Читать книгу Kidnapped in Key West - Edwina Raffa - Страница 10

The sheriff’s loud voice sent Rex into a barking frenzy. Eddie and Pa sprang from their cots in alarm. While Pa pulled on his boots, Eddie tried to calm Rex down but it was no use. Rex sensed danger and he continued to bark.

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Frank Malone hurried to the tent’s screen door and looked out. Eddie held Rex back, but the dog kept growling and straining at his collar. Finally Eddie let Rex pull him towards the doorway to stand beside Pa.

Charlie Jenkins, Marathon’s sheriff, and Mr. Tate, Pa’s supervisor, stood in the yard. It was still drizzling from the night before and rain dripped off their hat brims.

“Get out here, Malone,” ordered the sheriff. “I need to speak with you . . . and shut that dog up!”

“What’s wrong, Pa?” asked Eddie. “Why are Sheriff Jenkins and Mr. Tate outside?”

“Nothin’ I can’t handle,” answered Frank Malone. “Keep Rex quiet while I go out and see.”

“Yes, sir,” said Eddie, leaning down to get a better grip on Rex’s collar. Then Eddie tried to soothe him by scratching the dog’s ears as he eavesdropped at the doorway.

“That’s the man I saw last night running out of the paymaster car,” said Mr. Tate, pointing directly at Pa.

“Are you sure?” asked the sheriff.

“Positive,” answered the supervisor. “Frank Malone works for me down at the marl pit.”

“I didn’t do nothin’ wrong,” protested Frank.

“I saw him there, Sheriff,” insisted Mr. Tate. “Do your job.”

Sheriff Jenkins took a step closer to Pa. “Why don’t you and I go into your tent and have a look around.”

Eddie pulled Rex away from the door to let Pa and Sheriff Jenkins inside. Mr. Tate stood guard on the steps.

After a brief search, the sheriff asked skeptically, “Well, Malone, what did you do with the payroll?”

“I’m tellin’ you, Sheriff,” said Pa, sweat breaking out on his forehead, “two strangers done stole it.”

“Were you in the paymaster car last night?” questioned the Sheriff impatiently.

“Yes, I seen a light and . . .”

Before Pa could finish, Sheriff Jenkins impatiently interrupted. “So you admit you were there?”

“Yes, but I didn’t . . .”

The sheriff wasted no time. He quickly pulled a set of handcuffs from his pocket and clapped them onto Pa’s wrists. “Frank Malone,” said Sheriff Jenkins firmly, “you’re under arrest for robbing the F.E.C. payroll.”

The sheriff forced-marched him outside and the three men started towards the jail. Eddie left Rex in the tent and ran after the sheriff.

“You can’t take Pa away,” blurted Eddie, grabbing on to the lawman’s sleeve. “He’s no thief. This is a mistake!”

The sheriff brushed Eddie’s hand away. “Sorry, boy,” he said, “but I’ve got a job to do.”

Eddie ran over to the railroad supervisor. “Mr. Tate, my pa would never steal. He’s an honest man!”

“I know what I saw,” said Mr. Tate gruffly. “Maybe your pa will remember what he did with the payroll after cooling his heels in jail for a while. Now, go on back to your tent. This is grown-up business.”

“Eddie, do what Mr. Tate says,” said Pa, trying to keep his voice strong. “I’ll git this mess straightened out directly.”

Eddie had no choice but to obey. He went back to the tent and sat down on the edge of his cot to think. He was scared for Pa and for himself too. Rex padded over and put his head in Eddie’s lap. He whimpered softly and looked up soulfully at his master.

“Pa’s in big trouble, Rex ol’ boy. What are we going to do?”

Eddie stroked Rex’s head absentmindedly as he tried to come up with a way to help Pa, but it was no use. He just couldn’t think on an empty stomach.

“I guess we’d better get some breakfast, Rex. Then let’s go over to Matthew’s house.”

At the word breakfast, Rex’s tail began to thump the floor. He yipped a couple of times and Eddie could have sworn that Rex was smiling. After running a comb through his unruly red hair and splashing water on his face, Eddie called to Rex. Together, they left the tent and headed over to the dining hall.

Eddie left Rex at the door and entered the building alone. The dining hall was crowded with railroad workers who sat shoulder-to-shoulder at long, wooden tables, wolfing down their first meal of the day. He recognized one of the marl pit workers who had the same shift as Pa.

“Hey, boy,” the worker yelled, “where’s your pa this morning?”

Eddie pretended not to hear. He just wasn’t up to telling the man about Pa’s arrest so he hurriedly moved to the food line.

The cook handed him a plate of eggs, ham, and biscuits. Eddie put it on his tray and took a seat by himself in the corner. He toyed with his eggs for a few minutes, moving them back and forth across his plate. Finally, he gave up. He stuffed the biscuits in his pocket and left the building.

Outside, Rex was waiting patiently as usual. Eddie stooped down and fed his Lab the biscuits. Then they started toward Adderley Town. Along the way, Eddie passed several of his schoolmates playing catch. He gave them a half-hearted wave, but ignored their invitation to join the game. As he approached Matthew’s place, Eddie saw Matthew’s wife. She was cooking in the kitchen house, a small building built behind the main house like ones in the Bahamas.

“Looking for Matthew?” she called out. Eddie nodded. “He’s in the garden. Go on around.”

As soon as Matthew saw the droop in Eddie’s shoulders, he put down his hoe. “Something on your mind?”

Eddie nodded. “I . . . I . . .” He couldn’t finish his sentence.

“Go sit in the shade,” said Matthew. “I’ll make us a pitcher of limeade. I just picked some Key limes this morning and a cool drink would taste good about now.”

Eddie sat on a chair under the gumbo limbo tree and watched Matthew cut open some small, greenish-yellow limes and squeeze the juice into a pitcher of cool water. Then the old man sweetened the juice with sugar cane and poured it into two tall glasses. He handed one to Eddie and set the other on the small table beside his chair. Before he sat down, Matthew thoughtfully put a bowl of water on the ground for Rex.

The limeade was delicious, but neither his favorite drink nor relaxing in the shade could relieve Eddie’s fears. He took a deep breath and let out a sigh.

Matthew reached over and patted Eddie’s arm. “Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”

Eddie took another deep breath and then began talking. Once he started, it was easy to pour his heart out to his trusted friend. Matthew listened intently to every word about the sheriff’s early morning visit and Pa’s arrest.

When Eddie finished, he glanced hopefully at Matthew. “What should I do?”

The old man looked squarely into Eddie’s eyes. “Well, for now there’s nothing you can do. Why not stay here a while? Mrs. Lawrence is just about ready with breakfast. Then later, after the sheriff sorts things out, you can go over to the jail and see your father.”

Eddie felt the heaviness in his heart lift a little. He could always count on Matthew for practical advice.

Eddie’s appetite returned as the aroma of frying fish wafted from the kitchen house. When Mrs. Lawrence called out, “Breakfast is ready. Come and eat!” he jumped up and followed Matthew inside.

While Rex napped under the tree, the Lawrences and Eddie sat around the wooden table eating fried flounder along with the pineapple and cantaloupe from Matthew’s garden. For the first time, Eddie tried “hurricane ham,” the Bahamian name for dried conch. It was chewy, but good. When they finished, Mrs. Lawrence got up to clear the table. As she passed behind Eddie, she put her hand on his shoulder.

“Eddie,” she suggested, “get Matthew to tell you a railroad story while I put things away. That’ll take your mind off your troubles.”

Turning to Matthew, Eddie asked, “Would you tell me one?”

Matthew smiled widely, showing several gold-capped teeth. Besides fishing, there was nothing he liked better than talking about the railroad. The old man ran his hand several times over his white, close-cropped hair while he decided which story he’d share.

“Have I told you about the hurricane of nineteen-oh-six?” he finally asked.

“No,” replied Eddie. “I’d like to hear about it.”

That was all the encouragement Matthew needed and he launched into his story.

“After Mr. Flagler built the Florida East Coast Railway from Jacksonville to Miami,” began Matthew, “he decided to extend the line on down to Key West. Train tracks had to be built across one hundred and twenty-eight miles of coral reef and ocean floor. To keep construction on schedule, we had to work during September and October, the worst months for hurricanes.

“That worried me a lot because hurricanes are dangerous and unpredictable. That’s why I always carried this little barometer.”

Matthew reached into his pocket and pulled out a small glass tube filled with water. A weed was floating in the bottom of it.

“Many railroad workers carried these and checked them as often as they did their watches. I still like to keep mine handy.”

Matthew went on to explain, “When the air pressure goes down, the weed rises. That means a hurricane is coming and you’d better get ready.

“About six years ago, I was working on the Long Key viaduct north of here making cofferdams. Those are the wooden forms that mold the cement foundations for the bridge. Well, at any rate, on the evening of October seventeenth, when I checked this tube, the weed was moving up. I was living on a houseboat then along with one hundred and sixty or so other railroad workers. The houseboat was tied down so it couldn’t drift off, but that night the wind got stronger and the waves got higher. Pretty soon, the houseboat started rocking back and forth something fearful.”

Matthew paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, then continued, “The next morning, the hurricane hit us full force and the houseboat’s cable snapped in two. I’ll never forget the terrified screams of the men as they were tossed into the water when the houseboat broke apart. I grabbed onto a wooden plank floating by. Believe me, I clung to it like a tick to a dog. I floated for hours until finally the hurricane was over and a passing freighter rescued me.

“When I got back to Long Key, I couldn’t believe the terrible damage to the bridge. Most of our hard work was wiped out. We had no choice but to start all over again. After the houseboat accident, Mr. Flagler ordered the construction of new dormitories on land and living in those made us feel much safer.

“Yes, Eddie, what with the hurricanes of nineteen-oh-six, nineteen-oh-nine, nineteen-ten, and the construction accidents, building the Key West Extension has been a tough job. Many men have given their lives to build Mr. Flagler’s Over-Sea Railroad, but thanks to workers like your father and me, it is almost finished. Why in just a little more than a week, Mr. Flagler will finally achieve his goal of connecting the U. S. mainland to Key West by rail.”

The old man fell silent. He looked off in the distance, as if the story had transported him back in time.

“Wow,” said Eddie. “That was some adventure. I’m sure glad you lived to tell it.”

Matthew’s attention snapped back to the present and he stood up to stretch. “So am I, Eddie, so am I. Well, I’ve kept you long enough. You’re probably anxious to be on your way.”

Eddie nodded and got up from the table. After thanking the Lawrences, he and Rex hurried through town to the jail. Eddie left Rex at the screen door and went inside.

The sheriff was tilted back in his chair with his hat pulled over his face taking a snooze.

“Ah-hum,” said Eddie, pretending to clear his throat.

The sheriff sat up and quickly put his hat back on his head.

“What do you want, boy?” asked Charlie Jenkins.

“I’d like to see my pa,” said Eddie.

“I reckon you can visit him just this once,” said the sheriff, getting up from his seat and unstrapping a ring of keys from his belt. “Come with me.”

Eddie followed the sheriff along a narrow hallway that reeked of stale sweat. When the lawman reached Pa’s cell, he stopped, opened the door, and let Eddie inside. Then he locked it again.

Frank Malone sat on the sagging mattress of his cot, listlessly peeling flakes of gray paint from the walls. Like prisoners before him, he’d found that it was a way to pass the time. He paid no attention to the cockroach crawling across his boot.

Seeing Pa locked up in such a bleak place made Eddie sick to his stomach. His hands began to tremble and he quickly clasped them behind his back so Pa wouldn’t see how scared he was.

Pa?” asked Eddie timidly.

Frank Malone stood up and gave his son a weak smile. His voice cracked a little when he spoke.

“I ain’t got no money for bail so they’ve locked me up till they can schedule my trial.”

“Trial?” asked Eddie. “Why are they having a trial? What happened last night?”

“After I told you to go back to camp,” explained Pa, “I went into the paymaster car to see about that light. I seen the safe door partway open, so I grabbed the handle and checked inside. It were empty.

“Then I heared a noise outside the back door. I walked out onto the platform and seen two men runnin’ off with the payroll bags. I chased ’em to the dock, but by the time I got there, they was already sailin’ off toward that favorite fishin’ hole of yours.

“Them robbers got away, but I seen their sailboat. It had a navy blue jib on it. I wanted to tell the sheriff, but he weren’t nowhere around. By then it was rainin’ buckets so I jist gave up and came on home.”

Pa’s eyes took on a frightened look as he continued, “Now Mr. Tate, he claims he didn’t see no other men. Just me. Eddie, he thinks I done stole the F.E.C. payroll! What’s worse, my fingerprints is all over that paymaster car.”

“Aren’t the thieves’ fingerprints on the doors too?” asked Eddie.

“No, they was wearin’ gloves,” said Pa. “I tried telling the sheriff all this, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“This is all my fault!” cried Eddie, his eyes welling up with tears. “If I had stayed home and done my chores like you told me, you wouldn’t have been out searching for me and we wouldn’t have seen that light!”

“It ain’t your fault, Eddie,” said Frank Malone. “It’s just the breaks.”

“They’ll match your fingerprints to the ones in the paymaster car,” said Eddie. He shut his eyes tight and pressed his fists hard against them to stop the tears.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” said Pa. “Now stop cryin’ and git on home. Remember, this ain’t your fault.”

Eddie hesitantly took a step toward Pa. Then he wrapped his arms around his father’s waist and buried his face in Pa’s shirt. Pa patted his back a few times, but said no more.

It was the hardest thing Eddie had ever done, but he finally let go of Pa and stepped away. Then he wiped his nose on his shirtsleeve and called to Charlie Jenkins.

The sheriff took his own good time coming. He opened the door and escorted Eddie out, immediately locking the cell behind him.

Eddie walked slowly outside to get Rex, guilt still gnawing at his heart. No matter what Pa said, Eddie felt responsible. He trudged home with Rex at his side, oblivious to the rain that soaked him to the skin.

When Eddie entered the tent, he could tell right away that it had been searched. The two cots were in the middle of the floor and the trunks that held their clothes had been ransacked. Even some of the floorboards had been pried up. Pa was right. Sheriff Jenkins wasn’t buying Pa’s story one bit and had checked the tent from top to bottom.

Eddie thought about straightening things up, but he was just too tired. He kicked off his wet shoes and fell into bed. He pulled the blanket over his head and soon the rhythm of the rain on the canvas roof lulled him to sleep. Rex jumped up on the cot and kept his faithful watch all through the night.

The next day was Sunday and Eddie awoke to golden sunshine in a cloudless blue sky. He felt clearheaded after a good night’s sleep and his brain was simmering with a plan. He talked out loud to Rex while he put the tent back in order and changed his clothes.

“I need to borrow Matthew’s boat,” he said when he finished. “Come on.”

Along the path to Adderley Town Eddie bumped into the Lawrences on their way to church. He asked Matthew about the sailboat.

“Sure, take it,” said Matthew. “I won’t be using the boat today.”

Soon Eddie and Rex were sailing east toward Sand Dollar Key. Eddie had a hunch the thieves’ sailboat might be in the small cove there. Obscured by mangroves, it would be the perfect place to hide. Sure enough as Eddie steered into the cove, he saw the sailboat with the navy blue jib. Men’s voices floated over the morning stillness from the center of the little island.

“Come on, Rex,” said Eddie, pulling the boat onto the beach. “Follow me.”

Eddie walked a hundred feet inland. Then he crouched down and peeked through a clump of saw palmetto. Two men were packing canvas bags into crates marked Key West Coffee Company. Eddie moved in a little closer and parted the palmetto fronds to get a better look. Each bag was stamped with the F.E.C. logo and the word Marathon on it.

My hunch was right! This is the thieves’ hideout!

“Now that the rain’s let up, Bart,” said a short, wiry-looking man, “we can sail on down to Key West.”

“Right you are, Leo,” replied a bearded man with a deep, raspy voice. “We’ll just stash these gold coins with the rest of the loot. Why, this is the easiest robbery we’ve pulled yet and the best part is that some pit worker is in jail for our crime.” He grinned through rotten teeth.

Suddenly the dry palmetto frond Eddie was holding back snapped. The startled robbers looked up from their work.

“Who’s there?” yelled Bart, racing directly toward Eddie’s hiding place.

Eddie tried to stand up and run, but before he could move, a hand gripped the collar of his shirt and lifted him off the ground.