Clare Vanderpool - Moon Over Manifest

I wrapped the rope loosely around Junior’s hands and tied it off in a slipknot that could be easily undone. Then I picked up the knife and stood facing Junior. I whispered, “Get your hands free while we’re packing and go. ”

Junior didn’t answer. He just looked past me with fear in his eyes. I knew that Finn was behind me and I knew he’d heard. I turned just in time to meet Finn’s fist as it came crashing into my face. The last thing I remember was the gleaming knife in my hand .

I couldn’t have been out long, but when I came to, I was lying beside Junior with blood all over me. The knife had gotten him right in the stomach .

Finn knelt to examine Junior, then looked at me. “You killed him.” He shook his head. “Boy, you are some kind of jinx. I was just going to tie up Junior here and leave him in the woods until we was gone. Now look what you done. ”

I did look. Long and hard .

“ Yes, sir, there’s a shadow of bad luck all over you. First your daddy leaves; then your mama dies. Now poor, stupid Junior.” He took the knife. “I must be the only one free of your hoodoo bad luck.” He looked at me with a combination of disgust and pity. “I guess you’ll have to stick with me,” he said, wiping the blade with his handkerchief. “Otherwise, you might end up bringing bad luck to your own self. ”

I was scared .

Jinx accidentally kicked over the canister of TNT, bringing the abandoned mine shaft and disassembled canisters and fuses back into focus.

“Go on,” Ned said.

“Within a couple days, word got out that the sheriff of Joplin was looking for a pair that was responsible for killing Junior Haskell. Junior had told some of his pals that he was meeting up with a couple of fellas from his glory days. That he’d seen us at the tent revival. His aunt Louise told the sheriff about the revival and there was a whole town full of witnesses who knew what we looked like. Finn said since they were looking for a pair, we’d better split up. That’s when I hopped a train heading one direction and he hopped one heading the other way.”

Ned locked his eyes on Jinx, giving him his full attention. “That can hardly be considered murder. It was an accident. If anything, it was your uncle’s fault.”

“But I was the one holding the knife. I must have swung around when Finn hit me, and, well, the knife went where it went. But try explaining that to an angry crowd or a jury of Junior Haskell’s peers.” Jinx’s face flushed and his hands were shaking. “Here, help me put Mr. Hinkley’s shell back together.” He handed Ned the original Manchurian Fire Thrower, ending the conversation. “He’s setting up his big fireworks show down by the depot. They’re pulling out all the stops for President Wilson’s big visit.”

“Where’s the fuse?”

“We must have used his fuse in one of our canisters. Just cut me a piece off that roll. Better make it good and long. Three hundred feet in the air is pretty high.”

The following days held a thriving business for Jinx and Ned. Boys from all over found excuses to frequent Shady’s place. When the last canister was sold, the boys had taken in a grand total of fifty dollars and seventy-five cents. Ned took his half and insisted that since Jinx was the idea man, he should have the extra seventy-five cents.

The whole enterprise would have gone off without a hitch if little Danny McIntyre, Joey Fipps, Froggy Sikes, and a dozen other freckle-faced ne’er-do-wells hadn’t taken to setting off Manchurian Fire Throwers all over town. One angry mother after another confronted Shady on the street or in a store. Sometimes one was even bold enough to enter his saloon, pulling on a youngster’s ear, demanding that Shady deal with the hoodlum under his own roof.

Shady let the first few incidents slide. After all, Donal MacGregor’s pig, Stanley, wasn’t killed. Fortunately for him, he was wallowing in the mud pen when his lean-to had a hole blasted through the roof boards. But then Greta Akkerson arrived, claiming that her son had gotten hold of a can of Hungarian olives and somehow her chicken coop had its roof blown off and chickens went squawking everywhere. Well, then Shady knew he had to take action.

Jinx had been the face of the whole operation, and not one to pass blame, he took full responsibility and promised to make amends. He wasn’t sure what those amends would be until Shady made it clear to him at the New Year’s quilt auction.

New Year’s Day was cold and clear. The special festivities held enough distractions, with so many people milling around the train depot, that no one noticed Ned Gillen at the army recruitment station, signing his name on the dotted line. Even the recruitment officer was so busy counting out the twenty-five one-dollar bills Ned handed him that he neglected to ask for proof of age.

HATTIE MAE’S

NEWS AUXILIARY JANUARY 2, 1918

The 1918 New Year’s celebration was a rousing success, if a bit unpredictable. Many townsfolk gathered in the train depot, drinking eggnog and wishing cheers to each other’s health. A few verses of “Auld Lang Syne” were sung and some had imbibed enough brandy that much of the event will be “never brought to mind.”

Of course, the utmost anticipation was centered on the arrival of the 7:45 train and President Woodrow Wilson. The Manifest High School band was out in full force and played the most inspiring rendition of “Hail to the Chief.”

The unfortunate explosion of fireworks in the water tower—and subsequent dousing of the president and the newly signed victory quilt—was a somewhat surprising turn of events. While shock among the onlookers was widespread, the range of glee and dismay was split mostly along party lines. Although, it seemed the ruffling of feathers at the president’s “pond jumpers” comment (referring to our foreign-born citizens who crossed the ocean) permeated throughout.

After the departure of the 7:45 train at 8:07, the day culminated with the much-anticipated Daughters of the American Revolution auction. Enthusiasm for the victory quilt waned, what with the president’s signature being blurred beyond recognition, but all were pleased to see it bring such a high bid. Although, this reporter has not quite figured out the strategy of members of the same household bidding against each other. It was neck and neck between Shady Howard and the boy Jinx until the youngster won out, taking home the 1918 victory quilt for a bid of $25.75.

The mayor wishes to extend his thanks to all the volunteers for their participation in the day’s festivities and is soliciting help with the construction of the new water tower, to be built “not within fifty feet of the depot” by order of the president.

Also, if anyone has information regarding the whereabouts of the fireworks salesman, a five-dollar reward is being offered by the Daughters of the American Revolution. See Mrs. Eudora Larkin, president. For all the whos, whats, whys, whens, and wheres in the modern township of Manifest, containing 1,524 registered voters, refer to the Sunday edition.

HATTIE MAE HARPER

Reporter About Town

VELMA T.’S VITAMIN REVITALIZER

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PVT. NED GILLEN