Needs a Title

This is a story written by my sister Alicia. We need title suggestions. Anyone have any?





In the dark of the night, Caleb Monnington slipped through the forest, tree to tree, to the secret meeting place.
As he emerged from the woods into the clearing, a familiar voice at his elbow startled him into a squeal. "Good evening, Caleb," came the voice of a Kauffman - whether Nat or Noah, he couldn't be sure.
At his squeal, the Kauffman shook his head in disgust and beckoned Caleb across the clearing to the river, where a canoe lay in readiness, attended by two more shadowy figures. For the first time in this evening excursion, Caleb felt a prick of something. Fear? Nah, probably uncertainty. He brushed it aside as the Kauffman stepped forward to meet the boatmen, who carefully kept to the shadows.
In a clear voice, the boatmen were given orders to lower the canoe into the river. The two obeyed without question.
At a signal from the Kauffman, Caleb hurriedly entered the boat. Then the two shadowy figures also boarded, one on either side of Caleb. Nervously he glanced from one to the other, then looked past them as the Kauffman joined the group.
As the canoe shoved off, the Kauffman - Caleb still couldn't positively identify him - began to talk.
"We have a job to do, Caleb," he said. "Sanders and Hancock and I will carry it out, but we need a person to guard the boat."
Here the Kauffman looked searchingly at Caleb, who tried hard to conceal his misgivings and simply nodded.
"Good." The Kauffman seemed pleased. "We will dock at Beau Street at two. The job should take no more than an hour. Now listen. The three of us will go. Three will return. As far as you know, nothing will have changed. Got that?”
Caleb, confused, shook his head. “Not really…”
He felt, rather than saw, the glare from the Kauffman. “You will see three people going away. You will see three people returning. Someone will have taken Hancock’s place. You are to act as though nothing has changed. If you don’t…”
“Okay, okay, I got the message.” Caleb threw the words out hurriedly, as in self-defense.
The canoe glided through the waters silently as the strong arms of Sanders and Hancock skillfully guided the boat toward their destination. It felt like an eternity to Caleb. Would they ever reach Doe Street? Or was it Po Street? No...it was... As he racked his brain for the answer, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Startled, he jerked around to see Hancock.
Hancock motioned urgently to Caleb to get closer. Slowly and unobtrusively he scooted closer to Hancock until they were within whispering distance.
"Caleb, I don't know what to do." As he kept the boat on its course, Hancock mulled over his problem. "I don’t want any part of tonight’s mission; yet if I chicken out, Nat’ll get me."
“But – what is tonight’s mission?”
A sigh from the stern met Caleb’s ears. “It involves the kidnapping and possibly the killing of James Gossell and Katie van Doren. He wants to make sure Riven doesn't even make stage this year.”
Shocked, Caleb tried to regain his mental footing. "Nat? This was Nat’s idea?"
Hancock laughed bitterly.
"I see you don't know Nat Kauffman," he said in a scornful tone. "I've had to put up with his schemes for years. You wouldn't believe the ideas he has."
"Are any of them - illegal?"
Another bitter laugh from Hancock.
"You wonder why I've stayed under Kauffman for years? He has access to my record. Somehow he has ways of putting everything on my shoulders. I've already served time in the state pen for things he did. If I leave, it'll be back to jail for me because of that squealer."
Caleb's eyes were wide with horror. He gulped. "I-is Sanders in with Nat?"
"We both are, at least outwardly. It would be risking my freedom and my life to complain. I'm in enough danger as it is, spilling everything to you. Say nothing to either of them.” With this warning, Hancock leaned over and whispered, “Now stay with me. I have an idea.”
As the two conversed, their voices unconsciously grew louder. Nat and Sanders both listened closely as Hancock plotted a reversal of The Kauffman's fortunes.
After fifteen more minutes of river travel - though it seemed to Caleb like several hours - the canoe bumped ashore by a run-down road sign reading "Beau St."
That name thudded in Caleb's mind like a stern judge's gavel.
Hancock, Sanders, and Kauffman leaped out of the boat. "Caleb! Stay here and keep watch!" hissed Kauffman. The three disappeared up the path.
Alone in the canoe, Caleb swallowed the lump in his throat about five times before he decided it was there to stay. He almost took the canoe and tried to head back upriver himself. Fighting for control of his thoughts, he determined to do his part to bring Nat Kauffman to justice.
After a minute or two, he remembered the plans that he and Hancock had laid. Quickly feeling around for the rope on the front of the canoe, he fastened it to a nearby tree. Once it was secure, he scampered off.
Okay. First stop Natch Street.
"Natch Street," he mumbled. "Where did Hancock say Natch Street was?" He tried to recall the directions, but all he could remember was the way to the coffee shop back home. He wandered up and down the nearby streets, some of which made him shudder with their abandoned buildings, others of which made him feel weird as he tried to casually stroll by a party of five decked out in diamonds, long gloves, and long sweeping evening dresses. The ladies stared at him as his attempt at a nonchalant walk ended in red-faced failure when he smacked his forehead on the street light in front of the elegant hotel.
Finally, however, he decided he’d missed the street and turned around, past the group of ladies who snickered as he went by, back to the run-down part of town. This time he looked at the street signs. By the light filtering through the filthy street lamps, the first name he read was “Harris Avenue.”
Now he remembered Hancock’s directions! Soon, after a series of rights and lefts, Caleb had found Natch Street. It was one of the spookier streets he had seen yet.
What was it Hancock had said? The corner of Natch and Front. Caleb checked to see exactly where he was. It was, oddly enough, the corner of Natch Street and Back Street. Sort of grim humor, he thought. He started off down Natch Street in search of Front Street.
Five blocks later, Caleb still had not found Front. He began to panic. Surely Kauffman and Sanders would be at the waterfront by now. He began to race blindly down Natch Street, passing block after block, forgetting what his objective was. Suddenly a not-so-friendly voice yelled out, "Hey you, what's the idea of racing through the streets in the middle of the night?!"
Caleb pulled up short and stared at the speaker. Five foot ten, shaggy black hair streaked with yellow, and a... trench coat? Caleb was sure he was dreaming. He looked around to get his bearings and realized he was now on the corner of Front Street and Natch Street. Panting, he fought to recall Hancock's instructions.
"Well?" The sound jerked Caleb out of his thoughts.
"Um..." He put his head down and thought. The stranger stood there, hands on his hips.
Suddenly Caleb remembered his instructions. He took a deep breath and rattled off the line he’d been given."You need to come with me to arrest a criminal!"
“All right!” The man was instantly alert and ready to go. “Show me where he is!” As an afterthought, he added, "How did you know I was a plainclothes policeman?"
As Caleb explained the strange situation, the two jogged back down to the waterfront, the policeman leading the way, for which Caleb was unspeakably thankful. He’d thoroughly lost his way.
The two crept furtively up to the boat, looking in all directions. "Good. No one here," said the man with a sigh. Relief? Caleb couldn't tell. Of course it was relief, or he wouldn’t have said “good.” Caleb brushed it aside impatiently.
The man pulled a radio from the pocket of his trench coat and began transmitting signals. "Headquarters. David to headquarters. Do you read me? Over."
No response.
"This is David to headquarters. We need a detail of men at the waterfront, pronto. Do you read me? Over."
After a few tries, headquarters responded. "Roger, David. All available men will be sent your way. Over."
The policeman wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and took a deep breath. Caleb, too, began to breathe a little easier.
In five minutes the waterfront was swarming with men. Caleb heard only a few names – John, Ben, Matthew, and another David – but saw no faces. The night was too dark… or were all the men keeping their faces out of sight on purpose? How ridiculous. He was probably just imagining things. So many strange incidents had happened tonight already. One man, whose name Caleb didn’t catch but who looked strangely familiar, stayed in the background and seemed to be avoiding him.
David the policeman quickly took command. "Scatter and hide, men! Stay alert!"
Just as the last man hid, three figures appeared around the bend. Caleb jabbed David with his elbow.
"Ouch!" David glared at Caleb and rubbed his arm.
"David, they're here!" whispered Caleb urgently, and pointed to the now discernible figures of Nat Kauffman, Micah Sanders, and Peter Hancock. Peter Hancock?! Wasn’t it supposed to be…
"All right, men!" David's voice boomed. "CHARGE!!"
With war whoops almost rivaling those of the long past Indians, David and his band charged at the three, apparently taking them all off guard. For a moment Nat was poised to flee, but changed his mind and yelled, "Attack!"
Two reinforcements tackled Nat, the policeman and another man charged Peter, and Micah was finally overcome by Caleb and the strangely familiar man. Several people produced flashlights, and the prisoners were allowed to stand up and dust themselves off.
Caleb turned to the strangely familiar man to thank him for helping to capture Micah. But his "Thank you" stuck in his throat as he stared, dumbfounded, into his face.
"Joshua?!" Caleb gasped. His brother broke into a grin, and then laughed out loud. At the welcome sound, everyone gathered around with wide smiles. Suddenly Caleb began recognizing people all over. Ben Winfield, Matthew Dolan, John Peycke, and David McClurg were only a few of the people he recognized in the reinforcement squad. The man in the trench coat took off his bushy black wig streaked with yellow to reveal the chuzzly brown hair of David Sander.
Suddenly David Sander began laughing. He and Nat Kauffman exchanged high-fives. Caleb watched in astonishment as bad guy and good guy slapped each other on the back and doubled up laughing.
Caleb marched over to Peter Hancock, who was cracking up with John Peycke. "Listen, Hancock," he said, "what's going on? I thought... you told me..."
Everyone but Caleb began laughing until they cried. Peter grabbed him in a bear hug. "Sorry, Caleb," he apologized between gales of laughter, "but no one else would quite have worked. Wow, you fell for it! Hook, line, and sinker!"
Slowly it dawned on Caleb that the whole thing had been organized as a practical joke. All the boys were laughing for weeks over the prank they had played.
But it took a couple weeks to convince Caleb that it had all been in fun.
"Sorry, Caleb," said Joshua, "but it was a perfect plan, and we couldn't resist."
It became a tale Caleb would tell thousands of times over.
THE END