They say my sixteen-year-old sister passes
for a man and shoots like an outlaw, and I cannot argue
it, since she has done both in her day.
Maude has been called a hardened criminal, and of this
I must tell you, do not believe it. People say a great
many things and only some of them are true.
This afternoon I watched from across the street as my
sister was arrested. She made a small figure in her plain
dark dress, her arms pulled behind her to cuff her wrists.
"Maude!" I shouted.
She didn't hear my voice over all those so filled with
excitement. I felt my blood rush toward my feet, leaving
me so dizzy and breathless I nearly sat down. For the
crowd only saw my sister as a fugitive from the law, accused
of being a horse thief, a bank robber, and a cold-blooded
killer.
It'd been five months since we found our lost uncle Arlen
and settled into a new life with him in Independence.
I had begun to believe she might never be discovered to
be the infamous Mad Maude, even though a dream came to
me over and over, in which I opened a sack to find oatmeal
cookies and two train tickets. I always found the oatmeal
cookies tasty, and there was no sense of being short of
time to catch a train.
I didn't yell again.
The dream flashed behind my eyes as Maude stepped into
the sunlight, head held high, the law on both sides of
her gripping her at the elbows. I'd never told my sister
about this dream, not even that recent time she tried
to talk me out of my determination to be ready for just
such an occasion as this.
We were getting dressed for the day ahead of us, which
was also my twelfth birthday. "When do you plan to
go back to looking like a girl?" she said to me.
Unlike my sister, I hadn't yet taken to wearing skirts
again. Maude said of course I must, as soon as my hair
grew in nicely. So long as I could wield the scissors
this fate would not befall me.
"It doesn't matter how you dress, Sallie,"
Maude said. "They might still find out. Then again,
they might not. I'm meanwhile missing the sight of my
little sister."
"I'll whisper it into her ear," I said. "See
if she don't surprise you one day."
"Doesn't," she said. "Is that a few bristles
I see under your nose? Why, it looks like the beginning
of a mustache."
"It's a shame I didn't ask your admirer, Mr. Wilburn,
for a shaving lesson," I said. "That fellow
had mustache material growing out of his ears."
Maude whopped me with her feather pillow and we were
occupied with battle for a time. As soon as she wasn't
looking, I touched my upper lip to be sure she was teasing.
I had begun to think she might be right about one thing--that
we might never need to make a sudden run for it. But past
events had impressed upon me how fast things could go
wrong, and how different life might be after they did.
Because of this, I kept some handy items for life on the
trail in a sack in the loft. This meant fewer necessaries
than you might guess. A horse and a canteen can get you
through most anything.
The heroes in the dime novels I read were always planning
ahead this way. Maude did not read much and so didn't
appreciate this fact. That sack prompted her to remind
me of a Bible story.
Three kings were in the desert and couldn't find water
for themselves or their horses. They put their troubles
before the prophet Elisha, who said to them what the Lord
told him, which was, "Make this valley full of ditches.
. . . Ye shall not see wind, neither shall ye see rain;
yet that valley shall be filled with water."
Even though it didn't make good sense to those kings
to dig ditches, they did it, and sure enough, a big flood
came and filled the ditches with water. Which meant you
have to get ready for what you want.
"Or in this case," Maude had said, "don't
get ready for what you don't want."
Maybe she was right, for a scant hour after Maude was
arrested, I was taking stock and judged myself to be as
ready as anyone can be for an event that will spin their
lives in an unexpected direction.
My plan, in case of Maude's arrest, had always been to
go in like a confused younger brother looking for his
sister, arguing a case of they had mistook her for this
other one. I had half a chance, for no one appeared to
have noticed Maude had a younger sister, let alone an
unexpected brother.
Only as I was riding to the sheriff's office, I knew
why people resorted to packing a gun--in case that first
plan didn't work out the way they hoped it would.
The way I saw it, I might could breach the doorway when
there was only one lawman on hand. Then, in case he didn't
believe my story of they had the wrong female and release
my sister to me, I could try to get the drop on that single
fellow.
I could see flaws all over this thinking.
One, Mad Maude and the Black Hankie Bandit, both notorious
outlaws, were stuck in the same jailhouse. It might never
come a time when only one lawman stood on duty. I could
be waiting outside till I took root and sprouted leaves.
Two, once me and Maude were on the run, they would know
to watch for her traveling with a boy. We had already
been two boys, so they'd watch for that as well. And girls
couldn't travel on their own without someone wondering
why.
Three, the likelihood of getting myself shot.
Excerpted from Maude March
on the Run! by Audrey Couloumbis Copyright ©
2007 by Audrey Couloumbis. Excerpted by permission of
Random House Books for Young Readers, a division of Random
House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt
may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing
from the publisher.
