This Tender Land by William Kent Krueger

bare-chested. He wasn’t alone, and I thought this was odd because Mrs. Brickman had driven their silver Franklin to Saint Paul that afternoon and wasn’t due back for a couple of days. Then I saw that his bed partner’s hair was blond. She sat up slowly, holding the sheet against her bosom. Miss Stratton stared doe-eyed into the flashlight beam.
    “What the hell’s going on?” Brickman blustered.
    “We need your assistance, Clyde,” Albert said.
    Brickman must have recognized Albert’s voice. “O’Banion—” he began.
    “We just want Odie’s harmonica, that’s all.”
    “Harmonica? What the hell are you thinking?”
    “That if we don’t get the harmonica, Mrs. Brickman will get the lowdown on you and Miss Stratton.”
    Though it was far too late, the music teacher drew the sheet up, so that it covered the lower part of her face.
    “You can’t threaten me.”
    “I just did.”
    “Who’s that with you?”
    “My brother. And Moses Washington. And moral rectitude.”
    Whatever the hell that was. I had no idea. But was I impressed with Albert. My brother stood there, just a kid really, in a face-off with Clyde Brickman, who wielded as much authority at Lincoln School as a king in a castle, and by God, Albert had the upper hand.
    “The harmonica?” Brickman said. “That’s all you want is the harmonica?”
    “And to say goodbye to Emmy,” I threw in.
    That clearly puzzled Brickman. “Goodbye?”
    “We’re leaving Lincoln School,” Albert said.
    “You bet your ass you are,” Brickman said.
    “I figured that would make you happy. So, the harmonica?”
    Mose signed, And Emmy.
    “And Emmy,” Albert said.
    “I need to get dressed. You boys wait outside.”
    “We’ll wait right here.”
    Brickman threw off the covers and stood up, buck naked. He drew on his pants, which lay on a chair next to the bed, and thumbed the suspenders over his shoulders. He turned to the woman in his bed and said, “You stay right where you are. I’ll take care of this.”
    Brickman moved through us into the hallway and down to another door. He reached into his pocket and drew out a key.
    “You lock her in?” I said.
    “Just tonight.” He looked back toward his own bedroom, and I got it. Even so, I hated the thought of Emmy locked up anywhere.
    When he swung the door open, he called out, “Emmy, there’s someone to see you.”
    He reached for the wall switch and the light came on. Emmy sat in a chair in the corner, dressed in overalls and a shirt and new-looking shoes, as if she’d been expecting us. When we appeared, she gave a little cry, leapt up, ran across the room, and hit Mose at a run, then she threw her arms around me, and finally Albert.
    “I knew you’d come to get me,” she said.
    “We’re just here to say goodbye, Emmy.” Albert turned to Brickman. “A moment alone with her.”
    Brickman moved back into the hall to give us some privacy.
    “You try anything, Clyde, and I’ll make sure the Black Witch knows everything.”
    Brickman didn’t even wince at that derogatory nickname, but he gave my brother a taciturn nod of agreement.
    When we were alone with her, Emmy looked up, her little face scrunched in horror, tears glistening in her eyes. “Goodbye?”
    Mose signed, We have to go.
    “I know,” Emmy said. “And I want to go with you.”
    “You knew?” Albert asked. “How?”
    “I just did. And I’m going with you,” she demanded tearfully.
    “You can’t.” I petted her cut-short hair. “But I have something for you. The picture, Albert.”
    On the way to the Brickmans’, Albert had slipped back into the dorm and retrieved the photograph I’d given him earlier. It was the one that had sat on the mantel in the Frosts’ parlor, a picture of them together, Mr. and Mrs. Frost and Emmy, all of them looking happy. Albert handed it to me and I gave it to Emmy.
    “I lost my mother when I was a kid like you, Emmy. I can’t even remember now what she looked like. I don’t want