Timebound(92)

And then, to make matters worse, I heard someone running up behind me on the bridge. I glanced back over my shoulder and saw that it was the little kid from the cabin.

“You dropped this on the island, miss!” he said, a bit out of breath. He had a folded envelope in one grubby hand and a damp rag in the other. “And you’ll want me to be helpin’ you with that umbrellow—if you leave that mud to stay on it, the fabric’ll be ruint.”

I recognized the envelope at once and my heart rose into my throat. It was Dad’s letter, which I’d stashed back in my pocket without thinking after Trey finished reading it. It must have fallen out during my stumble up the hill.

The letter had been stuffed a bit carelessly back into the envelope, and I suspected that the inquisitive eyes in front of me had at least glanced at it; although, he would hardly have had a chance to read it carefully during his run across the bridge—and that was assuming a kid his age could even read in this era. The postmark was clear on the envelope, but surely he would think it was a mistake if he had seen the date?

The boy reached up with the hand holding the letter to pull my parasol down and wipe the dark stain off the top. I let him have the parasol and took the letter, tucking it quickly into my purse.

“Thank you. I wouldn’t have wanted to lose this…” I dug about in the small coin purse inside the bag, trying to decide what an appropriate tip might be.

“Int’restin’ stamp,” he said. “Must’ve come from a long way to cost forty-four cents for just sendin’ a letter. And I ain’ ever seen a stamp with a tiger on it like that. Looks like one of them tigers they have over on the Midway and the paintin’ on it is real bright an’ colorful. Don’ guess you could let me keep it for my c’lection?”

I shook my head, glancing back over the bridge. Katherine was nearly out of sight. “I’m very sorry—but my sister collects stamps, too, and this is from our father, so it’s already spoken for…”

He finished wiping off the parasol—I can’t say that there was a noticeable improvement, other than the dirt being spread around a bit—and handed it back to me, shrugging. “S’okay, miss. Just real unusual, so I thought…”

“Here,” I said, giving him my best smile. “Take this—a reward for returning the letter and a bit for your trouble.” I handed him a half-dollar coin, hoping that it might take his mind off the stamp. “I really need to be going, however—I’m running way behind. Again, thank you.”

His dark eyes grew very large, and it occurred to me that I might have been a bit too generous. A nickel or dime would have clearly been more appropriate. Running the numbers in my head, I realized that I’d given him the modern equivalent of about a twelve-dollar tip.

“No, miss. Thank you,” he said, pocketing the coin and falling into step beside me. “What are you plannin’ to see first? Do you have a map? If not…” He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a grimy, much-folded map of the Expo, clearly hoping that he’d be able to tap the rich girl for another buck or two before she got away.

“No, thank you, I have a map right here,” I said, picking up the pace a bit. I tugged the official-looking replica of a Rand McNally Expo map out of my bag and craned my neck to see if Katherine’s feather was still in view. It was, just a few feet into the crowd.

The kid was keeping up with me, step for step. “Don’t you need to get back to your job?” I asked, although it felt a bit odd saying that to a kid who should be in about the third grade.

“Nope—I’m all finished there for the day. I don’ have to be to my other job ’til later.” He skipped a few steps ahead and then turned to look at me, walking backward. “Those maps are no good, y’know. Half of ’em was written before the fair was even finished so they could get ’em printed in time and some of the exhibits moved aroun’. What you need is a guide. A respectable young lady shouldn’ be wanderin’ the fair without an escort, anyway.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “I’ve seen plenty of women touring the fair without a male escort.”

“Well, t’gether, yes,” he admitted. “But not walkin’ aroun’ by their lonesome much, right? I c’n be your guide—I done it nine times already, once for a group of ladies all the way from London. I know ever’thin’ about the fair, ’cause me dad worked here the whole time they was buildin’ it.”

He paused and drew in a deep breath. “For two dollars I can show you ever’thin’ worth seein’ here and ways to avoid the crowd and”—he blushed a bit—“where the ladies’ necessary is, an’ all that kind of stuff…”