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Marika. She did try to help. “Did she know him?” I asked.
“I reckon not. I heard a girl squeal like she was startled. Then there was a deal of whispering. Then I heard a key in the lock, and I shot out of there, and there they both were. He looked angry.”
“Maybe because you weren’t whom he wanted to find,” I said.
Apollo shrugged. “He was going to leave, but the girl begged him to hide me. She said she’d tell you what happened at the next stop and you could come back for me. The man said he couldn’t hang around, but he’d drop me off at some dry-goods store where he knew a man, but I don’t recollect what town.”
“But you found me instead.” It seemed miraculous.
“We stopped to rest by that barn, but I couldn’t sleep,” Apollo explained. “Then I saw you go by. I couldn’t believe my eyes at first, but I’d know you anywhere. I wanted to yell, but I didn’t want to wake the nice man, so I followed.”
I remembered the sounds I had assumed were animals in the grass and chuckled.
“You look a mess, Abel, and you’ve a bruise on your cheek. Why do you have a bruise? What’s wrong with your leg?”
We approached the cart by the barn. The horse grazed nearby, but perhaps the man still slept.
“Did you ever ask who he was searching for?” I whispered.
“I was just happy to get out of there,” Apollo answered. “What happened, Abel? Why aren’t you on the train?”
I rubbed my arm. “The fellows threw me off, Apollo. They didn’t want my company.”
His eyes widened. “Threw you off!” he exclaimed.
A head with a serious, coffee-colored face and crisp, dark hair poked out from the front of the cart.
“You didn’t say he was a colored gentleman,” I whispered.
“Was I supposed to?” Apollo answered.
“Why, you’re the lad who picked up my hat for me,” the man said in a rich, deep voice, and I recognized him as the gentleman Mr. G. Marvel had evicted from his Wagner Palace car. He climbed down from the cart.
“This is my friend Abel, Mr. Northstar,” said Apollo. “Abel Dandy. He’s the most best friend in all the world. He’ll steal you an apple in a minute and knock down your enemies in a trice.”
“A fine friend indeed,” Mr. Northstar said, and broke his solemn demeanor with a smile as he held out his hand to me. The smile merely served to make the sadness in his eyes plainer. “William Northstar, at your service.”
I shook his hand.
“They threw him off the train!” Apollo said.
Mr. Northstar sucked his teeth in disapproval. “I’ve some witch hazel,” he said. “You look like you have need of it. I found some eggs while you were gone, young man,” Mr. Northstar told Apollo gently. “Why don’t you gather some fuel for a fire?”
“Yes, sir.” Apollo scampered off into the trees.
“You have a way with puppy boys,” I noted with amusement when Mr. Northstar reemerged from his cart with a dark green bottle. “He’s not so easily bidden, as a rule.”
“He’s still chastened by his experience,” said Mr. Northstar as he dabbed at my face with a cloth soaked in cooling potion, “but if he’s like most boys, he won’t remember long. I shall, however.” His fist tightened and his eyes narrowed. Witch hazel dripped from the rag. “No child should be locked up like an animal.”
I nodded in agreement. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful,” I said, “but what were you looking for in that caboose? It wasn’t Apollo.”
He sighed and sank against the cart. “I was looking for a boy,” he said. “My child, Willie. He is only six years old, and someone has stolen him.”
My mouth fell open. “Why would anyone steal him?”
“He was born with skin as spotted as an Indian pony’s,” answered Mr. Northstar. “I believe someone decided to take him for a show.”
“Who? What happened?” I asked.
