1,001 Chicago Nights Treasure Camp

By Regi Belton

From international author Regi Belton comes a middle school historical romp across the U.S.! Deep and wacky, Treasure Camp is a page turning ride that is a bonus to every homeschool or public library.

 

This historical fiction includes over 25 historical notes to make the past live. It provides notes on such varied subjects of child labor laws to dynamite, to interest the broadest possible audience.

 

The main character is Sam Deluca. Sam is hiding something. But so are others. Who is a truth teller? Who hides their pain? How long will friendships last? What will Sam risk to find a new home? And why does he care so much for Twinkies? Stay quiet now, and I will tell you the story. It was two outs, bases loaded, and Sam Deluca, age 12, entered the batter's box.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Puppet Theater Books
• Release date: Sep 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781640323322

Book preview

1,001 Chicago Nights

Treasure

Camp

By: Regi Belton

Copyright © 2021 All Rights Reserved.

Publisher: Puppet Theater Books

Printed in the United States

Hardback ISBN: 9781640323308

Paperback ISBN: 9781640323315

E-book ISBN: 9781640323322

Library of Congress Control Number (LCCN) : 2014911735

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Especially the funny parts.

All characters and places appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any reference to known products in this book belongs to their respective rights holders. Hostess®, Twinkies® and/or Twinkie™ brands are owned by Hostess Brands, LLC. The use of Hostess®, Twinkies® and/or Twinkie™ does not constitute endorsement or sponsorship by Hostess Brands, LLC.

This book’s font is Baskerville Old Face 12 pt.

Cataloging Data

Belton, Regi

1,001 Chicago Nights Treasure Camp

/ written by Regi Belton.

Summary: Underage orphan boy Sam Deluca runs away to work in a ghost town at a train robber’s house in Montana while trying to find a permanent home.

1. Mystery and detective stories 2. Adventure and adventurers—Fiction 3. Orphans—Juvenile fiction I. Title. II. Series: 1,001 Chicago nights.

PZ7.S65766 [FIC]-dc22  2014911735

DEDICATION

To all those that seek adventure,

adventure you shall find,

if only you should seek it.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 It Begins

Chapter 2 ...The Batter’s Box

Chapter 3 ...Wrigley Field

Chapter 4 ...Sam Woke Up

Chapter 5 ...The First Bus Seat

Chapter 6 ...The Badlands

Chapter 7 ...The Wilcox Train Robbery

Chapter 8 ...The Motorcycle Miners

Chapter 9 ...Treasure Camp

Chapter 10 ...The HOOK MAN

Chapter 11 ...The Short Bus

Chapter 12 ...Lunch

Chapter 13 ...Digging

Chapter 14 ...Tomorrow

Chapter 15 ...Officer Lynch

Chapter 16 ...More Mystery Meat Sandwiches

Chapter 17 ...Moe

Chapter 18 ...A Bottle

Chapter 19 ...Oh, Moe

Chapter 20 ...Get That Treasure

Chapter 21 ...Jane And Ludwig To The Rescue

Chapter 22 ...Up A Creek

Chapter 23 ...Shoved Him Off The Motorcycle

Chapter 24 ...Slashed The Knife Between Sam’s Wrists

Chapter 25 ...Jane

Chapter 26 ...The Morning

Chapter 27 ...Home

RANDOM BOOK NOTES

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Chapter 1 It Begins

The room was long and wide. In neat rows were beds. Each bed was metal. Each had a white pillow, white sheet, and dark green blanket.

In the middle of the room sat an old man waiting patiently, his arm resting on the back of his wooden chair. He wore basic blue denim pants with suspenders. His stomach pressed the fabric of his plaid flannel shirt.

The old man spoke in a gentle, gravely tone, Come in, come in. You know what you gotta do. If you want to hear the stories from when I was a boy at the orphanage, you need to lay down, close your eyes, and make no noise.

Each child ran to their bed. There was scurrying and action, but not much talking. They loved these stories. Each night the story was a continuation of the one before. Each night, they ended, but didn’t.

Soon there was silence. Absolute silence. The older man’s shirt spread as his chest filled with air and he began to speak.

It was two outs, bases loaded, and Sam Deluca, age 12, entered... Chapter 2

Chapter 2 ...The Batter’s Box

Sam aligned his feet with home plate and then looked up. He smiled broadly at the orphanage grounds that was his home.

The Orphanage was on West Devon Ave in North Chicago. It was 10 acres dedicated to the care of children with no other place to go. Sam was one of those.

Circling the ball field were the many buildings that served the 700 boys and girls living there. Beyond first base was a huge stained glass church that held an enormous statue of Jesus on the cross inside. Beyond the church was the mess hall, where everyone got their three square meals a day. Sam’s cottage, number 42 in the row of cottages, sat in the outfield.

Sam looked away from his cottage and tapped his laced shoes with the bat. That’s how he heard his heroes the Chicago Cub’s do it on the radio.

Sam’s pants were basic blue denim. His button up shirt was short sleeved and white. All the boys at the orphanage dressed the same. All of Sam’s clothes were marked with 42-6, his cottage and case number.

It was Friday, September 12th, 1952. A 93 degree day, bright, hot and beautiful. Sam knew this day was being set up for a glorious victory, his victory, to bring his team mates off base and be the hero for the win.

Sam brought his bat up, held at the ready. The first pitch was high and a bit wild, a ball. The pitcher was showing the pressure. It didn’t last long. The pitcher next let go with one fast and inside, and Sam missed it, for a strike.

The ball went back to the pitcher. The runners on base all took a few steps off, ready to run.

The pitcher stared down at Sam. Sam stared back. They both took a deep breath and held it.

The next pitch was low and right down the middle. Sam whacked at it with all his might. He knew he hit it well by the feel on his bat. The ball flew high and away. It was going to be a home run. People were excited. People were screaming. People were running. And then...

The crash of the ball through the church stained glass window brought instant silence to the ball field. Everybody froze. Then everybody fled. Except Sam, who wilted with dread.

Sister O’Banion was going to be livid. Sister O’Banion was the head nun of the place. An Irish Catholic. Tall and on fire. Some say she had ties to the mob. If she found out it was Sam that smashed the window, oh boy, would he ever have some paying to do.

If someone found the ball in the church, it wouldn’t take long for Sister O’Banion to track the ball back to Sam. But if Sam could get the ball before anyone found it, then the broken glass might be seen as an accident.

Sam looked around to see if anyone else had noticed. In other places in the yard, kids and nuns were going about their business. They hadn’t noticed!

This was Sam’s chance, but he had to hurry. He straightened up and headed off to the church. He tried to go as fast as he could while trying to look casual and not attract any attention.

The church entrance was through a side building that held the Orphanage offices. Sam walked in the offices as if he had been sent by one of the nuns, in the hope to avoid any questions from the people there.

He passed the Headmaster’s office, which was small, dark, and full of books. The Headmaster was at his desk, writing by the light of a single candle in the windowless room. It looked more like a closet than an office, though Sam didn’t pay too much attention as he quickly walked by.

Deluca! hollered the Headmaster.

Sam jumped, but tried to look calm when he appeared in the doorway. Yes, Headmaster?

Don’t judge a book by its cover! demanded the Headmaster. "Look beyond the surface!"

Uh, yes, Headmaster, said Sam with a nod of his head. Sam waited. Is that all, Headmaster?

On your way, Deluca, and don’t forget!

Yes, Headmaster.

Sam walked backwards out of the doorway, turned, and continued quickly down the hall to the church entrance, a large gray stone arch framing massive wooden doors. The doors were closed. Sam heaved one open a crack and slipped in.

In front of him was an endless row of pews. Seeing those hard wooden benches that he sat on during church service made him stand up straight. The rows went on and on down the long hall to the altar. Above the altar was the enormous statue of Jesus hanging from the cross.

Sam walked forward down the center of the hall between the pews, looking at the stained glass windows facing the ball field. They glowed with images of Noah, Abraham, Moses, and Jesus. None were broken so Sam continued forward, forward, until he was at the altar.

He saw the broken window. The hole was smaller than expected since it shattered just one glass pane of a large garden scene where Peter was cutting off someone’s ear. Sam thought to himself, It’s not that bad. If I can find the ball and get out of here, I’ll be home free. None the wiser.

There it was on the altar, small white and lovely, the baseball. Sam rushed up the few steps to get it. He put his hand on the ball. Then something caught his eye. He stopped. Was that....?

The back of a wooden hand was lying next to the ball, it’s fingers stretched, reaching for the ball but unable to move. Sam let go of the baseball and picked up the hand. It was as big as both of Sam’s hands. He wondered where it could have come from. He looked up at Jesus hanging on the cross. Jesus’s head was turned slightly to the right, looking to the end of his arm where his hand should have been, but wasn’t.

Sam felt the heat rise in his face and his palms become moist. He looked down at the wooden hand again. He turned it over. In the palm was a nail. Sam looked up again at Jesus. Jesus appeared to be looking down at the ball. Down at Sam. Down at the one who broke it.

Their eyes locked. Sam dropped to his knees still looking at Jesus, still holding the hand that he broke off.

Sam began to whisper, I broke Jesus. I broke Jesus. I broke Jesus!

Awareness flooded Sam. He began to sweat. This was worse than breaking a window. This was worse than spilling his lunch tray on one of the nuns. He’d committed a sin that would never, could never, be forgiven, I...broke...Jesus...

His heart was pounding. He didn’t think of what Sister O’Banion would do to him or her mob connections. Only one thought filled the space between his ears, RUN!

Sam dropped Jesus’s hand. He took a shuffling step back from it, then a bigger step, then turned on the altar stairs, and ran. He ran up the long aisle past the pews, out the arched doorways of the