Tracking Daddy Down Page 6

  I started yanking weeds like crazy, urging Tommy to hurry up. We had to get out of that garden.

  After a bit Mr. Clarkson began talking about the money from some church collection he’d brought with him. “Exactly three hundred and fifty-two dollars in here—thought you’d want to get that in the bank first thing Monday morning,” he told Whitey.

  Whitey took the long white envelope Mr. Clarkson handed him. “Thank you kindly, sir. I’ll take this over to the church office in a bit. We should have another bundle to add to it after the picnic.”

  “Can I take the money, Grandpa? Please.” Ada Jane cocked her head to the side and scrunched her lips into a smart little pout. “I know exactly where it goes.”

  “I reckon so. But you be careful, little lady. This money is going to help replace that old church organ your grandma’s been playing.” He handed the envelope to her like it was a top secret message from the president of the United States.

  Ada Jane clutched it with both hands and flounced over to where we were working. “Grandpa,” she yelled, “can Ernestine come with me? Pretty please with sugar on it. I don’t want to go all by myself.”

  Ada Jane’s sly-looking grin made me grit my teeth. I knew what she was up to: just another way to get Ernestine to herself. I wished a bolt of lightning would flash out of the sky and knock her into outer space, all the way to Pluto.

  “I reckon that’ll be okay. Go ahead and take your little friend,” Whitey said. “But that don’t mean she’ll get out of doing any work. The two of you can help set up picnic tables.”

  Ada Jane skipped toward the back door. “I’ll be right back, Ernestine. I’m going inside to get you and me something special.”

  Ernestine turned to me and Tommy. She crossed her eyes toward her nose, flapped her elbows like chicken wings, and stuck her twisted tongue out at Ada Jane’s back. We cracked up laughing.

  The second the back door closed Ernestine jumped up. “Uh…Mr. Hudson, sir,” she called across the yard. She flashed her most dazzling smile, the one she always reserved for grown-ups. “Can Billie and Tommy go to the church with us, please? We’ll probably need lots of help lifting those heavy picnic tables.”

  “No. I don’t believe that’s necessary,” Whitey said. “These two can stay right here, under my supervision. They’ll be over to help you later.”

  Ernestine plopped back down beside me. “Crud! I’m going to be stuck with that whiny Ada Jane all day. And she’ll get me in trouble if I’m not nice to her. She always does.”

  “Come on, Ernestine,” Ada Jane yelled from the door. “Grandma wants us to take these cupcakes to the church.”

  “Wait a minute there, little lady,” Whitey said from the side of the house, where he was standing with Mr. Clarkson. “I wanted another word with these young’uns. It won’t hurt you none to listen to this, too, Ada Jane.” He shuffled toward us, wheezing with each step he took.

  Ada Jane skipped down the porch steps and over to the garden. She pulled Ernestine up off the ground, then handed her a chocolate cupcake. “I made them myself,” she bragged.

  “You got any more?” Tommy asked.

  “Nope. We have to save the rest for the picnic,” Ada Jane said. She took a bite of hers.

  “You don’t want one,” I said to Tommy. “If she made them, you’d probably keel over dead after the first bite.”

  “I heard that, Billie. You’d better shut up, or I’ll tell your daddy Joe. He doesn’t like your sassy mouth anyway. Grandma said so. She said he’s planning to be real strict and shape you up, now that he’s your stepdad.”

  “Now, now, girls. Let’s stop the fussin’,” Whitey said as he joined us. He put his arm around Ada Jane and started lecturing us about getting along with one another.

  I was digging my finger in the ground, ignoring him, when something buzzed by my ear. I jerked my head back, watching from the corner of my eye as a giant yellow jacket latched onto a marigold next to Ada Jane’s leg.

  And then something set me off. Maybe it was the way Ada Jane had her arm looped through Ernestine’s, or the smug smile that had settled on her face. Or maybe it was just how she seemed so tickled about Daddy and Uncle Warren’s troubles. In one quick second I swatted at the yellow jacket, hoping it would get mad enough to go after her leg. It buzzed back at me. I swatted again, harder this time, but I sent the bee straight toward Whitey. He lurched back when it zoomed up and around his eyes. He let out a gasp of air, causing a third button to pop off his checkered shirt. The yellow jacket must’ve sensed a delicious snack then, because it dove straight into Whitey Hudson’s big, bare belly and dug its stinger in.

  Whitey yelped and stumbled backward. He grabbed his stomach with both hands, his sweaty face turning a deep red. He started coughing and wheezing so hard he couldn’t get a breath.

  “Grandma!” Ada Jane screamed at the top of her lungs. “Hurry up and come quick! Grandpa Whitey got stung. He’s having a fit!”

  Chapter 12

  We all followed Mirabelle as she rushed Whitey inside and settled him on the couch. She propped his head up with pillows, pulled off his glasses, then loosened his belt and took off his shoes and socks. She dragged a giant fan across the floor, plugged it in, and aimed it straight at Whitey’s face. It whirred like an airplane propeller, blowing tufts of thin gray hair straight up off his head. She sent Tommy and me into the kitchen to scrape frost out of the icebox, which she used to pack over the welt on Whitey’s stomach. By now it had swollen way up and turned candy apple red.

  Mr. Clarkson watched everything from the other side of the room. He shuffled from one foot to the other, coughing softly into his hand. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked Mirabelle. “Can I run out for some medicine?”

  “No, thank you, Ralph. He ain’t allergic to bees that I know of, and I’ve been through this asthma stuff plenty. What he needs is rest. He got hisself too worked up over that bank incident. It’s a wonder he ain’t worse than he is.” She covered Whitey with a sheet, then sent us kids over to the church to help set up for the picnic.

  “You’re in charge, Ada Jane,” Mirabelle said as we headed out the front door. “Git that organ money put up in your grandpa’s special place—you know where that is—then I want all you kids to help in the kitchen. And no nonsense!”

  I took one last peek over my shoulder at Whitey. He looked whiter than the cold cream Mama smeared on her face every night. I couldn’t help feeling bad, seeing him stretched out sick on the couch like that.

  “Uh…I…hope you get your breath back real soon, Whitey,” I said.

  For once in his life he didn’t answer me with a sermon. He just nodded his head a bit.

  The first thing Ada Jane did after the door closed behind us was take Ernestine’s arm and start dragging her toward the church. “Come on, Ernestine,” she said in her stuck-up voice. “I want to show you something.”

  I didn’t care anymore what Ada Jane did, though. My mind had turned to Daddy and Uncle Warren again. I had to find out if they’d made it to the cabin. That’s when I decided Tommy and I would slip away the first chance we got. I hoped Ernestine wouldn’t be mad at me for leaving her alone with Ada Jane all day, but I didn’t see any way around it.

  “Stay here,” Ada Jane snapped at Tommy and me once we were inside the sanctuary. “I have something important to do with Ernestine, so don’t you two go anywhere till we get back, or else I’ll tell my grandma.” Normally I would’ve told her exactly where her and her grandma could both go, but I didn’t want to stir up trouble. I just wanted her to get lost for a minute, so Tommy and I could get out of there. She took off across the room, calling for Ernestine to follow her.

  “Umm…I’ll wait here with Billie while you put the money away,” Ernestine said. She scooted closer to me.

  Ada Jane was already halfway down the aisle. She spun back around, her hands landing on her hips. “My grandma said you’re supposed to help me. She’s going to get real mad if you don’t.” />
  “Just go ahead with her,” I whispered. “I don’t want to get in any more trouble with Mirabelle.” My chest tightened with guilt. I felt like a heel for tricking my best friend, but it was too late now to explain everything to her. I’d tell her later, after we’d found Daddy.

  “Okay, okay, I’m coming.” Ernestine followed Ada Jane toward the other end of the sanctuary. The old wooden floor creaked under their footsteps. Rays of morning sunlight shone through the stained glass windows, making a halo of dusty light over their heads. The farther away they got, the faster my heart thumped. I grabbed Tommy’s arm the second they disappeared through the back of the sanctuary.

  “What the—where’re you going?” he asked, following me as I sped out the front door of the church.

  “Come on!” I sailed down the steps, jumping two and three at a time, my heart pounding by now. Without looking back, we raced up the block, around the corner, and straight out of town along the railroad tracks. We didn’t stop to rest until we’d made it to the old abandoned glass factory about a half mile away.

  Tommy collapsed on the ground behind me, panting. “You sure you want to go all the way out past the bridge?” His voice held the hint of a whine.

  “Of course I do,” I said. We couldn’t give up now; we were halfway there. “What’s the matter? You too chicken to cross it?”

  He jumped to his feet, yelling in my face, “I ain’t a chicken! How come you always think you’re some big, brave hotshot, huh? Like you’re the only one who’s got any guts or anything.” He kicked the rocks and sent them spinning across the ditch.

  “Well, if you aren’t scared, why don’t you want to go?”

  “Aw, I don’t know. I was thinking there may be cops around the reservoir. Castor Oil told my mom the state police might search the whole county. If they see us, they’re going to want to know what we’re doing out here.”

  I eyed him suspiciously. “How come you didn’t tell me that earlier? You just made it up, didn’t you?”

  “No! I swear it. Bud said so. I just didn’t think much about it until now, that’s all.”

  I started down the tracks without him, thinking over what he’d just said. Was Bud Castor right? Would the state police really search the whole county—even Old Man Hinshaw’s property? “Go ahead and do whatever you want,” I called over my shoulder. “But I’m going. And I’m keeping all of the Good Citizen’s award money if Daddy comes back with me.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll come,” he said, catching up to me. “Just don’t call me a chicken anymore, or you’ll be sorry.”

  “I know you ain’t a chicken. I was just saying that.” I pushed his arm playfully, relieved to see a bit of a smile slide across his face.

  Still following the tracks, we walked out of the woods and into an open meadow. The sun burned down on us from a cloudless sky. I brushed a swarm of gnats away from my sticky face, wishing we’d thought to bring something to drink.

  We headed around a big bend and up an incline, the railroad rocks crunching under our feet. The farther we walked, the more worried I got. I pictured hundreds of policemen surrounding the cabin, their guns pulled. I started walking faster, but Tommy lagged behind me. I wondered if he’d changed his mind about going again.

  “Hurry up!” I said.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming. I don’t see why you’re in such a big rush anyway.” He poked along, flicking pebbles with a long, skinny stick.

  “You’re the one who said the cops may search the whole county. What if they decide to look out here first? What if Old Man Hinshaw tells on our dads? We need to warn them, before there’s a fight or something. Someone could get hurt.”

  I sped up the long hill, determined to find Daddy before anything bad happened. I didn’t think he could hurt anyone, but I wasn’t so sure about Uncle Warren. He was different than Daddy. He had a quick temper. Mama said he was like a firecracker, just waiting to get lit.

  I was staring at the ground, still lost in thought, when Tommy poked me and said, “There it is—up ahead.”

  I looked up, and it took my breath. The railroad bridge stretched all the way out over the Oolitic Reservoir. We’d been trudging up and around the bend in the tracks for what felt like an hour, and by now we were sky high with nothing but rocky slopes on either side of us. The water glistened like it was a million miles away.

  “It’s pretty darn long,” Tommy said, shading his eyes as he studied the bridge. From the expression on his face, I thought for sure he was going to turn and bolt right back to town.

  “I ain’t so sure we should do this. What if a train comes while we’re out in the middle of it?” he said.

  “I thought you weren’t scared.”

  “I ain’t scared! Maybe I just—”

  I didn’t get to hear what Tommy meant to say, though, because the long, low whistle of a train stopped him from uttering another word. The tracks vibrated under my feet. I stiffened. The whistle blew again, louder this time. I could hear the train steamrolling up the curvy hill we’d just climbed.

  “We’d better get off here.” My voice quivered. I swung around, looking frantically for a safe place to dodge the train. But where? We couldn’t go forward, because then we’d be stuck on the bridge. If we retraced our steps, we’d meet the train head-on. My heart sunk when I realized there wasn’t anything on either side of us but the steep, rocky hills.

  I stood motionless, my mind numb, the tracks buzzing under my feet, the whistle making me cover my ears. I looked behind us again. Here it came, barreling full speed around the bend, heading straight up and at us. I couldn’t see anything but the mouth of the engine, bigger than a cannon, chugging and grinding like it wanted to flatten us dead. I screamed and hopped off the tracks onto a narrow strip of gravel, bracing myself to dive straight down the side of the hill, yelling at Tommy to follow me. But he didn’t move. He just stood there in the train’s path, his arms rigid at his sides, his mouth frozen into a terrified gasp.

  Chapter 13

  By now the train was so close I could smell the red-hot sparks under its wheels. I screamed louder at Tommy. He still didn’t move. I lunged at him, grabbing his arm, pulling him with a strength I never knew I had. He tripped over the tracks, falling into me like a hundred-pound sack of flour. The two of us tumbled headfirst down the slope, clutching at loose rocks and clumps of dirt—anything we could get hold of—to stop the fall. We skidded halfway down the hill before sliding into a shrub, where we lay crumpled against its prickly branches, panting like dogs. The train rumbled away.

  Tommy lay flat on his back, his face ghostlike, his chest heaving with every breath he took. “Man. Oh, man. Oh, man. Oh, man,” he said between gasps. “I told you so. I told you a train would come.”

  I sat stiff as a board, my heart racing. A sickening, clammy feeling crept over me. We’d nearly been killed.

  I looked at him accusingly. “How come you didn’t move out of the way? I thought you said you weren’t scared.”

  “I wasn’t scared. The darn train just surprised me, that’s all.” He sat up, moaning and groaning and massaging his ankle. “Man. This hurts like heck. Look, it’s all swelled up. It got twisted when we fell off the tracks.” He flopped on his back again, covering his eyes with his hand. “Jeez. There ain’t no way I’ll be able to make it over that bridge now.”

  I checked his ankle, inspecting every inch of it. “This ain’t swollen. It’s hardly even red.”

  “It is too swollen. I can feel it. My arm hurts, too.”

  I still couldn’t see a thing wrong with his ankle, but I knew there was no arguing with him now. He wasn’t going to cross the bridge. “So what are you going to do? Go home?”

  “No way. I’ll stay on the lookout in case Castor Oil or the state cops come along.” His chest swelled up when he said, “I ain’t going to let anyone get past me, that’s for darn sure.”

  A pang of doubt crossed my mind. Should I go over the bridge by myself? Or had what just happened wi
th the train been a sign from God? Suppose He was warning us to stay away from Old Man Hinshaw’s cabin. I wondered if we should just give up and head home, but the thought of Daddy being locked away in Pendleton tugged hard at my heart. I couldn’t go back now. I had to find him. I had to convince him to turn himself in.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll go by myself.”

  Once we made it back up the hill, I stood for a while and stared at the bridge. The long line of tracks was held up by giant blocks of concrete. The bridge was wide, too, maybe even wide enough to dodge a train. I knew how to swim, so if worse came to worst, I could jump into the reservoir. I took a deep breath, gathered all my courage, and started across the tracks.

  “Watch out!” Tommy yelled before I’d even made it over the water.

  I spun around, thinking another train was headed for me.

  “Careful! You’ll get killed if you fall,” he shouted.

  “Will you shut up! You almost made me have a heart attack.”

  I kept going, trying not to look down at the water. I tried not to think about how there weren’t any guardrails, or what would happen if I got dizzy, or how Randy Cruzan had been acting crazy and fallen off the bridge last fall. He was dead now. Instead, I stared straight ahead and started humming “Onward Christian Soldiers,” hoping to get God on my good side, at least until I’d made it to the end of the bridge.

  The humming worked. It loosened me up, making me feel carefree, giddy almost, like I was a tightrope walker with a crowd of people below, all of them watching me breathlessly.

  I turned to wave at Tommy, to let him know I’d almost made it over, but I didn’t see him anywhere. He must’ve wandered back down the tracks—probably off somewhere looking for rocks. So much for all that business about his swollen ankle.

  And that’s when I heard it.

  Boom! A shotgun blast.