“Not even a hanging body in here either.” He relocked the ornate door and paused long enough to tap twice on the brass knocker. “No body’s home.” Now on his way to the ballroom, he was near the crucial part of his mission.
The dinner plates were properly rearranged to form a Hidden Mickey as a signal for his dad before he took his seat at the organ. As his hands rose over the ivory keys, he paused and glanced back at the banquet table. The warning against candles was ever-present in his mind, yet he knew he would still need one to get through the dark, winding passage. He hurried back to the table to grab the same lit candlestick as before and set it on the organ.
As his feet pumped the pedals and music poured out of the metal pipes, he kept on the alert for Gracey’s approach. When the bellows of the angry man could be heard, Peter grabbed his candle and ducked into the hidden passageway next to the organ. Pleased with himself when the little door slid shut, he waited until Gracey went up the stairs and into the hallway. His footsteps and muttering faded as he went deeper into the house.
“Now let’s have some fun in the attic!” Silently whistling Grim Grinning Ghosts, Peter took his time to climb the stairs and push open the secret door.
As Peter held the candle high, he became less jubilant. One small candle did little to dispel the darkness and gloom. It would be more difficult to explore all the treasures he didn’t get to see the first time. Fortunately for their plans, he had no trouble bumping into things and a variety of glassware that he just couldn’t see still got broken. As he went around the large portrait of husband number four, he let out a startled yelp. He found himself face-to-face with the stuffed crow that was perched on a dry tree limb. Its red eyes seemed to glow and move about in the flickering light.
With a self-conscious laugh, Peter realized the eyes didn’t really move. It was his hand that held the candle that shook. To make sure, he reached out to touch the dusty bird. “You look like Diablo from Sleeping Beauty! Now that I think about it, you also look like the bird that squawks at us when we ride out of the attic window and down into the graveyard in the Haunted Mansion.” Back to his old self, Peter set the candle on a nearby armoire and tried to flap the stiff wings of the bird. “Caw, caw.” His mimicry suddenly stopped. “Oops.” He found the wings wouldn’t go back to their original positions and hung awkwardly out to the side. “Maybe nobody will notice.”
In the insufficient light of his candle, Peter thought the sconces on the walls now looked like disembodied human hands that held torches. With a wish that he could light one of them to see for sure, his rapidly-shifting attention turned to a group of dusty trunks he had missed before. Constance had said this was her retreat from the world, so he wasn’t too surprised to find uninteresting women’s clothing in most of them. The largest camelback trunk, next to one of the oil paintings, was empty.
The noise from behind, even though he should have expected it, still surprised Peter. As he spun around, he knocked over yet another vase. To see the ghostly apparition of Constance in her wedding dress seemingly fly at him in the darkness was still unnerving. He didn’t have to rely on his acting abilities to fall backward over an embroidered footstool and cut his hand on the broken glass.
“Pete, are you all right?”
As Constance bound the gash in his hand, Peter had to remember to sound relieved to see his father. “Dad! Oh yes, I am so happy to hear your voice.”
Lance gave him a hug and a whisper. “Don’t overdo it, Petey.” He then spoke louder for Constance’s benefit. “I was so worried. Let me look at you.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the lady of the house move away to give them some privacy. “So far, so good.” Lance resumed whispering. “I think we did everything we were supposed to. Now we just have to snuff your candle and get out of here.”
“What if Gracey comes after us again?”
“We’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t hear us this time.”
When Constance told them it was time to leave, Lance and Peter looked around to make sure she hadn’t lit any of the candles around the attic. She looked a little curious when Peter made a point of blowing out his small flame.
Lance saw her look. “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to your little refuge here.”
A grateful smile crossed her lips at his thoughtfulness. It momentarily masked the sadness she felt because Peter would soon be out of her life. “That’s very kind of you, Master Brentwood.” She gave a fond, possessive look around the dark room. “This is all so important to me. Now you mustn’t tell anyone I said this, but I just might come back up here and hide away forever! They would never find me!” She gave a quick laugh that tinged on hysteria as she motioned for them to follow her through the second hidden passageway.
When the outside doorway slid shut, Lance motioned for Peter to head for the crypt where Wolf had been waiting all this time. The sound of the voices from the front of the house caused Lance to turn his head. Because he didn’t look where he stepped, the same rake whacked him painfully in the shin. Not able to stop his startled yell, he slapped a hand over his mouth. “Forgot about that stupid rake.” He didn’t need to glance around the corner of the house to see the reaction when he heard Gracey yell into the house for his relatives. “Aw, shoot. Here we go again.” With a groan, Lance hobbled after Peter.
When Gracey charged Lance with his wooden sword, Peter had already handed him the tree branch. However, the fight wasn’t going as well as it did the first time. Because he tried to overthink each move, Lance was awkward in his attempts to fend off Gracey’s blows. He stumbled more than once and took a few hits.
“Darth Vader, Dad! Use the Force!” Anxious to help, Peter jumped back and forth with his own stick. “Remember?”
Back on his feet, Lance knew what Peter meant and took the offensive. “I prefer Jedi Master, if you don’t mind.” The feints and blows he had used started to come back to him.
“Here comes the rest of ‘em, Dad.”
“Yeah, I see that. You know what to do.”
“Quit your chattering and fight like a man!” Frustrated, Gracey screamed at him when the tree branch solidly whacked him in the arm.
Wolf heard the fight as it progressed and ran out to concentrate on Rollo and Phineas. This time, Peter didn’t strike out at him as he ran by—for which he was grateful. Since he knew the musket wasn’t loaded, the wolf took it easier on the two men.
When Gracey abandoned the fight to go for his gun, the three travelers knew they had to leave before he had time to get back. Rollo, however, had a different idea. When the wolf suddenly stopped his attack on Phineas, he grabbed up the dropped, useless musket and swung it like a club. Caught unaware, the brunt of the blow landed on Wolf’s hind leg. With a painful yelp, he turned on his attacker and pulled the gun out of his hands again. With a loud crunch, the wooden handle of the gun was crushed. Rollo’s eyes got wide and he backed away from the teeth of the injured wolf. With a one-foot pivot, he turned and ran after Phineas who had already fled back to the mansion.
“We’re too late again. Here comes Gracey and all of them. Why did Rollo attack you this time, Wolf? Are you all right?”
Wolf took a trial step and found he was badly hurt. “I think I stopped fighting them too soon. That skinny one wasn’t scared enough. Oww, I can’t run, Lance. You need to quit talking to me. Take Peter and get out of here before Constance reaches us. If you’re too far away, maybe he won’t fire this time.”
“Get behind the crypt and lose yourself in the bushes, Wolf. It’s dark enough that you’ll blend in with the shadows. I’ll take care of Peter.”
Wolf limped away as Peter tugged on his father’s arm. “Dad, she has the axe again!”
“I know. Maybe it’s something we can’t stop, Pete. Start running! And, don’t look back!”
They heard the bang from the gun a mere moment before Peter heard what sounded like a bee fly by his ear. With a cry, he clapped his hands over his ear
s and didn’t need any extra encouragement to run for the trees.
“Leave the boy alone, you coward!” Constance let out an anguished scream and hurled her axe directly toward her husband’s back. “I won’t let you hurt him!”
“Oh my stars! Grab her, Rollo! She’s gone plumb crazy! Edward? Edward!”
“She already headed back to the house, Phin. Don’t worry. We’ll be able to corner her there. Is...Is he really dead?”
“He’s got an axe buried in the back of his head. What do you think, Rollo?”
As the adrenaline and the fear wore off, the gravity of the situation began to sink in. Rollo pulled the crushed hat off his head and held it over his heart. “I think I need a minute to gather myself, Phineas. This is awful. Never seen the like. The Master of the house is gone. The Mistress is off her rocker. I think it’s up to us to step in and do what’s right. There ain’t nobody else. Don’t you agree?”
As they slowly walked back to the house and their waiting wives, Phineas had another thought. “What’ll happen to Gracey Manor now? They’ve no young’uns.”
“That’s a blessing at this point, Phin. I sure wouldn’t want the house.” Rollo gave an involuntary shiver. “In fact, I don’t think I could ever step inside it again once we bury poor Edward.”
The two men stopped on the lawn to delay telling their wives what just transpired. Phineas gravely shook his head. “Too much death. Too much suffering. I don’t see how anybody would want to live here now.” He looked up at the fancy ironwork surrounding the balconies. “It’s a shame, though. Right pretty house.”
“We’ll get the caretaker and the butler to bring the body to the Conservatory. Ain’t there an old coffin down in the basement we can use for now? In the morning, one of us’ll have to fetch the sheriff from New Orleans. Maybe Cousin Al can do it. Pretty useless for much else….” Rollo crammed his hat back on his head. “We’ll have Constance locked up safe by then.”
“Hey!” Phineas punched the other man in the arm. “Did you see that candle go by that upper window?”
“Where?”
“Up there. Under the weathervane.”
“There ain’t no windows up there, Phineas. There ain’t even any rooms. You know that.”
Phineas gave a nervous chuckle and licked his dry lips. He was positive he had seen a candle. “Perhaps the house is already haunted.”
“No such thing, Phin. No such thing.”
Peter wasn’t sure if his eyes were actually open. It seemed to be just as dark whether they were open or shut. Something pink fluttered at the edge of his vision, but when he turned his head to look at it, it vanished. His eyes closed again in an attempt to clear his head. The pink sparkles returned like fireworks bursting in his brain. “Oh, yeah. Now I remember. How does Wolf do that time after time?” A shaky hand rose to his temple as the throbbing inside lessened a little. “Where are we?”
With great effort he managed to look around. He was still in the river—that much he could tell. It was now dark where it had been bright and sunny when they left Wolf’s village. When he heard voices, his head swiveled to the left. There stood the Shaman telling his four braves a story. He didn’t know whether to be happy or disappointed. “We didn’t make it.”
As he started to pull himself out of the water, something heavy brushed against his leg. “The canoe? Where’s Dad and Wolf? Maybe the Shaman knows what happened.”
On his hands and knees, he crawled out of the cold river. He heard screams that came from the east, but they didn’t register in his jumbled mind. When his eyes turned toward the Shaman again, the boy’s movement stopped. He should have been spotted by now. Wolf’s father just stood there as he talked and gestured to his braves as if nothing had happened. A quick look around the camp showed him everyone was in their place—but all of their actions seemed to be more like repeated animatronic gestures and motions. It was only when the steam train gave a sharp whistle before it chugged by that he realized he was back at Disneyland.
As the train passed the village, he dropped his head and remained motionless with the hope that no one would see him and call security. He wouldn’t have known how to explain his and the canoe’s presence. When the last of the excursion cars was out of sight, he got to his feet and looked around for his dad and Wolf.
Part of his dilemma was solved when Wolf limped out of one of the tipis as he finished the last button on his uniform’s shirt. “You okay, Peter?”
Peter tried to nod, but it hurt too much. “Yeah, except for a headache. And some weird pink sparkly thingys in my eyes. Have you seen Dad?”
Wolf motioned into the tent behind him. “In there asleep. I think the canoe whacked him on the head.” When he saw the look of concern come over Peter’s face, he gave a small smile. “He’ll be fine. It hit his head.”
To make sure he really was at Disneyland, Peter walked over to the Cooking Woman and lightly touched her fringed jacket. The gray head didn’t turn to him with a warm smile. She just kept stirring the pot. “I thought we were still at your home. It looks so similar. Smaller, but pretty close.”
Wolf glanced over at the figure of his father. “Well, I’m glad you got to meet them. I’ve been talking about you for years.”
“How’s anyone supposed to get any sleep with you two yelling out here?” Lance emerged from the tipi as he rubbed his eyes. It felt like some river sand was ground under each lid. Still drenched from the river, he was a mess. He saw Peter look up at his usually immaculate hair. He gave it a quick smoothing. “Better?”
Peter hid a grin. Lance had just smeared mud all over his head. “Yeah, Dad. Looks fine.”
When Lance noticed the mud all over his hands, he gave Peter “The Look” and went to the river to wash it off. With a grimace of pain, Wolf pulled the maintenance canoe out of the water and tipped it on its side to drain. Lance was still grumbling to Wolf as he dug the mud out from under his nails. “You could have said something.”
“Yeah, I could have. Listen, we need to get out of here before the next train comes by. We also need to figure out what day it is. I could only find two paddles, so Peter gets a free ride back to the Hungry Bear.” Wolf tried to move normally, but his injured leg caused him to stumble against the bobbing canoe.
“How’s your leg, Wolf?”
“Thought I was hiding it. There’ll be a nice bruise in another day, but I’m fine. Yours seems all right. So, here, get to work.”
Lance took the paddle that was thrust at him and mumbled as he climbed to the front seat. Peter took the middle as Wolf pushed them off the small beach and steered toward ‘civilization and the California freeways,’ as the Jungle Cruise skippers used to say.
The screams from Splash Mountain got louder as they neared the small dock at the far edge of the empty restaurant. Wolf pulled a set of keys out of the uniform he had stashed in the tipi and tossed them to Lance.
As Lance unlocked the rope gate, Wolf gave one last push with the paddle. Lance grabbed the dock and pulled them into position to secure the canoe.
“How come it’s dark now?”
“Don’t know, Peter. The time shifts work that way sometimes. We’ll know more once we find out what day it is.”
“You also haven’t explained why we didn’t come out through Big Thunder.”
“I know, Lance. Give me a minute.”
Peter and Lance followed Wolf as he slowly climbed the wooden steps to the main floor of the Hungry Bear restaurant. It was closed and all the serving windows were down and locked. Wolf went to one of the order stations.
“Order me a burger and fries, will you, Wolf? I’m starved.”
Wolf ignored Lance as he took one of the daily information leaflets from the front of the podium. His eyes got wide as he read the date.
“What does it say?”
“It’s Monday.”
Lance and Peter looked at each other and shrugged. “Okay, same day as we left. That should mak
e it easy.”
Wolf held the leaflet out to Lance. “Look at the date.”
“Yeah, Monday, just like you said. Oh. How did that happen?”
“Let me see, Dad.” Peter looked over his dad’s shoulder. “That’s dated a week ago. Did they forget to change out the paper? Maybe the Hungry Bear has been closed for a week and nobody thought to put in new stock.”
Wolf didn’t agree with Peter’s reasoning. “Let’s head to the Mansion and see if it’s back.”
“Can we ride it and say hi to Constance?” Peter was still worried about his friend back in the past.
“Let’s just see what we see.”
Wolf led the way through Critter Country. The canoe dock was roped off and silent. There were only a few guests walking in the same direction. Also wet, everyone just assumed the others had come off Splash Mountain and had likewise gotten splashed. Some, though, wondered why a dry security guard was escorting two people drenched from head to toe. The final plunge into the Briar Patch didn’t usually get guests that soaked.
“It’s back!”
Lance and Peter hugged each other, happy in their success. “Good work, buddy.”
“Can we ride it now?”
Lance looked to Wolf to see if he wanted to go through the ride, but he could tell his friend was deep in thought. “What’s wrong, Wolf? It looks like everything is back to normal.”
“Yes, I think you’re right about the Mansion. I also don’t see any indication of the arena for the Ceremonial Dances over in Magnolia Park. “
“Then what’s wrong?”
Wolf grabbed hold of Lance’s wrist and looked at his watch to see what time it was. “If this is correct, the Park is only open for another twenty minutes. You’ll have to wait on riding the Mansion, Peter.”
HIDDEN MICKEY ADVENTURES 2 Page 17
