Abe Lincoln at Last!: A Merlin Mission (6 page)

Sam pointed to the cabin and shed.

That’s it?
Jack thought.
Sam’s family must be really poor
.

The cabin and shed were in a scrubby clearing. The clearing was dotted with piles of stones and stumps where trees had been chopped down.

Not much of a farm
, Jack thought. But at least they hadn’t wasted a lot of time getting Sam home.

Jack led the horse toward Sam’s farm. The cabin not only had no windows—it didn’t even have a door! A black bearskin hung over the entrance. The horse stopped near the lean-to shed. The sound of a cow mooing came from inside.

“I’ll help you, Sam,” Jack said, dropping the sack of cornmeal to the ground. “Careful, careful.”

Sam lowered himself down from the horse. When his feet touched the ground, Jack grabbed him. “Lean on me,” he said. He put Sam’s arm around his shoulders.

“Got him?” said Annie.

“Yep,” said Jack.

As Jack and Sam stumbled toward the cabin, Annie slid off the horse and tied her to a fence post beside the shed. Then Annie grabbed the
sack of cornmeal. She ran to the cabin and pushed aside the bearskin, so Jack could help Sam inside.

No one was home. The only light in the one-room cabin came from daylight streaming through big cracks between the logs of the walls. A low fire burned in a fireplace, but the air was cold and damp. The floor was made of dirt, and the crude furniture was made of planks of wood and tree stumps.

“Thank—thank you, Jack,” Sam said, breathing heavily. “You can just leave me right here.” He took his arm from Jack’s shoulders and crumpled onto the dirt floor. He curled up and lay shivering on his side.

This is not good
, thought Jack.

“You can’t lie on the dirt, Sam,” said Annie. “Don’t you have a bed?”

Sam pointed to a loft.

“We’ll help you,” said Jack.

Jack and Annie pulled Sam up from the floor. He put his arms around their shoulders, and they
brought him to a row of wooden pegs that led to the loft. Sam managed to pull himself up the row of pegs. When he reached the top, he disappeared.

“Now what?” Jack whispered to Annie.

Sam moaned from the loft above.

“Poor kid,” Annie murmured to Jack. “There’s no one here to take care of him.”

Jack didn’t know what to do. He wanted to help Sam, but they still had to find Abraham Lincoln in the countryside before he returned to the White House. And he wasn’t sure how long the magic would work.

Another moan came from the loft.

“We have to help Sam,” Annie said decisively. She climbed up the wooden pegs. Jack followed. As he crawled into the loft, he had to be careful not to bump his head on the ceiling.

Light and cold air came through the cracks between the logs. Sam was lying on a bed of corn husks and dried leaves. His fingers were pressed against his head.

“Does your head still hurt?” asked Annie.

“Bad,” said Sam. He kept pressing his forehead, as if trying to push away the pain.

“Where are your parents, Sam?” asked Jack.

“Pa’s gone,” Sam said hoarsely. His eyes were squeezed shut. “Went to Kentucky last month.”

“Where’s your mother?” asked Annie.

Sam just shook his head.

“Can you tell us where your mother is?” Annie asked.

“Dead. She’s dead. She died last year,” said Sam. He covered his eyes with his arm.

“Oh, no,” said Annie.

“Is there anyone who can take care of you?” Jack asked. He couldn’t imagine being so alone.

“My sister, Sarah,” Sam said in a muffled voice.

“Where’s Sarah now?” asked Jack.

“School,” said Sam.

“When does she get home?” asked Jack.

“After dark,” said Sam.

“After dark?” said Annie.

“Short days in December,” said Sam.

December?
thought Jack. When they’d landed at the White House, it had been March. Maybe Sam’s head injury had confused him.

“We’re not leaving you, Sam,” said Annie, “not until Sarah comes home.”

“Don’t … have to stay,” said Sam, wincing with pain.

“We know we don’t have to,” said Jack. “But we want to.”

And he meant it.

CHAPTER EIGHT
Into the Rough

J
ack and Annie huddled in the loft near Sam. As the wind whistled between the logs, Jack could feel the boy’s sadness.

“Thank you,” Sam said. “But I have to get up now—have to do chores—help Sarah.”

“No, not now,” said Annie. “Maybe Sarah can take care of your chores when she gets home.”

“She’ll be too tired,” said Sam. “She has to walk a long way home. With Pa gone, she can’t sleep—hears wolves and wildcats all night.”

“Really? Are there wolves and wildcats around here?” said Jack.

“Plenty,” Sam said. “I have to do my chores—” He tried to sit up.

“Not until you feel better,” Annie said firmly. “You lie here and rest.
We’ll
do your chores. Just tell us what to do. We’ll be happy to do it. Won’t we, Jack?”

“Uh, sure …,” said Jack. “What are your chores, Sam?”

Sam lay back and took a deep breath. “Split wood,” he said, closing his eyes, “milk cow, get water from spring …”

Jack slipped the pencil and notebook out of his back pocket and wrote:

“Where’s the spring?” asked Jack.

“Just a mile away, through the rough,” said Sam.

“The rough?” said Jack.

“No problem,” said Annie. “Anything else to do?”

“Make corn bread, then do homework in speller book …,” said Sam.

Jack added to his list:

“That’s it?” said Jack.

“Yes,” said Sam.

“Good. We can do that!” said Annie.

We can?
thought Jack.
Milk cow? Make corn bread? And what’s “the rough”?

“Sam, where’s the rough?” asked Jack.

But Sam had fallen asleep.

“Sam?” said Jack.

“Shhh, let him sleep,” Annie whispered.

Jack nodded. He followed Annie down from
the loft and across the dirt floor. She pushed aside the bearskin, and they stepped out of the cabin.

“Why did you promise to do Sam’s chores?” said Jack. “We don’t know how to do all that stuff.”

“It was the only way to keep him from trying to work,” said Annie. “He really needs to rest. Don’t worry. We can figure them out. What’s first?”

Jack looked at their list.

“Split wood,” he said.

“How hard could that be?” said Annie. “There’s the woodpile. There’s the ax.” She strode over to a stack of wood in the front yard. An ax was sunk into a fat log.

Annie rubbed her hands together, then wrapped them around the ax’s long handle. She pulled and pulled, but the ax didn’t budge.

“Let me try,” said Jack. Annie stepped aside. Jack gripped the handle and pulled as hard as he could. But the ax stayed in the log.

“Forget it,” said Jack. “It’s like trying to pull the sword from the stone.”

Annie laughed. “I guess we’re not meant to be king,” she said. “So, what’s next?”

“Milk cow,” Jack read from his list.

“All righty,” Annie said cheerfully. She led the way to the shed next to the cabin.

Inside the shed, a cow was eating hay and swishing her tail. A three-legged stool and a tin pail stood in the corner.

“You try first,” said Annie.

“Me?” said Jack.

“I tried the ax first,” said Annie.

Jack put the pail under the cow and moved the stool close to her. Then he sat down.

The cow gave Jack a look. Then she whipped him in the face with her tail.

“Oww!” said Jack. He leaned forward and stared at the cow’s udder.

Jack looked up at Annie. “I have no idea what to do,” he said.

Annie laughed again. “Me neither,” she said. “We’ll come back to this, too. What’s next?”

Jack jumped up from the stool and looked at
their list. “Get water from the spring,” he said.

“I saw two jugs by the door,” said Annie. “I’ll get them.” She ran to the cabin and came back a moment later with two brown jugs.

“Heavy,” Annie warned. She gave one to Jack.

The jug
was
surprisingly heavy. “They’ll be heavier with water,” said Jack. “This isn’t going to be easy, since the spring is a mile away, ‘through the rough.’ Whatever that means.”

“I’ll bet that’s the rough over there,” said Annie. She pointed to the woods on the other side of the clearing.

Jack and Annie wound their way through the stumps and stone piles until they came to the woodsy area, thick with underbrush. Wild grapevines twisted through bushes and around bare branches of small trees, binding it all together.

“It looks rough all right,” said Jack.

Annie pointed to a narrow path. “I’ll bet that’s how to get to the spring,” she said. “Want to give it a try?”

“Sure,” said Jack. “Let’s go.”

Carrying the jugs, Jack and Annie started down the path. They pushed aside tangled vines and branches. Crows, sparrows, and woodpeckers swooped overhead. Squirrels ran up and down the small, bare trees.

Down the path, the rough got rougher. The path nearly disappeared. The tangle of undergrowth was so thick that Jack began to lose what little hope he had.

“I can’t see pushing our way through this stuff for a whole mile,” he said.

“Me neither,” said Annie. “Let’s go just a little further and see if it opens up again.”

Jack and Annie pushed past more brambles and vines. “This whole journey is leading nowhere,” Jack grumbled. “No spring water, no split wood, no cow’s milk. Worst of all, no Abraham Lincoln. We’ve missed our only chance to use the magic to have a private meeting with him.”

“I know,” said Annie. “But we couldn’t just leave Sam to try to do his chores. Offering to help him was the right thing to do.”

“I know,” said Jack.

“It’s weird,” said Annie. “Even though helping Sam isn’t part of our mission, I feel like doing one good thing is somehow connected to doing another
good thing. If we’re helping Sam, we’re also helping Penny.”

“Yeah …,” said Jack. Despite his worries, he agreed with what Annie said. “There’s only one problem: we have to get this feather from—”

“Yikes!” said Annie.

Jack looked back at her. “Yikes, what? You forgot we had to get a feather?”

“No. Yikes, did you hear that?” she whispered.

“Hear what?” whispered Jack. He held his breath and listened.

“A growl,” whispered Annie.

Jack looked around, his heart pounding. “Like, uh—a wildcat growl? Or a wolf growl?” he asked.

“Like—
that
growl,” said Annie.

Jack heard the long, low growl. He heard twigs breaking. The hair went up on the back of his neck.

CHAPTER NINE
Corn Bread and Molasses