Lantern Sam and the Blue Streak Bandits by Michael D. Beil Read Free Book Online

wouldn’t have one in the house if there was a baby. Said that cats would sneak into the baby’s crib and steal its breath—whatever
that
means.”
    “If you ask me, people aren’t nearly scared enough,”
said Sam.
“If they knew what I know about cats, they’d
really
be afraid.”
    “Is he serious?” I whispered to Clarence.
    “Don’t pay any attention to him,” said Clarence. “He’s full of hot air. He’s just mad because the cooks brought aboard the wrong kind of cream. Apparently, it’s from Holstein cows, and Mr. Persnickety here prefers Jersey cows. Don’t ask me how he can tell the difference.”
    “Even a stupid
dog
could tell the difference,”
said Sam, almost spitting out the words.
“Seriously, if you humans had any less sense of taste or smell, you’d be rocks.”
    As we entered the dining car, Clarence stopped James, the young porter who had discovered the spilled marble tiles.
    “James, I want you to do me a favor. Remember that compartment we discussed? Keep a close eye on it. No one goes in there without my permission. Not even to clean up. Got it?”
    “Yes, sir, Mr. Nockwood,” said James. “You can count on me.”
    The observation car was quiet, as most passengers had returned to their rooms to dress for dinner or were enjoying cocktails in the club car. Clarence’s knuckles had barely touched the door to the Commodore Perry suite when Ellie’s mom, Doris Strasbourg, flung it open. The hopeful look on her face was instantly dashed when she saw no sign of Ellie—only the long faces of Clarence and me, holding Sam, who wouldn’t stop wriggling, digging his claws deeper into my arms.
    “Where’s Ellie? What’s happened to her?”
    “Maybe it’s best if we talk inside, ma’am,” said Clarence.
    When I got my first look at the Commodore Perry suite, my mouth was hanging open so wide that a fly actually buzzed right into it. For a second I thought I had swallowed him, but somehow he found his way out.
    “Stop fidgeting,”
said Sam.
    “I can’t help it,” I said. “There was a—”
    Sam laughed when he saw the look on my face as I realized that everyone was staring at me.
“Go on, finish your story,”
he said with a chuckle.
    I apologized and then quickly wiped my tongue on my sleeve before taking in the mind-boggling sights of the Commodore Perry suite. All around me were dark, lovingly polished wood, gleaming brass hardware, and plush green velvet; it was a room fit for kings and queens, and princes and princesses. I thought for a moment of my mother and baby sister in their ordinary, uncomfortable section seats near the front of the train, and suddenly it struck me: Ellie Strasbourg
was
a princess. If the rest of her world was anything like this, she and I might as well have been from different planets.
    “Not bad, eh, kid?”
said Sam.
“I could get used to living in a joint like this. In fact, I
should
be living in a place like this, right, Clarence? Don’t ignore me, old timer—I know you can hear me just fine.”
    A giant of a man, six and a half feet tall with a waist that must have measured in yards instead of inches, stood in the center of the room; everyone else seemed to revolve around him, like moons around a planet. His head was completely bald except for an impressive handlebar mustache, its ends waxed into perfect curls.
    “Judge J. P. Ambrose,” he announced in a booming voice as he produced a shiny silver badge. “Crawford County sheriff. Retired, that is.”
    If he wasn’t scary enough, seated in a wing chair and smoking a hand-rolled cigarette was the serious young man with the fiery eyes who had barked at me for nearly knocking over his pregnant wife. I quickly covered half of my face with one hand, hoping he wouldn’t recognize me.
    “I’m Reverend Travis Perfiddle,” he said seriously. “My wife and I were in the observation car when we heard about Mrs. Strasbourg’s misfor—er, her current situation. I’m here to provide moral