Read Online Caught in the Act by Joan Lowery Nixon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Joan Lowery Nixon
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later that evening, after the cows had been put back into their stalls and the first stars were winking in the black sky, Reuben said, "We're through early tonight. You can take your time washing up for dinner."
Mike ran ahead, bouncing into the warm kitchen and smiling at Marta. "If you had wings," he asked, "would you fly to see the oceans and mountains?"
Marta's expression grew somber, and she sighed. "If I had wings," she said, "I think I would fly to see what Corey Blair was up to."
"Has he come back from the Kansas border?"
"I have no way of knowing." Marta shot an angry look in the direction of the parlor. "Mr. Friedrich ordered Corey not to set foot on this place."
Mike sidled toward the door as she spoke. Much as he liked Marta, he didn't want to hear any more about Corey.
He walked down the hallway, heading for the stairs, and had his foot on the bottom stair when he saw light flicker in his own room. As Mike drew back into the shadows the light went out, and someone hurried from Mike's room, quietly shutting the door. Mike hid under the staircase, peering out to see Gunter scrambling as fast as he could down the stairs.
The moment Gimter had disappeared in the direction of the parlor, Mike raced up the stairs and into his room. He picked up his lamp. Sure enough, the glass was warm to his touch. With fumbling fingers he lit the wick, then put the lamp down and studied his room.
Nothing seemed out of place. He had so few things, it was easy to keep track of them. He took off his coat, laid it across the chair, and stood by the bed, steeling himself for whatever dead animal Gunter nught have hidden under the quilt.
Quickly Mike threw back the quilt and was surprised to discover that nothing horrible had been put in his bed. He decided that something must be under the bed. He tossed the quilt back into place, smoothed it out, and bent to peer under the bed. Nothing.
Mike straightened and tried to sort out the puzzle. Gunter had been in his room for a reason. He couldn't have taken anything, because Mike had nothing to take.
Carefully, he examined the chest, but could find nothing out of place. Whatever mean surprise Gunter had left behind, he'd hidden it well. But Mike would find it. He'd take the room apart, if need be. He had to discover what Gunter had been up to.
Mike gripped the edge of the straw-stuffed mattress to lift it ft^om the rope slings on which it lay. As he did, his fingertips touched something cold and hard. Startled, he jumped back, then carefully eased up the mattress to see what was there.
Wedged between the rope and the wooden fi*ame of the bed lay Mr. Friedrich's gold pocket watch!
As Mike stared at the watch, wondering what he was going to do, he heard heav>^ footsteps on the stairs and Gunter's raised voice. "I saw him take it, Papa! I saw Michael steal your watch!"
If the watch were found here in his room, Mike knew he'd be labeled a thief. Mr. Friedrich would send him back to New York where he'd surely go to prison! What could he do? His legs wobbling so they could barely hold him up, he squeezed his eyes shut, desperately searching for the answer. When he opened them again, he knew what he had to do.
Mike grabbed the watch, dropped the mattress down on the bed, smoothed the quilt into place, and threw open the door. He rushed out of the room and onto the stairs with such force that he crashed into Gunter. Gun-ter grabbed for the handrail to steady himself, and Mike stumbled, sitting down hard on the stairs.
Mr. Friedrich's large hand gripped the neck of Mike's shirt and roughly jerked him to his feet. "Get up!" he thundered.
"I didn't mean to be late to supper," Mike said.
"It's not suppertime we are concerned with." His
61
fingers dug into Mike's shoulder so hard that Mike cried out in pain.
Mrs. Friedrich appeared at the foot of the stairs. "What is it? What has happened?" she called and began to puff her way up the stairs.
"Michael tried to steal Papa's gold
Mike ran ahead, bouncing into the warm kitchen and smiling at Marta. "If you had wings," he asked, "would you fly to see the oceans and mountains?"
Marta's expression grew somber, and she sighed. "If I had wings," she said, "I think I would fly to see what Corey Blair was up to."
"Has he come back from the Kansas border?"
"I have no way of knowing." Marta shot an angry look in the direction of the parlor. "Mr. Friedrich ordered Corey not to set foot on this place."
Mike sidled toward the door as she spoke. Much as he liked Marta, he didn't want to hear any more about Corey.
He walked down the hallway, heading for the stairs, and had his foot on the bottom stair when he saw light flicker in his own room. As Mike drew back into the shadows the light went out, and someone hurried from Mike's room, quietly shutting the door. Mike hid under the staircase, peering out to see Gunter scrambling as fast as he could down the stairs.
The moment Gimter had disappeared in the direction of the parlor, Mike raced up the stairs and into his room. He picked up his lamp. Sure enough, the glass was warm to his touch. With fumbling fingers he lit the wick, then put the lamp down and studied his room.
Nothing seemed out of place. He had so few things, it was easy to keep track of them. He took off his coat, laid it across the chair, and stood by the bed, steeling himself for whatever dead animal Gunter nught have hidden under the quilt.
Quickly Mike threw back the quilt and was surprised to discover that nothing horrible had been put in his bed. He decided that something must be under the bed. He tossed the quilt back into place, smoothed it out, and bent to peer under the bed. Nothing.
Mike straightened and tried to sort out the puzzle. Gunter had been in his room for a reason. He couldn't have taken anything, because Mike had nothing to take.
Carefully, he examined the chest, but could find nothing out of place. Whatever mean surprise Gunter had left behind, he'd hidden it well. But Mike would find it. He'd take the room apart, if need be. He had to discover what Gunter had been up to.
Mike gripped the edge of the straw-stuffed mattress to lift it ft^om the rope slings on which it lay. As he did, his fingertips touched something cold and hard. Startled, he jumped back, then carefully eased up the mattress to see what was there.
Wedged between the rope and the wooden fi*ame of the bed lay Mr. Friedrich's gold pocket watch!
As Mike stared at the watch, wondering what he was going to do, he heard heav>^ footsteps on the stairs and Gunter's raised voice. "I saw him take it, Papa! I saw Michael steal your watch!"
If the watch were found here in his room, Mike knew he'd be labeled a thief. Mr. Friedrich would send him back to New York where he'd surely go to prison! What could he do? His legs wobbling so they could barely hold him up, he squeezed his eyes shut, desperately searching for the answer. When he opened them again, he knew what he had to do.
Mike grabbed the watch, dropped the mattress down on the bed, smoothed the quilt into place, and threw open the door. He rushed out of the room and onto the stairs with such force that he crashed into Gunter. Gun-ter grabbed for the handrail to steady himself, and Mike stumbled, sitting down hard on the stairs.
Mr. Friedrich's large hand gripped the neck of Mike's shirt and roughly jerked him to his feet. "Get up!" he thundered.
"I didn't mean to be late to supper," Mike said.
"It's not suppertime we are concerned with." His
61
fingers dug into Mike's shoulder so hard that Mike cried out in pain.
Mrs. Friedrich appeared at the foot of the stairs. "What is it? What has happened?" she called and began to puff her way up the stairs.
"Michael tried to steal Papa's gold
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