Chapters One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen; Christmas.
(Flyover Planet, SF, starts here, and that’s the teaser.)
Ben was sharpening his mom's kitchen knives; he was working off his last day of being grounded for breaking that glass with his slingshot. He'd already had a few of his friends drop by and make fun of him ("That your prize for all that sharpshooting, Ben?" and "Nice work when you can get it!"; and most annoyingly, a prim "You've really brought it on yourself, you know," from his sister and Susan.) And he still had to give a lick of paint to the garden chairs too.
"Hey there, Ben, how's it going? Want a hand?"
That was Craig with his usual friendly smile. He was the uncle of one of the city kids who came to live in the Valley; he came to visit and hadn't left.
Ben glanced at the house; his mom was at the window cooking or cleaning but he knew her eye was on him.
"Thanks, Craig, but mom won't have it; she'll just ground me again," Ben said regretfully.
"We don't have to tell her," Craig grinned but Ben shook his head.
"She would find out anyway," he added, wrinkling his nose at some choice memories of when he had tried to cheat his way out of a punishment or a chore. Ordinarily he did not mind too much but he had some plans for the next few days.
"Your call," Craig smiled. "Say, that's a nice knife you've got there."
That was Ben's pocket knife that he got out to sharpen as well; it was getting a bit worn about the handle but the blade was good and sharp though thinner than when he'd gotten it from his grandpa, a few years ago.
"Know what you are getting for Christmas? A new knife maybe?" Craig asked. Ben bent his head over the knives again.
"If I stay out of trouble you mean? Maybe a rifle, Dad said he'd think about it."
"That'd be nice," Craig smiled. "Any other guests from out of the Valley coming over for Christmas, do you know?"
"I guess. There is Mr. Forest with his family, for one."
"Who's he again?" Clarke's uncle asked. "Don't recall anyone of that name from around here."
Ben told him; but I don't have to tell you again, do I? He was that nice farmer Ben met on Thanksgiving; remember his warrior librarian grandmother, Cora Black Swan McCord of the Night Fires Nation? Right, I knew you would. Mr. Forest lived on his farm at the far end of the town. There was something else Ben knew about him but did not tell Craig. Doc O'Malley did though, when Craig stopped by her house to ask her to look at his shoulder that he'd been having trouble with.
"Nothing much the matter with you except that you are a soft city boy who's been hanging out with country folk," Doc O'Malley said. "You want to exercise those muscles better. This is not the gym, it's not designer muscles these guys have, so you want to watch how they stand or swing when they are chopping firewood and the rest of it. I will give you some liniment to ease the stiffness, hang on... Who? Martin Forest? Right, his son has just moved back in with him, two little ones they've got..."
"Where is the mom?" Craig asked, and his cheerful face clouded as Doc O'Malley answered shortly:
"With God, now. She was expecting their third; they told her at the hospital that they had to give her some treatment—eh, it was the same shot they were giving everybody back then. She felt bad after it and... and didn't make it."
"Poor woman, what a thing to happen!" Craig shook his head. The doctor gave him his liniment.
"Thanks, Doc! Got some more of that vitamin D? I've run out."
The doctor glanced at the bottle on her desk, which was nearly empty.
"Give me a moment... Of course cash is fine, what are you talking about?" She rummaged in her little cupboard for a moment and came back:
"You take care of yourself and don't show off for the girls till that shoulder heals!"
Now Ben was finally done with his chores. Only two weeks to Christmas! Off he ran, not heeding the cold and spraying snow all over! Who's got some chores for him to do? Some cash to put in his piggy bank for Christmas gifts and treats? Come on!
Fortunately for Ben, there was lots and lots to do in the Valley before Christmas. First, Uncle Mac needed help with his yearling colts that he was going to sell down South. They had to be walked early in the morning, and brushed till their coats shone, and then walked again in the afternoon. The the calves needed feeding up and their legs checked, and some had to be herded apart again for the Christmas market. That was actually kind of fun and Ben even had a little race with some of the calves, betting he would catch one before Josh did. He didn't and neither did Josh (calves are fast!) but Ben managed to hide his torn jacket from his mom and sewed it up from the inside so it kind of held together, so he only got told off for the muddy pants and face. Josh however got grounded because Uncle Mac saw him trying to ride a yearling bullock, and Ben stopped by Josh's house the next morning just to rile him a bit.
Most everyone in the Valley was making cheeses, bottling cider, packing nuts or labeling honey (real honey, not the squeeze-bottle gunk but golden summer glowing in a little jar). There Ben was turning and draining and pressing with granny Allen and her two elder sons as she frowned and scolded and fed them thick wedges of sharp-tasting ripe Cheddar with little grapes and fat forest nuts; and bottling bright fresh cider with his grandpa and laughing after tasting it; and painting a fence, cleaning out a barn: so many things to do every day! He tried to skimp on some chores (like the painting; he got bored quickly) but not on any to do with food because he liked three good meals a day and snacks too; and then he would have a snowball fight or roll around in the snow with the other boys or slide down all the way down the bank to the river. You were not supposed to do that and you would really get it if any grownup saw you: the bank was steep and there was not a lot of room to turn at the end and you might pitch right into the river and drown. Once after a day at the stables Ben challenged Josh and Todd to ride backwards all the way down and brake. Down they got, each on a curved wooden board, like a sled without runners; and down they went, scattering mud and old leaves and snow, and into the water Ben and Todd went! Ben could swim but Todd couldn't; Ben was yelling and pushing and Josh was yelling and pulling, till finally up they got to the top of the bank. They were muddy and dripping wet. That was the end of Ben's hopes; for he had not only nearly ruined his clothes but also gone into the river and there was no way to hide that. He went miserably behind some bushes to try and wring his clothes out, a hopeless task. Not only would he be grounded but —
"TODD!"
That was Todd's mom, passing by in her truck.
"What have you boys been doing?!" she shouted. Josh, who was a quick thinker, said right away:
"Well, Todd fell into the river, Mrs. Clayton, and you know he can't swim, and I—"
"And me!" out Ben ran, knowing this was his big chance.
"You pulled him out! Oh boys!" Mrs. Clayton would have hugged them if they hadn't been so wet and dirty while Todd scowled. His mom dropped Ben and Josh at their homes and told their parents about the rescue. Of course Todd was grounded for going near the river; and Ben and Josh were heroes for a while, though Ben's brother Simon had some doubts about that:
"What were you doing near the river?" he asked at the dinner table.
"Just passing by after working hard all day," Ben said, giving his brother a glare that said "Shut up if you know what's good for you!"
Ben did not even get a chill from his adventure which was lucky; he only had a couple of days to go before the Christmas market, and he was hoping to get through them without being punished or grounded. His task the next day was one he had been really looking forward to: sausage-making. Not only was Mr. Scott the best sausage-maker in the Valley, he was also very generous with his helpers, good for as many grilled chops as they could eat. There were no crickets or larvae or any disgusting things in his sausages, not like in some supermarket ones; just the lovely fresh meat and some herbs and spices and that's it. Ben ran back and forth between the kitchen and the big freezer and the pantry, and munched up the chops, and chased Mr. Scott's dumb old dog out of the yard before he could steal any more than a bare bone, and even got Mr. Scott to let him use the big grinder for a bit.
"You put your finger in, you'll spoil me a sausage and I will dock you five bucks!" Mr. Scott told him and Ben grinned:
"I sure won't cause I need the money!"
He didn't lose a finger in the grinder, and Mr. Scott told him:
"Another tenner for you if you come back tomorrow, bright and early for a bit. And go carefully over the road, lots of ice patches, you could break your neck!"
Ben skipped around the ice patches, sometimes trying to smash them with his foot; he did slip a couple of times and bumped his elbow —ouch!—and went slower after that. Now he was near Uncle Mac's, and someone came out of the gate and CRASH! Down he came, flat on his back and looking like a dead body!
Ben ran forward, shouting. Uncle Mac ran out too. One of his stablehands was lying there, all pale and not moving.
"Run into the house, get the doctor to come!" Uncle Mac commanded curtly and in Ben ran.
A few minutes later he was out again. The guy was sitting up with his back against the fence. He was still pale but his eyelids were fluttering and Uncle Mac was forcing a flask against his mouth. The stablehand spluttered and coughed, but he got some color in his face. Ben was glad. It was pretty exciting, but on the whole Ben was glad he hadn't just seen this guy die; he liked him.
Doc O'Malley was along in a few minutes in her pickup truck, checking and probing and shining a light into the man's eyes. The stablehand winced.
"Rung my bell pretty good," he said. "I can still see you are the best looking doctor in the Valley, though."
Ben thought that was a really stupid thing to say to someone who was really old (at least forty!) and had salt-and-pepper hair. The doctor seemed to think so too.
"I'm the only doctor in the Valley!" she said irritably, her normally good-tempered face scowling. "Hold still, you fool of a man! Nope, no concussion."
"Nothing to concuss, most like," Uncle Mac said dryly, and he and Ben laughed. "What's got you riled up, doc?"
Doc O'Malley sighed.
"Take it easy today, and I will check on you tomorrow," she told her patient in a gentler tone. She ran her hand through her thick curly hair.
"Lost my brooch; it used to be my mother's, and my grandmother's before that; can't find it anywhere, and I have been through my office and my home three times."
"That silver flower thing?" Ben asked. The doctor always had it on; Susan said that it was a pretty piece of jewelry and even had copied the design in one of her embroidery pieces.
The doctor nodded, getting back into her truck.
"It's gonna turn up, Doc," Uncle Mac said comfortingly.
"I guess," the doctor said, but she didn't sound convinced. "No horses for you till tomorrow!" she shouted, and drove off, spraying snow and gravel behind her.
Uncle Mac shook his head. "Just one of those things you get when everyone's in a fuss," he said. "I've mislaid my best knife too, do I go around biting folks' heads off? It's gonna turn up sooner or later."
"You go around biting people's heads off all the time," his stablehand said, leaning on Uncle Mac. "I guess I'm gonna go get to that far pasture now."
"I'll pasture you! The Doc will have both our hides, the mood she is in. Now, you get to bed and stay there! Ben, you want to come inside and stay for supper?"
Ben thanked him but refused: his mom was making chicken chili, one of Ben's favorites, and he'd promised to stop by Susan's and bring her some moss and pine cones from the bank of the river next to the Scotts', for something she was making.
Only Susan's granny was home and she was very busy:
"Just you run up to her room and leave those things there. I will tell her you have been," she said, stirring three pots quickly one ofter the other and checking the oven timer. "Unless you'd like to stay for dinner?"
But Ben refused once again and ran up the stairs to Susan's room. As he switched the light on he was not thinking of anything very much: dinner mostly. He placed the moss and the cones carefully on Susan's desk, next to her work basket, idly glancing up.
He could just see the top of a tall chest of drawers, and something glinting at the top edge. It looked really familiar. For a moment Ben just stood there. Then, almost as if he could not help himself, he pulled himself up on top of the sturdy desk, kneeling on it, and looked again. There they were, on top of the chest:
Judge Joe's favorite pipe;
Doc O'Malley's silver flower brooch;
And Uncle Mac's best pocket knife.
To Be Continued...