John looked out the window at the steady rain. It ran off the roof of the house and clattered into puddles along the edge of the concrete porch below. When he woke up this morning it was already raining and the only change in the past few hours had been from light rain to heavy downpour. He did not see any chance for sun any time soon.
He had had several good days since they arrived at his grandparents house. He had gone to the beach with his mom and dad and sister, Evie, the first day. He liked the warm gulf water and had spent the day paddling around with his goggles and snorkel and floating around in the inner tube. Yesterday he had played golf with grandpop and eaten a grilled cheese at the ninth water hole. He supposed to himself with a sigh that he couldn’t complain about one rainy day.
He twirled around and flopped on the twin bed that had been his Aunt Julia’s when she was growing up and sharing a room with his mother. Little had changed in this room except for the blessed addition of air conditioning. He could hear the clatter of dishes in the kitchen below as his grandparents and parents tidied up after breakfast and he could sort out the rumble of the television as Evie surely laid on the couch watching it. Evie would be watching “Saved by the Bell” or some other silly sitcom. She would refuse to change the channel if he asked, so he didn’t.
He looked around the bedroom for any potential source of entertainment and spotted the toy chest in the corner. Perhaps there is a nerf ball or something useful there he thought and managed to roust himself for a look.
He lifted the lid on the chest and found that it was full of an odd assortment of toys. In one corner were two Barbie Doll cases. He was not surprised. He had often heard his mother and aunt talk about endless hours of Barbie Doll play. They were no help to him on this rainy day. There was an assortment of stuffed animals: pooh bear with a red top that said “Pooh”, a big pink dog and a tiny cream colored dog, a Siamese cat with blue slanted eyes and a black sheep with a music box. There was a plastic red barn with pieces of plastic fencing. The various plastic animals, cows, pigs, chickens and two horses and black and a dappled gray surely belonged to the farmyard set. Near the bottom of the trunk was a small leather holster with a pair of silver-barreled, ivory-handled cap guns and next to it a silver plastic sword.
He had no hope of a Gameboy or an electronic game of any sort, but surely, he thought there must be a ball of some type here. He pushed aside a game box that declared “Hands Down” and found only a book at the bottom of the trunk. He looked at the dark brown leather book as it lay in the bottom of the trunk and could not see a title or a picture anywhere on the cover. The book looked old, older than his mother even, and certainly seemed out of place in the bottom of the toy chest. He ran his fingers over the cover and it almost seemed to follow his finger tips; rolling under his touch like a kitten curving its back up for a stroke from head to tail. He rubbed the cover again and felt the slight static cling of the cover wrinkling up to touch him back. He pushed the “Hands Down” and pink dog aside and lifted the book out of the toy chest.
John leaned back against the foot of the bed and looked at the book which now seemed perfectly solid, but still quite plain. There was no title at all and only a scroll-like pattern of leather on the front. The edges of the pages were gold. John read books, of course. Just this summer he had 4 summer reading books assigned by his 5th grade teacher. He had read 3 of them already and would finish the other 2 after this week of vacation. His mother required one hour of reading every day at home before he could go to the pool. Books meant book reports. Books were new with colored pictures on the front and big titles. Books had paperback covers and light gray paper pages designed for a nice dog-ear flap to mark your place. He had never seen an untitled leather book with gold-edged pages.
John looked at the book and got the distinct feeling that the book looked back at him. There were no words, but the book seemed to beckon to him, “Come on”, it said, “be adventurous. What are you waiting for? Are you scared; scared of a little book are you now John? “ He had never been beckoned, teased, taunted by a book before. After all he was holding the book, wasn’t he? He could choose to put it down any time he wanted, couldn’t he? It was just a book after all!
But he couldn’t put it down. It was there without a clue about what was inside, underneath the leather cover, between the gold pages. How could he not look? The book seemed to recognize his curiosity. He could almost feel it glowing with pleasure beneath his fingers. “Let’s go” it seemed to shout, “We have places to go, people to see. What are you waiting for?”
What was he waiting for? It was just a book after all. John slowly lifted the leather cover and found a simple first page with no picture, no author, just the title, “The Story Book: A book of legends”. As he read the title John saw the page billow beneath his hand as if caught by the wind. He lifted the edge of the page and turned it to page one which was half filled with a colored engraving of a ship poised in motion at the top of a wave on a frothy sea. He just began to read the words, “in the 16th century off the coast of Florida, Louisiana, and Texas pirates abounded…” when he felt as if the words were being actually read aloud to him and then even more than that they were actually being spoken to him.
“Abounded they keep a-sayin’ as if we were everwhere all at oncest which weren’t true in the least me lad. For sure there was plenty of us around there was, I’m not sayin’ I was short o’friends cause for truth it wasn’t true atall. We were a plenty of us in those days. “
John looked around to find not the pink coverlet of Aunt Julia’s twin bed nor the steady gray rain of the August Florida morning, but the moonlit wooden boards of the deck of a large ship.
“Are ye familiar at all with the trappin’s of a galleon boy? It’s to be a smooth night and a profitable one we hope, but it will be all hands of deck for the sailin’.”
John looked at the back of the dark, tall figure at the wheel of the ship. “You’ll be callin’ me Captain Morgan if you please and I don’t countenance slaggards here, so you’ll be workin’ hard while the moon is up.” The Captain turned to face John and he could see the dark hair, brown skin and menacing black eyes of the tall man by the light of the full moon. The Captain wore a clean white shirt, dark pants and knee length boots and at his side were weapons, a thick bladed knife on his left hip and a long silver sword on his right.
John realized he was swaying from side to side with the rock of the ship at full sail on a high sea. “A galleon, sir?” He stammered, “I’ve no idea about a galleon or a ship of any kind. Are you a pirate?”
The Captain frowned and put his right hand to his sword, “A pirate? A pirate?,” he shouted, “Why would you be a callin’ me a pirate? See me knife boy? I’d be a Buccaneer fair and square, I’d be and it’ll do ya to be rememberin’ that for the duration of our voyage if ya want to be keepin’ yer head about ya. Times a wastin’ here, so meet the gang and learn yer duties like quick. See the maties here,” the Captain growled sweeping his hand to a point behind John.
John turned to see a ship’s crew standing behind him. “That’ll be Jack what’s leadin’ the crew,” the Captain said, pointing to a short, dark man with a gray vest and red cloth tied around his head. You’ll be stickin’ by Jack til we get to the island. Yer a boy yet, so if should need an extra hand try Peg.”
John looked for Peg starting with the legs expecting the Peg to be sporting a wooden leg. The Captain laughed, “Been readin’ too many books, me boy. There’s a peg leg about from time to time, but not aboard me precious ship today. Peg would be short for Peggy,” John followed the direction of the Captain’s outstretched arm and turned to see a small woman with long dark hair no different from all the men around her. The main difference was the pair of silver barreled pistols with ivory handles that rested in a holster on her hips. The others seemed to all fancy knives and swords.
“Bobby and I’ll take care of the boy,” Peg said with a nod toward John, but a hand on her right pistol. John wanted a clearer definition of “take care of”, but before he could ask the Captain began shouting orders and the crew melted into the darkness of the ropes and sails of the rocking ship. Peg did linger long enough to push John before her to the bow of the ship to mind the rigging.
The ship ran the waves and made good time skimming along the moon speckled sea to come to anchor just off of a moonlit beach. From the bow John could see the white sand and the dark outline of sea oats and scrub oaks crowding the beach.
“Bring the boy, Peg,” the Captain shouted over the creak of the ship rolling on the breaking waves. John was brought up and carried over the rail of the ship and handed down to the row boat below. Bobby and Jack were already there oars ready for the arrival of the Captain and Peg. They rowed swiftly away from the ship and caught the tide onto the beach. On shore the group gathered around the Captain who began to unfold a soft tan leather map with an ink outline of the Island onto the flat surface of a shoreline rock. Bobby held up an oil lantern that illuminated the details of the map marked with trees and streams and rocks and crosses.
The Captain pulled John so close to his side that John could smell the salt on his clothes like the smell of his dried beach towel at the end of a day of swimming and snorkeling. The Captain showed John the map, “You’ll be here to help us tonight, boy. We’re in need of direction as you can see.” He used a long index finger with a ruby ring to point to all of the crosses. “We’ve been here many a full-moon night before to look for Laffite’s treasure box. Full of gold doubloon’s and Silver Pieces of Eight it’ll be. Enough for you and me and all of the mates to be had should we find it tonight. I’ve been lookin’ all these years without a coin to show for it, but we’re hopin’ you’ll be makin’ the difference for us tonight. See the crosses here, John me boy, we’ve looked under all of ‘em without a bit of luck. We’re thinkin’ you stumbled onto our ship tonight on the very night of a full moon to be helpin’ us out you see. So, boy, here’s the treasure map and this be the great island of Cilicia of the East, so lead us on me boy.”
John looked at the map without a clue about any treasure or even where to start looking for a treasure. “Captain, sir,” he said, “I’m sure it looks like I came to help, but it was only a rainy day and I just found the book and I’m not really sure how I even got here.”
The words were hardly spoken when the Captain pulled his knife and drove the point into the center of the map into the surface of the stone. “No more words, boy, move on to the treasure. If you don’t be knowing your way directly, then set about finding your way by your wits!”
The Captain pulled his knife and John took the map in trembling hands and set out in a northerly direction away from the waves peacefully lapping the beach. It was true that he had never even thought about a buried treasure much less actually ever followed a treasure map, but he did at the moment still have a few wits about him. If I were burying treasure, he thought, I surely wouldn’t bury it on a beach somewhere where over time the water might wash away the sand and wash the treasure out to sea. Surely, also, for it to be hidden treasure it would have to be buried inland, away from plain sight of anyone on board a ship or out to sea. So as a start John led the small crew over the first dune , through the sea oats and into the scrub and trees of the island.
Bobby followed just behind John holding the lantern over the map and shining the way through the undergrowth ahead. John knew that the Captain walked just behind Bobby and he could hear the jangle of the silver sword as it jostled in his belt as he walked. John also thought that he felt the warm breath of the Captain breathing down his neck silently threatening him to find the treasure or risk being “taken care of”.
As he walked inland though John began to realize that the warmth was not coming from the Captain at all, but from the treasure map itself. It was definitely warming under his fingers though ever so slightly. Within 10 minutes of entering the brush of the island the Captain called the search party to a halt and walked up to John to share the map. He pointed to a rock drawn on the map. “What do ya think about this rock, me boy John? You’ll see the cross there where we have been diggin’ to the left of the rock, but I’m thinkin’ we should set our shovels to the right of the rock. I have my feeling about the rock seein’ as how it has that round shape with a big flat top that does bring to mind a beaten piece of silver, so it does.” John followed as the Captain led the group 20 paces to the east to a small clearing about a round flat rock. “See, boy, what do you think?”
John noticed that the map was just faintly cooler than it had been before this detour to the rock and as he set the map on top of the rock his fingers stuck to it like they did when he tried to pick up an ice cube with wet hands. “It’s cold,” he said, and looked up to see the puzzled face of the Captain.
“It’s cold?” the Captain asked. “Are ye crazy me boy? It’ll be the Caribbean in the middle of summer. We’re all a drippin’ with sweat, we are. Ye can’t be cold!”
“No, no,” said John, “I’m not cold. The map, the map is cold. Come on, come with me, maybe I can help.” John turned to retrace the steps back to the start of the Captain’s trail to the rock and was rewarded with a genuine warmth from the edges of the treasure map. “Follow me”, he said and they fell in line behind him.
For the next 20 minutes he almost closed his eyes and followed the direction of the map getting warmer when he was heading in the right direction and cooler if he took a wrong turn. Finally at the center of the island they came to a tall straight oak with gnarling roots that stretched out to the moss-covered edge of a stream. The map was toasty beneath John’s fingers and as he walked to the north side of the tree it was practically glowing.
“I think you should try here, Captain.”
The Captain came forward and took the oil lamp from Bobby. He walked slowly around the clearing on the north side of the tree and shone the light directly in John’s face. “It’ll be an unlikely place this. You won’t be tryin’ to fool us would you boy? There’ll be a cost to that as you’ll know. Peg has been itchin’ to fire a shot.”
“The map says it’s here, sir,” John said as bravely as possible. Peg did indeed look like she would enjoy a quick draw opportunity and John could only hope that he wouldn’t be helping her out.
The Captain grabbed John by the shirt collar and pulled him nose to nose. “None of your nonsense, boy. I’ve been ownin’ that map for many a year and it’s never whispered a word to me. Can ya lead us to the treasure or can you not?”
“But, sir, the map is telling. Maybe you’ve just not known how to listen and that’s why I’m here. See it’s a game I know where you’re looking for a treasure and someone’s helping you. If you move away from the treasure than the helper says, “you’re getting colder” and when you’re getting closer, the helper says “You’re getting warmer”. The map has been getting warmer and colder as we’ve been walking along until now when it is hot.”
The Captain grabbed the map from John and there was a moment of raised eyebrow surprise followed by the slightest turn of his upper lip into a tiny smile. “Dig there!” he commanded as he rolled up the map and raised his hand to whack John over the head with the scroll. John flinched just in time to hear his head hit against the foot of the twin bed. He heard the knock against wood again and opened his eyes to see the bedroom just as before and to see his mother poke her head inside the door.
“Are you all right John?” she asked. “We were missing you downstairs”
John looked at his mother and she looked just the same as she had at breakfast this morning. She did not have a bandana around her head or a sword at her side. She showed no evidence of having set foot at all on a pirate ship of any kind. “Yeah, yeah,” he replied, “I’m fine. No problems.”
“Are you okay up here by yourself? I know there’s not much to do on a rainy day,”
“No, no, I’m fine Mom. I’ve just been looking around in the toy chest and reading a little. I’m fine,” he said sitting up a little straighter. He felt his head which seemed perfectly fine and looked down at his clothes which were still the clean dry shorts and t-shirt that he had put on before breakfast.
“Well okay then,” she said. “You know we are downstairs if you need anything.” Her head disappeared behind the door and the door clicked shut.
John looked about him to find the leather book closed on the floor beside him. It looked like any other book just lying on the floor. I must have just fallen asleep he thought. I must have just opened the book, started reading about pirate ships and fallen asleep dreaming about treasures. He sat at the end of the bed for a moment and thought about how real the sea breeze felt and how the map had felt warm in his hands.
He looked at the leather book lying on the floor, unopened. The information about galleons was interesting he thought. I might as well see what other information is there. He reached out to touch the book and it seemed to quiver underneath his fingers. It had just the slightest tremble as if it couldn’t wait for him to flip back the leather cover and get started. He opened the book and there was the title page, “A Story Book: A Book of Adentures”.
He turned to the next page and there was the beautiful picture of the Spanish Galleon cresting the waves. As he lifted the book up a small silver coin dropped out onto his lap. He picked it up and twirled the piece in his fingers. He had never seen a Piece of Eight, but he was certain that he was holding one now. He looked at the coin as he turned the page of the book and he yelled with surprise as he slipped into the darkness and watched the coin slip from his fingers and disappear. He seemed to tumble head over heels until he found himself dangling by his arm from the edge of a branch.
Well, it wasn’t exactly an arm he had to admit as he looked up at it. It was more like a furry limb with a claw on the end of it. The good news was that it seemed to be a very good claw for clinging to such things as tree branches. He dangled there swinging to and fro and looked down to find a body that fully matched the furry arm attached to the tree. He was sort of squirrel-like, but smaller; gray fur bordering on black; a small tail. Although his heart was clearly beating fast he was not scared which was amazing given that the ground was nowhere in sight.
He was just trying to make sense of all of this when the branch began to sway wildly and someone went, “Shhhhhh” really loudly.
“I told you, you’ve got to whisper if you’re going in with me”
John looked at the small furry creature talking to him. “Do I want to go in with you?” he asked.
“Said you did, didn’t you? I’m going to take you, but you’ve got to do just what I say. If Precious knows we’re coming it spoils all of the fun. The whole joke is seeing her face when we surprise her. She thinks she is the queen, that she knows everything, but that’s how we get her with the big surprise!”
“Well, okay,” John said, “I do like surprises. “ He swung himself back up on the branch which was a surprise in itself at the ease it could be done. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I forgot your name again.”
“No worries. You can just call me Captain. Most folks do since I’ve been leading these adventures into the house. Come on, now, we don’t have all night.” With that the Captain took off and John found himself able to follow with amazing strength and agility. The next ten minutes were filled with swinging jumps from the branch of a sycamore tree to the edge of a grape vine. He followed the Captain along the top of the grape vine in a leap over to the playhouse roof top. In 2 hops they cleared the roof to sail over to the clothes line which carried them to the Pecan tree. They scrabbled up the trunk of the pecan to the highest limb which took them out to the edge of the roof of the big house. The Captain leapt without hesitation out into the air between branch and roof. He stretched his arms as he flew and the skin between his four outstretched limbs made a sail that carried him through the air to a soft landing on the roof top. We’re flying, John thought, we’re flying squirrels.
John followed flying over the air and followed behind to the edge of the chimney.
“We’ll be going down here,” the Captain said. “We’re on super quiet from here on out. The chimney takes us to the living room. We’ll tip toe past Sugar, the dog, who’ll be asleep in the den. We’ll creep up the stairs to the main bedroom straight ahead from the stairs. We’ll go under the door and be super special quiet until we get just to the edge of the bed. Now here’s the risky part. Precious will see us, but that’s why we’re doing it, right? She will not hear us coming, but when we’re there right in front of her, she’ll smell us and she’ll open her eyes. That’s when you will see one surprised cat and that’s when you want to run like you have never been running before. Precious does not look fast, but she is fast and if you get caught, well,” the Captain didn’t even use words to finish his sentence. He just took one claw and dragged it across his throat.
John had one second to think to himself how thinking about being adventurous was one thing and being adventurous was another when the Captain zipped around and was down the chimney.
John leapt after him and found himself sliding down the dark chimney tube to the cold fireplace below. He followed the Captain up to the edge of the fire screen and out the top to the living room. They crept silently along the living room carpet, across the hall and through the den past the snoring dog. They turned the corner to the stair case and began a slow crawl up the newel post and along the handrail to the upstairs. At the top of the stairs the Captain paused long enough to give a silent claw to the lips reminder of absolute quiet before he flattened himself to slip under the bedroom door.
Inside the bedroom John could hear the distinct snore of the man and the soft breathing of the woman fast asleep in the bed. The curtains were pulled, but despite the low light he discovered he had excellent night vision. Just as the Captain had predicted the cat slept curled at the foot of the bed. John followed the Captain at a turtle’s pace across the bedroom floor, up the edge of the bedspread. Together they slowly raised their flying squirrel heads over the top of the bed.
For a split-second John was hanging there just at the bottom of the bed side by side with the Captain watching as Precious indeed opened both eyelids, stared at them with cold blue cat eyes and registered a brief moment of surprise.
One split second and then the world exploded. The Captain and John were falling off of the bed covers to the floor and Precious was swiping a mighty claw at them. They hit the floor and ran directly ahead into the bathroom. Precious followed screeching her anger at the surprise and the intrusion in her house. John followed the Captain up to the edge of the tub, across the towel rack over to the top of the toilet and around to the cabinet with the sink. Just as Precious was preparing to leap into the sink, the light came on and they saw the man standing the doorway in his boxer shorts holding a broom. The squirrels and the cat froze for a second with this new development in the night time pursuit. The man reached back to close the bathroom door and raised the broom to trap the squirrels. Precious hit the counter top just as the broom came down and the squirrels flew off. John and the Captain flattened beneath the bathroom door just as Precious howled from beneath the broom. They heard the bathroom door slam open as they slid beneath the bedroom door and out into the hallway.
John was half running half flying down the stairs when he heard footsteps in the hall above and saw the dog blocking the stairs from below. John followed the Captain to be airborne off the side of the steps to the table in the hall below. Precious leapt behind them and landed on all fours on the hall floor. The squirrels took the hall just out of reach of the cat and entered the kitchen skirting around salt shakers and sugar bowls that Precious scattered in her wake. The dog barked frantically from the kitchen floor in pursuit of all three. John heard the man running down the hallway and saw the light flicker on in the kitchen just as he turned the corner in to the den. He and the Captain split up and Precious followed the Captain onto the sofa while the John and the dog circled the dining table. John could hear glass rattling to the floor from the table by the sofa and chairs clattering to the floor from the chase of the dog. He headed for the doorway and recognized the hall leading to the living room. He leapt across the living room carpet onto the piano bench and then to the top of the fire screen just out of reach of the jaws of the dog. As he gained the inside of the chimney he saw the Captain just ahead. He ran up and up faster than he had ever run in his life until he emerged into the cool darkness of the nighttime roof. He rolled out of the chimney to lie on his back and catch his breath.
The Captain was laughing, “Whew, what a ride!”
John lifted his head, “Are you kidding me?” he asked. “We were almost cat food or dog food or both!” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes , “No way that was fun.”
“No way what was fun?”
He opened his eyes to look at Evie. “ How did you get here?” he asked.
“I walked in the door like a normal person, Johnny boy, how did you get in here?”
John sat up and looked around at the bedroom again; still the same. And he was still the same. No more claws or fur, no more flying. He rested his head back against the bed and closed his eyes.
“What have you been doing up here all morning?” Evie asked. “Mom sent me up here to tell you to come down for lunch already.”
“I’ve been reading,” John replied, “And it cannot be time for lunch already.”
Evie stood in the doorway and crossed her arms across her chest. “What are you up to John? Give me a break. You and I both know that you have not been reading all morning. What have you found to do?”
“Honestly, Evie, I’ve been reading or trying to read anyway. It’s this book. Every time I open it up I get caught up in a story.”
“Let me see,” she said, walking over to stand by the end of the bed. “What is that book anyway?”
“I wouldn’t touch it if I was you. It may be dangerous.”
“Is this one of your tricks, John? You know I do not like tricks. I’m going to tell Mom and Dad if you are tricking.”
“Evie, it’s not a trick. Even I don’t know how to trick like this. I mean, I wish I did cause it would be awesome, but I don’t.”
Evie sat down on the floor and looked at the book. “Okay, I give,” she said. “The book looks totally okay to me. What’s so special? It doesn’t even have a name.”
“That’s just it. It’s just a story book and every time I open it there’s a new story.”
“Let’s see,” Evie said, as she reached for the book.
“Be careful,” John warned.
“It’s just a book,” she said as she opened the cover.
John looked with her at the first page which said, “The Story Book: A Book of Courage”
“What does that mean?” Evie laughed. “Does the book have courage or is the story about courage? That’s just silly.”
John did not laugh. “I think it means we might have courage.”
“We might have courage,” Evie replied, “But I don’t see how the book can give it to us.”
“Go ahead, then,” John said, “Turn the page.”
Evie turned to the first page. “It’s a pirate ship,” she said. It’s information about pirates in the Carribean.”
“Buccaneers,” John said, “They’re buccaneers.”
“Does it say they’re buccaneers? Okay, not pirates, then buccaneers, big story there.” She turned to the next page. “This is a story about a Persian cat,” she said.
“Does the cat look happy to you?” John asked.
Evie looked closely at the cat that stared out from the page with thundercloud gray-blue eyes. “No, I’d say this does not look like a happy cat.”
“No, she’s not happy,” said John, “She’s not Persian, she’s Siamese, and she’s not happy. She’s waiting for the Captain.”
“She’s waiting for the Captain of the ship?”
“No, she’s waiting for Captain the flying squirrel and he better be careful because I don’t think she likes surprises at all.”
“Well I don’t know why ever not,” said Evie, “Most people like surprises. I like surprises.”
John looked at Evie. She looked bored. She looked like she thought she knew it all and that he was just a silly little brother. Evie deserves a surprise, John thought. “Go ahead then,” he said to her, “turn the page.”
Evie looked at John and did not like the challenging look on his face, like he could do something that she couldn’t do. “Fine then,” she said, “No problem,” and she turned the page.
Before Evie could lift the page of the book John scrunched his eyes tightly shut and waited. He waited for the dark and the wind and the clash of swords or the barking of the dog.
“Horses,” Evie said, “It’s horses. I love horses.”
John opened his eyes to see that, in fact, there were horses on the page of the book and he and Evie were still in the bedroom at his grandparent’s house in Florida.
“These are excellent pictures,” Evie said. “The black horse is gorgeous for sure, but look at this dapple gray. I have always loved a gray horse. This picture makes it look like you could just reach out and rub the soft nose of this dapple gray.”
John leaned forward to look more closely at the picture just as Evie reached out to touch the page. John blinked to feel the wind in his face and to see Evie just ahead her blonde hair streaming out behind her as she leaned forward clinging to the back of the galloping gray horse. Like Evie John was bareback holding onto the mane of the black pony as it followed closely on the heels of the gray. They seemed to be moving swiftly down a narrow path with tree limbs brushing by his legs and low branches perilously close overhead. He held tightly to handfuls of horsehair, pressing his knees to stay mounted through the ride.
Minutes later the pace slowed and eventually the black came to a halt next to the gray along the edge of a small clearing. John looked up to see Evie swing her right leg forward over the neck of the gray and slide to the ground. He swung around to his stomach and slid feet first to the ground by the black.
“Where are we Evie?” he whispered, coming to stand by her side. He noticed that instead of her summer shorts she wore leather leggings and a brown tunic overtop and he looked down to find he to wore similar clothes.
“I’m not sure,” Evie replied, “But Guinivere says we must help. Trouble’s ahead and she asks us to go to use our human ears to sort it out.”
“You’re talking to the horse?” he asked, certain that Evie wouldn’t be as easily drawn into the story as he might be.
Evie turned to him with serious importance. “Her majesty has chosen to speak to me,” she whispered through clinched teeth. “You would do well to mark your impertinence,” she added with a frown. “The Queen and her Mary will wait. Walk softly and come ahead.”
John followed Evie along the path and found their steps were indeed quiet , softened by the tread of the leather slippers that served as footwear. Just 40 paces ahead he heard the murmur of voices and caught a glimpse of the camp fire. He and Evie slowed to ease behind an oak and lean forward to catch the conversation of the men gathered around the fire.
One man stood and spoke. “We’re agreed then lads. Getting through the gate will be our trouble then. We’ll make it forward to the wall by daylight and drift in as the market stalls are openin’ on the square. His almighty earnestness will think to keep everyone in at night as if that might protect them from our looting, but I think not. We’ll go in in the morning light just as if we are regular folks and then use our market ladies and small ‘uns to encourage a mite of cooperation from his Graciousness. It is what he gets for tryin’ to build a big wall to keep us out. Rest up, gentlemen, for the next few hours. We’ll ride at the waning of the moon and be there for the door openin’ right for us.”
Evie backed around to the far side of the tree and looked at John with wide eyes. She gave a nod of her head and they crept back toward the clearing. Back with the horses, safe from the men at the fire, Evie still spoke softly. She looked at John and then at the dapple gray. “They’re coming to a village near here. It is a village that has tried to protect itself by building a wall and sleeping within it a night. The men will come in through the gate when the morning market opens and will seize the women and children to ransom what they desire, perhaps gold or jewels, they didn’t say.”
The gray mare gave a nudge with her nose and Evie paused to look in her eyes. She turned to John, “We’ll go then. The horses will take us there and we’ll warn them that danger is coming.”
John found the black standing by a tree stump. He stepped up on the stump and swung to her back. Again she seemed to grasp his legs and carry him along requiring only his cooperation and a grasp of her mane.
The horses brought them with all speed to a quiet stone wall with the wood and iron front gate firmly closed. Evie dismounted and walked to it but could see no way to move it or get help. She began to walk the edge of the wall feeling her way in the dark of the night until she tripped and nearly fell headfirst over a lump at the base of the wall. John jumped back as the ball unfurled into a boy rolling to his feet and pulling back the hood of a heavy cloak. Evie turned on the boy clinched fists poised in readiness for protection. The boy relaxed and lowered his arms, “You’re a girl!” he said.
“I’ll hit you for that if nothing else,” she snarled at him fists still ready.
“Go ahead then,” he replied, but made no effort to protect himself.
Evie lowered her hands. “I would she said, but I have more urgent business than you to deal with,” and she turned back to the wall to continue to walk the perimeter.
“Like what?” he asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she answered and turned her head back to him just long enough to give him a smart smile.
“I always want to know,” he said. “My mother says it will forever be my downfall that I am so curious, but it is true that if there is a mystery I am always wanting to know.”
“First,” Evie said, stopping to look at him closely. “Why are you out here when everyone else is inside the wall?”
“That,” he replied, “Is part of my problem. There are some stars in the night sky that I do like to follow. I can only see them best on the top of the hillside, so every so often I stay out for a night to watch them move. Lord Scott forbids me to do it. He has built this wall to provide for the safety of us all, but there are times when I must go. I can only go for so long without seeing the stars and I am restless. I must find that balance between safety and seeing the world, so tonight I am out.”
“It is just good luck then,” Evie said, “Because we need your help. My brother John and I have been brought here tonight to help to save your people. Sir Scott must know that thieves are just now on their way here. They have seen that he has built the wall for protection at night, so they will come through the gates in the morning dressed for the market. They plan to snatch women and children in the day and hold them for ransom to get what they want.”
“Walter I am,” he said holding out his hand to Evie. “It is lucky I am here if I do say so. Come with me. We’ve a single gate keeper who may be persuaded to hear your news.”
Evie and John followed Walter around the wall to a small wooden door in a corner of the wall. Walter’s knock and an apple from the orchard bought the opening of a speaking portal. The gate keeper heard the news and the introduction of Evie and John and brought them straight to the hall to talk to the Lord.
As dawn came in the course of a few hours the gate to the village wall opened as uneventfully as every morning since it was built. The market stalls were open and chickens pecked about in the yard as the sun came up. Men moved about carrying goods and the cloaked women sat to their work at the back of the stalls waiting for the business of the day.
Evie and John looked down from the window of Sir Scott’s house as several groups of men ambled through the gate and into the courtyard. They quietly spread out among the stalls as if to do business, but the quiet market square became a tussle of dust and scattered chickens at the sound of Sir Scott’s whistle. The gate pounded shut to block escape and the cloaked women slid away to leave the armed men to collect the thieves. Seven in all were tied and taken away without spilling a drop of blood. John looked at Evie and saw her smile for the first time all night. She had the courage to lead us here, he thought, but at least I was willing to come along.
Sir Scott insisted on breakfast for everyone in the hall. He brought Evie and John to the long table at the front of the hall and lifted them both to stand before the crowd. He handed them both a cup of his best ale and raised his cup to offer a toast. “We celebrate today our safety and our peace. Our new friends Evie and John have ridden far in the night with courage and purpose. So let us raise our glasses in thanks for their coming.” With the clang of cups from around the hall, John looked up to see his mother in the doorway of the bedroom.
“Are you two coming?” she asked. “We’ve been waiting for you to have lunch. Mr. Scott from the Scott’s Apple Orchard just brought us a bottle of his freshly pressed cider. He said to be sure you two got a glass, so come on down. Your grandmother has your grilled cheese all ready.”
As she stepped back in the hall John looked at Evie. He was pleased to see that she looked as shocked as he had been after finding himself back in the bedroom before. He looked at the closed book on the floor beside Evie. “We could all use some lunch don’t you think?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said “Lunch would be good.”
Lunch was good, but at the earliest possible moment John and Evie took the stairs two at a time to get back to the book in the bedroom. John opened the door expecting to find the book lying on the floor next to the toy chest just where Evie had left it. They both stood in the doorway in disbelief at the empty floor. “It’s gone,” John said.
“It can’t be gone,” insisted Evie. “Books can’t just walk away.”
Just as her words lingered in the air John felt a cold smack on the side of his head. The air was filled with tiny snow crystals as the snow ball disintegrated into thin air. John and Evie looked in the direction of the thrower just in time to see the Story Book use scarecrow arms to launch another from the head of the bed. Evie ducked and the snow ball once again caught John squarely in the side of the head. “No way,” John shouted as he lunged toward the book. In an instant the book grabbed the pillow from the head of the bed and swung it at John. Feathers spewed out in a volcanic eruption and filled the room with downy ash. Evie dove to grab the book, but it collapsed into a brown paper airplane and sailed away to the edge of the toy chest. John climbed on the bed and yelled, “Stand still you yellow-bellied sap sucker. You’ll never get away with this.” As he shouted get away the airplane swung up to it’s point and became a brown pencil that slowly shrank to a nubbin of a pencil as if it had been sharpened one time too many.
“What’s going on?” Mother said from the door. “It sounds like a ruckus downstairs.”
“We’re fine,” Evie said untangling her feet from the bedcovers.
“Yea,” John said clutching what was left of the pillow. “We’re just playing.”
“Well, okay,” said their mother. “Not too much rough housing now.”
As she shut the door Evie and John looked over at the tiny pencil perched on the edge of the toy chest. In an instant they heard a tiny pop and for a moment the air around the pencil nub was filled with dandelion wisps as if they had been blown by tiny fairy breath into the air before drifting down into the toy chest. The book, the snow ball fighter, the pillow smasher, the airplane, the pencil, the dandelion were gone.
“Maybe it’s just another trick and it’s waiting at the bottom on the chest,” Evie said.
“Maybe,” said John as he climbed down from the bed to have a look.
He and Evie were careful about peering into the chest directly. Once a book has shown that it can be accurate with a snowball you don’t want to be careless enough to be blindsided by a stuffed pink dog. Caution wasn’t necessary since nothing in the toy chest came flying their way; nothing including the story book. “It’s not here,” John said with more than a little disappointment in his voice.
“Are you sure?” Evie asked lifting up the red plastic barn. “Look in that corner under “Hands Down.”
John lifted the game box and found a book, but it was not brown leather with gold paper edges. “Here’s a book,” he said, “but it has a title; The Yearling, “ he said putting the book on the floor. He looked back into the corner of the toy chest. “Here’s another book,” he said, lifting it out. “The Black Stallion. That looks good Evie. It’s a horse book.” He reached back in and collected a short stack of books, “Johnny Tremain, that looks good, Across Five Aprils, Stuart Little. What do you think Evie?” He turned to look at her, but she wasn’t listening. She was leaning back against the bed reading The Black Stallion. He looked at the books spread on the floor in front of him. Stuart Little had a mouse in a suit on the cover of the book. It’s been a busy day so far, so I think I would like to spend the rest of it in the company of a smart mouse without a sword or a pistol or a pirate or a horse.
He opened the cover and was welcomed into the Little home.