Dan slept badly that night.  He tossed and turned and worried, his emotions running the gamut from anger to fear and back again.  When he dragged himself out of bed on Monday morning, he was no closer to a solution than he had been the night before.

        Maypenny noticed that Dan was quieter than usual at breakfast.  The circles under the boy’s eyes told the tale of his restless night, and the bleak look within those eyes made the old man want to weep.  Sighing, he said, “Daniel.  I want you to know that you are welcome here.  I told Regan last night, and I am telling you now:  I believe you when you say you didn’t take the watch.  I trust you, and I’d like you to stay.”

        Dan flushed.  “Thanks,” he said glumly.  “But I don’t guess you get to decide anymore than I do.”  Maypenny watched sadly as the boy cleared his place, picked up his things and left the cabin.

        Dan floated through school in a daze.  He completed his assignments and otherwise avoided contact with people.  When Lloyd Flannegan waved him over to the lunch table, he scowled, shook his head and took his lunch outside into the cold air.  The day couldn’t end fast enough for him.

        Tom Delanoy drove Regan toward the train station in silence.  Regan looked positively grim, and Tom wisely chose not to try and start a conversation.  Regan himself was lost in thought.  Maypenny’s words from the night before were still ringing in his ears.  When he added to that the expression in Danny’s eyes as he had lifted the boy off the ground and shaken him, well, Regan was torn.  A memory of himself as a small red haired boy, being shaken and slapped for...his brain tried to block out the memory, but it came through anyway.  The indignity of being accused of stealing apples from the kitchen, when he had been nowhere near the place.  The fear and the anger, the pain...shaking his head, Regan put aside the memories.  The evidence pointed to Dan as the watch thief;  he’d seen it himself.  It wasn’t as if the boy didn’t have a history of stealing.  “It is better this way,” Regan whispered to himself, pushing back his memories and gritting his teeth.  “I tried.  I failed.  End of story.”

        Dan let himself into the cabin and put his backpack in his room.  A note on the table read:

1. Daniel,
   

2.     I am out at Storm King, hunting for that catamount.  Please set the pheasant snares.  The Wheelers are having a party this weekend and want fresh game.  I’m brewing some hunter’s stew for dinner.
   

3. M.
   

        Dan changed into his work boots, and made himself a peanut butter and jam sandwich before heading out into the snow.  He started setting the snares, taking his time to fix each one correctly.  There was something calming in the repetitive action.  He was on his fourth snare when he heard horses approaching.  Turning, feet set apart, snare in hand he faced the riders.  Honey and Trixie, again.  Fixing Trixie with a glare, he barked, “What do you want to talk about?  I told you I’ve got work to do!”

        “You don’t need to snap my head off!”  Trixie retorted. “We just wanted to tell you we’ve decided that it was somebody else who found Honey’s watch and sold it to Mr. Lytell.  Not you.”

        Dan looked at her, stunned.  How nice of her to wreck his life yesterday and decide she was mistaken today.  He sneered.  “What am I supposed to say?  Thank you, ma’am?”

        “Of course not!”  Honey spoke, riding closer, “We just want you to know that we’re going to tell Mr. Maypenny right now that we’re sure we were mistaken.”

       Too little, too late.  The phrase snapped into Dans mind and he scowled, “Don’t bother!” he snapped, “I’m getting out of this backwoods joint in a couple of days, and what that old square thinks about me means exactly zero.”  He turned his back on them before they could see the truth in his face.  His shaking hands started working on the snare as he deliberately ignored their conversation.  He heard the horses start up the hill, and turned to watch them go, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

        Honey Wheeler reined in her mount and looked back.  Raising one slim hand, she waved at Dan.  That simple gesture broke through Dan’s shell, and he snatched off his cap and waved it back at her, shouting, “He’s up at Storm King hunting for that wildcat!”

        Honey called back, “We’ll find him.  Thanks!”  She waved again before riding  away, and Dan went back to work, his heart feeling much lighter.

        Dan was eager to get home to the cabin.  He hoped the two girls had found Maypenny, and that it wasn’t too late to contact his Uncle.  He stopped at the stable to feed and water Spartan and noticed that Brownie was already stabled.  Mr. Maypenny must be home, if Brownie was here.  He looked towards the cabin.  Every light in the place was on; that was odd.  Shrugging, Dan fished a lump of sugar out of his pocket and held it out to Spartan.  The horse tickled his palm as he  slurped up the treat.  Dan smiled and rubbed Spartan’s nose before heading to the house.

        As he  opened the kitchen door, he choked back his call for Mr. Maypenny.  Something was not right.  Dan felt a familiar chill run up and down his spine.  He sniffed the air.  Cigarette smoke.  His heart started beating faster, as he crept silently into the next room.

        “Long time no see, Danny-Manny.”  The familiar voice stopped Dan mid-stride.

        “Luke,” he said, turning to face his former comrade. “How’d you get here?”

        “I got your letter,”  Luke sauntered across the room and flopped in Maypenny’s rocking chair.  “Things were slow in the city, so I thought I’d hitch on up here and check out your digs.”  He looked around the cabin, and blew smoke in Dan’s direction.  “Cozy.” he said.

        “Here,”  Dan thrust a small Staffordshire pottery bowl in front of Luke.  “Use this for your ashes, okay?”

        “Sure, buddy,”  Luke said genially.  “I never could understand what you had against ciggies, but hey, it’s your place.”  He set the bowl on the side table, lit another cigarette from his first one, and snuffed out the old one.  “So, what’s the situation up here?  I’ve seen a lot of rich kids and some nice cars.  You made any scores yet?”

        “No,”  Dan watched Luke and his cigarette warily. “I’ve been getting the lay of the land.”

        “Yeah, I seen you tramping around.  You having fun in the great outdoors?”  Luke started on his third cigarette.

        “I was probably going to leave at the end of the week,”  Dan said.  “Get back to the city and hook up again.”

        “Really?”  Luke quirked an eyebrow. “You were just going to up and leave?  I don’t know boy, you look pretty comfortable in those farm boots.”

        Dan looked down at his feet, still clad in his work boots.  “I like to keep my regular boots clean.  If these are bothering you I can take them off.”  He removed his boots and tucked them inside his room, pulling out his cowboy boots.  “Better?” he asked snidely, slipping them on.

        “One step closer, choir boy.”  Luke lit another cigarette, and Dan moved to open the closest window.  “Whaddya do that for?”

        “Old Maypenny doesn’t like the smell.  This is his house, and he should be home soon, so...what?” Dan didn’t like the look that crossed Luke’s face. “What?” he asked again.

        Luke grinned meanly, “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about the old man tonight.”

        Dan’s blood ran cold, “What do you mean by that?” he asked.  “Come on, Luke.  He’s just a nice old man.  Did you do something to him?”

        Luke just smirked, and lit yet another cigarette.  Dan got to his feet and started for the door.  He heard voices outside, coming towards the cabin.  There were a lot of voices.  Don’t panic, he told himself.  He turned to Luke and said, “We’ve got company.  You need to hide.”

        Luke rose to his feet, snuffing out his cigarette.  “Where?” he asked.

        Dan looked around, searching for a safe place in the tiny cabin.  “Up there,” he said.  “In the attic.  Quick!”

        Luke climbed up the ladder and through the trap door.  Dan bolted it behind him and dropped back down to the floor.  He looked around, trying to spot anything out of place.  His eyes caught Luke’s Cowhand jacket draped over the back of a chair.  He started towards it, but the door knob rattled.

        “Hey, Dan!  Open up!  Mr. Maypenny’s been hurt!”  Dan recognized Brian Belden’s voice.  He cast one quick look at the trap door, but it was locked.  Luke was well and truly trapped, and Dan hoped he had sense enough to stay quiet.  Dan walked quickly to the door and threw it open.

        Brian Belden and Jim Frayne stood on the door step, supporting Mr. Maypenny between them.  The old man was bleeding.  “A tree branch fell on him.  It’s just a cut, I think,”  Brian explained, “but I’d better take a couple of stitches.”

        Brian and Jim helped Mr. Maypenny up the step, and Dan moved in front, barring the way.  He reached for Mr. Maypenny’s arm, pulling the old man inside.  “I’ll take care of him.  I know how.  Thanks for your help, but you can go now.”  He reached for the door, but Brian blocked him.

        “Just a minute, bud,” the older Belden said. “I’m not so sure you know how to take care of Mr. Maypenny, and we’re not going to take any chances on it.”

        Dan felt himself turn pale.  He couldn’t let them in, not with Luke in the attic.  “Get out, all of you!” he demanded.  “We don’t need your help!”  He tried to support Maypenny, but the older man groaned and leaned hard on Dan, nearly knocking him over.  Immediately, Jim and Brian lifted Mr. Maypenny up off of Dan and over to the bunk against the wall.  Dan followed, still trying to make them leave. “Let him alone and get out of here, I said!  We don’t need you.”

        “Just keep out of the way!” Brian spoke sharply and pushed Dan out of the way, before turning to his sister, who, along with Honey and Mart, had followed him into the cabin.  “Trixie, get into the kitchen and start some water boiling.  We’ll have to find some bandages, too.  I’m sure he has some around here somewhere.”  Dan watched Trixie go into the kitchen.  He didn’t know what to do.  It was obvious that the Bob Whites were not going to leave until they had ministered to Mr. Maypenny.  Part of him was glad, because the old man did not look well; the other part feared they would discover Luke.

        “There’s a first-aid kit in the bathroom,” Dan said sullenly.  “I’ll bring it.”

        Dan came back with the first aid kit and handed it to Jim.  The redhead took it, gave him a long stare, and smiled his thanks.  Dan was taken aback by the look; it was almost as if Jim Frayne had seen right through him.  It was disconcerting.  Dan felt helpless as Mr. Maypenny began moaning.  Jim turned to him and asked, “Could you check on the girls, Dan?  We really need that water.” Dan nodded, and headed for the kitchen.

        He stopped short when he heard Trixie say, “It’s the same brand we found in the clubhouse.  I guess this pins the blame for that right back on Dan.”  Moving into the doorway, Dan saw Trixie fingering Luke’s cigarette butts.

         Dan had heard about the clubhouse burglary at school.  Great, he thought. One more thing to blame on me. He stayed quiet,  listening to the girls.

        Honey was talking now.  “The worst is stealing our poor little three dollars and forty cents!  It’s so small and petty.”

        “Not if he needed money for cigarettes and only had enough allowance or wages to pay for his school lunch and the bus.”  Trixie frowned at the thought.

        “He certainly is acting awfully strange about letting the boys help Mr. Maypenny!”  Honey said thoughtfully.  “Do you suppose--oh, I shouldn’t even think such things about the poor boy, but--do you suppose he has stolen things from us that we haven’t missed yet, and he didn’t want us to see them here?  Like skates or some of our summer stuff?”

        “Wouldn’t be surprised,”  Trixie answered soberly.  “I’m going to keep my eyes open, and if I see anything which belongs to one of us--”  She broke off as she spotted Dan standing in the doorway.  He scowled at her, and was glad to see her flush and look guilty.

        They both looked guilty, he realized, because they knew he had heard them.  He glared, and said, “What about the hot water?  You dames going to take all day getting it?”

        “Tell Brian we’ll bring it right now!”  Trixie finally managed to say.  Dan gave both girls a sneer, turned on his heel and went back to the living room.

        At first he watched as Brian Belden carefully stitched the gash in Mr. Maypenny’s head.  Reluctantly, he admired his calm and steady hands.  Dan’s own hands were shaking.  He sat himself down in a chair and chewed on his lip.  A creaking noise caught his attention, and he covertly cast a glance up towards the ceiling.  Luke must be moving.  Briefly, Dan considered telling the other boys about Luke.  He was pretty sure Luke was responsible for Mr. Maypenny's injury.  The four of them, together, could probably take Luke; either that or call the police on him.  No.  That could backfire.  What if they didn’t believe him?  What if the police believed the girls?  What if they thought he and Luke were in cahoots?  What if the police took him directly off to jail again?  Dan pushed down the wave of nausea that rose at that thought.  It was best to just hope Luke stayed put until the Bob-Whites went home.  He slid down in his chair, feet stretched out, a frown on his face.  He barely noticed Trixie and Honey, scooting around his boot clad feet.

        Dan’s mind snapped back to the present when Brian said, “I wouldn’t get up and wander around if I were you.  You’re likely to get dizzy.”

        Mr. Maypenny’s voice was weak as he answered, “I’ll get along, boy.  And much obliged for the bandagin’.  The lad here will take care of me now.”  He opened his eyes and smiled at Dan.  Dan returned the smile, but it faltered when the old man groaned and turned his face to the wall.

        “Think we ought to phone Doc Tremaine to ride over and see him in the morning?”  Jim whispered to Brian.

        Dan jumped to his feet.  “You heard what Mr. Maypenny said,”  he told them defiantly.  “I can look out for him if he needs it.  You just forget about calling any doctor!”

        “What do you know about head injuries?”  Brian asked sharply.

        “I’ve been conked on the bean a couple of times,”  Dan said with a scowl.  “I didn’t have to drag in a sawbones to cure me.”  He pointed to the door.  “Why don’t the bunch of you get out?  You rich kids always got to play it your way.  Nobody else knows anything.  Big men!”  His anxiety was reaching critical mass.  He needed them to leave!

        “Rich kids! Boy!”  It was Mart who spoke, a look of disgust on his face.  “Boy! Are you misinformed.  We Beldens aren’t rich.  I wish we were--I’m lazy.  But we live on a farm, and all of us kids work hard to make it go.”

        “And our dad puts in eight hours a day on his job at the bank, sometimes lots longer,” Trixie put in her two cents, “for his salary!”

        Dan glowered.  “What about him?  He looked at Jim.  “And Honey?  They’re rollin’ in it!”

        “Jim was worse off than you’ve ever been,”  Brian said quietly, “Not many months ago.”

        Dan wanted to laugh...or cry.  What did any of them know about him?  He settled for scowling at Jim. 

        Jim smiled, and nodded.  “Broke, runaway, and scared.  And I haven’t forgotten it.  But I think it would do Mr. Maypenny a lot more good if we got out of here than it will if we stand around arguing.”

        “Come on, kids.” Brian gestured toward the door.

        Dan watched, torn between shame and relief.  Trixie stopped near the door and turned back to glare at him.  “You do hiss and coil like a snake.  A copperhead!”  She flounced toward the door and ran into the chair that had Luke's jacket draped over it.  She grabbed the back of the chair and began rubbing her shin.  Dan looked at her hands, gripping Luke’s jacket, and fought down panic.  Trixie noticed his expression, and snatched the jacket off the chair and threw it at him.  “Don’t look so mean!” she stormed at him.  “I was hardly touching your disgusting old jacket!  I wasn’t hurting it!  Take a good look!”

        Dan reached out to catch the jacket, but it landed on the floor between the two of them.  Its black, shiny back lay uppermost, and across it from shoulder to shoulder, a neatly lettered legend in white paint spelled out THE COWHANDS.  Trixie stared.  “Why, that isn’t the same ja--”

        “Get out, will you!”  Dan cut her off with a shout, as he darted forward to grab the jacket.  Glaring at her, he held the jacket behind his back, praying she would just leave.

        “Trixie!”  Brian poked his head in through the doorway, “Come on!  Stop squabbling, both of you!  Have a little consideration for Mr. Maypenny.”

        She turned and flounced out.  Dan was hot on her heels, slamming the door and sliding the bolt shut.  Leaning back against the door, he took a deep breath, and tried to figure out what to do next.

Inside the Jacket 4

Index

Inside the Jacket 6

Main