Wonderland Creek Part 9

"Honey-girl's been helping me. She'll take care of both of us." It took me a moment to realize who Lillie meant.

"Wait . . . me? . . . Listen, I won't be here much longer. My aunt and uncle are coming for me next week." They continued to talk, ignoring me completely.

"How about tomorrow night, after dark?" Lillie said. "That'll give you time to pack some food and things. Think you're strong enough to travel up there?"

"I guess we'll find out." He bent over the tiny woman and kissed her forehead, then tucked the covers around her with his good arm. "Good night, Lillie. We'll talk more tomorrow." And before I could stop him, Mack limped into his old bedroom where I had been sleeping and closed the door.

"Hey! That's my room. Where am I supposed to sleep?"

No one replied.

The next day I had the library all to myself. Mack and Lillie both stayed in their rooms, and the only time I saw them was when I brought their meals upstairs. I didn't even have to cook since we had plenty of leftovers from Mack's funeral. Faye's boys must have been naughty again, because they didn't come in to hear the next chapter of Treasure Island. It was just as well, for I could hear Mack thumping around in his bedroom all afternoon, and the boys would have heard him, too.

When I brought dinner upstairs, Mack had changed out of his bloodstained clothes for the first time and was sitting on Lillie's bed, talking quietly to her. Their whispered discussion halted when I walked in with the supper tray.

"Don't stop on my account," I said. "I'll just leave this here and eat downstairs."

"Now, now, honey-girl. I know you're feeling peeved with us."

I pinched my lips shut and didn't reply. Who wouldn't be out of sorts after sleeping in Lillie's chair in the non-fiction section all night? I still had a kink in my neck from my uncomfortable night's rest. At least there hadn't been any bats flying around downstairs.

Mack tilted his head to one side and gave me his puppy-eyed look. "You came here to help out, Miss Ripley, and you've been an enormous help to us. Maybe not in the ways you intended, but-"

"But the Good Lord knows we couldn't of done any of this without you," Lillie finished.

"I get no satisfaction in knowing that I've aided in a terrible, deceitful conspiracy against an entire town."

Mack grinned. "Very nicely and dramatically put, Miss Ripley. A bit melodramatic, perhaps . . ."

I wanted to punch him, but Lillie held up her hand. "Truth is, Mack would probably be dead for good if you hadn't helped him. And I'd be knocking on the pearly gates right behind him."

"This town has a lot of secrets," Mack added, "and I'm afraid you stumbled right into the middle of them."

I rolled my eyes. "Now who's being melodramatic?"

Mack and Lillie exchanged glances.

"We just wanted to let you know how grateful we are for all your help," Mack said. "Now, please sit down and eat dinner with us. Let's let bygones be bygones."

I sat down on a spindly chair beside Lillie's bed and ate. The worst was over, I decided, so why not make peace? There would be no more need for potions or secrets or lies. I could concentrate on my work in the library while I waited for my aunt and uncle to return. Maybe I could invite a few more children from town to come to our story time with Faye's boys.

We had finished eating and I was collecting the dishes when Lillie said, "There's just one more tiny little thing we're gonna need your help with, honey."

My shoulders sagged. A sound escaped from my throat, something closer to a whimper or a groan than a sigh. "Now what?"

"I could use some help getting ready to leave," Mack said.

"Leave? Where are you going?"

"To a cabin I know of up behind the town. I need to leave tonight, after dark."

"How are you getting there? You can barely stand up, let alone walk. You want me to borrow the postmaster's goat cart?" It irritated me that they would dare to ask another favor, and I made no attempt to hide it.

"I plan to ride Belle. I might need a little help getting her ready."

"This is the twentieth century! Don't you know anyone with a car?"

"The manager of the coal mine has a big, shiny black car, Miss Ripley. So does the sheriff. But I doubt they'd be willing to give me a lift, seeing as they think I'm dead. Besides, there's no road up to the cabin. So will you help me? . . . Please?"

"It depends. What do I have to do?"

Mack stood and moved toward the door. "Can you help me get packed?"

"I suppose so."

I followed him into his room, which now looked as though Ali Baba and his forty thieves had ransacked it. A pair of saddlebags lay on his bed, and I helped him stuff various belongings and toiletries into the leather bags, then rolled up a couple of quilts and tied them into a bedroll. Mack's arm was in a sling and he had to do everything one-handed. I could see that his shoulder still gave him a lot of pain and that the slightest activity left him exhausted. He already had packed a bulging burlap sack, but I didn't want to know what that might contain, and he didn't seem inclined to tell me.

"I guess I'll have to leave my typewriter here for another trip," he said, glancing around when we finished.

"What typewriter? What do you need a typewriter for?"

"Don't ask questions, Miss Ripley. You won't like the answers."

I made two trips up and down the stairs, piling everything by the back door. Then I helped Mack hobble down to the kitchen. He directed me as I filled an empty feed sack with food supplies.

The night turned out to be dark and cloudy with no moon or stars. "Perfect," Mack decided. Creepy, I thought. Spa.r.s.e spring branches creaked and rasped as they blew in the wind. A hint of rain still fogged the damp air. Mack leaned on me as he limped down to the shed, where I was supposed to help him saddle the horse. The saddle was so heavy I had to stand on a crate in order to lift it onto the animal's back. And the beast kept moving around, refusing to stand still for me. By the time I managed to heft the saddle into place, I was panting. Mack pointed to a strap dangling under the horse's belly.

"Make sure you cinch that up real tight."

"Wait. You can't possibly expect me to crawl underneath that animal and fasten that buckle."

"If you don't, I'll be on my rear end in the creek before Belle takes a dozen steps."

"Lead me not into temptation . . ." I mumbled, imagining the scene.

"Pardon?"

"The horse is enormous! Can't you buckle the strap yourself?"

"Not with one hand."

"What if she lies down on top of me while I'm under there?"

"She won't. Horses seldom lie down. Come on, I'll make sure Belle won't kick you."

Kick me? I worked fast, glancing at Mack and at the horse's hind legs.

"Now the bridle," Mack said. "Just slip it over her head and get her to open her mouth so you can put the bit in place." I stared at him. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"You expect me to put my fingers into the horse's mouth?"

"Belle won't mind. She's used to it."

"Well, I'm not used to it! I've never been this . . . intimate . . . with an animal before-under its belly, in its mouth-especially a beast that's three times my size."

I heard him mumble something about melodrama, but I chose to ignore him. Between the two of us, we finally got the bridle on and the horse was ready to go. As we led it from the shed to the back door where we'd piled Mack's saddlebags and bedroll, I could tell the horse wasn't too happy about going out for a midnight ride. It stomped its feet and snorted, acting as sulky as I felt.

The last thing Mack had me do after tying on all his belongings was drag a wooden bench over from beside the back door and help him climb up, since he was too weak to swing up into the saddle the regular way-especially with only one arm. As it was, he half crawled onto Belle's back, stomach first. He was sweating and wincing by the time he was astride, even though the night air was cool. I was about to wish him well-and good riddance-when he extended his good hand to me. "Grab on, Miss Ripley, and I'll pull you up behind me."

"What?"

"You have to come along."

"Oh, no I don't!" I backed away from him.

"How else will Belle get home again?"

"I don't care. That's not my problem."

He beckoned to me again. "Come on, hurry up before someone sees us."

I crossed my arms. "No. This is the limit. I . . . I refuse."

"I thought you agreed to help me."

"I've done all sorts of things to help you, including crouching beneath a horse, hauling sacks of dirt, telling a pack of lies, and committing fraud. But now I'm done. Finished. No more. You and Lillie got along fine before I arrived, and from now on you'll just have to spin your web of deceit without me."

"Listen, this will only take a few minutes. You'll be back home and tucked up in bed within the hour."

"No! I've never been on a horse in my life, and I'm not going to get on one tonight."

"Come on . . . it's easy. Little children do it. Climb on the bench and give me your hand." He reached his good arm out to me again. I backed even farther away from him.

"No, I can't . . . and I won't!"

I heard a clicking-sliding noise behind me, metal on metal. I turned and saw Lillie standing in the doorway in her nightgown, holding Mack's rifle.

"Go ahead and get on the horse, honey," she said sweetly. "I come to think of you as my own daughter, so I sure would hate to shoot you."

Shoot me?

"Come on, Miss Ripley," Mack coaxed, smiling, extending his hand.

Did I have a choice? Lillie was holding a gun. A gun! She probably wouldn't really shoot me, but then again maybe she would. Mack was living proof that people around here didn't think twice about shooting each other.

"Climb on, honey," Lillie urged.

My knees trembled with a mixture of anger and terror as I climbed onto the tottering bench. Mack grabbed my hand and hauled me up onto the horse. I had to wrap my arms around his waist to keep from falling off, and that made me angrier still. He shook the reins and Belle began to move, clomping and swaying over the lumpy ground. I remembered the saddle strap I had cinched and prayed that I had pulled it tight enough so we both wouldn't land in the creek.

I had begun to feel a mild fondness for Mack as I'd helped Lillie save his life, but those feelings were gone now. Tonight I hated him. Even so, I clung to him against my will, terrified of falling off the horse. The ground was such a long way down! We ambled across the yard and down to the creek in the dark, then Mack turned the horse to the right and we followed the narrow bank of the creek like a trail up into the hills.

"Do you care at all that I've just been coerced at gunpoint? Against my will? And don't you dare tell me I'm being melodramatic."

"You've really never been on a horse before?"

"Never! Horses belong in novels about the Wild West. We drive cars where I come from. Cars!"

"Well, you're not home now, are you?"

I felt his ribs quivering and I had the infuriating feeling that he was laughing at me. "Are you laughing, Mr. MacDougal?"

"No, ma'am. I'm trying real hard not to laugh." But he couldn't hold it in, and before long he was sputtering and chuckling. I even saw him wipe his eyes.

"This isn't funny!"

"No, ma'am. It truly isn't. But just think how exciting it will sound when you tell all your friends back home that you went on a midnight horseback ride with a dead man. Kind of spooky . . . like The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, don't you think?"

"I have no idea who shot you, Mr. MacDougal, but he now has my complete support and encouragement."

He laughed even harder.

We rode for several minutes as the horse plodded uphill. I gripped Mack's waist, swaying atop the horse's hips, ducking beneath low-hanging branches that dripped icy water down my back. Then I had another thought. "How am I supposed to find my way home all alone in the dark? Do you care at all that I might get lost?"

"Belle knows the way. It isn't far. Just follow the creek."

"If the horse knows the way back, then why did I have to come?"

"So you'd know where the cabin is. I'll have to depend on you to bring me food and things for a while."

"Wait. You said this was the very last thing I would have to do for you."

"Actually, I believe Miss Lillie told you that. And you know how she likes to exaggerate."

"Is she going to point a gun at me again?"

"I guess that's up to you, Miss Ripley. Lillie does whatever she needs to do to get the job done."

I had the same stomach-sinking feeling that all hostages must feel when they realize there is no way out. Then I thought of one. "What are you going to do next week after my aunt and uncle come back for me?"

"Shhh . . . Stop talking, Miss Ripley. You're going to have every dog in the hollow barking."

We rode for twenty minutes more, the forest growing darker and thicker as we climbed higher and higher. Every sound spooked me, and I was certain I could hear creatures scurrying around, rustling through the underbrush below us and in the tree branches above. The horse huffed and snorted as it climbed, its hooves skidding on the mud at times. Then it pulled up short and stopped walking altogether, for no reason that I could see. It danced in place as if standing on a bed of hot coals.

"What's wrong?" I whispered. "Why is the horse acting so jittery?" I was afraid it had decided we were too heavy and was about to rear back and throw us off.

"Shhh!"

"Why is he stopping? What's wrong with him?"