Jim put on a burst of speed, yelling over his shoulder, "Hurry, Mike! Faster!"
Another shot! A shell slammed into the dust near Mike's feet, and he ran with all his strength, wincing at the sharp pain in his leg.
"Stanley, stop!" Mike heard Mrs. Nieman scream.
Then, "Ma! Leave me alone!"
Mike and Jim cut into the shelter of the woods, running and hobbling without a stop until they were nearly a mile north of the Niemans' farm. Mike, his chest heaving as he
tried to catch his breath, threw himself down on the ground. Jim flopped beside him.
"Poor old Jiri broke his leg," Jim said, and Mike could hear the satisfaction in his words. "Jiri may want the watch, but it looks Uke he wants you even more."
Mike remembered the aftermath of Wilson's Creek, when Jiri told Corey to shoot him. He shuddered. "When we reach St. Joe, we'll be safe," he told Jim.
Jim stood up and stretched. "Then let's get started," he answered. "No sleep for us tonight. We'd better keep traveling."
For two days they kept to the road, ready to leap into ditches or cornfields or woods at the first soimd of horses' hooves. At last, just before noon they straggled into the town of St. Joseph. Mike was never so glad to see the familiar bustle—shoppers, trappers, families gathering supplies for treks west, businessmen in high starched collars and top hats, riverboat men, and a few children, who sometimes darted dangerously close to the horses and lumbering wagon wheels.
The town was much as it had been when Mike arrived on an orphan train, and his heart began to ache as memories rose like ghosts to taunt him. But at least Ma lived here now, and his friends Katherine Banks and Andrew MacNair. He smiled at the sight of Katherine's store.
"Wake up, Mike," Jim said. "Tell me where we're headed now. Your ma's house? With that reward on your head, it's better that not many people know we're here."
More than anything he could think of, Mike wanted to see his mother, but he shook his head. "First I'll take Billy Whitley's pocket watch to his wife, Aggie. Then I can relax." He scratched his chest and smiled. "And have what I've been longing for—a hot bath."
At that moment the door to Katherine Banks's store
opened, and Katherine stepped out onto the wooden sidewalk with a customer.
"Mrs. Banks!" Mike shouted.
She turned, shading her eyes against the sun, and smiled as she recognized him. "Mike Kelly!"
Mike hurried to join her and introduced Jim.
"Have you seen your mother yet?" Katherine asked. "I know she's been expecting you."
"Not yet," Mike said.
Katherine caught hold of a boy who came scampering past. "Johnny," she said, "run and fetch Mrs. Noreen Murphy. Tell her Mike's here. There'll be a peppermint stick for you when you get back."
"And Mrs. Billy Whitley," Mike told him, pressing one of his few remaining coins into the boy's hand. "She's staying with relations on Chester Street. Do you know her? I'm carrying a parcel to her from her husband."
"I know Mrs. Whitley," Katherine said, and she gave Johrmy directions to the house.
The boy took off in a hurry, and Katherine turned to Mike. "We've heard so much about you, Mike. Tell me—"
But Katherine was elbowed aside by the scowling banker, Mr. Crandon, who was even plumper and pastier than Mike remembered him.
"Someone call the sheriff." Mr. Crandon sputtered. "Mike Kelly should be under arrest!"
Before Mike could speak, Stanley Nieman stepped around from behind Mr. Crandon. "We don't need the sheriff. He's my prisoner."
Terrified, Mike stammered, "I'm nobody's prisoner! I haven't done anything wrong!"
"You're a thief!" Mr. Crandon shouted. "Stole a Confederate soldier's watch!"
A crowd had begim to gather, and Mike could hear mut-terings. "What'd he say about the Confederates?"
"My son's with Price's Missouri State Guard," said a man in the crowd.
"This boy's done something to a Confederate soldier," said another.
"Then he ought to be in jail."
Mr. Crandon suddenly reached out and snatched Mike's knapsack, ripping it from his shoulders. "We'll prove you're lying!" he yelled at Mike. "K you stole the watch, it will be in here!"
To Mike's horror, Mr. Crandon pulled Billy Whitley's watch from its envelope, the papers with it scattering on the ground. "Here! What's this? A second watch?" Mr. Crandon cried, and came up with Todd's watch.
"I can explain!" Mike yelled at him.
As Mr. Crandon upended Mike's knapsack, Mike's Union Army uniform dropped to his feet.
"Look at that uniform! He's a Union spy!" someone shouted.
Stanley reached for the watches, but Mr. Crandon, who looked as if he were trying to appraise their value, quickly moved them out of his reach.
The man who'd said his son was with Price's Missouri Guard spoke up. "We know how the armies handle spies! They're hanged on the spot!"
"Especially Union spies!" someone chimed in, and grabbed Mike's arms from behind.
"No!" Katherine shouted.
Mike saw his mother trying desperately to elbow her way through the rapidly growing crowd.
Stanley made another swipe toward the watches, but Mr. Crandon held them high. "I'll take care of these watches," he said.
"Not mine, you won't!"
A plump woman, her bonnet askew, stepped up on the edge of a horse trough and clung to a lamppost for balance.
"All of you be quiet!" she shouted at the crowd. "I have something to say!"
The angry people on the street turned toward her in stunned silence. The woman cleared her throat, tried to adjust her bonnet with one hand, and said more calmly, "For those I haven't met as yet, my name is Aggie Whitley. My husband, Billy Whitley, is with the Second Kansas Infantry, where this boy—Mike Kelly—served as a drummer until he was wounded at Wilson's Creek. When Mike Kelly was discharged, my husband Billy asked him to deliver his watch to me. He wrote and told me to expect Mike." She pointed. "That gold one with the design etched into it— that's my watch."
Mike spoke up. "The letters Billy sent with it are on the ground where Mr. Crandon dropped them."
Mrs. Whitley drew herself up haughtily and stared down her nose at Mr. Crandon. "I'll thank you to pick them up and give them to me, along with my watch."
Mr. Crandon, huffing a bit, did as she had told him. Then he said triumphantly, "This other watch, though—this was taken from one of our boys fighting bravely for the South."
"No, it wasn't," Mike said.
The crowd began to mutter and bicker, but Mrs. Whitley, who had a fine pair of lungs to Mike's way of thinking, shouted them down. "You heard me out and found that Mr. Crandon was wrong. Now give the boy a chance. Listen to what he has to say!"
Mike tugged free of the arms that held him. He was frightened at the sight of the faces turned toward him, many of them tight with anger, but he took a deep breath and began. "The watch Mr. Crandon's holding belongs to a friend of mine, Todd Blakely," he began. He told the crowd about how Todd had made Mike promise to take the watch to Emily, his sister; about lying wounded in a hollow after the battle was over; and about how Corey had chided Jiri Logan for robbing the dead.
"War's a horror you can't believe unless you're in it with guns blasting around you and wounded men screaming in pain," Mike said. "I saw a Confederate soldier shoot a Union soldier, then hold him in his arms while he cried, 1 shot my pa! God help me, I shot my pa!' "
Mike heard gasps of horror. Nearby a woman whimpered, thrusting a handkerchief to her mouth.
"And it's not just soldiers who live in nightmares. I met a woman whose secessionist husband informs on Union sympathizers, then rides at night with patrols who bum their bams and houses. People are doing evil things to each other —all because of the war."
The crowd was shocked into silence. No one moved as Mike continued. "I tried to serve my country the best way I knew how, and I did until I was shot in battle. If the war goes on for the next fe
w years, I'll enlist again—this time as a soldier. But I'm not a spy, and I'll never be one."
Some of the people in the crowd turned and walked away. Mr, Crandon still held Todd's watch, but he didn't resist as Katherine opened his fingers. The watch in her hand, she said to Stanley Nieman, "Go back where you came from. You'll find no support here."
Ma rushed toward Mike with a hug that nearly knocked him off his feet. "Oh, Michael, Michael, I'm so proud of you!" she cried. She held Mike at arm's length, searching his face while tears trickled into her smile. "You'll stay with me until you're well again," she said.
"I'll stay for just a little while. Ma," he told her. "I want to spend some time with you and Peg and visit Danny, but then I need to get back to Fort Leavenworth. Louisa is expecting me—and Todd's sister Emily."
For just an instant disappointment clouded Ma's face, but she covered it with a smile. "You seem so much older, Mike. You've grown."
"I still have a bit of growing to do," Mike said as she
hugged him again. "You might say three inches and three years to go."
"If you're talking about reenlisting—"
"Ma," Mike told her, "if you're going to ask me to promise I'll wait until I'm legally old enough, well, I've already made that promise to myself."
As his mother wrapped him in her arms again, Mike laughed. "Let's forget about war for a while," he said, "and go find Peg."
A week later Mike rode the ferry across the river with Jim. "I'll soon be off for the mountains and the gold and silver hidden within them," Jim said, stroking the horse he'd bought for his journey—a horse that was slightly sway-backed but had sound teeth. "I wish you'd come with me, Mike."
At the moment Mike wished he could go, too. Jim's offer wa^ certainly tempting. But he answered, "I've got to keep my promise to Todd and the promise I made to myself."
"Good luck," Jim said, and Mike counted on that wish as he traveled south to Fort Leavenworth.
As Mike entered the fort, a strong hand gripped his shoulder. "We heard some of what you did, lad," Sergeant Duncan bellowed, "and we're hopin' to hear the rest."
"Later," Mike said, pulling away. There'd be time for war stories later. "I need to tell Lou—my mother that I'm home again."
Louisa affectionately folded Mike in her arms, tearfully scolding and praising him. "No more running away," she said. "Promise me, Mike."
"I promise," he answered. No need at the moment to tell her his plans to reenlist when he reached the age of sixteen.
Mike took a deep breath and faced the inevitable. "I have to see Emily Blakely. I've brought her Todd's watch."
Louisa wiped her eyes and pulled on her bonnet, tying it
firmly under her chin. "And Mrs. Blakely," she said. "We'll call on them together."
Mike protested, "There's no need for you to go."
But Louisa opened the door, waiting for Mike to follow her. "This will be a difficult time for you," she said, "and I think it will help you to know that your mother is there by your side."
As Mike had guessed, Mrs. Blakely had many questions to ask about Todd. Mike couldn't hold back his own tears as Mrs. Blakely burst into sobs.
"I—I'm sorry, Mrs. Blakely," Mike murmured. "Sorrier than anyone could know."
"I'm not blaming you for what happened, Michael," Mrs. Blakely told him, wiping away her tears. "Todd always had a mind of his own."
Emily broke in. "He talked about going off to war afore you even came here."
"He wanted to be hke his father, the captain," Mike began, but he couldn't go on. He wanted badly to know if Captain Blakely had survived the Battle of Bull Run, but he was terrified to ask.
With a soggy handkerchief Mrs. Blakely rubbed hard at her reddened nose. "That's Major Blakely now," she said. "My husband received a field promotion."
If only Todd had known his father had survived the battle with honor. If only Todd could be with his family now. Mike fished into his pocket and brought forth Todd's watch, placing it in Emily's hand. "This meant more to Todd than anything else he ever owned," he said, "and he asked me to bring this to you, Emily."
"Thank you," Emily whispered. Tears ran down her cheeks as she held the watch to her lips.
One promise fulfilled, one to go, Mike thought. But the promise to himself would take three years to come about. Right now he was glad to be home.
Jennifer sighed as Grandma closed Frances Mary's journal. "I learned in history class that the Civil War lasted four years," she said. "Did Mike do what he'd planned and become a soldier?"
"All the Kellys were involved in the war, in one way or another," Grandma answered. "As Mike said, the war reached everyone. It changed every life, and innocent people often suffered greatly in their attempts to help the cause in which they beheved. Think how terrible it must have been for the Kellys when one of them was arrested for being a Union spy!"
Jeff sat bolt upright. "Mike was arrested? But he said he'd never be a spy!"
"Mike wasn't the spy," Grandma said. She stood and asked, "I've got to run some errands in town. Would you like to go with me?"
Jennifer jumped to her feet. "Grandma!" she complained. "I can't stand it! You have to tell us which Kelly became a spy!"
"I will," Grandma said, and broke into a grin. "But not until tomorrow morning."
"I may not last until then," Jennifer moaned.
"You will if you want to hear a truly unusual story," Grandma said. "Tomorrow we'll read the journal again—I promise."
About the Author
Joan Lowery Nixon is the acclaimed author of more than ninety books for young readers. She has served as regional vice-president for the Southwest Chapter of the Mystery Writers of America and is the only four-time winner of the Edgar Allan Poe Best Juvenile Mystery Award given by that society. She is also a two-time winner of the Western Writers of America's Golden Spur Award, which she won for A Family Apart and In the Face of Danger, the first and third books of the Orphan Train Adventures. She was moved by the true experiences of the children on the nineteenth-century orphan trains to research and write the Orphan Train Adventures, which also include Caught in the Act and A Place to Belong.
Joan Lowery Nixon and her husband live in Houston, Texas.
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JOAiN LOW hMTNlXDN IS the acclaime( author of more than ninety books for young readers. She has served as regional vice-president for the Southwest Chapter of the Mystery Writers of America and is the only four-time winner of the Edgar Allan Poe Best Juvenile Mystery Award. She is also a two-time winner of the Western Writers of America's Golden Spur Award, which she won for A Family Apart and In the Face of Danger, the first and third books of the Orphan Train Adventures. She was moved by the true experiences of the children on the nineteenth-century orphan trains to research and write the Orphan Train Adventures, which include A Family Apart, Caught in the Act, In the Face of Danger, and A Place to Belong.
Joan Lowery Nixon and her husband live in Houston, Texas.
Jacket design © 1994 Martha Sedgwick
Delacorte ^= Press
A Dangerous Promise Page 13
