The Misadventured Summer of Tumbleweed Thompson

Though I’ll set them down as if they happened in order, those frantic moments inside the courthouse were pretty well stacked on top of each other.

There was the marble whizzing through the air like a streaking shard of ice and fire. Plunkett reaching for the window and turning to face me. Tumbleweed lunging upward and catching hold of the waist of Plunkett’s dress.

Plunkett turned and saw my missile speeding toward his forehead. Like Goliath himself, as he realized the power of the Almighty contained in that small stone in the shepherd boy’s sling, he knew what was coming.

The marble slammed into Plunkett’s forehead just as Tumbleweed brought him down, and the gangly man collapsed in a heap of elbows and knees, his head thudding against the floor. I watched in breathless silence as Plunkett rolled over and lay still. Then, I turned to glance around the courthouse. There was a lot to take in.

Hackensack had recovered from his run-in with the Umbrella of Justice, but had lost his battle with four burly townsfolk— including Judge Crawford himself—who had shoved him onto a bench and bound him fast with what seemed to be a pair of green suspenders. And Berger, though he had regained consciousness from Pa’s blow, no longer had his pistol. Pa stood over him with the gun, eyes locked on him like a falcon.

“What did I tell you son?” Pa said. “The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

I swallowed hard. “He sure does.”

Charlotte appeared beside me. “We did it,” she said. “Unbelievable.” She grinned, then threw her arms around my neck. I had to swallow a few more times after that, let me tell you.

As the scene calmed, heads began to poke out from under benches, and Judge Crawford returned to the front of the room. He raised his hands to his mouth and gave a loud whistle.

The rear doors swung open, and Marshall Boggs re-entered. Right behind him walked Tess Remington herself, in all the glory of her sharpshooting days. She paused and leveled Old Hickory at the cluster of miscreants now in custody in front of her.

“Which one of you kidnapped my boy?” she asked, eyes narrowing as she swung her gun barrel back and forth.

“Ma?” Tumbleweed asked, hoisting himself off the floor. “How’d you—” At the sight of her son, his Ma’s face cleared, and she lowered the rifle. She dashed to Tumbleweed and clutched him tightly. Marshall Boggs whistled as he joined Judge Crawford at the front of the room. “That was some storm just passed through this room,” he said.

“You found the money?” I asked.

“A whole heap of it. Plus, we got a couple hundred townsfolk who witnessed some mighty guilty actions on the part of Trent Berger.”

“Is that enough to free Wendell?” Charlotte asked.

“I reckon so,” Judge Crawford said.

My eyes swung toward Berger. His stare could have cut diamonds, but the sight of him scowling under Pa’s watchful eye did my heart good.

“Now that we’ve got the three outlaws alive, and nearly all the money accounted for, it seems we were a bit hasty in our judgment,” Marshall Boggs confessed. He raised his fingers to his lips and whistled loudly. Deputy Mars burst through the front door, lugging two large saddlebags. He reached the front of the room and dropped both bags on the ground. One of the straps slipped loose, and several large bundles of bank notes spilled out. Tumbleweed shrugged out of his Ma’s embrace and knelt beside the money.

“Holy crow,” he said. “It’s really all there.” He turned to me. “Sorry about pinching a bit from the cabin, Eugene. I know that made it tough on ole’ Wendell.”

“You hear that, Marshall?” Pa said from his place beside Berger. “He took that money without any convincing from Wendell.”

“I heard,” Marshall Boggs said. He signaled to Deputy Mars, who clapped handcuffs on Berger and led him down the aisle and out the back door.

“Now hang on a minute,” Tumbleweed said. “Before you sew this up neat and tidy, ain’t you all forgetting something?”

Boggs raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“What about the reward money the Marshall’s office was putting up?”

“Come on, Tumbleweed,” I said. “Not now!”

“Hang on, hear me out,” Tumbleweed said, his face widening in a grin. “I was thinking that if we’re going to settle the matter of the reward money, there’s a man in the town jail who should be in on the conversation.”

“Wendell!” Charlotte cried.

My mouth dropped open. “That’s…a pretty great idea,” I said.

“Well, I’m full of surprises,” Tumbleweed said.

Our motley collection of lawmen, train robbers—one dressed as a woman—townsfolk, and kids trooped down the street to the jail. Most of the mob from the courthouse trailed us. I could see Wendell’s head turn toward us as we entered the jail. I raced down the hall.

“Who’s there?” he called.

“It’s me, Wendell,” I said. “And you’ll never believe who I brought with me.”

Marshall Boggs thrust Trent Berger into view. Wendell’s eyes widened. “Well howdy, Trent,” he said with a grin. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Cram it, Silas,” Berger growled.

“I told you, his name’s Wendell,” I said.

“Did you find ’em all?” Wendell asked Marshall Boggs.

“And the money?”

Wendell shook his head slowly. “Then I’m—”

“You’re free, Wendell,” I said.

There was a jangle, and I felt Boggs press his thick key ring into my hand. “Go on,” he said.

I raised the key and turned it with a click. “Come on,” I said.

Wendell stood. “Just like that,” he said in a hushed voice. “I didn’t think—”

“I know,” I said.

And with that, Wendell left the cell. Charlotte appeared beside me and stood on tiptoes to throw her arms around his neck. Then, Wendell turned to face Marshall Boggs.

“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am for the misunderstanding, Wendell,” Boggs said quietly. “This has shook me right to my core, I must confess.”

Wendell squeezed the Marshall’s shoulder. “I forgive you, Levi,” he said. “It’s over now. That’s what matters most.” The Marshall nodded. Then, Wendell bent to look me in the eye. “Son,” he said, “I don’t know how you managed to do it, but thank you.”

I felt my cheeks flush. “Aw,” I said. “It was nothing.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he said. “And I won’t soon forget it.”

“We’re just glad you’re okay, Wendell,” said a voice from the rear of our group. Tumbleweed shoved past the Marshall and presented himself before Wendell.

“Well, lookee there. It’s Bumbleshoot, ain’t it?”

Tumbleweed’s face flushed. “Naw, Tumbleweed.”

“Right, I knew that,” Wendell said, winking.

“Yeah, hey,” Tumbleweed began, suddenly fumbling for words. “We’re…glad you’re free now, and everything is all patched up.”

“Well, thank you, son. I appreciate your help in all of this too.”

“I know. It’s just, I wish—” But Wendell grabbed Tumbleweed by the shoulder and pulled him toward him, whispering a few words into his ear. Tumbleweed’s eyes widened. The two pulled apart, and a peace settled down across Tumbleweed’s face. “Thanks,” he said.

“Wait, we’re forgetting something!” Charlotte called. I turned toward her, and in a flash, knew what she meant.

“Oh my gosh, you’re right. Let’s go!” I grabbed Charlotte’s hand, and we dashed back outside. Soon, we reached the little white house under the birches at the end of River Street. A small, bonnet-covered head was visible through the front window.