The movement of the train rocked me like a lullaby. I closed my
eyes to the dusty countryside and imagined the sign I’d seen only
in Gideon’s stories: Manifest—A Town with a rich past and a bright
future.
Abilene Tucker feels abandoned. Her father has put her on a
train, sending her off to live with an old friend for the summer
while he works a railroad job. Armed only with a few possessions
and her list of universals, Abilene jumps off the train in
Manifest, Kansas, aiming to learn about the boy her father once
was.
Having heard stories about Manifest, Abilene is disappointed to
find that it’s just a dried-up, worn-out old town. But her
disappointment quickly turns to excitement when she discovers a
hidden cigar box full of mementos, including some old letters that
mention a spy known as the Rattler. These mysterious letters send
Abilene and her new friends, Lettie and Ruthanne, on an
honest-to-goodness spy hunt, even though they are warned to “Leave
Well Enough Alone.”
Abilene throws all caution aside when she heads down the mysterious
Path to Perdition to pay a debt to the reclusive Miss Sadie, a
diviner who only tells stories from the past. It seems that
Manifest’s history is full of colorful and shadowy characters—and
long-held secrets. The more Abilene hears, the more determined she
is to learn just what role her father played in that history. And
as Manifest’s secrets are laid bare one by one, Abilene begins to
weave her own story into the fabric of the town.
Powerful in its simplicity and rich in historical detail, Clare
Vanderpool’s debut is a gripping story of loss and redemption.
關於作者：
Moon Over Manifest, Clare Vanderpool’s first novel, is set in
the fictional small town of Manifest, Kansas, which is based on the
real southeastern Kansas town of Frontenac, home of both of her
maternal grandparents. Drawing on stories she heard as a child,
along with research in town newspapers, yearbooks, and graveyards,
Clare found a rich and colorful history for her story. Clare lives
in Wichita, Kansas, with her husband and their four children.
內容試閱：
Santa Fe Railway
Southeast Kansas
MAY 27, 1936
The movement of the train rocked me like a lullaby. I closed my
eyes to the dusty countryside and imagined the sign I knew only
from stories. The one just outside of town with big blue letters:
manifest: a town with a rich past and a bright
future.
I thought about my daddy, Gideon Tucker. He does his best
talking in stories, but in recent weeks, those had become few and
far between. So on the occasion when he''d say to me, "Abilene, did
I ever tell you ''bout the time . . . ?" I''d get all quiet and
listen real hard. Mostly he''d tell stories about Manifest, the town
where he''d lived once upon a time. His words drew
pictures of brightly painted storefronts and bustling townsfolk.
Hearing Gideon tell about it was like sucking on butterscotch.
Smooth and sweet. And when he''d go back to not saying much, I''d try
recalling what it tasted like. Maybe that was how I found comfort
just then, even with him being so far away. By remembering the
flavor of his words. But mostly, I could taste the sadness in his
voice when he told me I couldn''t stay with him for the summer while
he worked a railroad job back in Iowa. Something had changed in
him. It started the day I got a cut on my knee. It got bad and I
got real sick with infection. The doctors said I was lucky to come
out of it. But it was like Gideon had gotten a wound in him too.
Only he didn''t come out of it. Andit was painful enough to make him
send me away. I reached into my satchel for the flour
sack that held my few special things. A blue dress, two shiny dimes
I''d earned collecting pop bottles, a letter from Gideon telling
folks that I would be received by Pastor Howard at the Manifest
depot, and my most special something, kept in a box lined with an
old 1917 Manifest Herald newspaper: my daddy''s
compass.
In a gold case, it wore like a pocket watch, but inside was a
compass showing every direction. Only problem was, a working
compass always points north. This one, the arrow dangled and
jiggled every which way. It wasn''t even that old. It had the
compass maker''s name and the date it was made on the inside. St.
Dizier, October 8, 1918. Gideon had always planned to get it fixed,
but when I was leaving, he said he didn''t need it anyway, what with
train tracks to guide him. Still, I liked imagining that the chain
of that broken compass was long enough to stretch all the way back
into his pocket, with him at one end and me at the
other.
Smoothing out the yellowed newspaper for the thousandth time, I
scanned the page, hoping to find some bit of news about or insight
into my daddy. But there was only the same old "Hogs and Cattle"
report on one side and a "Hattie Mae''s News Auxiliary: Charter
Edition" on the other, plus a couple of advertisements for Liberty
Bonds and Billy Bump''s Hair Tonic. I didn''t know anything about
Hattie Mae Harper, except what she wrote in her article, but I
figured her newspaper column had protected Gideon''s compass for
some time, and for that I felt a sense of gratitude. I carefully
placed the newspaper back in the box and stored the box in the
satchel, but held on to the compass. I guess I just needed to hold
on to something.
The conductor came into the car. "Manifest, next
stop."
The seven-forty-five evening train was going to be right on
time. Conductors only gave a few minutes'' notice, so I had to
hurry. I shoved the compass into a side pocket of the satchel, then
made my way to the back of the last car. Being a paying customer
this time, with a full-fledged ticket, I didn''t have to jump off,
and I knew that the preacher would be waiting for me. But as anyone
worth his salt knows, it''s best to get a look at a place before it
gets a look at you. I''d worn my overalls just for the occasion.
Besides, it wouldn''t be dark for another hour, so I''d have time to
find my way around.
At the last car, I waited, listening the way I''d been
taught--wait till the clack of the train wheels slows to the rhythm
of your heartbeat. The trouble is my heart speeds up when I''m
looking at the ground rushing by. Finally, I saw a grassy spot and
jumped. The ground came quick and hard, but I landed and rolled as
the train lumbered on without a thank-you or goodbye.
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