Moon Over Manifest

But if Jinx was gone, then he couldn’t be Gideon. And that meant I’d lost Gideon all over again. I was alone again.

Miss Sadie just kept rocking, waiting for me to sort things through on my own. What was it she’d said earlier? The line between truth and myth is sometimes difficult to see. Was that all this had been? A myth? Just a tall tale from long ago that didn’t have anything to do with me?

I knew the choice in front of me. I could walk out of that divining parlor right then and be done with it all. I could leave Miss Sadie behind and never come back. But I knew these people. Jinx and Ned and Velma T., Shady and Hattie Mae. Even Mrs. Larkin. They’d become part of me. And I loved them. What else had Miss Sadie said? “Who would dream that one can love without being crushed under the weight of it?”

I stiffened my back and sat up straight. The story was about real people who had lived and loved. And in some way I had been allowed into their world. And they had welcomed me. The only way I could give back was to be faithful to the story. To hear it to the end. I would be faithful. Even if it crushed me.

Miss Sadie sensed my resolve and picked up where she’d left off.

“Donal lifted a shovel to begin replacing the earth into the grave.…”

St. Dizier

OCTOBER 27, 1918

“Wait,” Nagelman said, holding up a hand. He looked at the gravestone that lay flat on the ground. “This isn’t his name.”

Shady spoke up. “It’s his given name. Nobody’s born with a name like Jinx.”

Sheriff Nagelman looked skeptical. He motioned to Sheriff Dean. “Make sure it’s the kid.”

The Manifest sheriff took Donal’s shovel and lifted the lid of the coffin. He gazed down with intent, looking right into the dead face of Finn Bennett and wondered at his missing foot.

Shady, Donal, and Hadley looked at one another in defeat. They hadn’t anticipated anyone’s opening the coffin.

Sheriff Dean’s jaw clamped tightly onto his toothpick. He rubbed his whiskers and studied the body. Then he closed the lid, handed the shovel back to Donal, and said firmly, “That’s him.”

“Good enough,” said Sheriff Nagelman, brushing his hands as if he’d just taken out the trash. He offered his hand to Sheriff Dean. “I guess things worked out for the best.”

“I’d say so,” Sheriff Dean answered, arms folded.

“Right.” Sheriff Nagelman withdrew his unshaken hand and left.

As soon as Sheriff Nagelman was a fair distance away, Shady, Hadley, and Donal let out a collective breath. Then they all set their uncomprehending eyes on Sheriff Dean.

“Where’s the boy?” Sheriff Dean asked.

“He’s back at my place, resting,” said Shady. “Gunshot went through his shoulder and he blacked out for a time. He’s being tended to. Should be fine.”

Sheriff Dean motioned to the coffin. “And who’s the stiff?”

“He’s the one who really killed that fellow in Joplin and tried to blame it on Jinx. He came after the boy and got spooked by something. Stepped into one of Louver Thompson’s coon traps, then fell back and hit his head on a rock. I wouldn’t wish such an end on anyone, but this man was a bad seed.”

Sheriff Dean thought for a moment. “That explains the missing foot. Still in the trap, I expect.”

Again, Shady, Hadley, and Donal stared, dumbfounded, at the sheriff.

He seemed to enjoy their confusion and eventually removed the toothpick from his mouth. “I may not be the most straight and narrow sheriff in town, but last I checked I’m the only sheriff in town. And no cocky city sheriff’s going to come in and run the show.” He replaced the toothpick in his mouth. “I’d best get going. Shady, that libation you gave me yesterday isn’t setting too well with my constitution,” he said, and walked off.

After a full minute of the three men watching the sheriff leave and looking back and forth at one another, Donal shook his head and said, “Well, I never.”

To which the other two responded, “Never.”

Then Donal began shoveling dirt into the open grave while Shady read aloud the verse that had been engraved on the tombstone. “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.”

The First Annual Homecoming Celebration began without a hitch. Most people knew nothing of the nighttime escapade or the unusual burial that had taken place that day. They just milled from one booth to another, sampling each other’s fine foods, clapping and cheering for their favorites in the sack races, the egg toss, and the bocce tournament, which ended in a draw between the Italians and the Scots, because the hedge apples kept splitting open.

As day turned into night and soft music began, the gentlemen of Manifest took their ladies’ hands and escorted them onto the open-air dance floor lit by a canopy of electric lights.