"He did do that," Stump remembered, unclenching his fists.
"Yes, and she got two of them back," Biz reminded everyone.
"Hey," Jim Dandy protested, "I got you Duke, didn't I?"
"He did that too," Stump cautiously agreed.
"What good's he done us?" Biz challenged, crossing his arms.
Duke got a real nasty look on his kisser when he heard that, the kind of look that sooner or later always gets him into deep trouble. Since he wasn't saying anything sooner, I figured later was what he had in mind.
"He got us his cousin, didn't he?" Jim Dandy swept a hand toward me.
"We wouldn't have needed either of them," Biz squeaked, "not if we'd all gotten a silver dollar from our mothers."
"Let me ask you this," Jim Dandy said, changing the subject as fast as he could. "Have you ever thought about what happens if Bo has enough shooting stars?"
"She never has enough of those," Biz scoffed.
"How do you know?" Jim Dandy asked. "She might be sitting on her throne right now, thinking, 'It's way, way too bright in here. I'm tired of all these shooting stars.'"
"Never happen," Biz squeaked, but you could tell he wasn't absolutely certain about it.
"Never?" Stump echoed weakly.
"But what if she did say no?" Jim Dandy insisted. "Then what would we do? I mean, we'd still need the crickets, right?"
Such questions crinkled up Biz's forehead and made Stump's eyes wild. One look told you that according to all reports, Bodacious Deepthink had always been willing to swap a cave cricket for a shooting star. No one had ever suggested otherwise—until now.
Twenty-three
Eats
"Can't you get by without the crickets?" I asked.
"Impossible," Jim Dandy stated. "We've got to have them to find our dads. So the question I'm asking is this—what do we give old Bo if she says no to shooting stars?"
Both Biz and Stump scowled as if it was a trick question.
"Duke," Jim Dandy said, making my cousin jump. "You tell them."
"An IOU?" Duke suggested. He'd always been a firm believer in them, so long as he didn't have to pay them back.
"Bo doesn't take IOUs," Jim Dandy chided.
"Oh," Duke muttered, deflating fast.
"Duke's cousin?" Jim Dandy moved on to me without having bothered to learn my name. "What would you give her?"
"Something else?" I had no idea what he was fishing for.
"That's it!" Jim Dandy whooped.
"But what?" Stump said.
"What else do we know that she likes?" Jim Dandy prodded.
"Eats?" Stump guessed, inspired.
"She is a rock troll," Biz reluctantly agreed. "She'd be hungry."
"So there's your answer." Jim Dandy bowed. "If we come up short on shooting stars, we offer her a feast she can't resist. And that's where our old friend Duke comes into the picture."
"I do?" Duke revived.
"He does?" Stump seconded, so surprised that his nostrils bubbled out some extra green froth.
"Indeed he does," Jim Dandy assured them, slapping Duke on the back in that especially friendly way he had. "We need someone to help us carry the eats."
"What kind of eats?" Duke sounded eager to please as a puppy.
"Oh, legs of mutton, wheels of goat cheese, a barrel or two of pigs' feet." Jim Dandy laid this out with a generous wave of his hand. "Some ox tails would go over big. The usual stuff that rock trolls gobble."
"Where are you going to get all that?" I asked. "You don't even have a dollar to buy a screen."
"Don't be so ignorant," Duke scoffed. "Trolls have their ways."
"Indeed we do," Jim Dandy agreed wholeheartedly. "And fine ways they are."
"She's going to want her stars," Biz stubbornly squeaked.
"But if she doesn't," Jim Dandy insisted, winking at me and Duke, "we've got a plan, right? So let's not worry our pretty little heads about shooting stars. Agreed?"
As Jim Dandy explained all this, Biz and Stump gazed toward the river, giving me the uncomfortable feeling that they couldn't bear to look Duke or me in the eye.
Twenty-four
Sniffing for Stars
Grandpa B always claimed that shooting stars were craters falling off the moon, though he had a twinkle in his eye whenever he said it. How many of them hit the ground? I don't imagine anyone knows for sure, but to find some of those that do touch down, you've got to look in the right places. It turned out that any place that was covered with trees and bushes and grass was the wrong place. When it came to shooting stars, plants hide things. That was why the trolls headed for the center of the sandbar, which was nothing but a huge sandbox, hardly a plant anywhere.
"Nose funnels are the only way to go," Jim Dandy lectured. Digging out a pair of small brass funnels from his alligator bag, he stuck them into his nostrils.
"Lot you know about it," Biz squeaked. "All you really have to do is clear your sniffer out good and clean so there's nothing between it and the aroma."
To prove his point, Biz pulled a small gold box out of his alligator bag. The box was filled with a moldy bluish powder, a tiny pinch of which he packed up his nostrils, one at a time. The sneezes that followed were like cannon blasts and bounced him backwards two hops.
"Rookies," Stump muttered, shaking his head to show how pathetic Jim Dandy and Biz's approaches were. From inside his alligator bag, he lifted out a wire cage and from inside the cage he coaxed out a teacup poodle, all done up in ribbons and frills and hardly bigger than a pocket-size teddy bear. After patting the toy-size dog gently on the head and whispering softly in its ear, he set it on the sand and called out, "Fetch!"
The poodle darted off into the night, with Stump grabbing a burning stick from the fire to chase after him. Jim Dandy and Biz grabbed torches and took off running too, snouts working hard. I tried a sniff or two myself, with no results other than to make Duke laugh.
"You haven't got the nose for it," he told me, and then, to prove he had, he stuck his nose straight up in the air and took one long, hard sniff. "Yup," he gloated. "They're out there."
"So what do they smell like?" I wanted to call his bluff.
"A little like a grilled cheese sandwich that's been burned." His nose twitched. "Only sweeter."
The sandbar we stood on rose as high as a good-size hill, with a crown that was as flat and large as a football field. Duke and I dragged the screens and other mining stuff up top and waited for instructions. It took several trips, and for once in his life Duke did most of the work. He didn't want me touching anything valuable, and when it came to his friend's mining equipment, most everything was priceless.
The night was dark and, so far, moonless. We wouldn't have been able to spy Jim Dandy, Biz, or Stump if they hadn't been carrying torches. By then I'd figured out that I was probably going to need help finding the stone feather and, unlikely as it seemed, Duke was my best bet. I started my campaign to win him over with a shot in the dark.
"So what's Jim Dandy promising you?"
"Nothing." Duke answered way too quickly.
"Whatever it is," I predicted, "he'll never deliver."
"Which proves that you don't know doodley about Jim Dandy Eel-tongue."
"I know his own friends don't trust him."
"They're river trolls," Duke shot back. "What'd you expect?"
"I don't think they brush their teeth either."
"Never." Duke was happy about that. "Don't floss either."
"How about cleaning up their rooms?"
"They don't have rooms."
"Go to school?"
"Unheard of." Duke grew happier by the minute.
"Sounds perfect," I said. "Think I could join up?"
Not that I had any intention of signing up, but I had to burst my cousin's bubble somehow. Wanting to tag along was tried-and-true.
"Not a chance," Duke cautioned, stiffening.
"What'd they say when you asked to join them?"
"Never
mind about that," Duke growled.
He took such an active dislike to my questions that I naturally kept right on asking them.
"Maybe you could ask for me," I begged. "They'd probably listen to you."
"Look," Duke threatened, shaking a fist in my face, "we both know you brush your teeth twenty times a day and keep your room neat as a box of fancy chocolates, except for all the toads and turtles and stuff. So let's not pretend you actually want to be a troll. Okay? We both know that what you're really up to is finding out what Jim Dandy's promised me. Right?"
"True enough," I cheerfully admitted.
"All right, then." Duke checked over his shoulder to make sure we were alone, then spoke out the side of his mouth. "Jim Dandy says he can get me a second horn."
"That's all?" I knew there had to be more because Duke still wasn't looking me in the eye.
"And a tail."
"Whoopee."
"And maybe some hooves," Duke snapped, finally looking me square in the eye. "But not for sure on those."
"What do you want with all that?"
"If I'm going to run with river trolls," Duke said, "I'll need them."
I never got a chance to ask where he came up with that brilliant idea. Just then Stump came rushing up with his toy-size poodle in one hand and a burning stick in the other. A guilty look was slipping off his face.
Twenty-five
Duckwad
"Jim Dandy wants you," Stump relayed to Duke. "Over that way."
The troll waved toward the back side of the island, and Duke took off at a full gallop, no questions asked.
As soon as Duke was gone, Stump turned shy, but not so shy that he left me standing atop that sandbar all alone. He stood there petting the toy poodle and sneaking peeks at me.
"I suppose you're wondering about my brother?" Stump said at last, cranky and defiant at once.
"The one Jim Dandy mentioned?" I asked, feeling my way.
"That's right." Stump nodded slowly. "Duckwad was his name, and you can call him a fool, if you want. I don't mind that. But all that other bad stuff that trolls say, that don't belong on him. That's not called for. Uh-uh."
"What other stuff?"
"What other? Like his cutting little trolls' hair off when they sleep. Duckwad only got caught at that once. Said he'd never do it again. See? Far as I know, he kept that promise, except for maybe once or twice. Twice, maybe. And they said he tied fish tails together with string. Never did. I did that. He took the credit is all. See? And all that stuff about cheating at riddles? So what if he wasn't any good at 'em? Not every troll is. And so what if he liked to brush his teeth? Is that some kind of crime?"
"I see your point," I said.
By then Stump had forgotten all about being shy and was crowding me.
"Duckwad wasn't anywhere near so bad." Stump thumped a foot down. "He just never had any luck with them calendars. He got his months wrong. That's all. See? That's why he didn't go looking for our fathers in time. See what I'm saying? He thought March. It was April. See? He wasn't any coward."
"Are you saying he got turned into a human?" I asked, picking my words carefully.
"Yes," Stump sobbed. "That. It might work out for you, but it's worse than lightning bugs up the nose for us. And the stain don't ever leave the family. Ever. Burned right in. But it's not fair for everybody to go around looking down their snouts at us 'cause of some calendar Duckwad didn't have any luck with. Uh-uh. Call that fair? Huh?"
"Sounds like you miss him," I guessed.
With that, Stump stopped talking altogether and turned his back to me, acting as if a poodle hair had landed in his eye. Even his poodle saw through that and gave his big ugly snout a lick to cheer him up.
"I don't miss him at all," Stump sniveled, "not with all the dirty tricks he played on me. I just wish he'd known how to read a calendar, that's all."
"What if he stood up to this Bodacious Deepthink?" I said. "Isn't that supposed to bring him back?"
"So they say." Stump shrugged hopelessly. "But that will never happen. He's a human now and doesn't even know he needs to stand up to her. No, he's gone for good, but I didn't come here to boo-sa-hoo about Duckwad."
That sounded like two or three lies rolled into one. While he was delivering them, he stretched his neck up as high as he could and checked all around us, making sure we were alone. Lowering his voice, he whispered, "I came to say that you better take your cousin home."
He must have thought I was going to argue with him, because he wouldn't let me answer.
"Yes, home," he went on. "That's what I came for. To tell you that."
"You mean Jim Dandy doesn't need Duke anymore?"
"Jim Dandy can use all the Duke he can get," Stump warned. "But your cousin might want to keep all the Duke he can. He might need it. Things around here might not be so safe for any Dukes, so make him go. He don't belong here, that's all. Bodacious Deepthink takes one sniff of your cousin and ... huh! I don't want to be thinking about that."
"I'm surprised you're telling me all this."
"Me too," Stump glumly admitted. "Helping out's a weakness of mine. My own sweet Mrs. is always saying it's so, but nobody bothered to tell my brother what was right. He was all the time hunting up shortcuts. Nobody said, 'Don't do that. Or that. Or that.' Maybe if somebody had, he might not be in the fix he's in. See? So you got to make your cousin go home. Working in Bodacious Deepthink's mines is worse than anything."
Didn't I feel small then? For even thinking I couldn't trust Stump, I mean. I was trying to figure out some way to thank him and also ask for their stone feather when a cannon blast stopped me cold. All of a sudden Stump could hardly catch a breath, and when he did manage to say something, his voice was raspy and low.
"Don't say nothing on me," he begged. "Please."
Of course the blasts hadn't been from a cannon but from Biz, sneezing. Clomping up to us, he planted his torch in the sand and said to Stump in a rushed squeak, "Jim Dandy wants you and that star hound of yours. He thinks he's on to something. Off that way."
And Biz pointed toward the back side of the sandbar, the same place Stump had just sent Duke.
Twenty-six
King Biz Mossbottom
"What are you looking at?" Biz grunt-squeaked.
There wasn't much I could say, since I was staring straight at him. My loss of voice suited Biz fine, though, for he was in a mood to talk.
"I'll tell you what you're looking at," Biz said airily. Straightening up, he placed one foot slightly forward and tucked a hand behind his back. "You're looking at the future king of the river trolls, King Biz Mossbottom, the First." He lifted his chin in a noble pose. "I suppose that surprises you."
"Not at all," I answered, quick as I could manage.
"You're lying," Biz squeaked. "I've never met a one of you things from Blue Wing that's any good at lying."
If he was trying to pick a fight, he was on his own. In my politest voice, I said, "Sounds right. How are you going to become king?"
"Simple. By bringing back our fathers. All of them."
I nodded to show that I was keeping up with him so far.
"Step one is getting rid of your cousin," Biz squeaked. "Once he's gone, Jim Dandy will get serious about raiding his mother's purse for a silver dollar. There's still time to do things the way they're supposed to be done."
"Makes sense to me," I agreed. "How you going to shake Duke?"
"I'm not. You are. If I send him packing, Jim Dandy will get sulky and won't be worth anything. He learned all about the sulks from that wife of his, Fancy Leechlicker. Real muckety-mucks, those Leechlickers. But much as I hate to say it, I may need Jim Dandy's big mouth to do some talking before this is all done."
"What makes you think my cousin will listen to me?"
"Easy," Biz predicted. "Tell him that I said I will turn him into stone the first chance I get."
"That ought to help," I granted. Clearing my throat, I managed to add, "If you don't mind m
y asking, what about the people you've already turned to stone? When are you planning to undo them?"
"After we get our lucky crickets," he said, "there'll be plenty of time for that."
"How do I know that you'll do it?"
"I'm giving you the word of a soon-to-be king," Biz squeaked, outraged.
"Not enough," I bluffed.
"All right," Biz grumble-squeaked, backing off. "I'll give you something that will prove I mean business."
Turning to the stuff that Duke and I had lugged to the top of the sandbar, Biz dug out his alligator bag and rummaged around inside it. A greenish glow seeped out of the bag, and there may have been some singing inside the bag too, although it was faint and could have been coins or necklaces jangling against each other. Try as I might, I couldn't manage a peek over Biz's shoulder to see if there was a stone feather in there.
Whatever that bag held, there was a lot of it. None of it was packed too neatly either, not the way Biz was rooting around and gibbering, "It's got to be in here" and "Who threw that in?" and "No, not you." And all the time the squeak of his voice got higher, and higher yet, and tighter and tighter, until at last he found what he wanted and cried out in an extra-high, relieved voice, "Here!"
With both hands, he lifted out a crown, which he gently sat atop his head.
"I had this made for my coronation," he trumpeted.
"It's something," I acknowledged.
And it was. Three frog skins stood up on its front, covered in mold and slime that made my nose wrinkle. Dripping Spanish moss was draped over their shoulders like royal robes. They were standing on a headband made from skin that had once been cozy with a diamondback rattlesnake. The snake's rattles hung down between Biz's orange eyes, which were blazing.
"You can hold on to this," Biz decreed, "as collateral. Deal?"
"Deal," I echoed.
Lifting the crown off, Biz pushed down on its middle tine and said something that sounded sort of like a sneeze and sort of like saying "chicken noodle soup" real fast. In a twinkling, the crown shrank down to ring size.
Horns & Wrinkles Page 7
