Read Online All-Star Pride by Sigmund Brouwer - Free Book Online Page A

What was Nadia’s involvement? How could I get out of all this?
    We passed colorful wooden houses, and I had plenty of time to watch people as they worked in their gardens and fields. Even with the distractions of scenery, I kept returning to my questions until the conductor interrupted my thoughts.
    He set a small tray in my lap. The tray held a cup of oily tea, some cream and sugar. We had learned conductors often added to their income by running a small concession business on the train. This tea, however, was a surprise to me.
    â€œI didn’t order this,” I said.
    He said something in Russian. I didn’t know if he was disagreeing with me, talking about the weather or insulting me.
    â€œNot mine,” I said, slowly and loudly. I gave my head a shake. As if talking slower and louder made it easier for him to understand English.
    The conductor wore a black jacket, almost as ragged and dark as his bushy eyebrows. He lifted those eyebrows as he shrugged at me. Then he turned and left me with the tea.
    Oh well, I thought, whoever actually ordered this will eventually chase down the conductor. In the meantime, what am I going to do with black Russian tea?
    I looked over at Nathan to see if he could be suckered into trying it. He was still asleep.
    I decided to dump the tea. When I lifted the cup, I saw a folded piece of paper on the tray beneath it. In neatly printed letters there was a single word: help.
    I set the cup back on the tray and opened the note. More neat printing:
Goreela, we must talk. Go ahead to the first-class section. Walk through slowly. Nadia.
    I thought about it. I decided nothing could go wrong here on a train. For lack of anywhere else to put the cup of tea, I carried it with me.
    To reach first class, I had to leave this train car and cross through a rattling, bouncingwalkway into the next car. I discovered first class was not rows of seats like our car. Instead of the aisle running down the center, it hugged the left side of the car. Door after door ran down the right side of the aisle. All of them closed. Private sleeping compartments?
    As Nadia had instructed, I walked through slowly.
    Coming my way was a middle-aged man in a brown suit. It would be a tight squeeze getting past him. He waited as I walked forward. When I reached him, he turned sideways and pressed against the windows of the train to let me past. Except as I brushed by he slammed me hard, pushing me against the door to my right. It popped open and I almost fell, catching my balance a couple of steps into the sleeping compartment. Half of the hot tea sloshed over my hand.
    The brown-suited man quickly moved into the compartment toward me. Without thinking, I flung the remaining tea into his face and drew my hand back to punch him.
    Someone grabbed my arm from behind me.
    â€œSettle down, boy,” a voice said with a Texas twang. “You’re with friends.”
    The guy in the brown suit sputtered and cursed as he looked down in disbelief at the dark tea stains on his chest. At least, I guessed it was cursing. He spoke Russian.
    The guy behind me didn’t let go of my arm.
    â€œYou’re a big one, son,” his drawl continued. “The only way I could stop you is by shooting you, and I’d hate to have to do that.”
    I relaxed. The unseen man behind me let go of my arm.
    Mr. Brown Suit dropped his fast-paced Russian to mere mumbles and vainly brushed at the tea stains.
    â€œGo on, son,” the drawl said, “take a load off your feet. Sit down.”
    I remained standing. The man with the drawl moved around me and locked the sleeping compartment door. Finally he turned to face me.
    â€œBoy, we can be friendly here. Trust me.”
    He spoke to Mr. Brown Suit. “And Ivan, rest your mouth. All the talk in the world won’t get rid of the mess on your suit. Serves you right for being careless, anyway.”
    I snuck a quick glance around the sleeping compartment. On one side, a