Paul and several other young farmers made a break for it. A few of the soldiers managed to get off a round or two from their rifles, and a wheat farmer, Samuels, was stung with a bullet in the arm before he disappeared between the houses.
No one else dared move.
Suddenly a man’s voice sailed out over the crowd: “Now!”
And immediately, in all the second-floor windows, men and women appeared, armed with rifles pointed at the soldiers below.
Sloper’s men stared in shock.
The voice yelled out again: “Lay down your guns, soldiers! Right now!”
“Oh my God,” said Daniel. “It’s Dad!”
There, unbelievably, atop the hardware store across the street, stood John Crowley, his rifle pointed directly at Captain Sloper’s heart.
“By the count of three!” Crowley shouted. “One!”
No one breathed.
“Two!”
A soldier dropped his rifle onto the cobbles. Another laid his down and stepped away from it.
“What are you doing?” cried Sloper, reaching for his pistol. “Are you afraid of a bunch of farmers?”
More rifles clattered to the ground.
Cheers broke out around the square. “They’re doing it!” Emily cried.
“Now move away!” cried Crowley. “Slowly! That’s the way.”
Only Sloper and the half-dozen soldiers surrounding him still held weapons. They began backing toward the building.
“Stop him!” cried Miss Binchey, shaking a bony fist.
Captain Sloper raised his pistol in the air. “Don’t you threaten me, you filthy peasants!” He looked up at the children on the roof. “As for you …” He took aim at Daniel; but just as he was squeezing the trigger, a shot rang out, whizzing past Sloper’s head. The captain’s own shot went wild as he glanced around, catching the glint of John Crowley’s rifle on the opposite rooftop.
“Get him!” screamed a woman.
Without thinking, the crowd surged forward with a roar. It was pure adrenaline-fueled instinct. A few rifle shots rang out, but that only enraged people further as they stormed up the steps, overpowering the soldiers in front of the captain. Some townspeople, farther back, threw whatever came to hand, a hammer, a shoe, or in most cases, small stones from the street.
One of the stones struck Sloper on the side of his head, drawing blood. A moment later, still brandishing his pistol, he slipped through the entrance to the grocery store, slamming and locking the door. Fists pounded on the glass. The glass shattered, and then the door came off its hinges. By the time John and Gwen Crowley made their way to the store and went inside, Sloper had disappeared.
Gwen hugged her boys tightly, then reached out and brought in Emily as well, like a hen gathering her brood.
Her husband, after seeing everyone was all right, ran to the town hall to release Arnie Fish and the other prisoners held in the basement jail. He came back a few minutes later with Fish and Min.
“Some of the men,” he said, “have gone looking for the captain. They’re afraid he’ll get away.”
“All he needs is a car,” said Gwen.
Crowley nodded. “By now he must be well on his way to the city.”
“But he’s not.” Emily closed her eyes, as if listening. “He knows if he shows up there he’ll be arrested. And to show up without his soldiers …”
Crowley looked at her questioningly.
“So no, he’s not going to the city.” She paused again. “He’s on a horse—couldn’t find a car—and he’s heading to the one place nobody can reach him.”
“You mean …,” said Daniel.
“The island, yes.”
“How—?” Crowley began.
“Dad,” Daniel said, “just believe her. Come on, we’d better hurry.”
They came to the end of the street, where Bridey’s car stood, black and dented, looking like a squashed waterbug. There was no getting it to start.
“We’ll have to take the buckboard,” said Gwen, heading for the shed behind the hardware store.
Soon they were on their way, the kids and Mr. and Mrs. Fish in the back holding on to the sideboards while John and Gwen sat up on the driver’s bench urging old Nate, the family nag, to greater efforts.
The captain may have said the farms were burning, but for the most part, his plan hadn’t been carried out. In many cases, the men sent to do it had taken the opportunity to desert.
There was the burning wheat field the children had passed on the way in, and farther on, Wayne’s blazing barn and cornfield. It was shocking to see waves of tasseled stalks crackling amid the roar of high-reaching flames. The town’s one pump truck, horse-pulled, stood beside the field spurting water along the fire’s edge.
“It’s no use, is it?” said Wes.
“Not much,” said his father. He snapped the reins.
Once the flames were behind them, the road looked dim, late afternoon edging into evening. Daniel contemplated his father, up on the driver’s seat, the sun striking the side of his face. He was sweating, and his blue work shirt was stained. “Dad,” said Daniel, “all those guns. Where’d they come from?”
His father hesitated. “There are a few things we didn’t tell you, son.”
Daniel felt his face flush with what he feared his father would say.
Then he said it: “We had a good number of weapons stashed away in different parts of town. Still do.”
“Dad!” said Wesley.
Daniel was busy rethinking everything he knew about his gentle-mannered father. Here was a new side of him, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. “So,” he said, “it turns out Sloper was right.”
“Yes, he was right. His mistake was he thought the weapons were stored on the island. A good thing he didn’t look behind the walls in the schoolhouse, or in the bell tower of the church.”
The buckboard passed the Crowley house and continued on.
“So then it was you,” Daniel said, “you and the others who brought the Uncertainties to Everwood.”
His father didn’t answer. Daniel found his silence irritating, as if he weren’t owning up to a lie.
“The soldiers would never have come here, Dad. Sloper would’ve left us alone. But he knew …”
Gwen laid a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Sometimes you just have to step up and do something.”
Wesley looked at her. “Did you know about this, Mom?”
“Your mother kept track of everything,” said Crowley. “What we had, where it was stored, when to send the next shipment to our friends in the city.” He glanced back at Emily. “I don’t suppose you know where the captain is now?”
“Not exactly. I just know he’s desperate to get to the island.”
“If you say so,” said Crowley. He turned the horse toward the pathway into the woods. “We’ll take the wagon as far as we can. Arnie, do you and Min want to get out here?”
“And miss this?” said Min.
Crowley nodded. “Okay, then.”
The sky was still blue overhead, but the trees deeply shadowed, as if they knew more about night than the rest of us. The big cottonwood down the hill from Bridey’s was darkest of all. A few feet away stood the tall rose of Sharon, its large pink blooms going gray in the failing light. Nearby, continually whispering, ran the insidious stream.
The way through the woods was easier than expected, since the tank had come this way before, flattening the underbrush. Seeing a glint of water ahead, Crowley tethered the horse and climbed down. He slung a canvas tool bag over one shoulder and led the way on foot. Behind them, unnoticed, trotted the cat Mallow, half-visible among the leaves.
Before long, they came to the edge of the torn-up area where the tank stood, huge and useless, steeped in shadow. Gray in the fading light, Mallow darted ahead, then stopped to sniff about. The scene looked different, even from yesterday, when the makeshift bridge had been lying on the ground, the empty oil drums lashed together and covered with planking. Sloper h
ad managed to push the thing, barrel by gonging barrel, into the stream till one end of it touched the island. He was at the water’s edge now, bent over his work, making fast the near end while the barrels bobbed gently like a necklace of coal.
Sloper straightened up and saw them. “Hello, traitors,” he said.
“Good evening, Captain,” said Crowley, stepping closer. “Quite a contraption you’ve got there.”
Sloper glanced at his handiwork. “It’ll serve the purpose.”
“I’m afraid we can’t let you use it.” He pulled out a pistol.
“You don’t want to do that, John,” the captain said. “Put it away and I promise I won’t mention it in my report.”
“Your what?”
“You do realize it’s a crime to threaten a member of the armed forces.”
“Please keep your hands out to the side, Captain.… Captain? Now!”
Sloper sighed and held his hands out. “You’re getting in deeper and deeper, John. I won’t be able to help you.”
“Arnie,” said Crowley quietly, “would you mind taking the captain’s gun?”
“Wouldn’t mind at all!” Mr. Fish approached the captain cautiously, as he might a copperhead. Circling behind Sloper, he reached out slowly and unsnapped the holster. He was gleeful when he returned to the others.
“You be careful with that, Arnold Fish,” said Min. “I think you better give it to me for safekeeping.”
“It’s safe enough with me, old girl,” he said, turning the pistol from side to side, admiring it. “Unless I get nervous and accidentally shoot his head off!”
Wesley giggled nervously.
“Danny,” said Crowley, keeping his eye and pistol steadily on the captain, “take a look in that bag. See if there’s any rope.”
Daniel rummaged among the tools and found it.
“Good. Can you cut a piece, maybe four feet?” He watched as his son hacked off a length. “Now, while Arnie and I have the captain covered, I’d like you to go behind him and tie his hands. Can you do that?”
The boy nodded. “Sure.”
“I wouldn’t,” said Emily. “His thoughts are jumping all over the place. I can hardly keep track of them.”
“Careful now, son,” said Crowley as the boy circled around.
The captain looked amused at all the precautions. “Don’t be afraid, my friend,” he said as Daniel came up behind him. “I won’t bite you.”
“I’m not your friend.”
“Honest as ever.”
Daniel came closer. “Please put your hands behind you.”
“Listen,” said Sloper, dropping his voice so the others wouldn’t hear, “why don’t you just come with me to the island? We’ll have a grand adventure.”
“Your hands, please.”
“Come on. You know you’ve always wanted to go. They won’t shoot if you’re with me. Then we’ll cut the bridge free and they won’t be able to follow.”
“I’ve already been there.”
“You what!”
“I decided to come back.”
“Very well,” Sloper sighed. “Live your dull little life.” He reached his hands behind him.
Daniel made a slipknot and started to loop it around the captain’s wrists.
Sudden chaos! Sloper caught Daniel’s wrist and spun him around, holding him tightly in front of him like a shield. At the same time, Daniel felt something metallic and very sharp against his neck.
No one moved. They seemed paralyzed.
“All right,” the captain snapped, “listen, everyone. This is how it will be. You’ll drop your weapons and leave. Understand?”
“Don’t you hurt Danny!” cried Gwen.
Crowley held his wife’s arm. He regarded Sloper gravely. “If you harm my son …”
“He’s my ticket out, that’s all.”
“And afterward you’ll let him go?”
“Trust me.”
“Trust you?”
“Or don’t. But lay down the gun. You too,” he said, nodding at Fish.
Crowley lowered his pistol and let it drop to the ground. After hesitation, Fish did the same.
“Now get out of here.”
Daniel felt the blade jiggle against his neck as the captain spoke. He tried not to breathe.
He saw his parents back away.
“Looks like we’ll be having our adventure after all,” Sloper murmured, dragging Daniel backward onto the bridge.
There was no handrail or even guide rope to hold on to, and the whole structure was bowing in the middle under the pressure of the current.
“Let me go!” cried Daniel. He struggled, but carefully: the blade trembled an inch from his throat.
“I don’t think so.”
They were several feet out from land, and already the bridge was bouncing underfoot like a trampoline.
“You don’t want to do this,” Daniel said.
“But I do.” He dragged the boy a few feet farther.
“Listen. It’s not so easy to get to the island. If it were, people would’ve built a bridge long ago.”
“They’re stupid farmers. What do they know?”
When they were halfway across, the bridge dipped under their weight, soaking their shoes and throwing their balance off. They almost went in right then.
“The place is protected!” Daniel cried out.
“What are you gargling about? Come on!”
Daniel had to say it. “It’s where you go after you die!”
Sloper paused. “You really can’t lie, can you? You try and you come out with gibberish.”
The bridge swayed and Daniel slipped, landing hard. He lay facedown and held on to the edge of the planking.
“Steady!” Sloper cried. His arms windmilled as he fought to keep himself from falling. It was obvious he couldn’t fight Daniel and still make it across. He took a final look back. “Not coming?”
Daniel shook his head.
“Then damn you, Daniel Crowley!” Sloper turned and went on alone, his arms waving about as the planks lifted and fell beneath him.
He was most of the way across when a low growl stopped him cold. At the far end, with fangs bared and lips blackly curled, crouched an appalling white leopard.
Sloper let out a cry, almost losing his balance, but managed to turn and start back toward Everwood. That’s when the little white cat, Mallow, jumped onto the bridge. It stepped on Daniel’s shoulder and walked down his back, its eyes fixed on Sloper. With each step, the creature grew bigger, and finally huge—transformed, in fact, into a second leopard as fierce as the first.
The sunset caught a gleam of fear in Sloper’s widened eyes as he stepped backward, his arms flailing and the planks beneath him wobbling dangerously from side to side.
The leopard that had been Mallow crept slowly toward him, its head low.
“Get back!” Sloper shouted. He waved the knife blade threateningly, but it had no effect except to make the bridge quiver and roll. All the stresses began to loosen the lashings, and one of the barrels, then a second, broke free of the rope bindings and floated off.
“Ahh!” Sloper cried, struggling frantically to keep his balance. He teetered a final moment, then tumbled backward into the stream.
The splash he made hitting the water nearly upended the bridge, and Daniel, still on his stomach, gritted his teeth and gripped the planks with all his strength.
His situation abruptly worsened. The lashings fell away entirely, and the boards began separating beneath him. He heard voices shouting to him from shore, but all he could think was that he was now half submerged in snake-infested water and sinking fast. Desperate, he reached out and grabbed on to one of the floating barrels. It supported him, precariously, but left his legs hanging in the murk, his feet grazing the quicksand.
A second barrel floated within reach, and he managed to pull it against the first, hoisting himself mostly out of the water. Holding the barrels together took all his concentration.
�
�Son! Son!”
He was finally able to distinguish his father’s voice from the general roaring in his brain.
“Dad!”
“I’m throwing you a rope. Try to grab it!”
Through the twilight air Daniel saw the rope in flight, a brief hieroglyph against the still blue sky, before it splashed into the creek just out of reach.
“Try it again, Dad!”
Mr. Crowley hauled the rope back and again hurled it, this time landing it almost beside the boy. Daniel grabbed it tightly but, in doing so, lost his grip on one of the barrels. The whole lower half of his body sank into the water.
“I’ve got it! Hurry, Dad!”
His father began pulling, hand over hand.
A plank floated by. Then a snake, its head just above the waterline. Daniel froze. And was that another one, just behind the first?
“Hurry, Dad!”
The barrel, with Daniel clinging to it, continued to move toward the shore. But then his foot, dragging along the muddy streambed, caught on something—a rotted branch or vine, or maybe something worse. His father pulled, but Daniel and his barrel were stuck.
Daniel panicked at the sight of more V-shaped ripples just upstream from him. He twisted his leg around frantically until his shoe came off and he was free.
“Hang on, son!”
“Danny!” It was Emily’s voice. “You’re almost here!”
He was moving again toward shore. Toward her.
“I’m coming!” There were snakes; there was quicksand; but he just looked at Emily. Emily getting closer.
Very close now.
He felt his father’s strong grip on his arm, pulling him up, holding him steady. It was only then that the tears came.
Through blurry eyes, he could see Emily and Wesley. She flung herself against him. “You’re all right? You’re really all right?”
The Door in the Forest Page 17
