Moon Over Manifest

“I believe there is still a matter to be settled about my broken pot. It survives a boat ride all the way from Hungary and now it is in pieces.” Hungary. That explained the accent.

I stood my ground. “Well, it wouldn’t be broken if you hadn’t taken my compass.”

“Take your compass? I am out to gather hawthorn root and find something on my property. How am I to know it is yours?”

She had a point, I thought as she winced, rubbing her leg. I was surprised she could make it to the cemetery and back, but figured that was why her leg had swelled up so bad today.

“I’d offer to pay for the pot but I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Yes, it is worth much more than the coin you have remaining in your pocket.”

The hair on the back of my neck prickled. I didn’t believe in fortune-tellers, but how had she pulled that one off?

“So,” Miss Sadie said, knitting her fingers together, “it appears you have something I want and I have something you want.” She said her w’s like v’s. You have something I vant and I have something you vant.

“You have my compass. But what could I have that you vant … I mean, want?”

“Two. Good. Legs,” she said, punctuating each word.

I wasn’t sure where this was going but I knew I wasn’t going to like it.

“You will come here to do a few odd jobs.”

Any job for her would be odd, I thought. But she had me over a barrel. I did break something of hers and I wanted my compass back.

“For how long?” I asked.

“You will know when you have finished.”

She handed back the letter I’d given her, and suddenly, I found myself heading toward the front door. I stopped short. There, just inside, was my compass, hanging on a single nail, daring me to take it. I gave it a strong look but knew I’d broken her pot and needed to make restitution. I marched down her rickety steps, a bead of sweat already trickling its way down my back. Curiosity had set in.

I ran back to Shady’s place, clomped up the wooden steps to my room, and reached under the floorboard for the Lucky Bill cigar box. Dumping the contents onto the bed, I found the fishing lure I hadn’t paid much attention to. The words from Miss Sadie’s story came back to me as I looked at the fancy green and yellow spotted lure. The underside of the lure, in pretty gold lettering, read WIGGLE KING—SO COLORFUL IT’LL CATCH A BLIND FISH.

At that moment I wished I’d never set foot on the Path to Perdition.

Likely Suspects

MAY 30, 1936

I lay in bed the next morning, feeling mightily burdened. Something had been gnawing at me all night. It was Gideon. Where did he fit into all this? How was he connected to this town? To these people? Manifest was the place he’d chosen to send me to, and yet it didn’t seem like he’d even been there. Did he know Ned or Jinx? Did anyone know him? I wasn’t even sure that I did.

Now, there was a thought. What did I know about Gideon? What did I think people should know about him? I started a list in my head. He always walked like he knew where he was going. He was a better cook than Shady. He tucked the blanket up under my chin when he thought I was asleep.

I stretched out in the warmth of my bed and pulled the blanket up to my chin. Let’s see, I thought. He was smart. Not so much book smart, even though he did know all forty-eight states and capitals and all the presidents from Washington to Roosevelt. No, Gideon was more “living by your wits” smart. He had once turned a bunch of wildflowers into a twenty-dollar bill. Some might have said that wasn’t smart, that was magic. Not the way Gideon had done it.

He’d gathered up a nice bunch of wildflowers and traded them for a sewing kit in Decatur, then, in Fort Wayne, swapped that for a camera, which he raffled off at a church picnic in South Bend. Chances were twenty-five cents apiece or five for a dollar. He ended up with seven dollars and fifty cents and bought us a tandem bicycle. But our behinds were so sore by Kalamazoo that he sold it for a twenty-dollar bill to a man with twin grandkids.

I remembered all these things about Gideon, but I couldn’t remember if he’d said the words or if I’d only imagined them. Those words I’m coming back for you.

Memories were like sunshine. They warmed you up and left a pleasant glow, but you couldn’t hold them.

I’d have to do some divining of my own, I thought as I rolled over. There was the Wiggle King fishing lure, sitting on the windowsill, where I’d left it the night before. I should have put it back in the cigar box, but somehow it had separated itself from the rest of the items. It had become different. Special. And it needed a special place.

There was a welcome breeze blowing through the open window. I was no stranger to hard work, but the thought of being cooped up in Miss Sadie’s Divining Parlor left me feeling a bit short of breath. Maybe I could busy myself helping Shady and wouldn’t have to go.