Moon Over Manifest by Clare Vanderpool Page A

rushed.”
    Miss Sadie was working up a sweat. I’d had no idea it took such effort being a spirit conjurer. I stared, wide-eyed, as the diviner began.
    “The boy, he is tired and hungry. He must act now. He must make a leap of faith.…”

Triple Toe Creek
CRAWFORD COUNTY, KANSAS OCTOBER 6, 1917
    Jinx watched the ground rush by in the late-afternoon light. He’d jumped from enough boxcars to know that the jumping was easy. It was the landing that could present a problem. Figuring that the cottonwoods along the creek would be as good a place as any to hide out for a while, he grabbed his pack and leaped.
    Unfortunately, he saw the ravine from midair. Rolling and tumbling, he tried to keep his pack up so it wouldn’t bang on the ground like every other part of him. Finally, he stopped, then listened. He heard a girl’s voice just ahead.
    “Ned Gillen, you have only one thing on your mind. If I’d known why you brought me out here … Why, I am a lady and I’ll have no part of it! And maybe you should find someone else to take to the homecoming dance.”
    Jinx peered over the bush in front of him just in time to see a young woman raise her parasol and march off. Aboy—a young man, really—with olive skin and dark wavy hair was left holding a catfish hooked on a line.
    After a moment, the boy stared into the catfish’s bulgy eyes and cleared his throat. “Pearl Ann, I apologize for compromising your femininity by exposing you to the rugged world of fishing. Would you please reconsider and do me the honor of accompanying me to the homecoming dance?” The fish stared back, unmoved.
    Jinx was intrigued by the romantic scene developing before him, but was even more enamored with the catfish wriggling on the hook. He knew he should hop another train to put more distance between him and the events from the night before. The sound of the sheriff’s dogs barking and growling still rang in his ears. But his stomach was the one growling now. Jinx hadn’t eaten since the day before and could already smell that catfish sizzling on a spit.
    “You’re going to have to do more than sweet-talk a fish,” Jinx said, emerging from the bushes.
    Ned Gillen spun around, then relaxed when he saw that it was just a boy. “Is that right? And I suppose you would know in your, what, twelve years of experience with women?”
    “Thirteen, and it’s not what I know, it’s what I have.” Jinx took a brown bottle, which had miraculously remained unbroken, from his pack. “You got all the right words to go after her, but you can’t go smelling like catfish and creek water, can you?”
    Ned sniffed the fish and grimaced. “I suppose not.”
    “What I have here will solve all your problems. It’s a cologne, aftershave, and mouthwash all in one. It comesfrom the arctic glacial waters off the coast of Alaska. I got it from a hundred-year-old Eskimo medicine man.”
    “And where did you happen to run into a hundred-year-old Eskimo?”
    “I did some work at the docks in Juneau. At any rate, if it can make a polar bear smell good, just think what it can do for you.” Jinx jiggled the bottle. “Time is of the essence, my friend.”
    “I suppose a little fresher-up wouldn’t hurt. But something tells me you’re not in the business of giving away arctic glacial water for free.”
    Jinx pursed his lips. “I suppose we could make a trade. Say, that catfish for this bottle. That is, unless you’re getting kind of sweet on her.”
    Ned grinned and unhooked the fish, revealing a green and yellow spotted fishing hook. He held up the lure. “It’s brand-new. They call it a Wiggle King. So colorful it’ll catch a blind fish. Anyway, I doubt that concoction is worth the fish and the lure.” He handed over the fish and took the bottle.
    “I’ll take good care of her,” Jinx said as Ned left.
    The October night was still and mild as Jinx stretched out by the fire in his shorts, his belly full of catfish. He’d rinsed out his clothes