“Good. We can do that!” said Annie.
We can? thought Jack. Milk cow? Make corn bread? And what’s “the rough”?
“Sam, where’s the rough?” asked Jack.
But Sam had fallen asleep.
“Sam?” said Jack.
“Shhh, let him sleep,” Annie whispered.
Jack nodded. He followed Annie down from the loft and across the dirt floor. She pushed aside the bearskin, and they stepped out of the cabin.
“Why did you promise to do Sam’s chores?” said Jack. “We don’t know how to do all that stuff.”
“It was the only way to keep him from trying to work,” said Annie. “He really needs to rest. Don’t worry. We can figure them out. What’s first?”
Jack looked at their list.
“Split wood,” he said.
“How hard could that be?” said Annie. “There’s the woodpile. There’s the ax.” She strode over to a stack of wood in the front yard. An ax was sunk into a fat log.
Annie rubbed her hands together, then wrapped them around the ax’s long handle. She pulled and pulled, but the ax didn’t budge.
“Let me try,” said Jack. Annie stepped aside. Jack gripped the handle and pulled as hard as he could. But the ax stayed in the log.
“Forget it,” said Jack. “It’s like trying to pull the sword from the stone.”
Annie laughed. “I guess we’re not meant to be king,” she said. “So, what’s next?”
“Milk cow,” Jack read from his list.
“All righty,” Annie said cheerfully. She led the way to the shed next to the cabin.
Inside the shed, a cow was eating hay and swishing her tail. A three-legged stool and a tin pail stood in the corner.
“You try first,” said Annie.
“Me?” said Jack.
“I tried the ax first,” said Annie.
Jack put the pail under the cow and moved the stool close to her. Then he sat down.
The cow gave Jack a look. Then she whipped him in the face with her tail.
“Oww!” said Jack. He leaned forward and stared at the cow’s udder.
Jack looked up at Annie. “I have no idea what to do,” he said.
Annie laughed again. “Me neither,” she said. “We’ll come back to this, too. What’s next?”
Jack jumped up from the stool and looked at their list. “Get water from the spring,” he said.
“I saw two jugs by the door,” said Annie. “I’ll get them.” She ran to the cabin and came back a moment later with two brown jugs.
“Heavy,” Annie warned. She gave one to Jack.
The jug was surprisingly heavy. “They’ll be heavier with water,” said Jack. “This isn’t going to be easy, since the spring is a mile away, ‘through the rough.’ Whatever that means.”
“I’ll bet that’s the rough over there,” said Annie. She pointed to the woods on the other side of the clearing.
Jack and Annie wound their way through the stumps and stone piles until they came to the woodsy area, thick with underbrush. Wild grapevines twisted through bushes and around bare branches of small trees, binding it all together.
“It looks rough all right,” said Jack.
Annie pointed to a narrow path. “I’ll bet that’s how to get to the spring,” she said. “Want to give it a try?”
“Sure,” said Jack. “Let’s go.”
Carrying the jugs, Jack and Annie started down the path. They pushed aside tangled vines and branches. Crows, sparrows, and woodpeckers swooped overhead. Squirrels ran up and down the small, bare trees.
Down the path, the rough got rougher. The path nearly disappeared. The tangle of undergrowth was so thick that Jack began to lose what little hope he had.
“I can’t see pushing our way through this stuff for a whole mile,” he said.
“Me neither,” said Annie. “Let’s go just a little further and see if it opens up again.”
Jack and Annie pushed past more brambles and vines. “This whole journey is leading nowhere,” Jack grumbled. “No spring water, no split wood, no cow’s milk. Worst of all, no Abraham Lincoln. We’ve missed our only chance to use the magic to have a private meeting with him.”
“I know,” said Annie. “But we couldn’t just leave Sam to try to do his chores. Offering to help him was the right thing to do.”
“I know,” said Jack.
“It’s weird,” said Annie. “Even though helping Sam isn’t part of our mission, I feel like doing one good thing is somehow connected to doing another good thing. If we’re helping Sam, we’re also helping Penny.”
“Yeah …,” said Jack. Despite his worries, he agreed with what Annie said. “There’s only one problem: we have to get this feather from—”
“Yikes!” said Annie.
Jack looked back at her. “Yikes, what? You forgot we had to get a feather?”
“No. Yikes, did you hear that?” she whispered.
“Hear what?” whispered Jack. He held his breath and listened.
“A growl,” whispered Annie.
Jack looked around, his heart pounding. “Like, uh—a wildcat growl? Or a wolf growl?” he asked.
“Like—that growl,” said Annie.
Jack heard the long, low growl. He heard twigs breaking. The hair went up on the back of his neck.
CHAPTER NINE
Corn Bread and Molasses
“Turn around slowly,” Jack said to Annie.
Clutching the water jugs, Jack and Annie turned around and started back the way they’d come. They tried not to make noise, but sticks and branches cracked and snapped.
The growl came again. Louder.
“Forget slow!” said Jack. “Run!”
Annie bolted ahead through the brush. Jack ran after her. His heart pounded. Brambles and vines blocked their way. Thorns snagged their clothes. They ran as fast as they could, not knowing if all the breathing and thrashing sounds were coming from them—or from the beast chasing them.
They burst into the clearing. Jack looked back. He didn’t see a wolf or wildcat, but he wasn’t ready to stop yet. “Keep going!” he cried.
Jack and Annie tore across the scrubby clearing. Finally they came to the cabin.
Sam was standing by the woodpile, swinging the ax! He gracefully split a log in two. He looked up at Jack and Annie and smiled. “How do?” he said.
Jack and Annie laughed as they tried to catch their breath. For some reason, Jack felt safe now, with Sam. “Fine!” he said. “Fine, fine, fine!”
“How do you do?” said Annie. “Why are you splitting wood?”
“I said to myself, I ain’t going to lie in bed forever,” said Sam. “My headache stopped as soon as I started my chores. I figured the two of you had left.”
“Oh, no, we tried to do your chores,” said Jack. “But—”
“We were headed to the spring to get water and we heard a growl,” said Annie.
“Like a wolf,” said Jack.
“Or a wildcat,” Annie said.
“So we ran,” said Jack.
Annie held up a jug. “No water. Sorry.”
“No milk, either,” said Jack.
“No split wood,” said Annie.
“No corn bread,” said Jack.
Sam gave them a big grin. “Don’t worry. I took care of milking the cow, and I found water in the rain bucket. The corn bread’s baking now.”
“Wow,” said Annie.
“That’s amazing,” said Jack. Now that Sam was better, he wondered if he could lead them to the president. “Do you still have time to help us find Abraham Lincoln?” he asked.
“Sure,” said Sam. “I gave you my word.”
“Great. Do you think he’s still riding his horse in the country?” said Jack.
“Nope. He’s not riding anymore,” said Sam. “But I guarantee you he’s around here.”
“Like where?” said Jack.
“Don’t worry. I’ll introduce you to him very soon,” said Sam. “Let’s go inside first.�
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Sam stuck his ax in a log. He picked up an armload of wood and headed into the cabin. As Jack and Annie followed, Jack glanced at the sky. The sun would be going down soon.
Inside, Sam put more wood on the fire. Then he lit two oil lamps. “Would you like to have some corn bread with butter and molasses?” he asked.
“Oh … wow …” Jack didn’t know what to say. He was desperate to look for Abraham Lincoln, but he was also very hungry.
“I’d love it!” said Annie.
“Me too,” said Jack, relieved. “We’ll eat fast. And then we can look for Abraham Lincoln, okay?”
“Yes indeed. But first, you-all sit down,” said Sam.
Jack and Annie sat on small tree stumps that served as stools. Sam lifted the lid on a pot hanging over the fire. The delicious smell of corn bread filled the air.
Sam moved the pot to the wood table. Then he sliced pieces of steaming bread and put them on wooden plates. He smeared butter and dark molasses over the bread and ladled milk from the pail into wooden cups.
Jack sipped the sweet milk and ate the hot, buttery corn bread. “Yum,” he said. He thought it might be the best meal he’d ever had.
“You really worked hard after we left,” Annie said to Sam.
“I like to make things nice for Sarah for when she gets home from school,” the boy said.
“Do you ever go to school?” asked Jack, his mouth full.
Sam nodded. “Since Pa left, I stay here to watch over things and do chores. But Sarah comes home and shares what she’s learned. I do homework and everything.”
“Have you lived here a long time?” Jack asked, looking around at the crude cabin.
“A few years,” said Sam. “We came from Kentucky. Pa and I cut our cabin out of the wilderness. We chopped down trees to make a road. We rolled fifty logs to this site and put up these walls. Did it all by hand and all without nails.”
“Whoa,” said Jack. It sounded like work for the strongest men, he thought, but Sam couldn’t have been more than seven or eight at the time.
“We did as best we could with the furniture,” Sam said with a laugh. “Someday we’ll do better.”
“It’s not bad,” said Jack. He looked at the cabin with new eyes. It seemed like a miracle now—everything made by hand, without the help of machines or even nails.
“You make all your own food, too, don’t you?” asked Annie.
“ ’Course,” said Sam. “We have our crops, and Pa hunts for our meat, or he did when he was here.”
“I wouldn’t be a good hunter,” said Annie.
“Me neither,” said Jack.
“Me neither,” said Sam. “I shot a turkey once. Then I took a good hard look at the bird. I was so taken with its beauty, I ain’t pulled a trigger on a wild creature since. That’s why we haven’t had any meat since Pa left.”
“Well, you do a great job making corn bread,” said Annie.
“You sure do,” said Jack. He took his last bite, finished his milk, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Okay. Now they had to look for the president. Through the cracks in the cabin, he could see it was getting darker.
“Did you get all your chores done?” said Annie.
“Nope. I ain’t worked in my Dilworth speller yet,” said Sam. “But I don’t really consider that a chore. It’s my favorite thing. You could say I have a great thirst for learnin’.”
“So do we,” said Annie. “What’s your homework for today?”
“Annie,” said Jack, trying to catch her eye.
“Hold on, I’ll get the speller that Sarah brought me from school and show you.” Sam crossed the room and scrambled up to the loft. “The lesson I studied this morning is parts of speech,” he called down.
“We have to go,” Jack whispered to Annie.
“We can’t hurt his feelings,” whispered Annie. “Just let him show us the speller.”
“But we have a mission—” Jack started.
“Here it is!” said Sam, climbing down from the loft. He grinned at them and held up a tattered book. “Would you mind giving me a little test?”
CHAPTER TEN
Readin’ and Writin’
“We don’t mind,” said Annie.
“Annie,” said Jack.
But Sam opened the speller and handed it to Annie. “Parts of speech,” he said.
“Okay,” Annie said. “What is a conjunction?”
Sam bit his lip. “Let’s see … a conjunction is a part of speech that joins words and sentences together,” he said. “Some conjunctions are and, but, and because.”
“Perfect!” said Annie.
“Yes, perfect,” said Jack. “Here’s an example: Jack wants to leave, but Annie is ignoring him.”
“Good example,” said Annie. “What is an interjection?” she asked Sam.
“That’s a part of speech that expresses a sudden passion of the mind,” said Sam, “such as ‘Alack!’ or ‘Alas!’ or ‘Fie!’ ”
“Good,” said Annie, laughing, “except Jack and I don’t use interjections like those. We express a passion of the mind by saying things like ‘Oh, man!’ or ‘Oh, wow!’ or ‘Whoa!’ ”
“Yes, that’s right,” said Jack, glaring at Annie. “Like ‘Oh, man, time is running out!’ Or ‘Oh, wow, the sun is going down!’ Or ‘Whoa, we have a mission to complete!’ ”
Annie laughed again. “Right, that’s how we use our interjections,” she said to Sam. “What else is in your book?”
“Spelling and grammar rules,” said Sam. “And quotes from the Bible and fables.”
“Cool,” said Annie.
Sam closed his speller. “I only wish I had more books,” he said. “Anyone who’ll give me a book is my best friend. I’ll walk miles to borrow it.”
“Jack would, too,” said Annie. “And Jack and I both love to write, too. Don’t we?” She looked at Jack.
“Yes, we do,” said Jack, sighing.
“Oh, I do, too!” said Sam. “Neither my pa nor my ma ever learned to write. But I love it. I write words in the dust or the sand, even in the snow. I write them in the dirt floor with a stick.” Sam laughed. Jack couldn’t help smiling. “Why, I write on wooden shovels with charcoal!” Sam leaned forward and said in a hushed voice, “But the best thing in the world to write with is my quill pen and my blackberry ink!” Sam’s face glowed in the firelight.
“Oh, wow, you do love to write,” said Jack. “So do I.” Jack forgot about Abraham Lincoln for the moment. “I love to make up my own stories.”
Sam smiled. “Me too,” he said. “And now I want to tell you-all a good one. I meant to tell you this before, but I got kicked in the head before I could. I’m kind of famous for playing pranks on folks. But the two of you don’t deserve—”
Suddenly noises came from outside: rumbling and neighing.
“What’s that?” said Annie.
Sam froze. Then he turned to Jack and Annie, his eyes wide. “A wagon!” he said. He jumped up and rushed to the entrance of the cabin and pushed aside the bearskin.
“Pa!” Sam shouted, and he disappeared outside.
“His dad’s back?” said Annie.
She and Jack hurried to the doorway and peeked out. Four horses were pulling a wagon through the cold dusk. The rickety wagon was filled with kids and furniture.
They watched as Sam ran toward the wagon and the driver pulled the horses to a halt. Sam’s pa jumped down from his bench and threw his arms around Sam. They hugged for a long time.
Then a woman stepped down from the driver’s bench. Three children scrambled down from the back. They stood smiling and giggling beside her.
“Son, I want you to meet my wife and your new ma from Kentucky,” Sam’s pa said. “And these are her children and your new sisters and brother, Elizabeth, Matilda, and John.”
Each kid said “howdy” in turn.
“Howdy, son,” Sam’s new ma said. “I’ve so looked forward to meeting you. Thomas is awful proud of you and your sister. He say
s you’re a good reader and a good writer.”
“We hear you’re a good woodchopper, too!” said the boy named John.
“And you like to tell stories!” said the girl named Elizabeth.
“And play pranks!” said the girl named Matilda.
“We brought you some books!” John piped up.
“And a feather mattress!” said Elizabeth.
“And a washstand and some soap!” said Matilda. “Come look!”
The children grabbed Sam. He laughed as they pulled him toward the wagon and started showing him all the things they’d hauled from Kentucky.
Jack smiled. Sam wouldn’t be sad or lonely anymore, he thought. It made him feel happy to see such a good thing happen to Sam.
“Let’s slip outside and hide in the shed,” Jack said to Annie. “So we don’t have to explain where we came from.”
Jack and Annie pushed past the bearskin into the shadows of twilight. They crept into the cowshed and peeked out.
“Pa?” someone shouted. “Paaaa!!!”
Across the clearing, a girl came running. She wore a black cape with a hood.
“Sarah! My girl!” Sam and Sarah’s father rushed forward and threw his arms around his daughter.
Sarah started sobbing.
Her father hugged her. “Don’t cry, girl,” he said. “I brought you a whole new family. We’ll all take good care of each other now. Come on, let’s go in, and you can meet everyone. You’ll love them all, Sarah, I promise. I give you my word.”
As everyone headed into the cabin, Matilda exclaimed, “My goodness, you built this by hand?”
“What a wonderful job you did,” said Sam’s new ma.
“It’s going to get better,” said Sam’s pa. “We’re going to make a real door, aren’t we, boys? And we’ll make a real floor with wood, patch the roof, and put mud in the chinks between the logs.”
“Yes, sir,” said Sam and John together.
Thomas held the bearskin for his wife and all the children. Then he followed them inside.
Jack and Annie could hear the sounds of happy conversation coming from the cabin.
“Wow, what a day to be with Sam, huh?” Annie said to Jack.
“Really,” said Jack. “But what should we do now?”
Magic Tree House #47: Abe Lincoln at Last! Page 4
