The Eagle's Quill

by Sarah L. Thomson

  But nobody attacked them, unless you counted the mosquitoes that buzzed in Sam’s ears and tried to crawl under his collar. Slowly the skin on Sam’s back stopped crawling, and he stopped twitching at every rustle in the bushes or every squawk from a bird overhead.

  Apparently no bad guys were stalking them. Thinking it over, Sam supposed that made sense. They were doing exactly what they’d been told to do. Like good little boys and girls, they were heading off to find the Quill. Gideon Arnold would not want to interfere with that.

  Sam should have been relieved to know that Flintlock wasn’t going to jump out of the bushes at them, and Jed wasn’t going to swing down from a tree like Tarzan. But it left a bad taste in his mouth, the idea that they were tamely following Gideon Arnold’s orders.

  And once the kids found the Quill—if they found the Quill—what then? Would they use that satellite phone and call Arnold up like they were old buddies or something? Hey, Gideon, come and pick up your Quill. And could we have Evangeline and Abby’s mom and dad back, please? Thanks!

  That didn’t seem like such a good idea. The whole point of getting their hands on the Founders’ artifacts in the first place was to keep them out of Gideon Arnold’s clutches. But what else could they do?

  First things first, Sam decided. Find the Quill. Then figure out what to do with it.

  Ahead of him, Ethelinda, Silveret, and Polly made their way through a small creek that crossed the path, their hooves splashing in the water. Snickers got to the creek and stopped dead. Sam lurched forward and nearly impaled his stomach on the saddle horn.

  “Sam! Keep up!” Marty called from ahead.

  “Tap her with your heels!” Abby yelled. Sam did so. Snickers snorted. It sounded like a laugh.

  The other three horses disappeared around a bend in the path. Sam groaned. Cautiously, he tugged one foot out of the stirrup and wiggled around until he was lying across Snickers’s back. He flopped to the ground, which seemed like a long way down, and staggered a bit when he landed. Luckily nobody was watching this except Snickers. And that was embarrassing enough.

  Grimly, Sam waded across the creek. The water only came up to his ankles. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” he told Snickers. “It’s barely five inches deep. You’re a wimp, you know that?”

  He dug a hand into his backpack and pulled out a roll of mint Life Savers. He popped one in his mouth and held another out on his open palm.

  “Snickers? Come on, girl. You know you want it.”

  Snickers splashed eagerly across the stream to Sam’s side, nosing the candy out of his hand and crunching it up happily.

  “Not a word to anybody about this,” Sam muttered. He got a foot in the stirrup again, hopped two or three times, and, clinging to the saddle horn, sort of crawled up the horse’s side. Once he was up, Snickers seemed to notice that she had been left behind. She trotted after the other horses, bouncing Sam wildly up and down.

  “I never—signed—up—for—this!” he gasped. Deadly traps, killer puzzles, bad guys with guns, sure thing. But the Founders had not warned him there would be sugar-crazed horses to deal with!

  The horses walked steadily for hours, taking them deeper into the forest and farther away from Caractacus Ranch and anything that might resemble civilization. It felt strangely peaceful, except for the fact that Sam’s butt was starting to ache. The muscles in his legs were announcing that they were unhappy with their working conditions and about to go on strike. If Snickers was doing all the work, how come Sam was getting all the pain?

  When the sun was directly overhead, they came out from under the cover of the trees and paused at the top of a steep, narrow trail that zigzagged its way down a rocky hillside. At the bottom of the slope, a swift river churned and tumbled between giant rocks. “We’d better walk the horses,” Abby said. Sam slithered off Snickers’s back gratefully, only to find that his legs were oddly rubbery when he hit the ground.

  Each of them took hold of the reins and began making their way downhill, Marty in front, Theo and Abby behind her, and Sam bringing up the rear. Just as Snickers snorted in his ear, Sam heard Theo ask Abby a question.

  “Have any other Founders ever come to the ranch?”

  “No,” Abby said, picking her way over a scree of loose rock and coaxing Ethelinda after her. “You’re the first. My dad . . .” She hesitated a moment and then went on, steadying her voice. “My dad used to talk about how maybe we’d be the first Hodges since Josiah to meet a Founder.”

  Snickers nosed at Sam’s backpack so hard that he nearly went sprawling. “Hey! Snickers! Cut that out!” He turned to face her sternly. The horse perked up when he met her gaze, and Sam sighed. He could guess what she wanted.

  “Okay, okay.” He dug the Life Savers out of the pack and offered her another one. “Just one at a time, hear me?”

  It took the whole pack of Life Savers to get Snickers down the slope. All that time, in between muttered conversations with his horse, Sam could hear Abby talking to Theo. He heard “hard to believe” and “a real-life descendant of George Washington, honestly?” and “so you know about some artifact of his, where it’s hidden and stuff?” Sam also heard grunts, those coming from Theo. The big guy had been talking even less than usual since they’d gotten to Montana, and that was saying something, Sam thought. He was surprised that Theo had struck up a conversation with Abby at all.

  Just then Snickers nudged Sam’s shoulder impatiently with her nose, and he handed her the second-to-last Life Saver. Ahead of them, Marty had stopped on the last bit of flat ground before the river.

  “The path ends here,” she called back. “What next?”

  It was a serious river too, deeper and faster than it had looked from the top of the slope. The water leaped over and churned around boulders that had probably fallen or rolled from the slopes of the mountains all around, and the sound of it rushing by was so loud they all had to raise their voices to be heard.

  “Swim with the current!” Sam said.

  “Swimming? In that?” Marty looked alarmed.

  “That’s what the compass said, remember?” Sam reminded her. “‘In matters of style, swim with the current.’ And the needle is pointing that way. Downstream.” He held out the compass to show her.

  “So that’s the way we go.” Marty dug a big map out of her overstuffed backpack and spread it out on a large, flat rock. “Look, this river heads pretty steadily northeast from here, so it should take us in the right direction. Too bad there’s no path, but we can walk along the edge.”

  “The horses can’t, though,” Abby pointed out. “It’s too rocky for them. One of them could throw a shoe or even break a leg.”

  “So what do we do with them?” Snickers stuck her nose in the back of Sam’s collar and whooshed a warm breath down his neck. He jumped away from her.

  “We send them home.” Abby helped them turn the horses around on the narrow path so they were headed back up the trail they’d just come down. She tied up the reins so they would not hang loose and get tangled in the horses’ feet, and then slapped each one on the rump. Startled, the horses snorted and flicked their tails, trotting back up the slope toward the forest.

  “They’ll head back for the stable,” Abby said, watching them go. “That’s where they get fed, so they like it. They know the way.”

  She looked a little sad, though, and Sam was surprised to find that he also felt a bit sorry to see the horses go. He was happy to be back on his own feet, no question, but the horses were their last connection to Caractacus Ranch and the outside world. Now it was just the four of them, all alone in a million acres of wilderness that held—somewhere—Thomas Jefferson’s Quill.

  They stopped for protein bars and water, sitting on rocks and watching the river flow by, and then got on their way.

  The noise of the water made it too hard to talk, so they walked in silence. Mountains rose up on all sides, gray peaks, some splashed with snow, seeming high enough to snag the clouds. It
was beautiful . . . if you weren’t worried about scary Founder traps or crazy guys with guns.

  Following Theo, Sam clambered over rocks and clomped along gravel flats that looked smooth but were hard going as the tiny stones shifted and gave way beneath his feet. This was taking too long, he thought, as he checked the compass for the millionth time. When he glanced behind him, he could see Abby and Marty struggling as well. They were making progress, but it was slow. Should they have kept the horses? Should they have found another way? Should they look for a trail where the walking would be easier?

  Ahead of Sam, Theo raised an arm, signaling the rest to stop. He glanced back, mouthed “Stay here!” and moved ahead.

  The river poured around a curve in its bed, and Theo disappeared around that curve. Abby and Marty, panting, caught up with Sam. “What’s he doing?” Abby asked in Sam’s ear.

  Sam shrugged, hands out, palms up. In less than a minute, Theo was back. He waved at them to come on.

  “What’s up?” Sam called as soon as he was close enough for Theo to hear. “You found something?”

  Theo nodded.

  “What?”

  Theo jerked his head, indicating that they should follow.

  “Gosh, I wish he’d shut up once in a while,” Abby said from behind Sam, just loud enough for Sam and no one else to hear.

  Sam grinned. They followed Theo around the bend in the river to see . . . tourists!

  Three bright-green vans were parked on a gravel patch next to the river, and yellow inflatable rafts had been laid out by the water. People were milling around, putting on life jackets and helmets, picking up oars, listening to guides who were shouting directions.

  Sam was startled, but really, it shouldn’t have been such a surprise. This was a hugely popular national park, after all. All sorts of people came here. They’d been riding and walking alone for hours, and he’d begun to feel as if they were as isolated as Lewis and Clark’s men had been two centuries ago. But that wasn’t true, and a good thing too.

  Theo looked back. The four of them gathered close together by the riverbank. Sam could see by the looks on their faces that they all had the same idea.

  “Swim with the current?” Sam asked. The other three nodded.

  “We’ve just got to look like we’re part of the group,” Marty said. “Come on!”

  They quickly made their way to the spot where the vans had been parked. Everyone was too busy with their preparations to notice four extra kids who wandered out casually from behind a van, trying hard to look as if they’d been there all along. Once Theo picked up life jackets from a pile on the ground and they’d all pulled them on, they looked just like the other tourists, ready for action.

  “Wow,” said a voice from near the ground, and Sam looked down to see a little girl gazing up at Theo. She had another little girl by the hand, and they looked like a duplicated picture—same blond ponytails, same pink T-shirts, same looks of awe. “You’re tall.”

  Theo looked a little confused. “Yes. I guess. I am.” He looked as if he hoped that would be the end of it.

  “Can we go in your raft?” the first girl asked. Sam was stifling a smile. Theo was looking seriously panicked. “I want to go with you. My sister does too. She’s four. I’m four too.”

  “Uh, I don’t think so,” Theo answered. Both girls’ faces sank. The talkative one looked tragic.

  “Don’t you have . . . parents?” Theo looked around, spotted Sam’s grin, and gave him a “you’re dead when I have time to bother” look.

  “You’re a chick magnet,” Sam told him.

  Theo threatened him with a paddle, and a cheerful-looking woman in a floppy cloth hat came up to pull the girls away and zip on their life jackets.

  “Listen up!” one of the guides was shouting, a short, sunburned man with a scruffy beard and a ponytail. He was wearing a wetsuit that looked like it had been through a mangle. Sam eyed a rip along one forearm a little nervously. “Four in a raft, people. Grab your paddles and strap on your helmets. Stick close to the raft in front of you. This is a gentle stretch of the river, and there hasn’t been a lot of rain recently, so it’s not going to be too fast—but you can never be too careful. Let’s go!”

  The four kids hung back and snagged the last raft in line, climbing in awkwardly. Marty sat in front of Sam on one side, fastening a helmet strap under her chin. Theo was behind Abby on the other.

  “Have you done this before?” Marty shouted at Theo as a guide, a young woman with more muscles in her arms than Sam had in his entire body, shoved their raft out into the current.

  “No! You?”

  “Abby!” Marty yelled. “Tell me you’ve done this! I am not even thinking of counting on Sam!”

  “A few times!” Abby called as their raft gently rotated in the water, giving them a spectacular view of the river valley but leaving them moving along backward. “Um . . . Sam and Marty, don’t do anything. Theo, you paddle now.” His paddle clashed with hers just above the surface of the water, and the raft wobbled. “Oops! Wait a second. One, two, three. Now! That should spin us around. There!”

  She was right. Their raft came around so they were facing the right way, to the giggles of some of the other rafters. The guide who’d pushed them into the water had jumped into a small kayak and now zipped up behind them, as comfortable in the water as Sam would be on a skateboard.

  “Hold your paddles like this!” she called out over the noise of the water. “See?” She showed them how to get the most power out of their strokes, and nodded as they began to move more quickly through the water. “The current will carry you!” she called out. “All you need to do is steer a bit. Don’t worry. You’ll have fun!” She darted away to help the family with the twin girls. The four kids came up behind the other rafters just in time for Marty to get a face full of water, shot from the paddle of a pudgy boy in the raft in front of them.

  “You did that on purpose!” she spluttered, trying helplessly to wipe her wet glasses with her wetter hands.

  “Did not!” The boy stuck his tongue out, and when his parents were not looking, splashed her again. Abby deftly slipped her paddle forward and gave him a thorough dunking.

  “Young lady, watch what you’re doing!” one of the adults in the other raft called out sternly.

  “Sorry!” Abby said serenely as they all leaned into their paddles, passing that raft and then a few more until they were in the center of the group.

  This wasn’t bad, Sam thought. The water splashing up from the river was cold, but the sun warmed his shoulders and back through his life jacket. He pulled the compass out of his pocket to check the direction. They were heading the right way, and much, much faster than they could have done walking. Also, Sam thought, much more comfortably than it would have been if he’d had to keep on sitting on a horse.

  “White water up ahead!” Abby called.

  Maybe Sam had gotten comfortable a little too soon . . .

  The current quickened beneath them as the river narrowed. One of the twin girls squealed as her raft slid over a boulder hidden beneath the surface. Little waves began to seethe and boil around Sam’s raft as the bottom got rockier.

  “Work together!” called out the guide in the kayak. “People in the front, call out directions!”

  “Left!” Abby shouted. “Sam and Marty, paddle on the left!”

  They did as she said and swept past a giant gray boulder sticking up out of the water, slick and wet with spray. The raft was acting like Snickers now, bouncing up and down beneath Sam, and he shoved his feet under a strap for stability, hanging on tight to his paddle.

  “Two big boulders coming up!” Abby called back. “We’ll have to go between them. Sam and Marty, paddle on the left again. Good!”

  Peering over Marty’s shoulder, Sam could see the two boulders Abby had been talking about. They were huge! The size of cars, they huddled in the middle of the river, and the water poured between them, white and churning with speed.

  “Th
eo, you and me now. Just one stroke. There!” Abby kept coaching them. “It’s coming up. Paddles out of the water. Just let the current take us . . . go!”

  They went. The current seized their raft and swept it between the rocks, fast as a roller coaster—at least it felt that way to Sam. Walls of gray rock swept past his face as his heart thumped heavily under his life jacket. Spray showered him, and then they were through!

  The river widened out at once, and they paddled quickly into the calmer water, letting rafters behind them shoot between the boulders as well. The boy who’d splashed Marty shrieked with terror and dropped his paddle. One of the guides had to go retrieve it.

  “Hey, we did it. We’re through!” Sam grinned. The river was smooth underneath them now, and they could drift easily on the current. “We’re a team. Way to go! Hey, Marty, high-five me. No, with your paddle!”

  “Really, Sam?” Marty sighed but held out her paddle to one side so Sam could slap it with his. When she looked back at him, she was smiling, blinking at him through glasses misted with spray.

  “Are we still on course?” she asked him.

  “Let me check.” He got the compass out of his pocket and held it out. “Yeah . . . kind of.”

  “What does ‘kind of’ mean?” Marty asked.

  “We’re going roughly the right direction. But the needle’s pointing a bit more that way—” He pointed to the right with his paddle. “And the river’s headed straight.”

  “Everybody over to the left!” called back the ponytailed guide from the front raft. “The river’s about to fork, and I want you all over here. Left, please!”

  “But we don’t want to go left.” Marty twisted around to share a quick glance with them all. “When the river forks, we’d better go right.”

  Sam nodded. “We can’t let anybody see us, though. Drop back to the end of the line.”