“We’re leaving!” Henry said. “We’re heading back to the house.” He carefully wrapped the point of the sword in a dust rag. “No telling who’s around here.”
“I thought you said it was only the wind that slammed the door,” Benny said, his head tilted to one side.
“It probably was,” Jessie soothed.
Henry gave a last look at the tidy library—so different from when they’d first entered—then locked the door.
With the prowler on their minds, everyone hastily mounted their bicycles. As fast as they could, they biked back to Pete’s house. Benny’s legs had never pushed so hard.
Back in the house, however, they tried to forget the slammed door. Maybe it was the wind, maybe it was the prowler spying on them, but whatever it was, they were safe and sound now.
“One more night!” Benny crowed. “And Grandfather will be here. He’ll be proud we found the rest of the sword!”
“Thanks to you,” Jessie said, giving his hand a squeeze.
“Just think,” Violet said happily. “Tomorrow we’ll be going home.”
“Yes, but we still have tonight to get through,” Miguel said gloomily.
“No problem,” Henry said. He was worried about Miguel, though. The slim boy was so sad. It wouldn’t be long before he knew whether his father was alive or not. “Miguel, why don’t you help me chop wood?” Henry asked. “We’ll leave a nice stack for Pete.”
At supper they lingered over their spaghetti and meatballs, enjoying their last night in Pete’s house.
When they’d finished eating, Henry fit the sword together on a braided rug before the fireplace. Even though the blade was rusty and black, it was graceful and beautiful.
“I can imagine how the sword will look when it’s polished. The silver and gold will gleam,” Jessie said, admiring it.
“Such a wonderful sword,” Violet said. “Captain Howard must have been very proud to have been honored with such a gift.”
“The Civil War was over one hundred years ago,” Jessie said thoughtfully. “I wonder what happened to Captain Howard.”
Henry, busy polishing the hilt, said, “Oh, he probably retired to his farm near Gettysburg and lived to a ripe old age.”
“What makes you think the Captain was from Pennsylvania?” Miguel asked.
Henry shrugged. “Just a guess. He may not have been.”
“I’ll bet he looked handsome in his uniform,” Jessie said, gazing at the sword.
Henry chuckled. “You’ve got a vivid imagination, Jessie.”
Jessie laughed. “I’m not the artistic one.” She glanced at Violet. “Violet is.”
Violet’s cheeks grew pink. She did love music and her violin, and she did enjoy painting.
“Time for bed, everybody!” Henry said. “The earlier we go to bed, the earlier we’ll get up. Grandfather said he’d visit us tomorrow, and if I know him, he’ll be here for breakfast.”
“We need to leave Pete’s house spick-and-span, too,” Jessie said. “Pete will be glad for the wood you left him, Henry.”
Henry nodded. “And I’m certain he’ll be pleased when he sees how clean the windows and floors are.”
“I hope so,” Jessie said.
“I’m sure he will,” Violet said, smiling at Jessie. They had really worked while on their adventure, but now that it was almost over, they felt good.
Jessie picked up the pitcher. “I’m going out to fill this with water,” she said. “I know Benny will want a drink before he goes to sleep.”
“You’re not afraid, are you?” Violet asked. “Maybe the hummer will be outside waiting for you.”
Jessie laughed. “I’m not frightened at all.” She moved to the door. “Besides, I’ll only be gone five minutes.”
After Jessie left, Benny and Miguel went to bed while Violet set the table for breakfast. She smiled as she set a place for Grandfather.
Henry carefully rewrapped the sword in the dust rag and waited for Jessie’s return.
Outdoors, Jessie stepped quickly to the pump. She didn’t intend to tarry any longer than necessary.
“Hooo, hooo,” came a strange call from the trees.
Jessie halted, listening intently.
“Hoooo, hooo.”
She stared at the large oak. Then a smile broke over her face. The yellow unblinking eyes of an owl stared back at her.
“Go ahead and hoot, Mr. Owl,” Jessie said as she pumped fresh cold spring water. “I’m not afraid.”
A twig snapped, but Jessie kept pumping as if she hadn’t heard a thing.
Footsteps approached. Jessie froze. The stranger was back again! A cold chill ran up her spine.
All at once she whirled about, flinging the pitcher in the air. She’d almost reached the door when a cloth bag was thrown over her head, blotting out sight and air. Her arms were pinned to her side.
“Henry!” she screamed, but her muffled voice was lost in the cloth. She struggled for a breath of air.
“The sword is mine!” the stranger growled in her ear. “Get out!”
Jessie’s heart thumped against her ribs, but she knew what to do.
“Do you understand me?” The prowler growled menacingly.
Suddenly, Jessie kicked the man’s shins hard, and he let go of her arms to grab his painful legs. She yanked off the bag and gulped in air. She yelled, “Help! Help!”
Yellow light streamed from the house as Henry tore open the door.
“The prowler!” she shouted, pointing at a shadowy figure disappearing in the brush.
The bushes violently swayed back and forth. An instant later a car’s engine started, and the intruder sped away.
Henry dashed to Jessie’s side. “Are you all right?” he asked with concern, throwing his arms around her.
She nodded numbly, glad for Henry’s warmth. The water pitcher was forgotten as they hurried into the house.
“Jessie!” Violet said, rushing to her side.
Once inside, Henry bolted the door. Jessie sank down before the fire with Violet beside her. Henry brought her a glass of orange juice.
“H-he told us to get out! That the sword was his!” Jessie shuddered. “That awful, awful man! He almost smothered me! If I hadn’t kicked him hard, I wouldn’t have escaped!”
“It’s over,” Henry said softly. “He’s far away by now!” But his heart was beating rapidly when he glanced at Jessie’s white face. He wondered if the locked door could keep out such a determined stranger! |