before.”
“But you’ve asked everyone about Doubtful Cañon,” Jasmine said. “That’ll be the first place they’ll look.”
“First, they’ll look through town,” I said. “And at some point they’ll look here. That’s where they’ll find the note.”
“Say we’ve gone to Mexico to live with señoritas and drink tequila and ride horses and join some rancho and become vaqueros,” Ian Spencer Henry said. “I always wanted to wear them fancy britches that them Mexican cowboys wear. I seen a good drawing on the covers of some of those fun books I so enjoy reading. Then my pa will go looking for me down south, if he thinks I’ve really gone, and I’m not altogether certain, Jack, that he’ll ever notice I’m missing. But if he does, I think the note should say we’ve gone to Mexico to run off. That’ll send them searching in the opposite direction of where we’re going.”
“They’d never believe that,” Jasmine said. “They’ll remember all Jack has asked about Doubtful Cañon and Stein’s Peak. Ian Spencer Henry is right, Jack. You shouldn’t have asked all those questions. That’ll give us all away.”
I drew in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and shook my head. “I had to ask, guys,” I said. “I had to find out that this fellow isn’t trying to hoodwink us or something. I mean, I had to at least try. But when they look in this mine…because, face it, someone in Shakespeare knows this is our hide-out…then they’ll find a note, but it’s a note to fool the grown-ups. It’s a note I’ve written to Jasmine, saying to meet us at the station at the Southern Pacific tracks.”
“But, Jack,” Ian Spencer Henry said, “that’s where that white-skinned man says we’re going. That’s exactly where we’re going.”
“I know that,” I said with not a little impatience. “But if people are looking for us, they’ll likely have a tracker who’ll be able to follow our trail north of here. But if you two will let me finish. This note, this letter to Jasmine, it says that I think I’ve fooled everyone into believing I’m interested in Doubtful Cañon and that’s where they will be looking while we take the first eastbound train to El Paso. And from there to San Antonio, Texas.”
They let my plan sink in. I thought it was a good one, and found their questions and doubts annoying.
“But, Jack,” Ian Spencer Henry said, “there’s no buried gold in San Antonio that I know of.”
Jasmine broke out giggling, while I just shook my head. “We’re not going to Texas! That’s just so they’ll look for us in Texas.”
“I’d like to go to San Antonio,” Ian Spencer Henry said. “See the Alamo and Texian cowboys, even though that man at the saloon said you can’t trust a Texian.”
“With your share, Ian Spencer Henry, with sixteen hundred dollars, I’m sure you can ride the rails to the Alamo.”
“One thousand, six hundred dollars, and sixty-six cents, Jack,” he said, grinning. “Because we decided to let Jasmine have an extra penny from each of us. Remember?”
I smiled back. “I remember.” I blew out one candle. “Remember, we have to meet back here before ten o’clock.”
After putting out the other candles, we stepped into the wind, heading back to our homes, while I wondered if Whitey Grey would show up that night, and, if he didn’t, if he proved to be merely a grafter or some strange jester, what I’d do next to escape Shakespeare.
He was there, of course, when I stepped back inside the Lady Macbeth three hours later, sitting in the darkness, his cigarette glowing when he inhaled. The small red glow seemed to cast just enough light to illuminate his deathly pale skin, although that had to be mere imagination from the mind of a frightened kid.
I cleared my throat. “Mister Grey,” I said. “It’s me, Jack Dunivan.”
“Jack!” The voice came to my left, and I looked into the blackness.
“Jasmine?”
“Yeah. I got here first. Where’s
“But you’ve asked everyone about Doubtful Cañon,” Jasmine said. “That’ll be the first place they’ll look.”
“First, they’ll look through town,” I said. “And at some point they’ll look here. That’s where they’ll find the note.”
“Say we’ve gone to Mexico to live with señoritas and drink tequila and ride horses and join some rancho and become vaqueros,” Ian Spencer Henry said. “I always wanted to wear them fancy britches that them Mexican cowboys wear. I seen a good drawing on the covers of some of those fun books I so enjoy reading. Then my pa will go looking for me down south, if he thinks I’ve really gone, and I’m not altogether certain, Jack, that he’ll ever notice I’m missing. But if he does, I think the note should say we’ve gone to Mexico to run off. That’ll send them searching in the opposite direction of where we’re going.”
“They’d never believe that,” Jasmine said. “They’ll remember all Jack has asked about Doubtful Cañon and Stein’s Peak. Ian Spencer Henry is right, Jack. You shouldn’t have asked all those questions. That’ll give us all away.”
I drew in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and shook my head. “I had to ask, guys,” I said. “I had to find out that this fellow isn’t trying to hoodwink us or something. I mean, I had to at least try. But when they look in this mine…because, face it, someone in Shakespeare knows this is our hide-out…then they’ll find a note, but it’s a note to fool the grown-ups. It’s a note I’ve written to Jasmine, saying to meet us at the station at the Southern Pacific tracks.”
“But, Jack,” Ian Spencer Henry said, “that’s where that white-skinned man says we’re going. That’s exactly where we’re going.”
“I know that,” I said with not a little impatience. “But if people are looking for us, they’ll likely have a tracker who’ll be able to follow our trail north of here. But if you two will let me finish. This note, this letter to Jasmine, it says that I think I’ve fooled everyone into believing I’m interested in Doubtful Cañon and that’s where they will be looking while we take the first eastbound train to El Paso. And from there to San Antonio, Texas.”
They let my plan sink in. I thought it was a good one, and found their questions and doubts annoying.
“But, Jack,” Ian Spencer Henry said, “there’s no buried gold in San Antonio that I know of.”
Jasmine broke out giggling, while I just shook my head. “We’re not going to Texas! That’s just so they’ll look for us in Texas.”
“I’d like to go to San Antonio,” Ian Spencer Henry said. “See the Alamo and Texian cowboys, even though that man at the saloon said you can’t trust a Texian.”
“With your share, Ian Spencer Henry, with sixteen hundred dollars, I’m sure you can ride the rails to the Alamo.”
“One thousand, six hundred dollars, and sixty-six cents, Jack,” he said, grinning. “Because we decided to let Jasmine have an extra penny from each of us. Remember?”
I smiled back. “I remember.” I blew out one candle. “Remember, we have to meet back here before ten o’clock.”
After putting out the other candles, we stepped into the wind, heading back to our homes, while I wondered if Whitey Grey would show up that night, and, if he didn’t, if he proved to be merely a grafter or some strange jester, what I’d do next to escape Shakespeare.
He was there, of course, when I stepped back inside the Lady Macbeth three hours later, sitting in the darkness, his cigarette glowing when he inhaled. The small red glow seemed to cast just enough light to illuminate his deathly pale skin, although that had to be mere imagination from the mind of a frightened kid.
I cleared my throat. “Mister Grey,” I said. “It’s me, Jack Dunivan.”
“Jack!” The voice came to my left, and I looked into the blackness.
“Jasmine?”
“Yeah. I got here first. Where’s
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