Wonderland Creek Part 19

"Mack's got himself in a lot of trouble, honey. He came back here to try and fix things and ended up making them a whole lot worse. He meant well, but some folks don't see it that way."

"Has he broken any laws? Because if he's in trouble with the law, he needs to know that I have no intention of going to jail with him. I refuse to become another Bonnie and Clyde."

"Who are they, honey?"

"Never mind. But tell me the truth. Is Mack breaking the law?"

"Not that I know of."

I huffed in frustration. "Why should I believe a word you say? You lied to this entire town when you told them Mack was dead."

"That had to be done, honey. Otherwise, he really would be dead by now. Listen, I can see that you're peeved with me again, and I'm real sorry about it."

"Oh, I'm more than peeved. I'm furious! Did you ever think to ask me if I wanted to stay and help you?"

"Of course not. I knew you was itching to go home. You woulda told me no."

She was right, of course. But that was beside the point. I knew I'd never get a straight answer out of Lillie. I needed to talk to Mack. But where was he?

"Where did Mack go?" I asked. "I stopped by his cabin today and he wasn't there. There was no sign of him."

"I'm sure he's there. Dead men don't leave any signs-and Mack is supposed to be a dead man, remember?"

"So he was hiding somewhere? He deliberately avoided me?"

"If you was as riled up as you are right now, I don't blame him for hiding. Do you?"

I slammed out of the back door and walked down to the creek to think. What options did I have? I could write a letter to my parents, begging them to come and rescue me or send me train fare, but that would take time-and the postmaster was Lillie's friend. Who knew if he would even send my letter to them? I could walk to the sheriff's office-if someone would tell me where it was and how to get there. But could I trust the sheriff? Lillie had called him a snake and I hadn't liked him, either. I would have confided in Maggie Coots, a flatlander like myself, except that Lillie had warned me to be careful of Maggie. Then again, Lillie certainly couldn't be trusted. I didn't know whom to trust or what to do.

Eventually, when my temper had a chance to cool, I went inside and helped Lillie finish making supper. I was hungry, and if I didn't watch her carefully, I might be eating squirrels again.

"How much longer might you and Mack need my help?" I asked as we finished making the soup together.

"You have to ask Mack that question, not me."

I rode Belle up to the cabin after supper to do just that. Mack wasn't there, so I tied the horse to the railing, sat down on the porch, and waited. I had a lot of time to think of all the questions I wanted to ask Mack before he finally slithered out of the woods wearing a sheepish grin. "Are you looking for me?"

"Good guess. You're pretty smart, aren't you?"

"So I've been told." He gave Belle a good petting, murmuring affectionate nonsense to her, then sat down on the step beside me, looking as innocent as June Ann's baby.

"Did you know about this plan of Lillie's to keep me trapped here? Did you know she was going to convince my aunt and uncle to go home?"

"To be perfectly honest . . . she might have mentioned it in that letter she wrote to me. She said she had a feeling they would come early, and she asked me to keep you here as long as possible."

"I hate you!" And I did. But then he smiled, and I couldn't help noticing the boyish dimple in his cheek again.

"Hey now. I'm sorry to hear that you hate me," he said. "But you came down to Kentucky because you wanted to help out, right? And you're doing that. You're helping in more ways than you can ever imagine. Besides, who else could I get to run the library while I'm up here playing dead? You're a very good librarian, you know."

"But you didn't give me a choice! You never asked me if I would like to ride a book route or if I wanted to stay here and work. You and Lillie have schemed and connived to keep me here like . . . like a captive."

"I suppose you could look at it that way . . . but remember those pirates in Treasure Island? They took that young boy on an adventure against his will and look how good that story turned out."

"That's a novel. This is real life-" I stopped, shocked by my own confession. It was what Gordon had said to me. Countless times.

Mack picked up a stick and idly drew patterns in the dirt in front of us. "Would you have stayed to help or taken on a library route if we had asked you nicely?"

"Absolutely not."

"See? That's why we didn't ask. That's why we 'connived,' as you so eloquently put it. We needed your help and there was no other way to get it."

"I could have you both arrested for kidnapping, you know."

"Of course you could. But tell me, if you had gone home with your relatives last week, what would you be doing right now that's so important?"

The answer was nothing. I had nothing important to do back home. Which was why I had reluctantly decided during supper tonight that I might as well resign myself to staying here and helping out. I pulled the stick out of Mack's hand and tossed it aside.

"I want you to put your hand on a Bible, Mr. Leslie MacDougal, and swear to me that you aren't doing anything that's against the law-besides faking your own death, which I'm quite sure is a felony in most states."

"No jury in the world would convict me once they found out why I did it."

"Why did you do it?"

"I told you. So the shooter wouldn't come back and try again. That's why Lillie's been telling lies, too-to save my life."

"I might start taking potshots at you myself if you don't tell me the truth. Are you breaking any other laws?"

"No. And I'll swear to it on a Bible or my mama's grave or anyplace else you want me to swear." He was trying very hard to keep a straight face and not smile, or worse, laugh out loud. I wanted to kick him in the shins. "Once you get to know me, Alice, you'll see that I eschew getting into trouble with the law."

I stared at him in shock. "What did you say?"

"I said that I eschew getting into trouble with the law. Eschew means-"

"I know what it means!"

"Then why are you getting all riled up?"

"Because . . ." How could I explain to him that the word eschew had been one of the reasons my boyfriend had broken up with me? How could this annoying backwoods librarian casually use the same word in a perfectly innocent sentence? What were the chances of that happening? Did Mack read the same literary journals that I did?

"Never mind," I mumbled. "I'm just surprised that you know what eschew means, that's all."

Mack placed his hand over his heart as if I had hurt his feelings. "You cut me to the quick, Miss Ripley. I am a college graduate, you know."

I closed my eyes and waved my hands, wanting to erase this pointless conversation. "Forget all this eschewing. Just tell me who you think tried to kill you. Lillie said there might be more than one suspect."

"She's right, there might be." He stroked his smooth-shaven chin for a moment the way he used to stroke his beard. "Okay, I'll tell you this much. When I came back here after college and after working up north for a few years, people I'd known all my life didn't quite trust me anymore. Some of them-Cora's brother Clint, for instance-have a habit of making moonshine up in these mountains. There's a lot of stills up in them there hills," he said, mocking a mountain accent. "Some of those moonshiners began to think that I worked for the government. They saw me snooping around, and they may have intercepted a letter or two of mine at the post office, addressed to an official in Washington, and they decided that I was a revenue agent. A revenuer, as they like to call them."

"Are you a government revenue agent?"

"Of course not. But my enemies want the moonshiners to think that I am so they'll take a few potshots at me and try to run me off."

"So you think Clint or one of the other moonshiners might have tried to kill you?"

"It's a possibility. Which is why I can't let Cora or the other girls know I'm alive."

"Why are you really snooping around and sending letters to Washington?"

"Sorry. The less you know, the safer you'll be for now. But I promise I'll tell you just as soon as I can."

"Who else might be trying to kill you besides the moonshiners?"

"Remember how I told you about all the union troubles over in Harlan County? Some of us tried to pressure the coal company here in Acorn for better working conditions, too. Then when the mine shut down and all the men lost their jobs, a lot of the miners blamed me. They didn't believe that the whole nation's economy is in trouble, not just Kentucky's. They don't get newspapers here very often."

"They would kill you over a misunderstanding?"

"It's like this: Before I came to town they had jobs. After I came, they were all out of work."

"But . . . but weren't you the one who created the packhorse librarian jobs? Lillie says those four women support nearly every family in town."

"That's true. But for those who are suspicious of me, getting government jobs for the ladies makes me look like I have clout with the government. So maybe I am a revenuer, after all."

I exhaled, trying to make sense of this mess.

"Then there's the age-old family feud here in Acorn," Mack continued, "between the Larkins and the Arnetts."

"Your mean June Ann's family versus Wayne's family?"

He nodded. "It happens that my mother was a Larkin."

"Oh, for heaven's sake. Someone would kill you for that? I thought your parents died when you were young?"

"I don't want to go into all of it," he said, rubbing his eyes, "but whenever an inheritance or buried treasure is at stake, there's always the possibility of bloodshed."

I couldn't speak. Buried treasure? Were the stories true? "Ike Arnett told me a bizarre story about a treasure," I said when I could find my voice, "but I didn't believe him."

"You met Ike?"

"He came into the library to get a book to read. He played his fiddle at your funeral, too."

"He's very talented. Listen, Alice, the sooner I finish my work, the sooner you can go home. But I need your help. I'm stuck up here and can't go where I need to go."

"Where do you need to go?"

"To the Acorn Mine, to begin with. You could do me a huge favor if you went over there for me and looked around to see if they left any papers in the filing cabinets when they closed down the mine. That's all. You don't have to take anything, just look around. Will you do that for me?"

"You're crazy. It's . . . it's preposterous! I'm not a spy or a detective. I could end up in a lot of trouble."

"Not for looking around. Don't be so melodramatic. You went to the mining camp once before and looked around, didn't you?"

"Well, I'm not going again." I almost added, especially for you. Then I had an idea. "I might agree on one condition: help me get to a telephone so I can call home. I need to tell my parents what's going on. They must be very worried about me."

"You're in luck." Mack grinned. "There's a telephone in the mine office. You can kill two birds with one stone."

"Won't the phone be turned off if the mine is closed?"

"Not necessarily. You don't know how hard it is to get the telephone company to come all the way up here. It's easier for them to just keep the phone connected. In fact, that can be your legitimate reason for being there, if anyone asks. You came to use the phone."

"In the first place, who is this 'anyone' who might question me at a deserted mine office? And in the second place, why should I believe anything you say?"

"The 'anyone' was rhetorical. And why not believe me? Why trust anyone in this big bad world, when it comes right down to it? Why trust G.o.d?"

"Let's leave G.o.d out of this." I sighed. "Do these papers at the Acorn Mine have anything to do with why someone shot you?"

"Maybe . . . maybe not."

"I think I have a right to know the truth since you're asking me to snoop around for you."

"If anyone stops you, just tell them you're there to use the telephone. Period. And while you're there, see if they cleaned out the filing cabinets. It's simple."

"I'm quite certain that trespa.s.sing is against the law."

"But you look so very innocent and guileless, Alice, with your peachy complexion and curly blond hair-like the heroine in a fairy tale. You could be Little Red Riding Hood strolling innocently through the woods."

"Does that mean there's a Big Bad Wolf waiting for me?"

He didn't laugh, but whether it was because he didn't get the joke or because there really was a wolf, I couldn't tell.

"I'm sure you'll be completely believable when you explain about the telephone. It's the truth, isn't it?"

I glared at him through narrowed eyes. "I don't think you or Lillie or anyone else in Acorn, Kentucky, would recognize the truth if it fell from the sky and hit you in the head."

Mack didn't reply. We sat side by side on the cabin step for a few minutes, listening to the creek rushing below us, feeling the warm evening breeze on our faces as I tried to decide what to do. One of the trees in front of the cabin was an apple tree, planted by a long-ago settler, and it was about to burst into bloom. The woods up in these Kentucky hills were so peaceful and serene that no one would ever imagine that feuding and loneliness and hardship were brewing beneath the surface. And secrets.

Mack slowly rose to his feet. He winced in pain as he twisted his head from side to side and rubbed his left shoulder. He had been ma.s.saging his left arm off and on while we had talked.

"Is your wound still bothering you?" I asked. "I promised Lillie I would find out how it's healing."

"Yeah, it bothers me. I think it's healing okay, but sometimes my arm and fingers go numb. I may have damaged a nerve or a muscle or something. It's going to be hard to use my typewriter."

"What are you typing?"

"Nothing at the moment. My typewriter is still at Lillie's house. But the sooner I get my book finished and to a publisher, the sooner we can both go home."

"You're writing a book? What kind of book?"

"Ever hear of a novel called The Jungle by Upton Sinclair?"

"Of course. It's an expose of the meatpacking industry in Chicago. It was a bestseller. It caused a lot of ruckus, as I recall."