A blinding light jerked him out of a deep sleep. Carsten sat up, and the light left his eyes. Sun shone through the bars above him and hit the cot right where his head had been. Apparently, this cell had its own little alarm on sunny days. He stretched and yawned. He preferred Ma’s way to wake him: the smell of coffee brewing and the sound of bacon sizzling.
He hopped off the cot and did a quick pace around the cell to try to warm up his limbs. When they were warmer, he sat back down and waited. For what, he didn’t know. What could he wait for? He had nothing to do in here. The least they could do was provide books. ’Course, would that even help some people? Probably not. Half the people who ended up in here were likely illiterate.
He sighed. It would be a long day if there was nothing to do. Would the marshal even come back to see if Carsten survived the night? If the marshal did return, would he bring food, and if so, how bad would it be? Surely they had to feed prisoners.
Carsten stood and patrolled the cell again. It was too small for the pacing to be satisfying, but at least it got him moving. He needed movement or he would go crazy. Striding around the cell might not be enough either. It was too soon to tell.
“Carsten!” a voice shouted. “Stop walking around in there!”
Must be the marshal. He could hear him pacing? “If I don’t?”
“I’ll come in and make you stop.”
That didn’t sound pleasant. Carsten sat on the cot. “Am I going to get breakfast sometime this morning?”
“Depends on if there’s enough when Marcia comes by.”
“Who’s Marcia?”
“My lady friend.”
Carsten shook his head. Marcia was the marshal’s lady friend? Ironic. And Carsten doubted she would bring any extra food. Unless Marcia knew he was here and took pity on him. So what could he think about to get his mind off his already grumbly stomach? Maybe he could think about how Marcia could stand being around the marshal for any length of time.
The opening of a door interrupted his thoughts. “Mornin’, Marshal,” a deep voice said. Obadiah. Amos’s father. The man who’d taken Carsten under his wing after Pa went to prison.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Raskins?” The question came with the scraping of a chair.
“I need to talk to Carsten.”
“We don’t allow visitors for prisoners.”
“You let Carsten visit his pa when Foster was here.”
Carsten could almost hear the scowl on Marshal Lydick’s face.
“Fine. But only for a few minutes.”
“Thank you.”
Keys rattled in the door between the office and the cells.
Obadiah came toward Carsten and stopped right in front of the bars. “Did you do it?”
His question stung. Did he think Carsten did it? How could he? Carsten took a deep breath and looked Obadiah in the eyes. “No.”
Obadiah gave a curt nod. “I didn’t think so. I’m gonna try to get you out of here. I can’t make any guarantees, but I’ll do my best. Do you know of anything that I can tell him?”
“I don’t even know what got stolen. All I can tell you is that Ma saw everythin’ I took home.”
“Hm. That might not be enough for the marshal.”
“I know. But it might be something. He also searched my house and found nothin’.” Carsten sighed. “Thank you for anything you can do.”
Obadiah turned and strode out to the office. “I want him released until the trial.”
“No.”
“I’ll pay you some money. You have to give it back after the trial. If he doesn’t show up at the trial, the money remains yours.”
There was a pause. “No.”
“Why not? He didn’t steal anything. You searched his house. Did you find something?”
“No, but he might have hidden it somewhere else.”
Obadiah growled. “I can guarantee he won’t steal anything while he is out. All you need to do is look into this matter and find the real thief. I’ll make sure Carsten doesn’t do anything in the meantime.”
“How?”
This time, the pause was on Obadiah’s side. “I’ll check in on him every night I can and talk to his mother about making sure she is with him whenever she can. I can also send my son to stay with Carsten until the trial if you need more assurance.”
“Amos and Carsten are friends. How do I know Amos isn’t a thief, too?”
Obadiah growled again. “My son is not a thief and never will be. Why would he need to steal anything?”
“Why would Carsten?”
“Carsten’s father was a bad influence on him,” Obadiah said. “Amos had me as a good influence and is the son of a wealthy rancher. You’ve been keeping an eye on Carsten, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Has he done anything illegal in the last five years?”
“Not that I know of. But this last theft happened in a store. I can’t follow him into every store he enters.”
Obadiah’s spurs jangled when he stomped a foot. “Did he know you were watching him?”
“He saw me watching, so probably.”
“Why would he steal something when he knew you were there?”
The marshal didn’t say anything for a while. “Fine. I’ll let you take him home. But if he does anything…”
“I know,” Obadiah said. “Thank you.”
There was silence again as Carsten stood and waited for them to let him out. When they didn’t come for a while, he almost sat but didn’t. They would be here soon. They had to. Obadiah was probably figuring out how much to give the marshal. Something Carsten would have to figure out how to pay back without offending Obadiah. And without ruining himself.
A couple minutes later, keys jangled nearby, and Carsten jerked his head up to see Marshal Lydick heading his way. The scowl on his face showed what he thought of this whole situation.
“Go,” he said as he swung the door open. “Before I change my mind.”
“Thank you,” Carsten said and darted past him and into the office, where Obadiah waited. “Let’s get out of here.”
Obadiah trailed behind him. Once they were outside, Obadiah stopped. “Why are you in such a hurry?”
“I want to get home. To Ma.”
“Okay, but first, I want to talk with you. Are you hungry?”
Carsten turned to him. “Starved.”
“Let’s go to the café and eat there. While we eat, we can talk.”
“I don’t want to be owin’ you a lot of money,” Carsten said. “What you paid the marshal and now the café.”
Obadiah shook his head. “You don’t owe me anythin’. I enjoy treating my friends to good things once in a while.” He put an arm around Carsten’s shoulders. “Let’s go.”
Carsten went with him. Not that he had a choice, but he didn’t mind. He liked the café’s food almost as much as he liked his ma’s.
Once they sat and had their orders in, Carsten waited for Obadiah to talk. Carsten had no idea what the man wanted to talk about and was kind of scared. Obadiah wasn’t a cruel man, but he was tough. And Carsten liked that. Pa had been a bit too lenient, which he had learned from his pa. Carsten wanted to be more like Obadiah than Pa. For various reasons. One big one being that Obadiah was a Christian and upstanding citizen.
Obadiah cleared his throat. “What are you going to do now that you are free for a time?”
“Find a way to prove my innocence,” Carsten answered immediately. “I didn’t do this. The marshal already searched my house, so I’m not sure how, but I’ll do anything I need to as long as it’s legal. I’m not going to jail for somethin’ I didn’t do.”
“How are you going to investigate without offending the marshal?”
“I don’t know.”
Obadiah smiled, a contemplative look showing up within seconds. “I think it’s a good idea for you to investigate, if you decide to. I don’t think the marshal has any plans to look into anyone else who might have stolen whatever it was.”
“He didn’t tell you either?”
“No. I didn’t come right out and ask, though. That’s the first thing you need to find out.”
Their food arrived, and Obadiah prayed for it. They both ate a good portion before talking again.
“Are you still drawn to stealing?” Obadiah asked.
Carsten swallowed his bite of pancake a little early and coughed. “A little. But I don’t do it. And I won’t. I know it’s not right.”
“I’m glad you’re honest about it. What do you think you can do about the temptation?”
Carsten startled. He hadn’t thought about that. All he’d done was try to ignore the temptation and stay out of town when the pull came. What else could he do? “Not go to town when I’m weak and could be tempted.”
“What if you don’t think you will be tempted and then come to town and you are?”
Carsten’s fork hovered midair. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll not do anything. Or”—he set his fork down—“stop comin’ to town.”
“You can’t stop coming to town to avoid possible temptations.”
Carsten sighed. “I know. I need to figure something else out. Looking into who stole from the print shop could satisfy my thrill for excitement.”
“That would be a valid option.”
“I’ll also make sure I do all the investigating myself. I don’t want to get anyone else in trouble or put them in danger.”
Obadiah grimaced. “You might have a problem there.”
Carsten looked up from his pancakes. “What?”
“Amos was around when your ma came to talk to me. He heard and was headin’ to talk to Edmund and Kit when I left to come here.”
Carsten’s mouth made an O shape but no sound. He took another bite and chewed it slowly. “I’ll try to talk them out of it. I can do things on my own.”
“You can, but it might be better if you all do it together.”
“Why?”
“Safety in numbers. And it’s easier to figure things out if you have people to talk to about it. They might have ideas you wouldn’t have thought of. And might be able to ask questions you can’t.”
“Hm.” Carsten took a bite. “I’ll think about it. I don’t know if I really want to involve them.”
By the time they finished eating, satisfaction filled Carsten in more than one way. He now had a full belly and a more peaceful heart. He still had a lot to do and a lot of problems, but he wasn’t as anxious as before. Hopefully he could talk his friends out of helping or at least get them to stay out of trouble.