Moon Over Manifest

 … the Bone Dry Bill was passed, outlawing all alcohol in Kansas.… Most of us didn’t remember it then either.

Anonymous

 … Sister Redempta delivered three babies in one day. I was baby number three. I hope she’s ready when my baby comes next March!

Betty Lou (Carlson) Mayes

 … Mr. Underhill made a tombstone for Proky Nesch, the milkman. He got the date of birth right, which was in 1862, but had to redo the name, because as everyone but Underhill knew, Proky was the son of staunch abolitionists and “Proky” was short for Emancipation Proclamation.

Getty (short for Gettysburg) Nesch

 … when Otis Akkerson got thrown from his horse and ended up facedown in Mr. Cybulskis’s pigsty?

Harry Akkerson

 … yeah, well, it wouldn’t have happened if Harry Akkerson hadn’t been riding his bike alongside and spooked my horse with his ding-a-ling bicycle bell. Remember that?

Otis Akkerson

The names especially caught my eye. I knew these people. These names had become familiar to me, like friends, through Miss Sadie’s stories. Even Betty Lou Mayes from the beauty shop. I’d recognized her when she’d visited Miss Sadie’s house, but didn’t realize that her maiden name was Carlson. She must be Heck and Holler’s sister. And she’s not barren after all!

It was like putting together a big family tree. And even though I wasn’t familiar with the tales they told, I felt like I wasn’t just reading about them. It was more like remembering them. As if somehow their memories were becoming mine.

“Here, read this one,” Lettie said, passing me a prescription slip from the office of Dr. Dennis Monahan.

Remember when Margaret Evans and I tied for senior class president and we drew straws to decide the winner? I wanted the post but she was the better man.

Doc Monahan

The sad mixed with the sweet and set a warm feeling in my stomach. But would there be one about Gideon?

I drew another out of the pile. This one came all the way from Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

Remember when Ned Gillen won first place in the state track races? That kid could outrun trouble—and he needed to, what with the company he kept.

Holler Carlson

A few days went on like this, with more and more memories coming in. Then, the day of the deadline, Mr. DeVore delivered a new stack of envelopes. Lettie, Ruthanne, and I all started in opening a few when Lettie gave a gasp. She turned a little pale and, without a word, handed the paper to Ruthanne.

“Well, I’ll be dipped in sugar.” Ruthanne handed me the note written in straight up-and-down letters that looked like they were plodding across the page. “We found our match!”

To whom it may concern,

I have read your recent columns regarding past goings-on in this town. I should think you would be more responsible with the information you print in the publication you choose to call a newspaper. I have no such recollection of ever having mistakenly engraved a name on any tombstone, let alone a name as ridiculous as Proky. Furthermore, whoever would name their offspring after the Emancipation Proclamation should blame themselves for any misprint.

Mr. Underhill

“So Mr. Underhill is the Rattler?” I asked in disbelief. “He’s creepy enough, but he just doesn’t seem the Rattler type.”

“Yeah, he seems more like a lizard or a toad,” Lettie agreed.

“But it’s here in black and white,” said Ruthanne. “It’s the same handwriting that was on the note at the tree house telling us to leave well enough alone.”

We all stared at the notepaper. There was his handwriting, with the last letter trailing off … like a dying breath.

Miss Sadie’s Divining Parlor

AUGUST 23, 1936

I was so excited to be the bearer of such important news that I ran all the way back to Shady’s place. I planned to tell him the whole story of how we’d been searching for the Rattler all summer and we’d found him. So I was disappointed to find him gone. I can’t say I was surprised, though, now that I knew what kept him busy at odd hours.

Still, I was itching to tell somebody. So I skedaddled over to Miss Sadie’s and tromped up her stairs and into her house.

“Miss Sadie, guess what?” I called. “Miss Sadie?” I said again, looking first in the parlor and then in the kitchen. I saw her through the window, sitting on the back porch. “Miss Sadie,” I said, bounding outside, “you’ll never guess what happened. We found out who the Rattler is. At least, we think he’s the Rattler. It’s Mr. Underhill. He left a note at the tree house and we had a contest—”

Miss Sadie hadn’t even looked at me. She just sat rocking. Her hair lay loose on her shoulders, unbrushed. Her face looked dull and ashen. I thought maybe her leg was bothering her, as it seemed to be redder and oozier than ever.

I stepped closer. “Can I get you some cool water and your ointment? Would you like that, Miss Sadie?” I said quietly.

“The ointment does not help. There is too much sickness inside and it festers.”