Dismayed and confused, Wals knew there would be no more answers here. There was no Supply Store to get Rose her needed foodstuffs. There was no Doctor Houser to show the Zippo lighter and see what light he could shed on matters. There was no reason to linger any longer. Ready to drop, he looked down toward his feet. He now saw that Sukawaka was no longer below him. Instead, the mare was still calmly nibbling on the juicy grasses several yards away. “Great. Now you move,” he groused. She ignored his attempts to call her. When he whistled for her, she swished her tail and moved even farther toward the River away from him.
Stifling a curse, he knew he had to either let go or wait for someone to come by and help him get down. Not knowing who was left on the Island, the last option of waiting for someone might either take a long while or might not be particularly advantageous. He knew the Mark Twain would now be gone for hours. He hadn’t seen a canoe all day. The Island rafts were too far away.
He was left with the ‘let go’ option. “This is going to hurt.” He let himself down as far as his arms could reach. When he was hanging by his fingertips, he took a deep breath and dropped. Remembering to tuck his legs and roll, he hit the hard, well-packed dirt and rolled down the small incline. He came to rest face down in the dust. “Oww.” He groaned as the air in his lungs rushed out. Feeling hot breath on the back of his neck, he looked up as the mare nudged him in the shoulder with her nose. “Great. Now you come.” Rolling onto his back, he made a grab at the dragging reins to use them to pull him to his feet. But every time he tugged, the mare lowered her head and he wound up in the same position flat on the ground. Pretty soon, her nose was almost touching the ground and Wals was still laying there on his back. “Bad horse.” For once he was glad that his friends at the Fort couldn’t see him. With a toss of her head, she backed up a few steps, dragging Wals with her. Now within reach of a tree stump, he used that to get to his feet.
Finding nothing broken, he pulled himself onto the now-docile Sukawaka’s back and headed toward the wharf. His left ankle started to throb as he rode. With each painful motion of the horse, he began to realize that it should have taken him all of two minutes on horseback to reach the raft docks from the gates of Fort Wilderness. Instead, he rode for almost another mile. This helped him get a grip on the differences between the two places again. He had been daydreaming and had started to imagine sharing a certain log cabin with a certain beautiful blond.
When he finally reached the docks, Wals found the Mill had been surrounded by a new, restricting wooden fence. It was obviously closed for business. The rafts were across the River, secured to the dock by their rope cables. He could see none of his old friends around. A lone deckhand lounged in the shade of the paddlewheeler’s ticket booth, too far away even to holler a question. A few people from New Orleans strolled the dirt path along the River, but the general air was that of desolation, neglect. Or, Wals suddenly thought, or was it the air of change? Is that what I’m seeing?
“What was coming next?” he said out loud, trying to remember. “Everything had been closed down while they were….darn it, what were they doing? I wish Wolf was here. He paid more attention at those meetings than I did.”
As he headed the mare back to Rose’s cabin, he again thought about his lost friend, Wolf. Did Wolf get out of the path of that spooky whirlpool that caught me? Maybe he never got sent here like I did. Surely I would have seen or heard about him by now. Did he see what happened to me or did he think I drowned in the River? He had a sharp intake of breath. Or did Wolf himself drown in the River?
With more questions to ask and no answers to be found, Wals rode silently back along the dusty trail. This time he did notice the mare’s ears turning toward the Cave as he rode by. The horse seemed way too interested in the opening of the cave. Reining her to a stop, he began to carefully slide off her back, trying not to land on his sore ankle. The mare, seeing something fascinating to eat, started moving before Wals was safely on the ground. His inexperience with horses caused him to panic and jump away from her, landing firmly on his sore foot. “What is it with you and food?” he yelled at the unconcerned horse, cradling his foot as he leaned against the rock wall. “I liked you better when you were made of plastic!”
Realizing he was yelling at an animal and remembering why he had stopped in the first place, Wals clamped his mouth shut and hobbled over to the entrance of the unfamiliar cave. He was recalling the times he had run all over Tom Sawyer’s Island when he was young, but his experience in this time period told him this wouldn’t be the same cave. And from what Rose told him, it wasn’t even the cave she knew either. It had already changed.
As he started his slow entry into the darkness, Wals thought he heard voices or noises of some kind. Thinking, hoping, it was just the wind playing tricks through the rock formations, he was even more cautious as he proceeded forward. Not knowing the true passageway through the cavern, he nervously told himself to keep to the left at every fork. He hoped by doing that he would be able to find his way back to the entrance easily should he need to make a hasty retreat for any reason.
The noises he thought he had heard ceased except for the sounds coming from his own movements. Just then, he painfully banged his leg against some object in the dark. Off to the side, he could see a faint light filtering in through a hole in the roof of the cave. From the smoky dust circling eerily through that beam of light, he figured it was either a new hole or someone had been there recently. For his own well-being, he chose to dwell on the “new hole” theory. Bending down, he found the object he had run into was actually a chest made out of rough wood. There were two bands of metal, probably steel, bent over the domed top. He decided he would drag the chest over into that tiny pinpoint of light to get a better look. Finding the chest extremely heavy, he put his back to it and managed to push it, grunting and straining, until he finally got it close enough.
Once his eyes became adjusted to the feeble light, Wals saw an old lock hanging from the lid of the chest. Curiosity piquing, he wondered why the chest was there, and he just had to know what was inside. Not having a skeleton key handy, and still not being able to see very well, he felt around for a rock. When his hand found an abundance of loose dirt and rocks, he left the chest to investigate. Crawling over on his hands and knees, he found the beginnings of a rather large hole in the side of the cavern. Feeling upwards, it seemed like this was new, like someone was digging out another cave. Wondering if this new hole was intended to be a hiding spot for the chest he had just found, he found a good fist-sized rock, and went back to the chest with even more interest. Bringing the rock down on the lock with as much force as he could, he was dismayed to hear the metallic BANG echoing through the cavern.
Heart now pounding at his thoughtlessness, he eased out of the light and waited until the echo died, anxious to hear if there was any answering noise. If the sounds he had heard earlier were voices, they might come racing back to investigate. That probably wouldn’t be a good thing, he decided, breaking out in a cold sweat.
After waiting for a good five minutes, Wals could now relax a little, recognizing he was probably the only person in the caves at that moment. He returned to the chest and the lock. Taking off his shirt, he used his shirt to help muffle the noise he now knew would resonate from his efforts to get that old lock open. It took another four direct hits before the lock fell open. Wals quickly pulled his shirt back on in the chill of the still air. With shaking, excited hands, Wals set the lock aside and lifted the lid to the chest.
Clothes. “Clothes?” He couldn’t believing it. “How could it be so heavy with just clothes? Why would someone want to hide a trunk full of old clothes?”
Careful not to disturb the garments too much, Wals lifted the first layer of fine silk. It was a pink brocade dress from an era Wals didn’t recognize. Too many flounces and laces for his taste. Under that was something stiff made of pure white satin. He thought it might be a corset from the lacings up the front and wondered what Rose would lo
ok like dressed in that…. When he found himself fingering the material and daydreaming again, he gave a little laugh and snapped out of it. His fingers next found a heavy velvet-covered box. “This is more like it.” The dress and corset were carefully folded back out of the way. He didn’t want to pull the box out of its nestled place inside the chest. Finding a metal latch on the front of the box, he flicked it upwards. He heard a gasp and realized it had been him.
Catching every millimeter of light filtering in from that tiny hole in the ceiling, a large gem-encrusted goblet glowed and sparkled as it nestled in its white silk cocoon inside the box. As Wals moved the box this way and that, myriads of sparkles were flung at his dazzled eyes. He saw the surface of the goblet was etched with intricate patterns, weaving around what looked like brilliant purple amethysts and green emeralds and yellow citrines and red rubies set in the metal. The base of the cup proved to be flat, unadorned.
He looked quickly around him. There was no one there to see him. The light coming from the hole above him seemed to be shifting. It must have been getting late. He had to go. Should he take it with him? Whose was it? Did it belong to the owner of the dress? Was it stolen? Was that why it was being buried in a cave?
All these questions bumped against each other in Wals’ mind. Without another thought, he gave a resigned, “No,” and reluctantly closed the lid of the box. As he was setting it back in place, his fingertips brushed against another piece of clothing, but under that was something hard and cold. Curiosity overcoming the necessity to leave, he moved aside the clothes—a blue velvet riding jacket, if he had cared to look. Under the jacket was something else bright and cold. His fingers traced the metal and found it was another, plainer goblet made out of silver. Slightly lifting it, he could tell it, too, was very heavy. Emboldened, he felt deeper in the chest. He found loose coins lining the entire bottom of the chest, probably twenty or thirty pieces deep. He pulled out a handful of the coins and quickly stuffed them in his pants pocket next to the forgotten lighter.
Now he knew why this chest was being buried and why it was so heavy. With shaking hands, he carefully rearranged the clothes, smoothing them out as best he could. When he thought it looked just like it did when he first opened the chest, he took up the broken lock. “Oops.” This he couldn’t smooth out. The rock had dented the metal when it sprang open. He worked the lock through the two locking loops and closed it up as best as he could. He decided not to move the chest back to its original place as it would leave even more ruts in the dirt floor of the cavern. Wals just hoped whoever came for it would not notice it had been moved in the first place. He tried to smooth the dirt tracks but thought that made it look even more tampered. Just get out!
He counted the turns he made as he went back. Four turns to the right on the way to the entrance. Breathing hard, he stumbled out into the waning light and found Sukawaka with her reins tangled in some brush. With a worried glance toward the deserted Fort, he quickly climbed back on the horse and trotted her back to Rose’s cabin. With each bounce, he could feel the coins and the lighter rubbing against each other in his pocket.
He decided that this had been an interesting day so far.
“What am I going to do for food?” Rose looked worried when Wals told her what he had found at the Fort. “I…I can grow my own vegetables, but that’s not enough!” Her blues eyes looked beseechingly at Wals. He didn’t know what to tell her.
“Maybe it is time you moved back to civilization.”
Rose blushed and turned away. “I don’t fit in there. I can’t explain it well, but I’m just not the same as the other women,” she whispered, embarrassed. “They don’t want me.”
“I want you.” Wals hadn’t realized he said it out loud. The words surprised him, enough that he momentarily forgot which ‘civilization’ he had meant.
“You don’t know anything about me.” To keep her hands busy, she fussed with some carrots she was putting into a stew.
“I know you’re brave, well, except for your fear of heights, and you’re strong. You have a way with animals,” he counted off. “That’s a lot.”
“What’s my full name,” she asked with a coy smile, one that dimpled her cheek and sent a shiver down his spine.
“Rose Stephens.”
“Yes, but what’s my middle name?”
Wals stopped short. “I don’t think you ever told me. Want me to guess? Bertha Mae? Fanny?”
He was rewarded with a light laugh. “Oh, those are awful. It’s Aurora! I used to use it, but the women at the Fort made fun of me, so I went back to Rose.”
“Why, that’s a beautiful name. It goes with your blond hair.”
“Why do you say that, Mr. Walter P. Davis?”
“Oh, you know—Princess Aurora, the Sleeping Beauty?”
“A princess? Oh, I like that! Maybe that is why I remember the castle on your brooch.”
“Nametag,” he corrected automatically, not really paying attention. “Men don’t wear brooches.”
Her response was lost on Wals. His mind was besieged by a disturbing thought. Disneyland had Sleeping Beauty’s Castle. That was the castle depicted on his nametag. Sleeping Beauty herself was a tall, beautiful blond with high regal cheekbones and lovely blue eyes. When she had been hiding in the forest for her first sixteen years, she was known as Briar Rose. But that had been a woodcutter’s cottage and she had three companions—three fairies who lived as mortals with her for those sixteen years.… But, what was she doing in Frontierland with a wolf for a companion if this was an alternate reality? That was Fantasyland stuff. He stole a glance at Rose. Her hair was held back from her face with a black ribbon. The dingy white apron she had on covered the black bodice of her old floor-length lavender dress.
So, who was she? A cast member who portrays Sleeping Beauty in the shows at Disneyland? If that were the case, then why didn’t she recognize the nametag? She only recognized the castle. Her only other recollection was that of swimming in a pond.
No, it can’t be the other option. The age of castles and princesses was even further back in history than he now was. Anyway, wasn’t that just a story? A fairy tale?
Or, could it possibly be that she ended up here like he, and, apparently, Doctor Houser did?
“Wals? Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Rose was peering anxiously at him. So was the wolf. She looked confused. The wolf looked hopeful.
“I…I’m fine. Just lost in my thoughts,” he stammered. How do you ask someone if they are from hundreds or thousands of years in the past? Women generally didn’t like it if you were off on their age by two or three years.… He figured it would help if he could recall what was going to happen next to the Island.
“Rose, tell me something. You mentioned the tunnels through the cave had changed. Are you sure?”
Rose put a hand on Wolf’s head. He was standing next to her, favoring his hind leg; it was obvious his leg was starting to feel better already. “Yes, I’m positive. Wolf showed me over and over how to get through the tunnels quickly and safely. I know the tunnel I was in used to go all the way through.”
Wals hadn’t told her he had been inside part of the cave. He wanted to know it from her perspective. “Could you take me there? Could we see if anything else has changed?” And, hopefully jog my lousy memory.
“Of course. But, I don’t know if Wolf should go or not…. He seems to be doing a little better.”
Wolf himself ended that discussion by leading the way out of the cabin and heading toward the cave. Even though he still limped and wasn’t quite as quick as he normally would be, he gave no doubt that he was going with them.
Wals linked Rose’s arm in his as they followed. “I guess that answers our question!”
When they arrived at the entrance to the tunnels, Wolf stopped and sniffed the air. The fur on the back of his neck rose. It was obvious to him that the cave was not deserted this time. He just couldn’t tell who it was or where exactl
y they were inside the darkness.
Wolf blocked the entrance with his body. He looked expectantly back at Wals, hitting Wals with his bushy silver-tipped tail.
Giving a confused look at Rose, he knew the wolf apparently expected him to do something, but he had no idea what. “What does he want? I don’t understand.”
Rose looked over Wals shoulder. “Oh, he wants you to grab hold of his tail. He’s going to lead us through the caves. That’s what he did with me. Just don’t pull,” she advised. “He doesn’t like that.… And look out for that first low-hanging rock in the entrance.” She had a smug, private smile on her face when she remembered the effect that it had had on Daniel Crain.
Wolf led them silently through the twisting corridors. It got darker and darker the farther they got away from the entrance. Wals felt himself becoming angry again when he thought of Rose being pursued through here in the dark by Private Crain—who had conveniently disappeared before Wals could beat the crap out of him.
Unlike his two companions, Wolf had no trouble seeing in the darkness. Superior eye sight and a superior sense of smell along with his keen knowledge of the tunnels helped lead them directly to the blocked-off wall. Wals felt around the barricade and could tell it didn’t exactly meet the roof of the tunnel. It felt like rocks, boulders and fresh dirt to him.
Wolf led them down a different path now, moving cautiously. Neither of the humans wanted to speak out loud in the darkness. “A new railing had been put around the Bottomless Pit,” Rose did manage to whisper to Wals as they inched past it on the narrow wooden walkway. Wolf abruptly stopped and emitted a low growl. Wals felt in front of him and came into contact with the wooden chest again. It was still where he had left it when he was there. Apparently no one had come back yet to either retrieve it or to finish burying it. The old broken lock still hung loosely in the front, keeping it closed, if not exactly secure. “This feels like a sea chest,” Wals whispered to Rose. He couldn’t see Wolf eyeing him closely. Wolf could smell Wals’ scent all over the cavern and especially all over that chest. Wolf knew Wals’ trail ended here and had doubled back to the entry. What he couldn’t figure out is what Wals had been doing in the caves that he had said he knew nothing about and also why he hadn’t mentioned it to Rose.
Wolf! The Legend of Tom Sawyer's Island Page 22
