The loaded freight wagon rattled noisily down the rutted country road. Its driver, hauling the deadly load of blasting oil, jumped at every rut that the iron-bound wheels went over and broke into a cold sweat every time the wagon went over a rock. He would be very glad to be rid of the awful stuff. Never again, he vowed to himself. I don't care how good the pay is. This is the last trip!

So intent was the driver on the road ahead that he hadn't noticed the additional weight in his wagon bed that now crouched hidden among the pine crates. Anyone driving behind him might have noticed the tip of a shoe poking out from the bottom edge of the tarp covering the load for its ride into Sleepy Eye. But there were no other wagons within sight. If there were any, they would have seen the red-painted sign across the back that read 'DANGER: EXPLOSIVES' and hung back half a mile or more to keep from getting blown to kingdom come.

Albert wasn't sure of what blasting oil was, nor how volatile it could be- despite hearing snippets of Charles' stories -but wasn't particularly bothered at the idea of riding with it. He just resolved not to touch anything until they were about a mile outside Sleepy Eye, at which point he would jump off the wagon and make for town alone. His destination was the courthouse, where his official adoption by Charles and Caroline Ingalls had been handled. Only there could he find information about his biological father Jeremy Quinn. The twelve year olds' plan was to seek out the man, apologize for lying about his blindness, and beg to be taken in. Surely upon seeing Albert was healthy and a good worker the man would reconsider his initial decision not to keep the boy. If that didn't work, well...Albert had been taking care of himself since he was eight years old. With his experience and his wits he expected to make a new life for himself somewhere out West.

Albert's greatest fear was being found by the driver before getting the chance to put his plan into action and be subsequently turned in to the law. The last thing he needed was a delay.

It didn't occur to the boy that, if the wagon hit a bad rut, it might be his last ride. Had anyone told him, it was doubtful Albert would have changed his mind, anyway. Death, at least, felt like just punishment for murder.

Charles marched with a resolute pace out of the front door of his house some time before sunset, his expression set and determined, bedroll in one hand and rucksack in the other. He could hardly meet the pained eyes of his family as they watched him tie his supplies onto the back of his horse. They stood in the doorway of the little house, Caroline and Laura at the back, Carrie between them, with baby Grace balanced on Laura's hip. Grace, at just over a year and a half old, was the only one who didn't understand why everyone else was either crying or fighting tears.

Charles tied the rawhide thong on his saddle into one more knot before turning back to his family. Laura came first; his 'half-pint' who had fought so hard against thinking of Albert as her brother was now distraught at the thought of losing him forever. She tried smiling through her tears after Charles kissed her forehead. "Take care of your sisters, now," he admonished.

Laura nodded. "I will, Pa," she replied in a cracked voice.

Charles briefly hugged his second and fourth daughters together before moving on to Carrie.

"When will you be back, Pa?" asked the plaintive seven year-old.

"I don't know, darlin," replied Charles, giving Carrie a quick hug and a kiss. "You help your ma and sister, you hear?"

Carrie nodded solemnly. "Yes, Pa."

Charles tried to smile for her before straightening his spine to look into the watery blue eyes of his wife. Without any pretense they embrace tightly. "I'll find him, all right? I'll find him."

Caroline nodded, even as she clung to her husband. She wiped her eyes as they parted. "Be safe."

Charles choked back further tears as he stepped back. "I will. I love you."

A sad smile rose on Caroline's features. "I love you. Come home soon."

"I'll try," was all Charles could say as he mounted his horse, gave one last wave to his girls, and wheeled the animal around with a light kick and a 'heyahh!'. The horse broke into a canter and carried his rider away from the little house, hooves pounding the hard-packed ground.

Charles couldn't promise when he was going to be back. It might take weeks to find Albert. Much as he loved Albert and wanted to find him, the farmer had already made up his mind that if Albert wasn't in the nearest city, Sleepy Eye, and if he wasn't in Winoka, Charles would have to return home and give up the boy for lost, praying for him to come home on his own. He couldn't leave the rest of his family behind forever. They needed a provider and protector.

With every breath, Charles prayed that it wouldn't come to a choice. He had already lost one son. Losing another didn't even bear thinking about.

Thanks to gentle handling and well-maintained roads, explosive catastrophe was avoided. Driver, wagon, load, and stowaway were all in one piece by the time the wagon rolled into Sleepy Eye. Albert hopped off in the last mile and no one was the wiser.

Sleepy Eye was no metropolis. The streets were dirt, the sidewalks were wood planks, and the town itself was compacted into space of a few short miles. Even the county seat of Redwood Falls dwarfed the town that existed almost exclusively on the freight business. But it was still five times the size of Walnut Grove.

Albert's destination was the courthouse. It was the Sleepy Eye courthouse that had the address of his biological father. The real question was whether or not the judge would allow him access to those records.

The twelve year old boy walked quickly down the dusty streets, eyes scanning the storefronts, dodging wagons, horses, and other pedestrians on the way. His stomach growled and reminded him that the last time he had eaten was the previous evening; a handkerchief full of cold biscuits, a small slice of ham, and apples smuggled from home. Albert had less than fifty cents to his name and he wasn't sure how much food that would buy. He feared letting too many people see his face. Perhaps someone from Walnut Grove would be hunting for him. Surely everyone knew he was responsible for the burning of the Blind School by then.

Albert walked for nearly five hundred yards before he finally caught sight of the familiar brown and tan building. His heart ached at the memories it brought...but he reminded himself that the Ingalls weren't his parents anymore. They deserved better.

The door was open, so Albert walked right in, cap in hand.

The well-dressed receptionist at the front desk looked up from the work she was doing and smiled patiently at him. "May I help you, young man?"

Albert nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I'd like to see Judge Adams, please."

The receptionist shuffled through the small pile of papers on her desk. "Ah...no, I'm sorry. He won't be in for another fifteen minutes. Would you like to wait for him?"

Albert's heart sank at the news, but he nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"The waiting room is just down that hall and to the left," she instructed.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"You're welcome."

Albert began to walk down the hall to the waiting room, then changed his mind. He knew the way to the judge's office. He would just go there and find what he was looking for himself. It wouldn't be stealing, he reasoned. It would just be borrowing it long enough to get the needed information. With one glance over his shoulder to be sure the receptionist was looking the other way, Albert turned right instead of left and headed up the long curving staircase. At the top of the stairs he immediately saw what he was looking for; the offices of Judge Adams, family law. Albert didn't hesitate and walked right in. It took minimal effort to locate the file cabinets filled with case files. Albert pulled open the middle drawer and began rifling through the last names. Lansford, Laramie, Lester, Linwood...that wasn't it. He was looking for 'Q'. Albert opened the next drawer down and found P-S. It didn't take long to find 'Quinn, Albert'.

With shaking hands the boy lifted his file out of the drawer and flipped it open. He found a series of legal documents including his birth certificate and adoption papers certifying that his biological father had surrendered full legal and physical custody of his son to Charles and Caroline Ingalls. His father's address was right under the name Jeremy Quinn. Albert pulled a piece of paper and a pencil out of his pocket that he had taken for this very purpose and copied down the address.

A sudden commotion from downstairs made Albert's heart jump into his throat. With shaking hands he shoved his file back into its drawer, shut it, and scurried out the door, ducking into a side hallway to remain unseen. When the noise had passed he slunk back down the stairs and waited around a corner until the receptionist had left her desk before making his way back out of the courthouse and making for the next freight depot.

So far, so good. Now he just needed to find his father's farm, which was in another county. Hopefully the man was still in need of a good worker...

Clay Thompson had never been known as a snitch. Like any other child he would occasionally 'tattle' on a sibling, but when it came to betraying a confidence between him and a friend, his lips remained sealed. He had never told his parents about the time he and little Timmy Russell went skinny-dipping by moonlight to try and cure warts. He had never admitted that when the family cow had gotten loose and ate every vegetable out of the garden, it was Willie Oleson that had untied the ropes and not him...and this despite the whipping that came after falsely taking the blame.

As far as the matter of the Blind School went, Clay had been trying to forget what Albert had told him. So far he had almost succeeded. After James' funeral, Clay had almost put the event from his mind like the rest of the town seemed to. He had even been volunteering for extra chores to try and make up for it in some small way.

What Clay hadn't counted on was the return of Hester Sue's memory and the subsequent disappearance of Albert. Like everyone else, he wondered why. Albert hadn't snitched, had he? If so, then why was he running and not Clay?

These thoughts and more buzzed in Clay's mind like a swarm of hornets that had been knocked about in their nest. To try and take his mind off his worries he set out to catch a rabbit that had been nibbling late winter squash in the garden. With a carrot from the cellar as bait and a snare made from strong twine, the trap was set in minutes.

Just as Clay crouched behind a bush to lie in wait his sharp young ears heard the sound of a horse and buggy rolling up the road. Clay knit his brows and looked up in surprise. Who could be driving all the way out to their farm on a Saturday afternoon?

It was Dr. Baker. Clay's confusion multiplied. What's the doc doing out here? Nobody took sick, did they? Curiosity soon overrode the desire the catch the rabbit. Clay emerged from his hiding place to approach the house.

"Afternoon, Doc," greeted Clay's father, looking up from where he had been repairing a wagon axle. "What brings you out here?"

"Afternoon, Paul. I've come at the request of Hester Sue. She'd like to speak with your son, Clay," explained Dr. Baker. "Is he around?"

Clay's eyes widened and he all but fell backward in horror. She remembers! That's why Albert ran off. She's gonna tell everyone!

Paul knit his brows and looked around the yard. "Oh, he's somewhere 'round. Can I ask why Hester Sue wants to talk to him?"

Dr. Baker hesitated for a moment before lowering his voice. "Well...it's about the Blind School."

Clay's sharp young ears had heard enough. Now he was convinced that his life would soon be over. I gotta get outta here! Without bothering to listen further, Clay turned and ran pell-mell for the hill behind the house. In his haste he didn't see the rabbit snare...which he stepped right into. It caught him fast and sent the boy sprawling into the dirt with a muffled cry.

Dr. Baker and his father were next to him in less than a minute. "Tarnation, boy! What're you doing?" exclaimed Paul. He pulled a small folding penknife out of his pocket and cut the cord. "What's going on, here? You hurt yourself?"

Clay, whose eyes were as wide as saucers, shook his head. "Uh...n-no, sir. I w-was tryin' to catch a rabbit."

Paul groaned and shook his head. "Ah, boy...when you gonna learn to watch where you're goin?"

Clay gulped. "I dunno, sir."

Dr. Baker raised his eyebrows in brief amusement but otherwise said nothing as Clay rose to his feet.

Paul motioned toward the doctor. "Doc Baker was just askin' about you. Said Hester Sue wanted to talk to you 'bout something."

Clay had to fight to keep his teeth from chattering with nerves. "Uh...why'd she wanna to talk to me?"

Dr. Baker sighed and looked from Clay to his father. "It's about the pipe, son."

"P...pipe?" sputtered Clay, the blood draining from his face.

"Yes. Do you remember the day of the picnic...the day the Blind School burned down?" asked Dr. Baker. "Hester Sue saw you in the basement with a pipe."

"I..." Clay opened his mouth to protest, but couldn't bring himself to lie in front of his father. He hung his head. "Yessir."

"Pipe? What were you doin' with a pipe in the basement, boy?" asked Paul in bewilderment.

"It was stupid. It was my idea. Albert n' I...we were smokin'. I snitched Mr. Potts' pipe...and we were smokin'." Clay lifted his head with sad, frightened eyes. "We didn't mean nothin' by it. When she caught us, we jus' dropped it. I didn't even 'member 'till Albert told me."

Paul's face was going pale. "God's sakes, Clay. Why didn't you tell nobody?"

Clay shrugged. "We was scared. I'm awful sorry. We didn't mean for nobody to get hurt."

While Paul ran a hand over his eyes and slid it off his face as the news sank in, Dr. Baker turned to the frightened boy and took his shoulder. "It's all right, son. We know it was an accident. Do you know where Albert could have gone?"

Again, the boy shrugged. He had no idea.

Dr. Baker patted Clay's shoulder and nodded. "That's all right, son. But Hester Sue would still like to see you. Why don't you go on over and say hello?"

Clay gulped. While he had nothing against the kind-hearted woman, he feared the words she had for him. What would she say? Did she blame him for the tragedy? Everyone knew of her burns. What did she look like now? "Do I have to, Pa?"

Paul nodded firmly. "Go on, boy. Least you can do."

Charles hadn't intended to end up at Sleepy Eye, but following leads from several men who claimed to have seen a boy matching Albert's description gave him reason to believe his son had showed up in that town. Charles couldn't figure out why until he walked into the courthouse to ask. The receptionist had seen him just hours before, and the judge who had handled Albert's adoption reported having had his file cabinet gone through.

Immediately Charles knew where to look for Albert. After hearing the address he wasted no time in leaping onto his horse and kicking it into a gallop. Hopefully by the time he reached the Quinn farm, Albert would still be there.