The Winter Hero Read online

  The plate was held down by screws. It would be possible to unscrew them and take the plate off. Once it was off I might some way be able to get at the lock. But how?

  I didn’t have any more time to worry about it, though. Quickly I turned, went out of the library, shut the doors, and locked them. Then I snapped open Jasper’s key ring, took the library key off it, stuck it in my pocket, and closed the key ring again. I dashed down the hall, into the kitchen, and down the cellar stairs. Quickly I opened the paint closet, grabbed out the oil jar, and came back up. Jasper gave me a look when I came into the pantry. “Here are the keys,” I said.

  “What took you so long?”

  “I forgot which was the right key. I had to try them all.”

  He undid his belt, slipped the key ring over it, and did it up again. “If you paid attention to your work instead of daydreaming all the time, you might not have Major Mattoon on your back all the time.”

  I didn’t say anything, but took the oil and went back out to oil the hall floor.

  By the middle of the afternoon, word was beginning to go around that Captain Shays and his men were trying to close another court. The servants began to realize that their master would be gone at least overnight, and maybe for two or three days, and they began to take little holidays for themselves. The farmers drew lots to see who would stay around to look after things and the winners all went off into Amherst to stand around the taverns and drink. Jasper and the maid went off somewhere—out in the cornfield, I figured.

  I hung around the pantry until they were gone. Then I stole a half-dozen candles out of the candle box and wrapped them up in a napkin. Next I went out to the barn, where they kept the tools. The tools were supposed to be locked up when nobody was using them, but I figured they wouldn’t be, and I was right. The tool chest was standing open. I took out a screwdriver, a couple of small chisels, and a file. I wrapped these up in the dust cloth along with the candles. I went across the yard to the woodshed, slipped into the back, and tucked the whole package deep down inside the woodpile. Then I went back into the house. I was feeling scared all right, but pretty good, too. I thought my plan might work.

  Then there was nothing to do but wait it out until it was night. I helped Jasper serve the family supper. When we got finished, he went off with the maid and I went upstairs to my room so people would think I’d gone to bed. After a little while I began to hear distant voices coming from the kitchen. The servants were having a little party. I figured that they’d probably opened up a few bottles of Major Mattoon’s wine and were getting drunk. That was so much the better—they’d be less likely to worry about where I was.

  The big clock in the hall below struck ten. I went on lying on my bed. I was pretty sleepy, and after a while I dozed off for a little. When I woke up it was after eleven. I got up and slipped downstairs barefoot. I went outside and across the yard to the woodshed. I climbed up on the woodpile, got my package out, and then stood for a moment looking at the house. There was a light on in the upstairs, the old aunt’s room. That didn’t mean anything: She usually kept a candle burning through the night so she could see in case she had to get up. The family was asleep.

  Most of the rest of the house was dark, too, except the kitchen. I slipped across the yard to the house and crept up to the kitchen window.

  The cook was there, and Jasper and the maid, and a couple of the farmers. The maid was sitting on Jasper’s lap. There were some open wine bottles on the kitchen table, and a jug of cider. They were laughing and shouting. I figured they were pretty drunk.

  Now I turned back and went the other way along the house to where there was a side door letting into the hall. I opened it and slipped inside. The place was pitch dark. It didn’t matter, I knew where everything was. I felt along in the dark, going slowly down the hall to the library. Fumbling with my hand I found the keyhole, slid the key in, and turned it. Then I went in and closed the doors behind me.

  I knelt down in front of where I figured the cabinet was, unrolled my package on the floor, and felt around until I found one of the candles. I felt on the desk for the tinder-box I always used to light the fire, and turned the wheel against the flint. Almost immediately the old, dry tow cloth began to glow and then flame. I lit the candle. The library windows faced south, away from the kitchen. It wasn’t likely that anybody would be out in that direction in the middle of the night. I stuck the candle in one of the holders on Major Mattoon’s desk. Then I dumped everything off the cloth and spread it on the floor just in front of the cabinet. Next I picked up the screwdriver and began taking out the screws that held the brass plate over the lock. There were six of them, and it didn’t take me more than a couple of minutes to do it. I laid the screws down carefully on Major Mattoon’s desk where I could find them again. When I got the last one out, the plate came off as easy as pie. It was just as I had thought. Underneath the plate was a rough hole, about an inch across. Down inside the hole I could see the part of the steel lock that had the keyhole in it. The lock had been fitted into a neat hole cut in the edge of the door. The hole I was looking at had been cut in the side of the door so the key could pass through into the lock. I just hoped the lock wasn’t too big.

  Now I took the candle from Major Mattoon’s desk, turned it sideways, and pushed the flame carefully up to the hole I had been studying. The trick was to get the flame as far into the hole as I could, without discouraging it too much. I got the hang of it after a minute. I kept turning the candle to make it burn evenly. Some of the wax dripped onto the door, but most of it fell down onto the cloth I had spread on the floor. I went on standing there, watching the flame. My heart was really thumping in my chest. I stood there like that for maybe five minutes. Then I saw a tiny glow. The wood was beginning to burn. I pulled the candle away. The glow went out. When I put the flame back against the wood, the glow reappeared. I went on working the candle around the hole, and after another five minutes or maybe more—I couldn’t be sure how long it was—the edges of the hole all the way around were glowing. I kept on working for another little while. Then I pulled the candle away. The edge of the hole was charred all the way around. I put the candlestick on the cloth I had spread on the floor and stuck the candle in it. I picked up one of the little chisels. Working carefully so as not to make any noise, I scrapped off the charred edges around the hole. It only took a couple of minutes to get down to fresh wood. I put the chisel down, took the candle out of the candlestick, and once more set about charring the edges of the hole.

  Time was passing. Every once in a while I could hear a faint laugh or whoop from the direction of the kitchen. I wondered what time it was. There was a grandfather clock out in the hall, but I didn’t want to risk moving around any more than I had to. As close as I could figure, by the time I’d scraped off the charred edges of the hole the second time I’d been there a half an hour. I’d already started on the second candle.

  But the hole was nearly twice as big now. If I could just stay patient, in time I’d have the whole lock uncovered. Then all I had to do was pry it out, and the cabinet door would swing open. The problem was keeping patient. I was as nervous as a treed cat. I kept having the impulse to just start hacking away at the wood around the lock to speed things up. But I kept myself under control, and went on burning and scraping, burning and scraping, and finally I had the wood cleared completely from the top edge of the lock. That cheered me up, because it gave me some idea of how big the lock was. I figured it couldn’t be more than about two inches or so square. I went on burning and scraping, first along the top, and then down the side, and then along the bottom. By the time I had got halfway along the bottom I was feverish and it was all I could do to keep myself from grabbing up the chisel and prying the lock out. But I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to take it out without damaging anything so I could put it back the way it was.

  And then I was done. It had taken maybe two hours, but the wood covering the lock was gone. Now I picked up the screwdriver, slipped
it gently under the lock, and pried very lightly. The lock raised up and slid out as easy as you please. Oh, it gave me a lovely feeling to have it work out so neat. I felt all tingly.

  I set the lock down on Major Mattoon’s desk next to the brass plate and the screws. I swung the cabinet door open, picked up the candle, and flashed it over the narrow drawers, looking at the labels. They said things like “Deeds,” “Mass. Bonds,” “Mortgages,” “Notes and Loans,” and so forth. I’d memorized the drawer the list was in. It was labeled “Miscellaneous.” I pulled it open. The list was lying right there on top. Quickly I pulled it out, set the candle down on the desk, and looked at it, bending down to see it in the candlelight. Captain Shays’ name came first. Peter’s was fourth.

  Now I snatched up a blank piece of paper from the pile on Major Mattoon’s desk, took his pen out of his holder, and began copying. There were only eight names. Even as slow as I was at writing it didn’t take me more than a couple of minutes to copy the names down. When I was finished, I waved the sheet of paper around to dry it, and then I folded it over and stuck it down the front of my shirt. I picked up the lock, pushed the cabinet door closed, and slipped the lock back into place. Quickly I put the brass plate back where it had come from and screwed it in place, making sure that I turned the screws down firmly so that the plate wouldn’t accidentally come loose. Then I picked up the cloth and began wiping the spilled wax off the door. There was more of it than I had thought, and I had to scrape at it with my fingernails to get it clean. But in a few minutes everything was back to normal. I held the candle up to the cabinet and had a good look. You couldn’t tell that it had been touched. I knelt down on the floor, unrolled the cloth, and began gathering the tools and the candle butts into it. And it was while I was doing that I heard a noise at the door and a voice said, “Justin.”

  Chapter Five

  I SPRUNG TO MY FEET. IT WAS JASPER. HE was standing in the open door, leaning against the jamb and grinning. He was pretty drunk. The candle he was holding was tipped so that it was dripping wax on his pants, but he didn’t notice. “Conkey,” he said again. “Naughty boy. They hang naughty boys who break into the master’s library and steal things.”

  “I’m not stealing anything,” I said.

  “Oh, no, not stealing anything. Just came in to read a book.”

  I couldn’t think of anything to say.

  He took a couple of steps away from the door to come after me, but he was swaying a lot from the liquor and he figured he’d better go back and lean against the doorjamb. “Conkey, you’ll go to jail for this.”

  “I was looking for something that belongs to me,” I said. I realized he didn’t know I’d been working on the cabinet. He thought I’d been prowling around the desk.

  “Oh, yes, Conkey. Major Mattoon’s going to hear all of this in the morning.”

  “Major Mattoon won’t be here in the morning,” I said.

  “You certainly know everything, don’t you?”

  “I know that,” I said. “There’s a thousand men gone down to Worcester to close the court there. They’ll be there two or three days more at least. Major Mattoon won’t come home until it’s over.”

  He stared at me, blinking and swaying. “How do you know that?”

  “I just know it,” I said.

  He didn’t say anything. Then he said, “Where’s my key?”

  “In my pocket,” I said.

  “Give it to me.” I took it out of my pocket and threw it to him. He tried to catch it, but missed completely. It bounced off his stomach and fell onto the floor. He started to bend down to pick it up, but he began to sway and had to straighten up again. “Pick that up and hand it to me proper,” he said.

  “No,” I said. “You’re not my master.”

  “You wait until I speak to Major Mattoon, Conkey. You’ll wish you’d done what you were told. Now, pick it up.”

  “Jasper, why are you on Major Mattoon’s side? Why aren’t you on our side?”

  He stared at me, trying to figure out what I was saying. “What were you looking for in here?”

  “A paper,” I said. “Major Mattoon tried to get Peter’s oxen and now he’s after his farm. He’s got a mortgage on it. I was going to find the papers and burn them.”

  He grinned at me again. “Well, you got fooled. He keeps all his papers in that cabinet behind you. That’s solid oak. You couldn’t break into that with an ax.”

  “Why are you on his side?” I said. “Why aren’t you on ours?”

  “What are you talking about, Conkey?”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  He stood there swaying and looking bleary, almost as if he was about to fall asleep. I didn’t know if he had caught what I’d said. “The River Gods. They’re trying to take our property. Me and Peter and Molly, and you, too.”

  He stared at me again, blinking. “Know why I’m on Mattoon’s side?”

  “Why,” I said. I was surprised to hear him say, “Mattoon” without the Major.

  “Because it’s the only side I’ve got.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You got a little property; Mattoon’s got a lot. I don’t have any at all. Who’s going to take care of me if I lose this job? You and your sister and McColloch? You all going to take care of me? Feed me and clothe me?”

  “We don’t have anything extra.”

  “There you are,” he said. “That’s it. That’s it right there.” He put out one finger and waggled it at me. “Who’s got extra? Why Mattoon, he’s got extra.”

  “You could farm.”

  “Not without land. Can’t farm without land, Conkey.”

  “You could go to work for somebody else.”

  He grinned. “Sure. Give up the fat life here and work in the fields fourteen hours a day for three shillings a day.”

  “At least you’d be your own man.”

  “Anybody who works in the fields fourteen hours a day isn’t his own man, Conkey.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  He waggled his finger at me. Then he started to stagger, but grabbed hold of the door jamb and straightened up. There was wax all over his breeches now. “No sir, Conkey. I’m with Mattoon. You fellows can go down to Worcester or Springfield or any other place and parade around if you want and maybe get shot by the militia, but not Jasper. I’m with Mattoon. He’s the only side I got, Conkey.”

  I had to feel sorry for him, drunk as he was, and hard as he was on me. I guess I was about the only person he had to order around—me and the housemaid. “Well, all right,” I said. “I understand. But the rest of us still have something to lose. We should stand up for our rights.”

  “Stand up for whatever you like, Conkey.”

  “You wouldn’t try to stop us?”

  “All I try is to mind my own business,” he said. “You ought to try it, too.”

  “Are you going to tell Major Mattoon I was in here?”

  He stared at me, blinking in the candlelight. “Where’s my key?” he said slowly.

  “It’s on the floor.” I stepped forward, picked it up, and handed it to him.

  He held in in his hand and looked it over carefully. “You sure that’s the right key?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Let’s go out and we can try it in the lock.” Quickly I knotted up the bundle with the tools and candle ends in it, came back to the door, took him by one arm, and helped him through it. As he went through the door he staggered against the jamb, but got himself straight again. I pulled the door shut. He turned around and tried to put the key in the keyhole, but he was too drunk. The key kept waving around in the air and didn’t go anywhere near the hole. Finally I took his hand and guided it until the key went in. Then I helped him turn it.

  He took the key out of the lock and fumbled it into his pocket. “No, Conkey, I won’t tell Mattoon. You boys go ahead and parade around and get shot if you want. If that’s what you want, I won’t tell Mattoon.” He turned away and staggered off
down the hall, bumping the walls from side to side.

  He didn’t tell. For the next few days I was pretty careful to be cheerful and do what I was told. He never said anything. I wasn’t sure why. Drunk as he was, he might have forgotten the whole thing. Or maybe he was afraid that if he told Major Mattoon I’d been in the library, I’d tell him that Jasper and the rest had been drinking up his wine. Or he’d have to explain how I got the key in the first place. But maybe he was partly on our side, too. I didn’t know.

  Anyway, I had another thing to worry about, which was that Major Mattoon knew that Peter was one of the leaders. Peter would be coming down to see me sooner or later. If he didn’t have some reason for coming into Amherst, he’d make a special trip. And what would Major Mattoon say if he saw Peter on his property? Could he have him arrested, I wondered? It seemed to me pretty clear that I ought to get the list up to him as soon as possible. But how? I wasn’t allowed to leave the place.

  By the middle of the week there were all sorts of rumors around about what had happened at Worcester. It was said that the militia fired on our people, and that they didn’t, that our people had burned the courthouse, and that they hadn’t. Major Mattoon came home on Wednesday, but naturally he didn’t say anything to us about it. And then on Saturday Peter came down. He just showed up at the kitchen as bold as could be, and asked for me. Jasper came and got me, frowning like mad at me and Peter, but he was afraid to say anything. I sneaked some bread out of the kitchen for Peter, and we went out into the woodshed and talked. As soon as we were safe in the shadows of the shed, I said, “I got it, Peter.”

  “What?”

  “The list.” I took it out and handed it to him. He opened it up and read it. “You’re on it,” I said.