A Man of His Word

 Good morning and happy August!

Life has been a whirlwind these last several weeks! Writing camp has come and gone. I've worked at the County Clerk's Office, worked as an Election Judge, and spent 7.5 hours hand counting ballots after the election. (Don't worry, we only count a small percentage of the polling places.) I have a long to-do list for this month and I'm trying to work my way through it. I have written and edited, ordered proof copies of two books, worked on blog posts, started to learn how to do something new, and wished I could just read these stories that are in my brain and have yet to be written or finished.

 Speaking of stories, here's one I wrote a while ago. I can't remember if it was last fall or in March. Anyway, it's been a while, so if you read it at camp perhaps you won't mind reading it again. And if you didn't read it at camp, I hope you enjoy it today.

 

A Man of His Word

    The colored leaves crunched under his horse’s hooves. Red leaves, yellow leaves, brown leaves, orange leaves. Different shapes and colors.
    But he didn’t notice.
    The ferns growing beside the stream where the earth was dampest were a mixture of gold and green, and their feathery texture was a sharp contrast to the rest of the foliage on the ground.
    But the rider didn’t notice.
    Setting in the western sky, the autumn sun cast a golden light on the leaves and onto the waters of the river as it raced down over the rocks in a variety of waterfalls that stretched from one bank to the other.
    But the rider didn’t notice.
    All he noticed were the faint tracks he was following and the chill in the air. The sun would soon be gone and with it the illusion of warmth it offered.
    “Please, Lord, let me find him soon.”
    He rode without calling, following the footpath that ran along the bank of the river.
    “Please, Lord, keep him safe. Help me find him.”
    He rode for some time until the sound of the waterfall was faint behind them and all around was still. Then his sharp ears caught the sound of something or someone. A slight pressure on the reins halted his horse, and both man and animal froze.
    “Why didn’t I think to bring a line so I could go fishin’?”
    The voice was just through the trees.
    As quietly as he could, the man slipped from the saddle and dropped the reins to the ground. He moved forward on quiet feet.
    There he was.
    The rider breathed a prayer of thanksgiving in his heart as he softly approached. “Ready to go home now, Robert?”
    The young man addressed turned quickly and almost lost his balance. The rider quickly caught his arm and steadied him before letting go.
    “I ain’t goin’ back.”
    “Why not?”
    Robert grunted. “You know why not. I’m no good. I’m not quick like the other boys. And I can’t do things with this bum leg of mine. It’s not good for anything.” And Robert glared down at his twisted leg.
    “Seems to me you can do a lot,” the other man replied calmly. “You walked nearly three miles with that leg of yours that you say isn’t good for anything.”
    “Yeah, well, I have a crutch.”
    “So.”
    “And I ain’t smart and quick like the other boys.”
    “What boys? Last I checked you and your sister didn’t have anyone else living on the farm.”
    Robert half turned away. “The boys in the village,” he muttered.
    “Oh. The ones who make fun of everything they don’t understand? Yeah, well, they made fun of me too.”
    “Of you, Mr. Spoke?”
    “Now see here, Robert, if I’m to marry your sister in a few months time, don’t you think it’s time you stopped making me feel so old? My name’s Albert. Let’s be family, shall we?”
    Robert didn’t move.
    “The sun’s setting.”
    Robert shrugged. “Yeah.”
    “It’s getting down right chilly here by the river.”
    Once again Robert shrugged. “So?”
    “So I think it’s time we headed back to the house for some supper. I think Ruth was making apple pie.”
    “Go ahead. No one’s keepin’ you.”
    “Yes, they are.”
    “Who?”
    “You.”
    Robert gave a snort. “I ain’t keepin’ you, Mr. Spoke.
    “Albert.”
    “Albert. You can just ride on back to the house and tell Ruth I left her a letter on the dresser in my room.”
    “Can’t.”
    This time Robert did turn. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean just that. I can’t go back to the house alone.”
    “Why not? Scared of my sister?”
    “No. But I am a man of my word. I told your sister that I wouldn’t come back without you, so either you’ll have to come back with me or I’ll have to go along with you. Of course, if I go with you, Ruth is going to worry a mighty lot. She might ride over to the neighbors and get a search party going. And they’d find us. Then what?”
    “Well, I wouldn’t go back!”
    “What do you plan to do?”
    “Go somewhere else.”
    “Somewhere where people won’t make fun of you?”
    The boy’s head dropped a little. “Yeah. And I’ll get me a job.”
    “Doing what?”
    Silence.
    “Robert, listen to me. Just because you can’t get the same grades in school as the other boys, it doesn’t mean you are dumb. Why there are some things that you know better than any boy in town.”
    “Like what?”
    “How to soothe a frightened horse, how to mend a bird’s broken wing. You are also strong. I’ve seen the things you do for Ruth, and she says you didn’t have any help. That stone wall is quite impressive. I couldn’t do it. And another thing, you are patient with the young ones. Those younger children look up to you in Sunday School, Robert. They don’t see your leg or care that you can’t do some example in calculus or read Latin; you know how to share God’s truth with the younger ones so they can understand it. Don’t you see, God has given you a work to do here, Robert. Don’t throw it all away because some boys laugh. They mocked our Lord, remember?”
    “But he didn’t have a gimpy leg and struggle to read and write!”
    “No.” Albert’s voice was quiet. “You’re right, Robert. Jesus was perfect. There was nothing to mock, but they did it anyway. Are you better than your Lord?”
    “No. But it’s hard, Mr. Spoke!”
    Albert ignored the wrong name this time. “I know. Jesus never promised it would be easy. But He did promise to always be with us. Can’t you return good for evil, Robert?”
    The boy sighed. “I can try. Can we go home now, Mr. Spoke?”
    “Albert.”
    “Albert. I’m going to have to practice on that.”
    “That’s okay,” Albert said with a grin. “Let’s go get my horse.”
    Together they walked slowly back to the patiently waiting horse. Albert gave the younger man a leg up and then swung himself on behind. “I sure hope Ruth hasn’t eaten all the supper and that apple pie herself!”
    “She won’t have,” Robert promised. “She knew you were a man of your word and would bring me home, Mr. Spoke.”
    “Albert.”
    “Albert.” Robert shook his head. “I hope your horse knows the way home because I don’t.”
    “Don’t worry, he does.”
    Dusk settled around them as they rode quickly down the footpath and then out to the road. There it was brighter, for there were no trees to hide the light still glowing in the sky. “Thank you, Lord,” Albert prayed silently. He hadn’t been entirely sure he would be able to talk Robert into coming home.

I hope you enjoyed this story.

What do you think happened next?

Paths 3 & 4

 

 

 Path 3

    Noah struggled to his feet once more. He gripped his crutch and looked ahead trying to ignore the pain in his wounded leg.
    The sky was overcast, and dark gray clouds spoke of an approaching storm. Already he could hear a few distant rumbles of thunder. A storm was not what he needed right now. He needed shelter.
    The road before him led up a gradual hill and one lone tree stood silhouetted against the sky like a lighthouse pointing the way or a lookout standing guard. On either side of the road, the green grass was covered with bright yellow flowers. From a distance they became a carpet of yellow. Bright and cheery. They were a stark contrast to the gray and menacing clouds overhead.
    Closing his eyes a moment, Noah seemed see not yellow flowers, but red poppies waving in the wind. Red like blood. Poppies like those that grew in–
    Quickly opening his eyes he shook his head. “No,” he said aloud. “I’m out of that now. It’s over. Done.”
    Until the next time.
    “Please, Lord, not another war like the last one! It was too much.” He glanced down at his legs. He still had them both, thank God, even though one might never be the same again. But others?
    Thunder rumbled again and a breeze stirred the flowers and cooled his heated face.
    “If I can just make it to that tree up there, perhaps I can find a barn or house. Somewhere to take shelter.”
    As he started limping slowly up the road, he began quoting the verses that had been his comfort and help for so many months.
    “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His Name’s sale.”
    A rumble that wasn’t thunder made him look behind him and then slowly limp to the side of the road as an automobile approached.
    The car came to a stop beside him and the driver leaned over and opened the passenger door. “Hop in. That storm’s going to break soon. Where are you heading?”
    Noah hesitated. “Looking for shelter right now and then a job. If one’s to be found for me.”
    “Well, climb in.” The driver was a middle aged man with a friendly smile. “My farm is just over the hill here. You’re welcome to stay for a spell until you find a job.”
    Gratefully, Noah climbed in the car and it started off again.
    “Were you in the war?”
    “Yes.”
    “What did you do before that?”
    “I was in college. Wanted to be a teacher.”
    “Do you still?”
    “Still want to teach? Yes. I think so.”
    The car bounced over a rock.
    “Name’s Armstrong, by the way,” the driver said. “Herbert Armstrong.”
    “Noah Grey.”
    “I just might know of a job for you, Noah. The school in town is looking for someone to take over the upper classes come fall. I can get you in touch with the school superintendent if you like.”
    They passed the tree and started down the hill on the other side toward a cozy stone farm house.
    “I’d like that. Thank you. I was just praying for directions this morning and now–”
    “The good Lord leads, does He not?”

Path 4

    Vivienne stared at the path before them. “Oh, come on,” she said, folding her arms. “You don’t expect me to believe this is a real path, do you?”
    Lucy exchanged puzzled looks with Milly. “Um, yes, it’s a real path. What else would it be?”
    “Ha!” Vivienne remained standing. “Come one. I know a photoshopped picture when I see one. Even if it’s printed on a huge canvas. I live in Hollywood, remember? I even think I see the edge of the canvas right–” she pointed. “There.”
    “Where?” Milly and Lucy asked at once.
    “Right where that strip of dark on the path is.”
    Lucy and Milly stared at the path before them. It was lined on either side by huge trees whose branches arched overhead forming a canopy of shade in summer. Now it was spring and only buds could be seen on the branches. The grass on either side was a bright green with cheerful little flowers growing here and there. Down the path a little way, the light seemed to glow. The girls knew the sun had to be just right for the path to glow like it was now, but they didn’t expect to have to convince their cousin from California that it wasn’t fake.
    “Did the boys do this to try an fool me?” Vivienne asked.
    “No,” Milly said.
    “And it’s not fake,” Lucy put in. “The sun does make it seem to glow for a short time, but it’s a real path and it really will lead to the old mansion.”
    Vivienne tossed her head. “Sure it does. Then you two take this path and I’ll run back and join the adults on the road.” She laughed. “If it was a real path they’d be coming this way. You all can’t trick me. So long!” With that she turned, ran back to the house and joined the adults on the road.
    Lucy looked at Milly. “Well, now what? Should we go and walk on the road?”
    “And convince Vivienne that this is all fake? I don’t think so. Come on. The boys said they’d catch up with us as soon as they finished whatever they were doing for Dad.”
    “But Mom said we were to be friendly and help entertain Viv,” Lucy protested faintly.
    “Well, we can’t do that if she won’t come with us. Mom will understand. Come on.”
    After one more glance back and seeing Vivienne’s mocking face watching them, Lucy nodded. “Okay. Let’s go. Maybe she’ll realize it’s not fake and join us.”
    “Maybe.” There was no conviction in Milly’s voice.

 

Do you have a favorite path story here?

Do you like really short things like today's post?

Or do you like longer stories?

Paths 1 & 2

 Hi!

Here are 2 short stories I wrote for 2 picture prompts at writing camp. Neither one is very long which is why you get two of them. I hope you enjoy.

I'm staying busy with writing and getting ready for camp and life, and trying to get as many extra things done as I can before camp starts and before I head to work for 2-3 weeks at the County Clerk's Office.

 

 Path 1

    The old man trudged up the winding brick road pausing at the light-post but whether to catch his breath or to wait for someone, I couldn’t tell. His coat was brown and matched the rest of his surroundings that chilly autumn day. Except for the overcast sky, the only things not drab and bare were the turquoise flower pots lining the side of the building. I wondered who the old man was and where he was going but I wasn’t fluent in the language to ask. I loved these quite brick streets that almost doubled back on themselves only on a higher level. So much more interesting than the paved black streets back home where one couldn’t pause on the stone wall and look down on the brick street you had just been on.
    Oh, I never could describe this scene. I’ve tried. My friends just send me polite messages back with things like “neat” or “how nice” but I know they can’t see it. They can’t feel the chill in the air or smell the bread and coffee from the little shop just behind me. They can’t watch the old man begin his slow walk up the road. The can’t imagine the old light posts with actual flames that get lit when darkness comes and that burn all night casting their flickering light over the uneven road. They can’t understand why my heart is here even if I don’t know the language yet. They didn’t hear the still small voice that whispered, “This is the way, walk ye in it,” that first morning I walked up this very road.
    I want to share Christ here. To love the young and the old, to laugh with the people, to cry when they do, and to live a live so that others may see my Savior.
    The old man has turned the corner and I can no longer see him. Perhaps if I get my bike which is leaning over there on the railing, I can follow the old man and at least offer him a smile.

Path 2

    Lisa stopped and set down her suitcase in the middle of the road. Early morning sunlight streamed through the trees on her right creating lines and making the green leaves of the trees shine. Even the moss growing on the ground seemed to be a deeper, richer green than she’d ever seen before.
    She drew a deep breath. Everything was fresh and clean after last night’s shower. She could smell the damp earth, the decaying leaves, and somewhere, hidden in the woods, were flowers, for she could smell their sweet perfume.
    “A fresh morning and a fresh start.”
    She glanced back the way she had come and shook her head. She was thankful to be leaving that place. Mr. and Mrs. Steel had given her a roof over her head for four years, but that was about it. Lisa had lost count of the number of times someone in the family had told her she wasn’t worth the food she ate, or reminded her that she was a charity case even though she worked from sunup to sundown.
    With a shudder at the memories of slaps, yells, little food, and worse, Lisa was ready for something different. Something better.
    Last night had been the last straw. She had packed her things into the battered old suitcase that had once belonged to her mother and stolen out of the house when everyone was still sleeping. Afraid to walk the path though the woods at night for fear she wouldn’t find the road, she had slept in the barn. When the first light of dawn had come, she slipped away and through the woods until she came to the road. She didn’t have much in her suitcase, but a few worn changes of clothes and the Bible a lady at the little brown church down in the village had given her last summer when she had ventured to see what all the talk was about. Though Lisa didn’t understand everything she read in her little Book, her heart hungered for more.
    “I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go: I will guide thee with mine eye.” Softly she repeated the verse which had led to to making the decision to leave the only home she knew and venture forth into the unknown.
    “Abraham went forth,” she whispered, “and he didn’t know where he was going. But the Lord led him.”
    Dropping to her knees there in the road, with the sunlight streaming around her, Lisa prayed. “Oh, Lord, please lead me in the way You want me to go just like You led Abraham.”

 

Which path story did you like better?

 Do you like pictures of paths?

Next month I'll have 2 more paths for you.

Don't Hang Up - Part 2

 

 

 

Don't Hang Up - Part 2

 

    “No, you’re coming with me. Leave your big gun with Seth. We’re hikers or hunters. Coen, Albert, Seth, stay under cover unless it looks like we need help. Come on, David. Let’s go.”
    With that the two men ran forward, staying low until the very edge of the woods was reached, then they slowed. There were a couple of men standing in the road looking around and arguing. Were they the ones who had made the call, or were they after the callers? Sometimes it was hard to tell.
    The men looked up as David and John strolled up. They seemed to be sizing them up. “Well, let them,” John thought, “we’re doing the same.”
    John nodded. “Afternoon.”
    “Afternoon.”
    “You men got car trouble?”
    “Naw, just waiting for the kids to get done playing.”
    “Oh, you got kids? Abandoned towns aren’t the best place for kids to roam freely. They might get hurt.”
    “What do you know about this place?”
    John shrugged and tried not to let the recognition show as one of the men turned. “Not much. It was abandoned twenty, thirty years ago, wasn’t it, Dave?”
    David nodded. “Something like that. You men from around here?”
    The men were beginning to shift restlessly, and one shook his head.
    “Nice place this mountain. But you never know who you will run into. Many an outlaw has been shot, and kidnappers, drug runners, and such have been captured in some strange fashion. Good thing you fellows aren’t any of those things.”
    Beside him, John felt David tense and glanced over to see one of the men reaching for a gun. Before he had a chance to pull it, John and David both had guns in their hands.
    “Get down on the ground!” David barked.
    “Now!” John ordered.
    Two men did as they were told, but one tried to make a break for it. The next moment he fell to the ground clutching his leg and crying in pain. John wasn’t sure if the shot had been David’s or one of the men in the woods.
    “Cuff ‘em,” John ordered quickly. “And gag that one.” He pointed to the injured man. Seth and Albert appeared from the woods as David began cuffing the men. But Coen remained hidden. John was thankful at least one of the men were still watching. He’d recognized the injured man and knew he had a brother who would most likely be fairly close, and if he heard the shots–
    “Get them out of here!”
    David and Seth half carried the injured man into the woods while Albert herded the other two prisoners in the same direction. John crossed the road to the empty post office. With one hand on the grip of his gun, he backed up and waited.
    All was silent. No sound came from the woods. Nothing moved.
    Then pounding feet came closer, and a gruff voice called, “Jerik! Where in thunder are you guys? And where’d you find them kids?”
    John gave a slight nod. He’d been right.
    “Jerik? Quit playin’ games! We’ve got to get those kids and get out of here, ‘cause if someone finds ‘em, we’ll all end up in the slammer.” The man, rather heavy and perspiring even though it was a cool day, appeared around the bend in the road. His breathing was labored.
    John waited. Waited until he’d come closer, and then suddenly he stepped from the shadows with one of his guns drawn in his hand. “Hands in the air, Damion. We already have Jerik and the others.”
    “What the–”
    “Hands in the air!” John barked.
    Damion raised his hands but glared at John. “You don’t have no one. If’n you did, where are they?”
    David stepped from the woods. “Be quiet. You talk too much.”
    “I talk too much? Ow!” Damion squirmed as John snapped handcuffs around one wrist and then jerked his arms down and behind his back with one swift motion. “Ya got to loosen ‘em. Man, this better not be a prank. If this is Jerik’s idea of a joke, I’ll push him off a cliff!”
    “Be quiet, Damion,” John said, “and maybe you’ll live to see the inside of a jail cell.”
    Instantly the man began to whimper.
    “Take him away, Dave. I have business to attend to.” John gave his prisoner a little shove to his friend and turned. He knew all about Jerik and Damion and their enterprises. This time they were going to face the music.
    Confident that the rest of his team could handle the prisoners, John broke into a jog. He knew the layout of the little town. It had been used many times in training missions. He knew just where the phone booth was.
    In half a minute he was leaning against it and pulling out his red hat. After pulling it on, he sauntered across the street saying, “Don’t hang up. Don’t hang up.”
    There was a little scrambling noise under the porch. Then a piece of lattice that once had roses growing on it moved, and a little dark head popped out.
    “Mr. Red Hat!”
    The small child stood up. Her dark hair was long and tangled, her bare arms were scratched, and she shivered.
    “Yes, Miss Judah.”
    Two other heads appeared, and two other little girls, one with brown locks and the other with red, moved up beside Judah. They were shorter and looked younger.
    “Is this all of you?” John asked.
    The three heads nodded.
    “Good. We caught the men who had you.”
    Judah’s eyes went wide. “You did? You caught them and found us?”
    “It appears that way. God helped us do both today.”
    Judah moved over and slipped her small hand into John’s larger one. “That’s because we were praying and God never hangs up!”
    John smiled. “That’s right. He never does. Now, how about we get you girls some place safe and warm and give you a good dinner.”
    “That would be nice. Are you going to knock off the bad men?” Judah asked the question so casually that John nearly choked.
    “No. We’re going to hand them over to the police.”
    “Good. It’s not nice to knock people off. They might get hurt.”
    John didn’t trust himself to speak but pulled off his jacket and put it around the smallest girl. When she lifted her arms, he picked her up, took Judah’s hand again, and started back down the road. As he passed the old telephone booth, he thought of Judah’s words. “God never hangs up.” It was a comforting thought.

 

Did it end like you thought it would?

Aren't you glad God doesn't hang up on us?

Don't Hang Up - Part 1

 If you read this post earlier. Sorry. I'd forgotten I hadn't written anything at the beginning. Did I even ask you anything? I guess I did. Anyway, life is busy. My grandpa and uncle came down for a visit on Saturday (today). I'm getting ready to head to a concert my nieces and nephews are singing in. They are "Singing through the Gospels" and I'm sure it will be good.

 

 

Don’t Hang Up

    “Don’t hang up!”
    John Steel frowned. “Oookay.” That was not what he was expecting when he’d answered the phone. “Why shouldn’t I hang up?”
    “Because I need help.”
    “What kind of help? And who is this?” The voice sounded young, but he wasn’t sure if the speaker was a boy or a girl.
    “I’m at a phone.”
    “A phone where?”
    “I don’t know. It’s in a little house that’s kind of like a box.”
    John waved Seth over and mouthed “Criss-cross!”
    Seth nodded and got to work.
    John pressed a button to record the conversation. “Maybe a phone booth?”
    The voice sounded a little excited. “Yes! I think that’s what it’s called. But please help!”
    “Okay. What’s your name?”
    “Judah.”
    “All right, Judah, why didn’t you call the police?”
    “I didn’t know their number, and there aren’t any around here. I tried 9-1-1 and it didn’t do anything.”
    John frowned. “How did you call this number?”
    “I just pushed numbers. The first three people hung up on me.”
    Seth gave a nod, and John spoke to the person on the other end. “Okay, Judah, can you tell me why you need help?”
    “Because I don’t want to get knocked off.”
    “Knocked off? As in killed?”
    “I don’t know. I just heard them talking about knocking us off.”
    “Who? Are there any others with you?”
    “Yeah, Jess and Bob. Please come help us.”
    “Judah, don’t hang up.” John had to smile to himself as he used the same words. “I need to talk to someone here about getting you help, okay?”
    “Okay.”
    Putting his hand over the mouth piece, but keeping the other part on his ear, John looked at Seth. “Where is it?” he whispered.
    “About five miles.” Seth pointed to a place on a map. “Rough terrain but doable. If we take the road it’s about twenty miles.”
    “Get the ATVs and round everyone up. We could need fire for this.”
    “Roger that.” Seth hurried away.
    “Judah,” John said, “we’re going to come get you.”
    “It’s going to have to be quick or they might find us.”
    “Can you hide anywhere where you can still see the phone booth but where they might not find you?”
    There was a long pause. “Yeah, I think so. Under the porch of the old building over there. But how will we know it’s you?”
    John nodded even though no one could see him. This kid was smart. “I’ll come to the phone booth and will put on a red hat. Then I’ll walk near the porch and say ‘don’t hang up, don’t hang up’.” He heard a giggle on the other end and suddenly wondered if Judah was a girl. “Okay?”
    “Uh huh. A red hat and don’t hang up. Got it.”
    “All right. Hang up and go hide.”
    “Bye Mr. Red hat. Thanks.”
    The line went dead.
    For a moment John stared at it. “This had better not be a prank call.” He rose and then paused. “Lord, I have a feeling we’re going to need help. Keep those kids safe if this call is for real.” Then he grabbed his camo jacket, slipped his handguns into their holsters, stuffed his red hat into his pocket, and snatched up his backpack before hurrying from the room.
    He found the men gathered below. All looked eager and ready. “Earl, stay here and man that phone. Someone could call back. If they ask for Mr. Red Hat, and talk about the porch or say their name is Judah, patch them through to my headset.” He tapped his ear. “If they don’t say anything like that, stall ‘em. Get as much info as you can and run a criss-cross. It could be the other men.”
    The gray haired man nodded sharply and hurried upstairs to the phone.
    “Seth, do you have the route planned?”
    “Yep.”
    “Good. Coen, David, Albert, be prepared to use fire if need be, but use it with caution. We have three people to evac. Sounds like they might be kids. And if this turns out to be a prank call . . .”
    His words were met with grim silence. Every one of the men knew they were risking exposure to their fellow men as well as to their entire headquarters by taking the ATVs and heading around the mountain. But if lives were in danger, they’d do it. That’s what they were trained to do.
    “All right, Frank and Leon, keep watch here. If this appears to be a set up, radio me at once.”
    “Got it.” Frank nodded.
    “Let’s get going.”
    The men almost ran to the ATVs. Their roar sounded extra loud to John’s ears. Would they warn the vultures, or would they be able to to shut them down and roll in close on silent? They couldn’t go far on electric power, but perhaps it would be far enough.
    The first three miles were covered in record speed. It was over ground all the men were familiar with, and every tree, rock and bush was well known. Then it was one mile of ground some of them had gone over a few times. This mile was slower. John and Seth led the way with the other three right behind them.
    As they started in on the last mile, John motioned to Seth. Should they cut to the electric motors?
    Seth shook his head. Not yet.
    At last, about half a mile from the abandoned town, Seth nodded, and John flipped a switch and motioned for the others to do the same. Almost instant silence followed. If anyone had been listening, they would have assumed the ATVs had stopped completely. Only the noise the tires made over the rocks, sticks, and other undergrowth would have told a different story.
    John felt his body tense as they neared the edge of the woods. He didn’t want to break cover if he could help it. A few yards in, he signaled and stopped. The others stopped too.
    “You going in alone?” David whispered.
    “No, you’re coming with me. Leave your big gun with Seth. We’re hikers or hunters. Coen, Albert, Seth, stay under cover unless it looks like we need help. Come on, David. Let’s go.”

 

Would you just dial random numbers if you needed help?

I'll have the next part next week.

Trip to the Candy Shop - Part 3

 Happy Friday!

I bring you the final part of this month's story. I hope you enjoy it. Life has been busy. Not with large word counts, but with editing and figuring out things for my stories. I also got older this week, reached 50 miles for the Spring 100, worked on blog posts, and did other things. Life is never dull and slow. At least not enough to make  me bored.

 

Trip to the Candy Shop

Part 3

    Biddy nodded and let him pick her up.
    “Hannah, here’s your pocketbook,’ Bobby said, picking up the red item. “Your hands are bleeding, want me to carry it for you?”
    “Please, Bobby.” She limped a little as she and Bobby followed Rob and Biddy across the street to a white colonial style house. Once inside, Rob set Biddy down on a chair in the kitchen and grabbed a first-aid box from a cabinet.
    “We’ll get you cleaned up and band-aids on those scrapes in no time, Rob promised the little girl with a grin. “Did you know that when I was your age I was always getting scrapes and bumps and bruises? I did it so much that my mom made me learn all about first-aid so I could bandage myself up.”
    “Do you still get banged up?” Bobby asked.
    “Yep. I play football, and sometimes we aren’t too careful.”
    Biddy whimpered as her scraped hands and knees were washed and bandaged, but she didn’t cry. Hannah was proud of her.
    “There you are. You’ll be good as new in a few days.” He grinned. “And we’ll get you a new lollipop because I’m afraid the other one won’t taste very good with dirt on it.”
    “It would be yucky,” Biddy said, smiling through her tears.
    “Sure would. Next patient?” Rob set another chair and motioned for Hannah to sit.
    “I’ll be okay,” she said. “It’s just scrapes.”
    “Yep, and you might as well let me take care of them now. It’s harder to get any dirt out if you wait. Believe me, I know.”
    “He doesn’t hurt you much, Hannah,” Biddy said. “And see how nice he put the band-aids on?”
    Seeing there was nothing to do but accept, Hannah limped to the chair and sat down.
    “Scrape your knee too?” Rob asked, turning over one of her hands and preparing to wash the scrape.
    “No.” She flinched a little. “The string caught my ankle.”
    “Ouch.”
    Hannah looked away from her scrapes and found Bobby feeding his sister another gumdrop. It was sweet and reminded her of the ants working together. Bobby was doing his part to make his sister smile again. But it also reminded Hannah that they would have to walk all the way back to the candy store and get another lollipop for Biddy. Only– And here she gave a start.
    “Sorry.” Rob looked up in sympathy. “This scrape is a little deeper and you have some dirt in it.”
    “Hannah,” Bobby said, before Hannah could reply, “Can Biddy and me go look out the window? I want to see if the boys who tied the string are there looking for it.”
    “Sure,” Rob answered for her. “But if you see them, don’t go out. They aren’t always very kind.”
    “We won’t. Come on, Biddy.”
    Hannah watched the two of them walk slowly from the kitchen and into the living room.
    “Siblings?” Rob asked.
    She shook her head. “Cousins. Spending a few weeks with us.”
    “Sounds fun. Other hand.”
    With a sigh, Hannah surrendered her other scraped hand to be cleaned and bandaged. “It’s supposed to be fun, but these weren’t exactly the birthday memories I was hoping for when we went to the candy shop.”
    “They share a birthday? Twins?”
    “A year apart.”
    “I don’t have any cousins younger than me. I’m the caboose of the family, as my grandpa likes to call me.” Rob didn’t seem to mind being the youngest. “All my brothers and sisters are older and in college or married. There, this hand is done. It wasn’t scraped badly. Now let’s see what the string did to your ankle.”
    “You don’t have to, Rob.”
    “Oh, I know, but I rather like pretending to be a doctor. I haven’t decided if that’s what I want to be yet, or if I’d rather play football in college.” He looked up and winked before gently folding down her sock. “Well, that string certainly left its mark on you! You’ll have a nice bruise and it’s probably going to be painful to walk for a few hours at least. Here, I’ll put something on it and wrap a light bandage over that.” As he talked, he worked, and soon a snug bandage covered the red mark left by the string. Sitting back on his heels he looked up at her. “Feel any better?”
    She nodded. “Thank you. We should be going now.”
    “Why don’t I drive you home in the car?”
    “Oh, I don’t want to be more of a bother. We can walk.”
    “Not very well you can’t.” Rob stood up and shut the first-aid box before going to the sink to wash his hands. “You should rest that ankle, and Biddy–isn’t that her name?–isn’t going to feel like walking much with her scraped knees.”
    What he said was true, Hannah realized when she stood and tried to walk. Her ankle throbbed and her hands still smarted. “All right.”
    Everyone was soon in the car and Rob was heading toward Main Street. When he pulled to a stop before the candy store, he said, “I’ll be right back with that new lollipop, Biddy.”
    Hannah opened her mouth to say something, but he was gone before she could.
    Soon he returned with not one, but two giant lollipops. One yellow, which he handed back to Biddy, and the other red, which he handed to Hannah. “I thought you should have one too. And this one matched your dress.” He smiled as he handed it over.
    “Thank you,” Hannah whispered, an echoing smile on her own face.
    Rob whistled the rest of the drive, but when he stopped before Hannah’s house and the younger two had climbed out, he shook his head over the quarter Hannah tried to give him. “Your lollipop was a gift, and the Janas boys will pay me for the other one since they are the ones responsible for the demise of the first one.”
    Clutching her pocketbook and her red lollipop, Hannah slid from the car. “Thanks, Rob. For everything.”
    “Any time.” With a grin and a wave, Rob drove off, and Hannah walked to the house not noticing her limp or her smarting hands. 

 

Would you rather have a slow week or a crazy one?

What kind of candy would you want to get?

Can you believe it's almost May?

Trip to the Candy Shop - Part 2

 Here's the next part of the story.

 

 

Trip to the Candy Shop

Part 2

    “Oh, I’ll tell you after you’ve looked around and picked what you want, little lady.” He winked at Hannah and straightened. “Don’t want to influence this important decision.”
    Hannah watched with a happy smile as her cousins wandered the store in a sugar daze. They stopped at each barrel, each box, each different kind and flavor and color of candy. They whispered, and Bobby pointed to the little prices on each thing.
    “You might be here a while,” Hannah,” Mr. Donald remarked in a low voice.
    “That’s all right. It’s not as much fun if you don’t get to examine every single thing and figure out what you want. If you just grab the first thing or even the third, then you’ll be left wondering what you might have missed. I don’t have anything else to do today, so let them wander. Besides,” she looked over to find the children at the far end of the store studying the boxes of chocolates, “it’s their first birthday away from their parents, so it should be extra special.”
    “That’s so. How old are they? They don’t look like twins.”
    “They aren’t. Bobby is seven and Biddy a year younger.”
    The older man nodded.
    It was more than twenty minutes before Bobby had made up his mind and picked a quarter’s worth of gumdrops. But Biddy couldn’t decide until her eyes suddenly landed on the giant lollipops sitting on the counter. She leaned closer, her eyes widening. There were purple, yellow, orange, and red ones.
    “Hannah,” the small girl whispered in an awed voice, “how much are these?” Her eyes never left the large pieces of candy.
    “Twenty-five cents.”
    “Can I have a yellow one? Please.”
    “Of course!” And Hannah opened her pocket book and pulled out two quarters.
    Mr. Donald handed a large yellow lollipop to Biddy and said, “These are what Hannah finally decided on too.”
    “You did?” Biddy’s eyes were wide.
    “Yes. Only I picked red.” She handed over the quarters, and the children clutched their candy tightly in one hand as they waved goodbye with the other. “Thank you, Mr. Donald.”
    Out in the bright sunshine, Bobby asked if he could begin to eat his candy now.
    “Yes,” Hannah said, “you may eat some of it now. Just don’t make yourself sick.”
    “I won’t.”
    Biddy patted Hannah’s arm to get her attention. “Hannah, how can I eat any of my lollipop?”
    “Why, just put the wrapper back on it when you are done.”
    Much pleased with this piece of advice, Biddy was soon licking her treat.
    “Now, do you want to walk right straight home, or shall we go a different way?”
    “A different way,” the children begged.
    “Can we go that way?” And Bobby pointed.
    Hannah agreed and they started off. She was well pleased by her little sacrifice of half a dollar and determined that her small cousins should fully enjoy their visit.
    They were in another neighborhood where large trees shaded the sidewalks, and houses looked pleasant and inviting. Looking back to see what had become of Bobby, Hannah stopped. “What did you find, Bobby?”
    He was crouched on the sidewalk watching something intently. “Some ants carrying a crumb to their home. Come see them, Hannah!”
    A quick glance showed Biddy plodding on up the sidewalk happily licking her lollipop. Knowing that Biddy did not enjoy insects like Bobby did, Hannah let her keep walking as she hurried back to look at the ants. It was indeed impressive watching the tiny ants working together to carry and drag a crumb many times larger than them, to their home.
    “God made them really strong, didn’t He, Hannah?”
    “He certainly did. And see how they help each other, Bobby?” Hannah pointed. “They don’t leave everything to just one ant.”
    A sudden scream followed by a loud wail jerked Hannah’s head up. “Biddy!” Forgetting all about the ants she jumped to her feet and flew up the sidewalk toward the girl who lay sprawled on the walk. But just before she reached her, she tripped on something that seemed to bite into her ankle and fell almost on top of her cousin. Her hands met the sidewalk and slid as she tried to catch herself.
    “Hannah!” Bobby’s voice shouted.
    “What happened?” A new voice, one that Hannah heard every day in school, called from across the street. “Is everyone all right?”
    Pushing herself up, Hannah barely looked at the boy who had joined them. “Bobby, don’t trip on that string!”
    Bobby stopped short and then stepped over the string which was stretched across the walk in such a way as to trip people. “Who puts strings across a sidewalk?” he demanded.
    Not bothering to answer, Hannah was kneeling beside Biddy. “Come on, Biddy, where are you hurt?”
    “Let me help her.”
    “Thank you, Rob.”
    Rob picked Biddy up and seated her in the grass. “Let’s see, you’ve scraped your hands and your knees, but not your nose.”
    “Where’s my lollipop?” Biddy whimpered, trying not to cry.
    Hannah looked around, but it was Bobby who found it, cracked, dusty, and broken in a patch of dirt.
    The loss of her treasured candy was more than Biddy to take, and her whimpers turned to sobs.
    “Oh, Biddy, please don’t cry,” Hannah begged, nearly in tears herself. “We’ll get you another one.”
    “I’ll share my candy with you, Biddy,” Bobby promised. “Here, open your mouth.”
    Rob looked up at Hannah. “How are you?”
    “I’ll be all right.”
    “I didn’t ask how you will be, I asked how you are.” Then, not waiting for her to say anything, he added, pulling out his pocket knife. “Those Jonas boys have gone too far.” He cut the string and pocketed it. “Come on, over to the house. We’ll get you both bandaged up and on your way again.” He knelt down beside Biddy, who was whimpering now from the pain. “Hi, I’m Rob. I go to school with Hannah. How about I carry you across the street to my house and we put some band-aids on those scrapes?”