Trouble in Marathon

       January 1912

      “You’re in big trouble, boy!” growled Frank Malone. The burly railroad worker stomped the mud from his boots in the doorway of the Florida schoolhouse and glared at his son.

      Twelve-year-old Eddie Malone glanced up at his father from the blackboard where he was writing one hundred times “I will not skip school.” He quickly lowered his blue eyes and nervously pulled at the cowlick in his red hair. Then he went back to his punishment.

      Frank Malone was not in good humor. Being called from the job to meet with his son’s teacher meant missing half a day’s work. These days, all railroad employees were expected to work around the clock. Henry Flagler’s Key West Extension had to be finished in a week so the famous tycoon could make his ceremonial ride to Key West. Frank looked grim as he removed his straw hat and crossed the rough plank floor to meet with Miss Inez Brown, Marathon’s schoolmarm.

      Miss Brown was a stout middle-aged woman whose face constantly wore a scowl. Her students called her Frowny Browny behind her back and frequently made jokes about her wide figure when she turned to write on the chalkboard. Now she sat grading seatwork in the back of the one-room school, barely visible over the clutter of papers and books piled high on her desk.

      At the sight of Eddie’s father, Miss Brown tucked a loose strand of gray hair into her bun. She dabbed the perspiration on her neck with a lacy handkerchief and straightened the belt around her thick waist.

      Miss Brown greeted Eddie’s father and motioned him to a chair across from her. Then she swiveled around to get the attendance record behind her on the bookcase. As she strained to reach the top shelf, the seam of her sleeve made a ripping sound. The pink flesh of her upper arm popped out like a sausage from its casing.

      “Oh, my!” exclaimed Miss Brown, momentarily flustered. She hastily snatched the record book and then reached for the shawl draped on her chair. After wrapping it around her shoulders, Miss Brown sat with her arms clamped stiffly against her sides.

      A nervous snicker started at the back of Eddie’s throat. He bit his tongue to stifle it. He had already dug himself into a deep hole of trouble and laughing at the teacher now would be disastrous. Instead, he fixed an earnest look on his face as he continued to write and listen in on the adults’ conversation.

      “I’ll get right to the point,” said Miss Brown, peering sternly at Frank Malone over her wire-rimmed glasses. Her look dared