Thomas Tryon - The Night of the Moonbow

Evidently her glasses didn’t please her, because she took them off again and rubbed the lenses with her handkerchief. “You’re a good boy, Leo Joaquim.” She still pronounced it “Joakum.” “Don’t seem possible the summer’s over.” She sighed. “Seems like you all just got here and soon you’ll be leaving.” She beckoned him nearer. “See here, Leo, Dagmar’s told me how bad you want to stay with her at the Castle. I’m sure she’d like to have you come visit, thinking a good deal of you the way she does. She’s got plans for you – musical plans. You’ve got to get your schoolin’, ’n’ t’ do that you’ve got to go someplace where there’s folks to teach you proper, don’tcha see? Now, before you leave, I want you to phone her up and tell her you’re sorry. Yes, she told me how you spoke. And y’are sorry – aren’tcha?” He nodded and dragged his toe in the dirt. “Of course y’are!

“And, dear,” she went on, “I know you’ve been meanly treated by some of the boys. But, oh, honey, I don’t think they meant to be bad. I’m sure they didn’t. Our boys are good boys, Moonbow boys, only – I don’t know, this summer something seemed to get into them. They were all mischief-bent. I don’t know why, this summer. ’Twasn’t like that before and I’m sure it won’t be that way again. Besides, a body’s got to go on. I’ve got to go on, you’ve got to go on, we’ve all got to go on. My mama said it, a man’s got to find his own way home.”

Leo nodded.

“Well, go along, then,” she said. She sighed again and peered at the cat, lying on the slates. “Jezzy, suppertime, is it?” She heaved herself up and went to get Jezebel the tasty fishhead Henry Ives had saved for her.

When Leo crossed the compound he found Pa waiting for him.

“I wish a word with you,” Pa said, beckoning. Leo approached hesitantly, not knowing of what he might be found guilty this time.

“Well, young man,” Pa began, running the tip of his tongue around his store-bought teeth, “and how are we today?”

Leo offered a positive report on his current state of health and general well-being while' Pa managed not to look directly at him.

“Eeee-heh,” he said. His tone took on an unaccustomed intimacy. “See here, son, I want you to know I have been deeply distressed, deeply distressed, at some of the things that have happened around here this summer. Can’t think what possessed our campers to behave like savages. A pack of miscreants, they were. But let us not be too harsh in our judgments, eh? Boys will be boys, I always say. Too quickly they all grow up, too soon they must face the cares and burdens of adulthood. ‘Glad Men from Happy Boys,’ eh? There’s the spirit! The good old Friend-Indeed spirit.” He smote his kneecap. “I say let the lads have their fun while they may, make hay while the sun shines, so to speak.”

Before Leo could properly respond to this, Pa sighed again, then went on. “We must take these setbacks in stride, you know. After all, God gives us no heavier burden than He provides us with the strength to bear, isn’t that so?” He took out his pocket square and pressed his lips. His eyes were moist as he looked at Leo, planning his next words. He started, stopped, began again, employing a confidential tone. “I find myself hoping that, should occasion arise when Dr Dunbar and the Friends of Joshua come among us again, that you might withhold comment as to what has transpired here. It’s all in the past now; why make more of it than necessary? Hm? So I am wondering if I could possibly prevail on you – we don’t like to get Big Rolfe upset, do we? Not when he’s in such a giving frame of mind. I think I can say we would be one of the first camps on the whole Eastern Seaboard to have chemical toilets – should Rolfe decide to afford us them. In the meantime, if it’s all the same to you, we needn’t say anything to anyone about these matters, need we? After all, accidents will happen. And Dr Dunbar, fine gentleman that he is, is not required to know everything that goes on here at camp, now, is he – hem?”

He wove his fingers into a basket, allowed his eyes to meet Leo’s, and quickly shifted them. “Well, well, go along, then,” he said and sent Leo from him with a finger on his shoulder. The screen door slammed behind him and in a moment the radio came on: “Vic and Sade.”

Leo did not linger but headed for the lower camp.

In the loft doorway, Reece Hartsig leaned against the lintel, his expression coolly thoughtful as, fingering his cedar heart, he watched Leo trot down the meadow path. He straightened; then, moving quickly down the stairs, he crossed the compound and crept up to the office door. He peered through the screen and, satisfied that the place was empty, opened the door quietly. Once inside, he went immediately to Ma’s desk and slid his fingers under the ink-stained blotter. He used the key to open the pie safe, from which he removed the manila folder Ma had placed there. He shut the door, returned the key to its place, then slipped the folder and its contents inside his shirt. As he started to cross the room again, something caught his eye and he froze. Willa-Sue was watching him from the hallway.

He glared at her.

The girl started to shake. He thrust her roughly aside and headed for the door.

Not long after, Leo was standing in the Dewdrop Inn, where he’d made a stop, his pee creating a satisfyingly tinny sound against the trough. Suddenly the door opened and someone ducked quickly inside: Wally Pfeiffer. He halted, back to the door, staring at Leo, his large eyes blinking rapidly. Leo grimaced; he had paid hardly any attention to Wally since Tiger got sick.

“I’ve got something to tell you,” Wally began, a worried expression on his face. “I know you don’t like me but-” “Cut it out,” Leo said. “What is it?”

As Wally darted a furtive look out the window, the sound of cheering could be heard coming from the far edge of the playing field, where the final round of the last archery tournament was in progress. Obviously someone had just hit a bulls-eye. Sliding a sidelong glance at Leo, Wally said, “You better get out of here. You’re in trouble.”

Leo couldn’t resist a snicker. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“It’s true. The Mingoes. They’re going to get you.” Wally lowered his voice further. “Remember Stanley? Stanley Wagner?”

“What about him?”

“Do you know what happened to him?”

“Sure – he stole a paperweight from the Castle and got caught.”

“He didn’t steal it. I did.”

“You did?”

“The whole thing was Reece’s idea. He wanted Stanley out of camp and he would have done anything to get him out. Right from the start.”

“You mean he didn’t want him in Jeremiah, isn’t that it? Because he was afraid Jeremiah’d lose the trophy?”

Wally nodded.

“Then Stanley was framed.”

Wally nodded again. “I sneaked the paperweight out of the cabinet and slipped it to Phil. He hid it in Stanley’s suitcase. Then Reece held an inspection and made believe he accidentally found it.”

“Why didn’t Stanley deny it?”

“He did. But the Sachems put him in Scarsdale anyway. Reece thought that would get rid of him, but Stanley fooled him. He stuck it. Reece was really mad. When Scarsdale didn’t work, they locked him up in the Haunted House -in the cellar – and scared the heck out of him. Stanley was a mess. He called his folks and they came and took him.” “Why didn’t they do something?”

“Maybe they didn’t believe him. He was a big storyteller, Stanley.”

“Then why didn’t you do something? You knew the truth.”

“I – I couldn’t. Phil threatened me. He said if I told, he’d fix me. And he would. He likes hurting people. You reme'mber after the Snipe Hunt – when he was mad at you