The Great Circus Train Robbery Read Online Free Page B

a valley full of wolves and grizzlies? Pretending to push her into that death valley?”
    “I’ll read it,” she thought grimly. “But only if it doesn’t interfere with my mission.”
     

6
     

DIRT, ROCK, AND WEBS FULL OF DEAD FLIES
     
    “He’s a strange man, that Juniper Boomer,” Mrs. Elwood said as Zoe was leaving the house after lunch to pick up the pie basket—Boomer was to leave it on the front porch. “Have you ever heard of a name like Juniper? Why, juniper is a tree!” Her mother giggled. “Oh, and take Spence with you when you go. Just in case.”
    Just in what case, Zoe wondered. The remark made her fearful. Especially ten minutes later when she was alone, hiding in Boomer’s backyard with a notebook, an empty pie basket, and The Age of Steam. She had a view of the garage and driveway so she could see when—if—he left the house. She couldn’t follow his movements inside the house because the shades were down. Did he suspect that someone might be watching him? That, of itself, was suspicious.
    So she spent the time skimming her copy of the train book that was mostly, she discovered, full of photos and illustrations. She could easily finish it in a week and take notes besides. She copied down the following:
    A 19th-century philosopher compared the locomotive engine to a dragon snorting fire. It clattered and smoked and roared and destroyed the peace of the countryside. The trains were always getting wrecked. One wreck in a Pennsylvania cornfield left 70 people charred and dead.
    Hmm. That was sad. Zoe was unhappy with these dangerous steam trains.
    One night in 1876 the Pacific Express fell 150 feet through a bridge and burned on a frozen creek. All 88 passengers fell with it to their deaths. The chief engineer who’d called the bridge safe, blew his brains out.
    Did she really want to ride the Durango and Silverton?
    But then she came to a poem by William Rose Benét who wrote
    Then, as on wings of chance,
    I plunge the night —
    Pullmans, you spell romance
    And snug delight.
     
    That was better. There was nothing romantic, though, about lying on her belly in this weedy, rooty yard. She flipped over on her back, hearing an engine revving up. Why, it was the green car backing out into the driveway! And she’d forgotten to bring the walky-talky. Scrambling up, she raced back to Spence’s house and flung a stone at his window.
    Unfortunately, his room was over the music room where she could see his mother nodding at a small boy who was murdering a piece by Mozart. Fortunately, Mrs. Riley’s back was to her and the boy’s head so close to the page of music he could almost lick it. So when Spence came to his upstairs window she waved her arms and frantically pointed down the street. “Gone,” she mouthed, “Come quick!”
    He waved at her, smiled, and held up The Story of American Railroads, but he didn’t come. And Boomer would be halfway to town by now, doing his errands, and then he’d come home and hang out the rest of the day—and they’d never get in.
    So she tiptoed up to Spence’s room while the boy below continued to mutilate Mozart, and grabbed her friend’s arm. “He’s gone out,” she said. “Come on!” When he kept his nose in the book, she said, “If youwant my help with your essay. I’ve already got a whole page of notes. Good stuff. If youwant to read them.”
    That got him. They hurried over to Boomer’s, pulled up the creaking cellar door and scrambled down the crumbling stone steps that were hung with cobwebs. “No recent bodies through here anyway,” Zoe said, “or it would’ve taken the cobwebs with it. So maybe we’re in time.” She was pleased with her Nancy Drew sleuthing. “Shut the door,” she called to Spence, who was stumbling behind.
    The door fell with a crash. “It got my head! Oww...”
    “Shush.”
    “Why? You said Boomer’s gone.”
    “Someone might be here. You never know.”
    The cellar looked like it had been dug out of dirt