Read Online Red Jacket by Joseph Heywood - Free Book Online

a draft drawn in your name.”
    â€œHis word or the bank’s?”
    â€œMiners Bank here in Laurium. The State sent letters asking that the money be returned to a state account.”
    â€œHow does one return what one does not possess?” the man countered.
    Difficult to read his eyes or his tone . “Our records and the bank’s say you got state money,” Bapcat repeated.
    â€œThey show no such thing. By your own account the records show Bestemand got money from the bank, allegedly in my name. That is not the same as giving it to me. Please go away. Your business is with Deputy Bestemand.”
    The man tried to close the door, but Bapcat blocked it with his boot. “The State says my business is with you, and the State will have its money back.”
    â€œI can empathize, but I don’t have said money.”
    â€œBecause you spent it?”
    â€œI’m no wastrel, sir! I don’t have it because I never received said money. Please leave me alone. I find this insulting.”
    â€œThe State will get its money back,” Bapcat said forcefully.
    â€œSpoken like a State puppet,” Nayback responded angrily.
    The man’s sudden vitriol surprised Bapcat. “I beg your pardon?”
    â€œBapcat, you can’t even give yourself a legitimate name! You cling to the State label of shame despite achieving majority.”
    â€œWhat’re you talking about, Nayback?”
    â€œBapcat . . . Let me guess. Your first name is Luther, am I right?”
    How does he know?
    â€œThe orphanage used the same naming convention for bastards abandoned on their doorstep. Lute Bapcat—ergo, Lutheran Baptist Catholic. Think back on names at the home, man. Use your brain, if you possess one.”
    Bapcat remembered. Billy Cathtist, Paul Orthometh, a few others. Could this rodent be right? Why didn’t someone tell me any of this ?
    â€œNever mind the name,” Bapcat said. “You owe the State money.”
    â€œYou are speaking not to some hapless Bohunk, my good sir, but to a member in good standing of the faculty of Laurium High School, and I’ll have you know that I have friends in high places. Prove your allegations if you can, sir.” With this, Nayback closed the door and Bapcat heard the latch click.
    Pretty feisty for a mouse. Lutheran Baptist Catholic? What do you care? A name’s just a damn name.

13
    Lake Linden, Houghton County
    FRIDAY, JUNE 6, 1913
    The county’s St. Cazimer’s Orphanage was much as Bapcat remembered it from the day he had walked away, only smaller than it seemed years ago. Back then it had seemed foreboding; now, just abandoned and empty. The sign was gone, no children were in sight, the yard was bosky and overrun, the old multistory stone building in a state of disrepair. An old man with one arm gone at the shoulder sat in an unpainted chair on the porch of a small house next door.
    Bapcat approached the porch, saw the man’s glazed eyes, and guessed he was blind. “Sorry to bother you,” the deputy said.
    â€œMy specialty to be bothered, some might say. I’m Gurden Supanich; some call me Blackie. What you call me is up to you, it being a free country and all that.”
    â€œLute Bapcat.”
    â€œThe man chuckled. “Another runaway state bastard come home to the roost, eh?”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    Supanich then related the same explanation Nayback had provided. “This come as a revelation to you, does it?”
    Bapcat sat on the edge of the porch. “I left when I was twelve,” he explained.
    â€œStayed till sixteen, they would have explained everything, even helped you pick a new name. Run off, eh? See, patience sometimes pays, even in a shithole like St. Cazimer’s.”
    â€œCouldn’t tolerate the place anymore, and I had plans.”
    â€œPlans, eh? Soldier or sailor?”
    â€œCowboy.”
    The old-timer grinned. “Good