* * *
Just as Stephanie had observed, it had no legs, and this it used to its advantage, simply floating across fallen branches and tree stumps towards their running figures on a large cushion of invisible air. Just like a ghost would. And that was the scary thing; it was a ghost!
“Don’t look back,” Matthew cautioned. He had come up from behind and was now outrunning both girls.
“Faster,” Stephanie warned Nora, on whom she was piggybacking. “Don’t let him catch us.”
But the black figure was closing in with long, outstretched hands and a confidence that could only heighten everyone’s fear.
“Almost there,” Matthew cried out with what was left in him, but as they stumbled out of the greenery and onto the moonlit plane, he tripped and fell and his sisters outran him.
The ghost caught up with him!
“Matthew,” his sisters cried a little farther off. They were immobile with fear.
Black, slender fingers swept up to the book Matthew still clutched and started wrestling for it with him. The demon before him had no face and lacked a definite form, but it sure knew what it had come for and appeared ready to struggle with him for it all that night. “Let go of me,” he yelled with all his might. “Let go of it!”
Funny enough, Matthew was beginning to feel drowsy and lethargic, and could not make out the form before him anymore as everything started turning into a blur. Heavy sweat covered his forehead and he thought his movements were becoming sluggish.
Half-heartedly, he saw a heavy pine branch swing across and through his black opponent. Was that Nora doing the swinging? “Get away from him!” she was screaming. “Get away from my brother!” Brother? He must be in a new world after all!
Matthew smiled peacefully as his sister kept swinging the stick over his head. Had she not noticed it was ineffectual? Couldn’t she see the stick swinging through the ghost? His hands were becoming too lethargic for the scuffle he was in, but before he could resist any more attempts by his rival to wrestle the book from him, the hardcover instantaneously erupted into flames and the black spirit abruptly vanished!
The boy regained his strength and acuity, dropping the book reflexively, and the flames died down. Surprisingly, they had never been cooler and he’d felt no pain all the time the book was burning.
“What was that?” Stephanie exploded as Nora helped up their foster brother.
“A demon,” Matthew gulped, picking up the cold book.
“A demon?” Stephanie began, staring into the forest. “How—How did it get here from hell?”
“We must go as far from here as possible,” Nora charged. She brushed off the dirt on her person. She still shook from the shock of what just transpired.
Matthew looked puzzled. “But why was it after the book?” he wondered. “Where did it come from?”
“Hell?” Stephanie reminded him.
They distanced themselves from the forest.
“Can’t argue with that,” Nora agreed, fidgeting all over. “Look . . . we must go home now and destroy the book! That thing will surely come back for it.”
“Typical Nora,” Matthew jeered her. “I should’ve known.”
“Well, the last time I checked it was all your fault,” she threw back. “You can’t judge me when it’s all your fault.”
“Is that why you tried to take the book?” he asked her. “To right all my faults?”
Nora didn’t know what to say and clenched her fists instead.
“Guys, we can’t continue like this,” Stephanie said, exasperated. “We must unite if we’re to...”
“Shhhhhhhhh,” her foster brother silenced her.
They heard horse hooves.
And the distinctive voice of Mary Ann.
“There must be a pathway ahead,” Matthew whispered, breaking into a run. “She must be in a horse-driven wagon, so there’s bound to be cowboys.”
“And what do we do when we meet her? Kidnap her?” Nora asked him and scoffed. “We’re Indians, remember?” She followed behind Stephanie.
A pathway lay ahead, and they could now see the horse-driven carriage with its two headlamps illuminating this rough track. Taking some more strides, they crossed the road and moved away on its other side to hide in the tall grass. The high-pitched voice of a girl giggling in the coach with boys could now be heard.
“It’s her,” Matthew confirmed. “Quick, we must get her.”
“How?” Stephanie whispered.
“I don’t know . . . yet,” he confessed. He could now see the boys in the wagon. They were dressed like cowboys, and there were four men dotting rifles and stationed round the wagon’s outside four corners. “There must be a way,” he insisted, racking his brain.
“In case you haven’t noticed, dude, we’re Native Americans?” Nora tried to break into his bonehead again. “Although I prefer my previous attire, thank you. This one itches.”
Stephanie snorted.
“I’ve got a plan,” Matthew announced, and scampered ahead of the trotting horses before his foster sisters could stop him.
“What does he have in mind?” Stephanie wondered.
“I’m as lost as you are,” Nora said.
Unexpectedly, the carriage came to a halt very close to their hidden position.
“An Indian,” one of the men shouted.
“He looks hurt,” another fellow declared, coming down from the wagon. “Let us help him.”
“DID HE LIE ACROSS THE ROAD?” Nora mouthed with alarm.
Stephanie only had admiration for her brother. She heard the sound of the men’s shoes as they alighted from the coach. “Come on,” she urged Nora. “Let’s get Mary Ann.”
Both girls sneaked towards the wooden carriage. The boys inside it were coming out to help the men, but Mary Ann and another girl remained inside. The two Indians crept up to the door the travelers had left open in their excitement and suddenly stood up to face the children inside.
“O.K., who’s Mary Ann?” Nora asked and Stephanie pointed her out. The young ladies inside the carriage were lost for words. They couldn’t even scream.
Literally, Mary Ann was carried out of the coach and the Quentin girls disappeared with her into the tall grass. She started struggling and screaming. “Indians!” the remaining girl finally assisted. “INDIANS!”
Those still trying to figure out what had happened to Matthew came hurrying back to the coach, but when they heard what the girl was yelling, they returned back to Matthew’s prostate figure and became deeply puzzled by its nonexistence. “They took Mariana!” the little girl in the coach frantically shouted at them. “They took Mariana!”
“Where did they go?” a grumpy old fellow grumbled.
“That way,” she pointed out.
There were gunshots.
“They’re shooting at us,” Nora exclaimed as they moved away from the coach. The piercing screams of her hostage weren’t helping matters.
“Touch her,” Stephanie whispered.
“What?”
“That’ll make her well again.”
“But I’m doing that.”
“Not her clothes.”
Mary Ann stopped screaming and went limp in Nora’s arms as soon as she was touched. She also became heavier.
Another gunshot.
“Mariana! Mariana!” the boys and men called out as they fanned out in the tall grass. “Mariana! Where are you?”
“Where’s Matthew?” Nora asked Stephanie with dreadful frustration.
“I’m here,” he announced, popping out from the tall grass. Quickly, he withdrew the book from his person and skipped to the fourth page. He grabbed the hostage by a finger and she was aroused.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, pulling away her finger. “Where am I? You’re kidnapping me.”
Nora clamped Mary Ann’s mouth shut and was bitten. The girl broke free and she gave chase.
“You’re letting her get away,” Matthew accused his sister.
“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” the grumpy old man ordered the searchers. “You will kill her before we can find her.”
“Those Indians might have bows and arrows,” one of the boys objected. “They’ll silently pick us all out if we don’t scare them.”
“I said hold your fire,” the older fellow warned.
Matthew crept up to Nora in the tall grass and smiled at her. “Thanks,” he whispered, but she didn’t return anything.
“Matthew Quentin,” Mary Ann whined underneath Nora. “Please, don’t kill me.”
“I won’t if you obey me,” Matthew snapped at her. “Give me your hand.”
She did so willingly.
And Nora collapsed on the field.
“She’s gone,” Stephanie joyfully observed behind them.
“How on earth?” Nora began as Matthew slipped the book back into his shirt. “How the hell did you do that?”
“There they are,” the old cowboy discovered. “Round ‘em up.”
“Run,” Matthew yelled, picking himself up. He stared into the muzzle of a gun. The girls also picked themselves up. There was no need to run anymore.
They were surrounded by the rescuers.
“Indian scum,” a big man bellowed angrily and smacked Matthew right across the face, forcing him to crash to the ground. “What have you done to my daughter?”
“We’re not Indians,” Stephanie cried. “Leave my brother alone.” She never knew she was speaking a native tongue.
“Where did you take Mariana?” the man repeated, grabbing Nora by her shirt. “Let us hang them this night,” he told the others. “They’ve killed my daughter.”
“We cannot do that, Tom,” the old man objected, coming up to the circle. He wore a kind of military uniform underneath his coat and had a soldier’s air around him. “We must take them to the lieutenant colonel. Who knows, they might lead us to Sitting Bull, himself.”
“And what of my daughter?” a surprised Tom asked. “What of Mariana?”
“They’ll be forced to tell us about her whereabouts when we get to the fort.”
“Not on my life,” Matthew muttered under his breath. Unlike Stephanie, he was beginning to realize they were speaking a foreign language. Nobody appeared to be taking interest in what he was saying.
“We’ll take them to the fort right now,” another coated soldier declared. “Custer’ll be glad to see them.”
Matthew’s eyebrows almost came together as he tried to say something in English, cursing his new possession of limited vocabulary. “Girl outran us,” he achieved, grinning foolishly and Nora stared at him.
“Yes,” she agreed in English. “Girl outran us.”
“Girl very fast,” the old man mimicked with scorn. “Take these liars away! They must have been sent by Sitting Bull and knew that Mariana is your daughter, Tom.”
“We no liars,” Matthew protested, testing his new grip of English. “We Americans! Look our faces.”
“You’re Indians, you fool,” Tom snarled, grabbing the boy’s shirt and shaking him vigorously. This action caused the book to slip out from the lower edge of the traditional dress Matthew was wearing. The frontiersman started. “Well, well, well! What do we have here?” he snapped, picking it up. “Stealing books, are we?”
“They must have come in through the mountains and killed someone for that,” another man suggested.
“No, we didn’t,” Matthew opposed in his native tongue, but was ignored. The old soldier turned to him.
“Dunno what you’re saying, son, but Custer’s got interpreters and he’ll be very eager to hear your defense.”
“In any damn tongue, boy,” another fellow added. “In any damn tongue.”
Matthew was tied up like his sisters and pushed towards the coach. His eyes followed Tom as the soldier slipped the book into his coat pocket and climbed in behind the coach.
Getting it back was now a priority.
The Black Book Page 37
