Garage Sale Riddle

by Suzi Weinert

  “Danger such as…?”

  “Storms with horrendous thunder and lightning. Volcanoes rumbling before belching fire, smoke and lava, then raining ash and debris. Earthquakes where the ground shakes, the earth opens and solid things break or crash. Floods where life-giving rivers go mad, destroying all around them. Hurricanes or tornadoes when wind goes crazy.”

  “So you’re saying they reasoned angry dragons did these things.”

  “That’s part of it,” the deputy said. “The ancients also feared certain animals. Large birds that could grab animals or children. Bats sucking blood. Predators with fangs and claws like lions and alligators. Animals with sharp horns and antlers to gore and maim. Scaly reptiles, many poisonous, living in trees, water and on land.”

  “I get it.” Jennifer looked at the figurine in her hand. “They mixed the dangerous animals they feared with the natural events they didn’t understand. Dragons fit both.”

  “And they found evidence.”

  Jennifer looked skeptical. “Evidence? But…”

  “Yes. Fossilized dinosaur footprints and bones existed then as now. Finding them seemed to prove dragon existence for ancients, and the word spread as cultures grew and trade developed.”

  “This is fascinating.”

  Deputy Martin nodded and smiled. “Yes. Maybe we can talk more about it later, but now I need to start my rounds to keep the house secure.”

  CHAPTER 53

  Grammy stretched comfortably on the lanai chaise. “Is it dinner time already?”

  Becca stood. “If you don’t mind my borrowing the car, my friend Tony invited me to dinner and a movie tonight. Or are you dining out?”

  Jennifer checked her watch. “Almost seven o’clock. What do you think, Mom?”

  “I’m tired. Let’s order pizza and salad again. We can make it a party like last time. Julie, would you like to join us?” She turned to Deputy Martin, who had just appeared on the porch.

  “My shift here lasts another two hours. Yes, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d enjoy it.”

  They locked the door when Becca left, studied the pizza menu and ordered.

  Jennifer put her dragon figurine on the kitchen table and explained to Grammy their earlier conversation about it.

  Julie picked it up. “I saw it right away upstairs because once you’re ‘into’ dragons, you notice first thing if one’s around.”

  “What can you tell us about this dragon, Julie?” Grammy asked.

  Deputy Martin lifted the statue, examining all sides.

  “Beautifully carved wood, so well-crafted the figure almost seems alive. I’m no expert, but this looks like an Asian or Eastern dragon. But they normally have no wings, yet this one does. Any maker’s mark on the bottom?”

  “No, but I haven’t used a magnifying glass.” Jennifer got one from the kitchen desk and studied the figure’s underside. “Nothing here. Want to take a look?” she passed them.

  Deputy Martin squinted through the glass. “I don’t see any mark. So this is a puzzle. Most all dragons have scaly, serpentine bodies, but Asian dragons typically have no wings because they started as water snakes. As centuries passed, some ‘evolved’ a dragon head, a spiked spine and reptilian legs, which enabled it to prowl on land and water, increasing its range and scope of power. Water dragons have power over storms, rains, drought or floods. That’s especially true for Japanese dragons, which rule rivers, lakes and oceans, as well as controlling rain.”

  Grammy raised an eyebrow. “But aren’t they all imaginary?”

  “If imaginary, why do they continue to fascinate us? Why did Alice in Wonderland face the Jabberwocky or the Hobbit confront Smaug or Harry Potter endure a terrifying dragon contest? And have you seen the recent movie series, How to Train your Dragon?

  “But,” Grammy interrupted, “we expect fantasy creatures in fantasy stories.”

  Deputy Martin tried another approach. “As I said, early people didn’t understand what caused horrific natural disasters like tidal waves, earthquakes, avalanches or volcanoes. A fire-breathing dragon provided as good an explanation as any. Asians thought by admitting his existence and power, they could show respect and honor, which might keep the dragon from getting angry and causing trouble. Instead of facing a hopelessly random and dangerous world, this gave the illusion of some control over otherwise chaotic natural events.”

  Jennifer picked up the figurine. “Are you saying Asians didn’t consider their dragons evil? Because in Europe…”

  “You’re right on target.” Martin leaned forward in her chair. “Asian dragons had enormous power, which careful humans might influence. Europe’s dragons were all vicious and hungry for human blood. Western dragons have wings, and not bird wings but bat wings or pterodactyl wings. At first, they too represented natural powers beyond human control, but under the church’s powerful European influence, dragons began to symbolize evil that humans should destroy or slay. Here’s one example of the East/West difference: Eastern dragon blood’s positive power to heal is the opposite of Western dragon blood’s lethal power to poison.”

  “Did Indians on our own continent conjure up dragons?” Grammy looked doubtful.

  “Yes. Statues of feathered Quetzalcoatl dragons are common in South America, and our Cherokee Indians worshiped a snake dragon that carried a magic stone on its head. Similar creatures are found in Hopi, Huron and Zuni religions. Many are more like huge, frightening birds, like the legendary thunderbirds.”

  When the doorbell sounded, hand on holster, Deputy Martin accompanied Jennifer to open it. A man held a large quilted pizza warming bag. Grammy indicated the foyer table, where he pulled the pizza boxes out of the bag and handed them to Jennifer as Grammy tipped him. The deputy twisted the door lock.

  “I’ll take a quick look upstairs before I join you,” she said. ”Please start while the pizza is hot.”

  By the time they set the table, arranged the salad and pizza and lighted the candle, the deputy returned. They ate with gusto. Jennifer offered key lime pie for dessert.

  As they finished the meal, Grammy asked, “What other cultures told dragon stories?”

  “As I mentioned earlier, just about every culture has dragon tales. That’s part of the intrigue for me, because it’s a mystery and I’m a detective. Sorry, I can’t help more with your own dragon. Maybe ask at an Asian antique store. Whatever the verdict, this dragon looks unusual and is exquisitely crafted.”

  She looked at her watch. “My replacement should be here any minute. Don’t know if I’ll be sent back again, so I’ll say good-bye as if I won’t be coming back. Good to meet your family. Stay safe here and on your trip home.”

  The doorbell rang as if on cue. Peeking outside, Jennifer announced, “Deputy Ryan’s back.” They welcomed him in and said farewell to Deputy Martin. Ryan immediately started his rounds of the house while Jennifer and her mother tidied the kitchen.

  Jennifer yawned, “I’m a tired cookie again tonight, Mom. How about you?”

  “Add twenty-six years to your age and you’ll know just how weary I feel tonight. I think it’s more than what happens each day, but the accumulation of non-stop challenges day after day.”

  “Amen.” Jennifer found the list she’d started that morning and yawned again. “Estate Sale Prep Day 1,” she read aloud and crossed it off. “Transporting contents of Safe,” she read before describing Goodwin’s roll-along suitcase suggestion for valuables. “Mom, you said earlier this trip north might be the last one for a while. Do you still prefer driving to flying?” Grammy nodded. “Then why don’t we rent a big, comfortable luxury car?”

  Grammy smiled. “I’d love it, Jen, and it simplifies taking what’s in the safe. At an airport they’d X-ray the carry-on suitcases.”

  “Okay, I’ll cross off ‘Airline Reservations Home’ and substitute ‘Rent Touring Car.’ Last item is ‘Select and Reserve Hotel.’ This afternoon I called several nice places for good rates and picked a two-bedroom suite at a Naples hotel
on the beach, subject to your approval. One room has a king bed and the other has two twin beds for Becca and me. It overlooks the Gulf and we could move there tomorrow to give the estate sale planners the run of the house.”

  “Superb choice, dear. Staying there will be a posthumous gift from my dear Antonio because of the cash he left for me in the wooden chest.”

  Jennifer hugged her mother. “I love you lots.”

  “I love you, too, dear.”

  They both yawned on the way upstairs.

  After Jennifer’s head touched her pillow, she lay quietly. Pushing the day’s events aside, she glanced at the dragon’s outline, barely visible in the night light’s glow. “I learned a lot about your kind today, but you remain a mystery.” Her mind segued to mysteries, which brought her to her riddle and map. She thought about Wilbur and Raiford meeting by the creek and suddenly she felt super relaxed. Then came the visions...

  CHAPTER 54

  In the north field’s extensive acreage, three horses pulled three plows guided by three strong men. Working side-by-side, with each plow a horse-length behind the next, they plowed three parallel rows at a time and turned in unison at the row’s end to continue the same process aside the previous rows. The boy led Birdsong to the end of a row where he knew the men paused to water their horses and themselves.

  “This here’s my paw,” Wilbur said. “This here’s Mr. Raiford Birdsong, Paw.”

  The sweaty farmer wiped his brow with a soiled sleeve before extending his callused hand to the newcomer. He noted the six-shooters strapped around the stranger’s waist. “Frank Gentry. This here’s Gentry Farm.”

  “Your son tells me Yanks been hassling you.”

  The farmer eyed his boy sternly. The lad knew not to tell strangers who they backed in the war.

  “May I speak with you privately for a moment, sir?” Birdsong asked.

  Gentry looked around cautiously, but with his field workers and son nearby, he saw no risk and walked with Birdsong out of earshot of the others.

  “Sir, I respectfully ask for your help. I’m Corporal Raiford Birdsong, who rides with Capt. Mosby’s 43rd Cavalry. I’m in these parts on a special mission with something important for Gen. Robert E. Lee. Last night Union soldiers took me by surprise and chased me through the woods. In the dark, I lost my way and my horse, a saddled black mare. If I can find my horse or borrow one of yours and if you can give me directions toward Great Falls, I’ll be on my way.”

  The farmer studied the stranger before him with new interest and made a decision. “Wilbur’ll take you on back to the house, where you’ll find your horse. It wandered in this morning. When we come in from the fields for lunch, we’ll give you a bite to eat and some provisions for your ride.”

  “I thank you, sir, for your help and for your good will.”

  Birdsong followed the boy home, waiting outside while the child fetched his mother.

  “Missus Gentry,” Birdsong said to the harried farm wife, her forearms covered in flour as she eyed him from behind the screen door. “I met your husband in the field. He told me to wait here for him until he comes in for lunch.”

  She pushed the screen door ajar with an elbow, her floured hands held limp in front of her chest. “You do that then.” She gave him a polite smile, though still focused on kitchen distractions. He wondered how many hungry farm workers she fed three times a day.

  Wilbur took him to the barn where his horse stood in a stall. “Well, hello again, my Blackie.” He patted the mare’s neck. The horse gave a low nicker of recognition. He turned to Wilbur.

  “Any chores I can help you with while I wait for your paw?”

  “One of my jobs is mucking out them stalls. Here’s a pitchfork. You can help if you want to. Watch out for the milk cow. She kicks at anybody edging up behind her.”

  While they worked, Birdsong asked: “You got a surface here in the barn where I could do some writin’?”

  “Sure do. I’ll show you when we finish. And, mister, thanks for helping me out with my job.”

  “We men got to stick together. You fed my horse and then you found me. It’s fair I do for you in return.”

  Swelling with importance, the boy smiled as they finished the job together.

  “You got any writin’ paper?” Birdsong asked, waving his pencil stub.

  “No, but I can get you a flour sack.”

  “That’ll do,” and when the boy brought the sack, Birdsong spread it out on the barn’s work table while the boy perched on a nearby hay bale. “I want to make a map of that house foundation where I spent the night. You know this area purty well? Think you can help me with landmarks?”

  “Landmarks?”

  “Landmarks are things that don’t change much even if hundreds of years pass by. Things like big rocks, trees that live a long time, bridges, lakes, stone fences, mills, farms, plantations…”

  “Roads and railroads?” Wilbur volunteered.

  “Yep, and towns and villages and important buildings like stores or taverns. Also streams and rivers. For instance, one important landmark in this area is the Potomac River.”

  “Well, my paw done told you the name of our farm and the one you’re talking about over there is the Parker farm. It’s only about three hundred some acres but our farm is a thousand. I’m only seven but I know my numbers and I can cipher, too. Selby done taught me.”

  They heard a loud bell clanging. “That’s just three rings. It’s the coming-in bell. Maw’ll ring the dinner bell next.”

  “So we got us a river and two farms. What else?”

  “Well, Colvin Run Mill’s in Great Falls. And over there is the AL&H Railroad. Sometimes we hear a train whistle if the wind’s blowing right. My paw says it connects Alexandria with Falls Church and Vienna and all the way to Leesburg. I ain’t never been to Leesburg, have you?”

  “Matter of fact, I have. Nice place. Those railroad letters you said, would that be the Alexandria, Loudoun & Hampshire?” Wilbur nodded. “Hey, boy, you’re real good at these landmarks.”

  “Down the hill from that foundation isn’t really a dirt road, more like a wide path, but folks around here use it all the time for horses and small wagons.”

  “Does it have a name?”

  “They just call it the “windin’ path,” cause of the way it twists around. But I got something even better.” A knowing smile brightened the boy’s face. “On that Parker property between their foundation and the trail below is a rock so big my paw calls it a boulder—only it’s flat on top. And it has a second flat rock set on top of it and more on top of that. And all that sits inside a circle of trees. My paw says in olden times it was a holy place for the Indians. He says he ain’t never seen nothing quite like it. One of our hired hands who draws real good, he drew a picture of that place on a piece of wood. My maw nailed it on a wall inside the house. I’ll show you when we eat lunch.”

  Birdsong rolled up his flour-sack list, intending to pace off exact distances before he drew his map. When he left this farm, he’d return to the foundation to get his map right.

  Just then, they heard the farm bell ring six times. “That’s dinner,” cried Wilbur. “Come on. We gotta wash up first. I’ll race ya to the pump.”

  Since the farmer and his hired hands already circled the pump, they got in line to share the same chunk of strong soap and drink from the same tin cup when their turn came.

  “You gotta take off your gun belt. My maw don’t allow no guns past the back entry.”

  Birdsong hesitated, but complied. Still, he chose a seat where he could see his holster and get to it fast if necessary.

  Inside, the missus and her helpers waved them to tables with an empty dish at each place before passing serving bowls of stew and a platter of biscuits. The women bustled around the men, grateful their hidden stores of flour and lard had evaded earlier Union raids but concerned about the mostly vegetable chicken stew.

  “When the Blues stole our cows and pigs,” Wilbur confided, “they on
ly left chickens because they couldn’t catch them. I catch chickens all the time for Maw but when they told me to help ’em, I pretended I didn’t know how.”

  Birdsong wondered what the family would do when they used up these birds. He felt guilty adding another mouth to feed on their diminishing stores. He looked at the women and girls.

  “When do they eat?” Birdsong asked Wilbur.

  The boy mumbled through a full mouth of food, “When the men finish and leave.”

  Birdsong couldn’t help noticing the blond-haired girl. Their eyes locked for an instant of shy but powerful attraction. In another life, he thought, they might meet, court, marry and live long, happy lives together—maybe right on this farm. But not now. Not during this God-forsaken war.

  He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Every time when he glanced up, she gazed back at him.

  When the meal ended, the farmer told Selby to prepare a food package for Birdsong. His wife frowned but told Selby to hurry it up. Gentry gave Birdsong the requested directions and brought his horse to the hitching rack outside the back door. While Birdsong waited near the kitchen for the food, the blond-haired girl approached him. “My name is Selby. Here’s your food. I put in extra biscuits and buttered ‘em, too. Wilbur says you want to see the picture.”

  “Why, yes, Miss Selby, I do.”

  She led him down the hall and they stared together at the artwork while filling their peripheral vision with each other. An energy passed between them, followed by an awkward moment.

  “You…you leavin’ today?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Got to deliver something important for the military.”