Clare Vanderpool - Moon Over Manifest

Shady took a knife from his pocket, cut a chunk of sausage, and squinted across the field at Sheriff Dean. “Well”—he popped the bite into his mouth—“what do you say we throw the sheriff a bone?”

Jinx smiled. “What do you have in mind?”

“Just meet me over in the clearing, by that big sycamore tree where we were selling the elixir. Act like you’re up to something and make sure the sheriff follows you.”

A few minutes later, Jinx pulled his hat down over his eyes and gave a furtive look this way and that, then set off through the trees. He walked slowly and stopped every once in a while to make sure he heard the sheriff’s footsteps behind him.

As Jinx came upon the grassy opening, he saw Shady lowering himself into the grave that had never been filled after the quarantine.

“Shady,” Jinx whispered in a not-quiet voice.

“Over here,” Shady whispered back equally loudly.

“Here.” Shady handed Jinx a gallon jug with a cork stopper. “We’d best get rid of these before the sheriff finds out there’s still some left.”

“Too late for that,” the sheriff said, peering down at Shady.

Shady scratched the back of his neck like he’d been caught red-handed. “There’s just these two jugs left, Sheriff. How’s about one for you and one for us?”

Sheriff Dean shook his head. “Now, Shady. I thought you were swearing off the stuff.” He took up one jug and reached for the other. “I think I’d better keep the kit and the caboodle.” Sheriff Dean uncorked one jug and gave it a sniff. “So, this is two parts alcohol and one part elixir? Smells a little funny, but after a couple stiff drinks, who’ll know the difference?”

He replaced the cork and started to walk away, then called back over his shoulder, “But don’t think I won’t still have my eye on you, boy.”

When the sheriff was gone, Jinx gave Shady a hand up. “I thought I’d moved all the bottles that were left. I put ’em under lock and key, like you said. What was in those jugs?”

“A new elixir.” Shady stuck a cigar in his mouth. “One part alcohol. Two parts prune juice.”

That evening, everyone was so busy putting on their finishing touches at the homecoming grounds that no one noticed when a beat-up old motor scooter chugged its way into town, spitting out a plume of smoke in front of the jail. A wiry man stepped off the bike as if it was his trusty steed. He removed his goggles from his dusty face, revealing clean white around his eyes that made him look like a raccoon.

Sheriff Dean stood in the doorway of the jail, nursing a mug of Shady’s brew. “Why, Sheriff Nagelman, what brings you to our fair state? If I recall, the Kansas side is a little out of your Missouri jurisdiction.”

“Knock it off, Ed. I don’t have all day. Now, where’s the boy?”

“Ah, Leonard, what kind of greeting is that for your brother-in-law?”

Nagelman lit a cigarette, realizing that he wasn’t going to be able to rush Sheriff Dean.

“How’s life in the big city?” Sheriff Dean asked.

“Just peachy.” Nagelman flicked his ashes. “Now, if we’re done with the chitchat, I have a cell and maybe even a noose waiting for a certain degenerate you’re harboring in this town.”

Sheriff Dean took another draw from his mug. “What makes you so sure that kid, Jinx, is your man? Besides, I thought you were looking for a pair.”

“One of the church elders came through here last week and said he saw the same boy who was “cured” during the tent revival. If I can catch one, I’ll get him to rat out the other. And then Louise Haskell will quit yapping at me about finding the person who killed her nephew, Junior. Besides, I got to string somebody up and he’s as good as any.”

“Why didn’t your church elder report it to me? After all, I am the sheriff here.”

“He said there was no sheriff to be found.” Nagelman looked at the mug in Sheriff Dean’s hand and the jug at his feet. “You must have been otherwise engaged. But who would expect any different from a no-account sheriff of a no-account town?” Sheriff Nagelman took one last puff of his cigarette, then crushed the stub under his foot. “Now, can we go?”

Sheriff Dean thought for a minute, then swallowed the last of his drink. “All right. Follow me.”

Jinx had been helping Mama Santoni and little Rosa hoist a big black pot over the fire pit so it would be ready for the simmering tomato sauce the next day, when he caught sight of Sheriff Dean and the goggle-eyed sheriff he recognized from Joplin.

“Now, you come to our house to eat,” Mama urged as they finished.

“I can’t just now, but thank you. I’ve got to run.” And he did. Jinx ran away from the festival grounds and into the woods, fear rising in him. Maybe if he’d just lie low, Sheriff Nagelman would give up looking and go back to Joplin. As he reached the clearing near the creek, he stopped short.

A man stood in front of him, blocking his way.

“You’ve been busy, haven’t you, boy?”

Jinx stood still, his eyes darting this way and that as he looked for a way to escape.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you have anything to say to your uncle Finn?”

“I thought we were going our separate ways.”

“I bet that’s what you thought, now that you’re all cozy here. You think you’ve found a home, don’t you?” Finn took a step closer while Jinx inched out of the trees into the clearing. “I seen the sign outside of town. How’s it read? ‘Manifest—a town with a rich past and a bright future.’ I shot a few holes in that theory.” Finn pulled a gun from his jacket and admired its gleam. “I’ve been watching you, the way you latched on to folks around here.”

Jinx thought of the night in the abandoned mine shaft when he thought he’d seen Finn. And other times, when he’d felt like someone just out of sight was watching him.

Finn shook his head. “You are something else, boy. I take care of you and your mama—”

“You never lifted a hand to help my mother.” Jinx’s face flushed with anger. “You just used me and waited for her to die. I’m not going with you, Finn. These folks are my family now.”

Finn’s smile vanished and his face contorted into an angry scowl. “These people don’t even know you. Have you told them that you’re nothing but a jinx? That bad luck follows you everywhere and people all around you end up in bad straits or dying? First your daddy, then your mama, then Junior. I’m surprised no one around here has been touched by your curse, but then, it’s only a matter of time, ain’t that right, Jinx?”

Jinx winced as Finn’s words hit their mark.

“That’s right,” Finn continued. “I’m the only one’s free of your hoodoo curse and you’re trying to shed me like a snakeskin. Well, let me tell you, boy, blood is thicker than water, and I’m the only blood you got.”

Jinx shook his head. He wanted Finn to shut up. “My mother was out of her mind with sickness. She’d never have left me with you. All you wanted was a hired hand. Every con needs a mole, isn’t that right? Well, I’m done. You’re on your own.”

Jinx and Finn were standing in the clearing surrounded by a circle of trees and bushes, cutting them off from the town, from Shady’s place, from help. There was a rustle of leaves and a loud snap in the distance, but no one came. It must have been a coon or a badger getting caught in a hunter’s trap. Every creature had a basic instinct for survival, but for that poor critter, there was no getting away.

Jinx’s own survival instincts were charged. He knew he wasn’t going back with Finn. “I’ll tell them. I’ll turn myself in and tell them it was an accident. And I’ll tell them you were there.”