Clare Vanderpool - Moon Over Manifest

“Fine with me,” Burton said. “You’ll all be coming to me for some of that healing springwater. And you can bet it won’t be cheap.”

The crowd rumbled. What was he talking about? Was that why Shady had bid on the spring?

“That’s right, folks,” said Burton. “Just ask our friendly government visitor from Topeka. He’s got his report all ready about the high metal content in the water and how it has healing properties. Go ahead, son, make your presentation.”

All eyes turned to the young man sitting in the second row of the courtroom.

Finally, Hattie could look at him head-on. She held her pen, poised to take note. The man waved his hand. “I don’t really think this is the time and—”

Burton fumed. “You came all the way to Manifest to deliver some important information, did you not?”

“I did, but—”

“Then I’m sure the judge won’t mind bumping you up on the list.”

The man looked at Judge Carlson.

“Go ahead. Let’s have all the surprises out at once.” Judge Carlson waved him on.

“Very well.” He took the manila envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to the bailiff, who passed it to Judge Carlson.

Judge Carlson opened it and examined the contents with great interest. “This is fascinating material, young man, but I fail to see how recipes for pumpkin pie and raspberry marmalade can have much bearing on the proceedings of this court. Would you mind clearing up what this is all about, Mr. …”

“Macke. Fred Macke. Those recipes are for my aunt Eudora.”

Hattie Mae, the hardball reporter, dropped her pen, staring up at the man. He grinned at her and winked.

“But,” Burton sputtered in disbelief as he realized something had gone terribly wrong. “This is an outrage, Judge. I retract my bid on the grounds that I have been tricked, manipulated, and lied to. This man is a charlatan. He told me he worked for the government.”

Mrs. Larkin stepped forward. “He does work for the government, Lester. I’ve bragged on him a million times. This is my sister’s boy. He works in the governor’s office … the assistant to the assistant.” She placed her hand proudly on his shoulder.

“But the water …,” Burton continued. “You checked the water, you made it fizz, and then you drank it. It was healing water.”

Fred Macke’s eyebrows went up. “That powder? Oh, that was just some seltzer powder. I’ve got a sensitive stomach.” He gave a sideways glance at Jinx.

Eudora Larkin spoke up in his defense. “My nephew wouldn’t lie. He’s honest as the day is long. Perhaps you just misunderstood, Lester.” She narrowed her eyes. “Or maybe your greed got in the way of good judgment.” She turned her attention back to her nephew. “Now, Fred, you give my best to your mother and tell her thank you for the recipes.”

“I’ll do that, Aunt Eudora. And thank you for inviting me down for the day.” He smiled winningly at Hattie Mae. “I think the sign outside of town is right. Manifest surely does appear to be a town with a bright future.”

Hattie Mae had yet to pick up her pen.

Dumbfounded, Burton stared at Eudora Larkin, then sank back into his seat.

Devlin moved into the aisle and spoke directly to Mrs. Larkin. “Like I said, your husband was a chump in high school. You could have had better.”

Mrs. Larkin straightened up tall and proper, narrowed her eyes, and said, “Arthur Devlin, you and my husband may have been in the same grade, but you were never in the same class.”

Arthur Devlin stood alone. Judge Carlson reached for his gavel but both Burton and Devlin were gone from the courtroom before it rapped on the desk.

Shady leaned over to Jinx. “Where in the devil did all that come from? You had a hand in this, didn’t you?”

Jinx smiled. “It was just a little something Mrs. Larkin and I cooked up while having polite conversation. It really gets her dander up when someone insults the late Eugene Larkin.”

“You could have let me in on the secret. It might have made it a little easier on everybody.”

Jinx looked a little shamefaced. “Well, Shady, it’s just that you don’t have the best poker face and we were afraid you might give it away before Burton could bid on the spring.”

“What’s the matter with my poker face—”

Judge Carlson rapped the gavel again and rubbed his temples. “If we ever get through this day, it will be a miracle. What say you, Shady? Still interested in buying the aforementioned land belonging to the late Widow Cane?”

Shady stood, trying to keep his hat steady in his shaking hands. “Your Honor, I can’t say I understand all that just happened here.” He stared at Mrs. Larkin as if she had suddenly become someone else. “But if we have enough money, we’d still like the land.”

“And do you speak for the township of Manifest?”

Shady looked around the room. One by one, they stood. Donal MacGregor, Hadley Gillen, Mama Santoni. The Akkersons and the Cybulskises. Mr. Matenopoulos and Mr. Keufer. Velma T. and Hattie Mae. Mrs. Larkin and the rest of the courtroom.

Finally, Shady answered. “No, Your Honor. I think the township of Manifest speaks for itself.”

HATTIE MAE’S

NEWS AUXILIARY OCTOBER 2, 1918

What a turn of events we had yesterday at the courthouse. I won’t go into detail summing it up, because I think nearly every citizen of Manifest was there to see it for himself.

However, much has taken place since then. This reporter was present at the first meeting of the newly formed Manifest Township Committee, on which a member of each fraternal organization holds a seat. Their first item of business involved Arthur Devlin, hat in hand, negotiating new working codes and payment arrangements for the mine workers in exchange for access to the vein running under the town’s land. It was a proud and moving day for all present.

I am also pleased to announce the plans for our First Annual Manifest Homecoming Celebration. The festivities will take place on Sunday three weeks hence, on the newly acquired property formerly belonging to the Widow Cane. Springs and all! Some of you may not know that after Lester Burton realized he’d be paying some hefty taxes on plain old springwater, he accepted an offer from the town to buy his spring at a fraction of the price he paid for it.

The various fraternal organizations are working together to beautify the area around the spring with flower beds and benches and are building a special fountain so that all might come and partake. Even though the water has not been proven to contain any special properties, it was used in the elixir that seems to have helped many people overcome the sickness still plaguing so many outside Manifest. Maybe it’s healing water after all.

As for news from abroad, I had tea and cookies yesterday at Koski’s Diner with Mr. Fred Macke, on a purely professional basis, and he said that at the capitol building in Topeka, where he is the assistant to the assistant, there is much talk of armistice and a possible end to the war in Europe.

Who knows, maybe our young men in arms are closer to the homecoming we have all been praying for.

Remember, for all the whos, whats, whys, whens, and wheres you don’t even know you need to know, turn to

HATTIE MAE HARPER

Reporter About Town

PVT. NED GILLEN

MONT BLANC

OCTOBER 4, 1918

Dear Jinx ,

What’s doins in Manifest, kid? Big orange harvest moon in your piece of sky yet? Rainy here lately, skies cloudy. With the cold that’s been settling in on us at night, I’m figuring it’s October, though I’ve lost track of the days .

We’ve had a rough go of it lately. Our regiment is down to about half strength. Had our share of casualties because of this awful war. But we’ve had just as many guys taken out with dysentery and influenza. It’s like their bodies are so worn out, once a sickness gets hold of them, it just gets worse and worse till they’re gone. Heck, Holler, and me aren’t sure how we’ve stayed ahead of it so far. Velma T.’s elixirs ran out a lifetime ago. Guess we just run so much no bugs can catch us. That’s what we like to think, anyway .