrs. Hall, please tell him I'll be right down!” Christine interrupted as she turned back to the mirror to finish her hair.

Mrs. Hall followed her into the room. “Christie, he didn't stay.” Christine stopped brushing and turned to look at Mrs. Hall. “I'm sorry, dear, but he simply asked me to give you this letter and said he had to be going.”

Christine looked down at Mrs. Hall's extended hand. She had not even noticed the letter. Christine took the letter even as she wondered why Carl had not stayed for coffee, as was his usual practice. She dismissed the idea when she realized he was being polite in her time of grief. The truth of the matter was that she would have liked to talk with him.

So caught up was she in her own thoughts that she did not hear Mrs. Hall pick up the tray and leave as quietly as she had before.

Christine settled herself in a large, comfortable chair by the window and stared at the envelope. Christine's thoughts had wandered the night before over her grandfather's will and any involvement that Vince Jeffers might have had. Realizing what she was suspecting Vince of, she pushed all such ideas aside and opened the letter. She was not prepared for what she read.

Christie—

I'm sorry I could not stay to see you, but I had to let you know you are in danger. You must get away. Take the train to Fall Creek and stay there until I send for you. Tell no one where you are going and destroy this letter. When you get to Fall Creek go to the ticket office and find Mr. Franklin. Tell him I sent you. He will take care of you, see you settled, and keep in touch with me. I repeat, Christie,
tell no one
—just get out of the house tonight, and remember: You are in danger. Again, I'm sorry.

 

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 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 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.

“Well, 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?”

“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.

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.

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 Rosedale. 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. Franklin.”

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, 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.