Read Online The Great Circus Train Robbery by Nancy Means Wright - Free Book Online
Authors: Nancy Means Wright
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Boomer’s face grew redder still. “You won’t like that circus. It’s just a one-ring operation. No elephants—just a bunch of clowns and high wire acts. Stay home.”
“Why should we?” Zoe asked. But he just waved his arms, and limped off through the underbrush and into his yard.
“So what do you make of all that?” she asked Spence.
“He doesn’t like circuses.”
“Obvious. But those rail cars—you saw how he picked them up. I mean, he was real careful. Like he didn’t want them to get damaged.”
“Like he was looking them over,” Spence said. “To see what he’d steal next.”
“Maybe he’s a dealer.”
“Drugs?”
“No, antiques. That’s why he took your rail car. To resell it for a bunch of money. That’s why he came over—by himself, while your father was gone. Us, he figured, we’re just kids. We’re no problem.”
“He’s got another think coming then,” said Spence, folding his arms, looking tough.
“So we’ve got to get back in his house,” Zoe said. “Search through his files. See who he might’ve sold the baggage car to. It’s a hot car, though.”
“They’ll repaint it,” Spence said sorrowfully. “It won’t be red anymore. But I’ll recognize it. I scratched my initials on the bottom. On all the cars. See?” He picked up the yellow caboose and turned it over. There was a fancy squiggle on the end of SR.
“Smart kid. But you’d better put the train away because Ms. Delores will be here any minute to take us to that rehearsal.”
“I think I’ll stay with the train. In case Boomer comes over again.”
“But that train clown will be there. Tulip told him you’re coming.”
“Oh.” Spence looked thoughtful. Then he shrugged and began to pack up his cars.
“That train must be worth a pile of money,” Zoe said, looking down at it. She’d like to shrink like Alice and ride through Wonderland in one of those colorful cars. “Did you see the way Boomer looked at it? Like it was one big pile of hundred dollar bills?”
“You really think he wants it?”
“He wants it all right. He’ll do anything, I bet, to get it.”
And anything, she thought, could mean—well— anything...
13
“WHAT DID WE GET OURSELVES INTO”?
All around the circled trailers the circus was coming to life. Performers in rainbow garb sang, shouted, juggled and danced outside a massive blue-and-white tent that seemed to have bloomed overnight. Red and white flags flew from its top like petals on a giant flower. Spence was dazzled. He let Tulip lead him over to a yellow school bus converted to a motor home. At the top of the steps a long arm reached out to yank him in.
Inside, he didn’t know where to step. The floor was littered with trains in various stages of disrepair: rusted, battered, moldy. Some were Lionel O gauge, like his own; some were tiny N gauge, less than two inches long. There were faded blue cars, dented red cars, discolored purple cars. Boston & Maine cars, Lackawanna Railroad, Union Pacific, Santa Fe. His heart chugged to think of those faraway places.
“Watch it now!” the clown cried. “If you step on one you pay!” Above the black-and-white patch shirt that read HACKBERRY, Spence saw a bulbous red nose, purple circles around watery brown eyes, pink ears, and a huge white-painted mouth in an upside-down U, like something had scared him and he’d freaked out.
Spence backed toward the door.
“Come back—you said you’d help!” the man cried in a rusty voice. He was nothing like cheerful Tulip with her broad painted smile. This tall, skinny clown wore black: a tiny round black hat, an oversize black jacket with a huge purple bow tie, raggedy black-and-gray striped pants over a pot belly, and flapping black shoes that appeared to be ten feet long.
“I’ve been trying to retire but I can’t,” Hackberry said, wringing his hands. “I keep coming back. I need the crowd. But I’m scared to death of them. They laugh
“Why should we?” Zoe asked. But he just waved his arms, and limped off through the underbrush and into his yard.
“So what do you make of all that?” she asked Spence.
“He doesn’t like circuses.”
“Obvious. But those rail cars—you saw how he picked them up. I mean, he was real careful. Like he didn’t want them to get damaged.”
“Like he was looking them over,” Spence said. “To see what he’d steal next.”
“Maybe he’s a dealer.”
“Drugs?”
“No, antiques. That’s why he took your rail car. To resell it for a bunch of money. That’s why he came over—by himself, while your father was gone. Us, he figured, we’re just kids. We’re no problem.”
“He’s got another think coming then,” said Spence, folding his arms, looking tough.
“So we’ve got to get back in his house,” Zoe said. “Search through his files. See who he might’ve sold the baggage car to. It’s a hot car, though.”
“They’ll repaint it,” Spence said sorrowfully. “It won’t be red anymore. But I’ll recognize it. I scratched my initials on the bottom. On all the cars. See?” He picked up the yellow caboose and turned it over. There was a fancy squiggle on the end of SR.
“Smart kid. But you’d better put the train away because Ms. Delores will be here any minute to take us to that rehearsal.”
“I think I’ll stay with the train. In case Boomer comes over again.”
“But that train clown will be there. Tulip told him you’re coming.”
“Oh.” Spence looked thoughtful. Then he shrugged and began to pack up his cars.
“That train must be worth a pile of money,” Zoe said, looking down at it. She’d like to shrink like Alice and ride through Wonderland in one of those colorful cars. “Did you see the way Boomer looked at it? Like it was one big pile of hundred dollar bills?”
“You really think he wants it?”
“He wants it all right. He’ll do anything, I bet, to get it.”
And anything, she thought, could mean—well— anything...
13
“WHAT DID WE GET OURSELVES INTO”?
All around the circled trailers the circus was coming to life. Performers in rainbow garb sang, shouted, juggled and danced outside a massive blue-and-white tent that seemed to have bloomed overnight. Red and white flags flew from its top like petals on a giant flower. Spence was dazzled. He let Tulip lead him over to a yellow school bus converted to a motor home. At the top of the steps a long arm reached out to yank him in.
Inside, he didn’t know where to step. The floor was littered with trains in various stages of disrepair: rusted, battered, moldy. Some were Lionel O gauge, like his own; some were tiny N gauge, less than two inches long. There were faded blue cars, dented red cars, discolored purple cars. Boston & Maine cars, Lackawanna Railroad, Union Pacific, Santa Fe. His heart chugged to think of those faraway places.
“Watch it now!” the clown cried. “If you step on one you pay!” Above the black-and-white patch shirt that read HACKBERRY, Spence saw a bulbous red nose, purple circles around watery brown eyes, pink ears, and a huge white-painted mouth in an upside-down U, like something had scared him and he’d freaked out.
Spence backed toward the door.
“Come back—you said you’d help!” the man cried in a rusty voice. He was nothing like cheerful Tulip with her broad painted smile. This tall, skinny clown wore black: a tiny round black hat, an oversize black jacket with a huge purple bow tie, raggedy black-and-gray striped pants over a pot belly, and flapping black shoes that appeared to be ten feet long.
“I’ve been trying to retire but I can’t,” Hackberry said, wringing his hands. “I keep coming back. I need the crowd. But I’m scared to death of them. They laugh
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