The Boxcar Imbroglio: Twisted Oak Amateur Detectives #3

By Michael Scott Miller

A lost property deed. A homeless man nicknamed Boxcar living on the edge of town in a broken-down railroad car. A cattle rancher digging for oil. A feud over a parcel of land.

Fast forward 140 years...

When the Twisted Oak Amateur Detectives spend a week at Amanda’s grandparents’ lake house in Kansas, they decide to trace an old property deed they find just for fun. But as the kids investigate, they discover a lingering feud and begin to wonder if the deed holds a secret that some folks would rather keep buried.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Scott Miller
• Release date: Oct 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005320072

Book preview

Twisted Oak Amateur Detectives #3

The Boxcar IMBROGLIO

Michael Scott Miller

Copyright (c) 2014 Michael Scott Miller

All rights reserved

im·brog·lio

[im-brohl-yoh]

noun

a disagreement of a complicated or bitter nature

Chapter 1

Amanda watched as her grandmother placed a tray of glasses and a pitcher of lemonade on the slatted porch table.

Without looking up, the gray-haired woman in the floral house dress announced, You kids are going to need some refreshments if Marvin is going to tell you one of his crazy old tales.

Amanda’s grandfather leaned forward on the creaky rocking chair, gripping the armrests with his bony fingers. Come now, Louise. All the townsfolk know how the Boxcar feud began.

Still, that doesn’t mean the stories haven’t gotten bigger with each telling.

Amanda, seated on a bench built into the white porch railing, gave her friends a knowing smile. She had told them about her grandfather during the long drive to Evansburg, Kansas. Her parents had left her with her grandparents for a week while they continued on to a music and theater festival in Branson to celebrate their twentieth wedding anniversary. Being an only-child, her parents had told Amanda she could bring along a friend to the house on the lake where her grandparents lived. Amanda had talked them into allowing her to bring four.

Tubby sat on the top step of the front porch, leaning against the railing in his sleeveless T-shirt, gym shorts, and big basketball sneakers. In contrast, Dontrelle had chosen a spot in the shade in the corner of the porch. His laptop sat open on his crossed legs. Tyler sat facing Amanda’s grandfather. He flipped up the side table that he had crafted into the arm of his wheelchair and placed down his glass of lemonade. Melanie, her hair in a pony-tail on the hot, dry, August day, sat next to Amanda, and appeared to be bubbling with excitement at the prospect of hearing the story that Amanda had promised.

Amanda’s grandfather waved a hand at his wife. Shoo. Don’t listen to her, kids.

Amanda’s grandmother laughed the kind of laugh that told Amanda that she was not going to stand in the way of her husband’s story-telling. She winked at Amanda and disappeared into the house.

The family patriarch leaned way back on the rocker and began. A long time ago, back when the west was wild, there was a man, I won’t say a gentleman, named Silas Evans. Now there are some who would say that Silas Evans built this town. Heck, it’s even named for him. And in a sense, they’re right. But there are two types of folks: those who love ‘em and those who hate ‘em. I think you’ll figure out where I stand by the end of this tale.

Dontrelle, put away your computer, Amanda interrupted, giving her friend a stern look. Dontrelle grumbled but complied, and gently closed the laptop.

Her grandfather went on. "Silas’s first venture was into cattle ranching. He was a shrewd businessman, I’ll give you that. He gobbled up all the land around Lake Dunmore. Whenever he saw an opportunity to add land to his empire, he swooped in. Back in those days, the country was expanding westward, and the government was giving out parcels of land to anyone who was willing to farm it.

"Some of these farmers succeeded, but many failed, and when they did, Silas saw it as a chance to expand his cattle ranch. Before long, he owned all the land with access to the lake. That’s when things turned ugly. Silas blocked other ranchers from using the lake, which made his the only cattle ranch in all of Franklin County. He also began charging fees to nearby farmers for the right to irrigate their farms through his property.

As you can imagine, folks were bitter. But there was a great divide. You see, Silas’s ranch was the largest employer in the county. For every person who felt cheated by Silas and his questionable ethics, there was another person who was thankful for the jobs he created, and for enabling him to bring food to his family’s table.

He sounds like kind of a bully, doesn’t he, Grandpa? Amanda asked.

"Well, that’s the odd thing. You’d think Silas was some ornery, crusty old man who kicked dogs just for fun. But legend has it that he was just the opposite, at least on the surface. I’ve heard he came across as a friendly, down-home Midwestern gentleman, but for my money, you couldn’t trust him any more than you could trust a rat in a cheese factory.

"Then one day, along came a fella who everyone knew only as Boxcar. No one remembers from where he came. They only remember that he was a wanderer, a hobo, who took refuge in a broken-down railcar not far from the first railroad station ever built in Evansburg.

"The townspeople took a liking to Boxcar. Even though he had no obvious means beyond the odd jobs he would do for the local townsfolk, he always wore a smile on his face and talked kindly. Every morning he’d wander through the town and folks would give him bits of bread or a muffin. He’d stop to play with the children. He never gave anyone any trouble.

Now, as it happened, who do you think owned the parcel of land that Boxcar’s home sat on?

Silas, Tubby called out, clearly absorbed by the story. He leaned onto the top step of the porch.

Silas, Amanda’s grandfather repeated. And I can tell you that Silas was not too happy about that.

Why not? asked Melanie.

Amanda’s grandfather looked at Melanie with a sly grin. "Because oil was just starting to be discovered in these parts and Silas wanted to drill on that particular piece of land. When Boxcar learned about Silas’s plans, he bunkered himself into that rail car and refused to leave. The town quickly