Red's Untold Tale (27 page)

He clasped his hands together. “You know the story, then?”

“Of course I know the story. My grandmother read it to me when I was a little girl. It was one of my favorites. But—”

“Oh good, good, good. You're halfway there.”

“Knubbin, you're missing the point. It's just a fairy tale. It's not true. How can I find a lake that doesn't exist?” I clenched my jaw in frustration.

“In every tale is a nugget of truth—especially those found in dusty old storybooks. You have to open your heart and let the truth find you. Some say the truth rings as clear and
sweet as a nightingale's song.”

The crow swooped in through the door and perched on the curio. With his beak, he picked up the note and passed it to me, but since I was already holding the jar and the bag of coins, I had to
juggle it awkwardly.

“Ah, yes, thank you, Heathcliff,” Knubbin said, patting the bird on his feathered head. “Now, take our guest back to the gully. She has much to do before the birds fly
south.”

My head spun as I followed the bird and then made my way down the road and back to the cottage. The wizard was right. For as long as I could remember, I'd wanted to leave the village and
find my happy ending. But going on a quest to find an imaginary lake? That had never, ever been part of my plan.

I flung open the cottage door and
almost ran smack into Granny. “Mayor Filbert has called an emergency town meeting,” she said, “and I need
to be early so I can stand front and center. They've got some meaty issues on the table. Guess they've finally decided that the wolf pack is a bigger problem than they thought it was,
now that they'll have to bury Amos Slade. Once again, it's up to me to be the voice of reason in a roomful of idiots,” she said, clicking her tongue.

Normally, I'd cringe at the thought of Granny taking the stand. And given the reaction of the villagers to her at previous meetings—the sniggering, the pointing, the pitying shaking
of heads—I might beg her to reconsider. Not that it would do a lick of good, but at least I could find a little peace in knowing that I'd tried.

But today, I said nothing to stop her. Granny had lived in the village all her life, so maybe she was right about the wolves being too powerful for the hunters to kill. If so, I didn't
want Peter to be the next hunter to die at the claws and teeth of a wolf.

I helped her wrap her shawl over her bun and around her shoulders. In the process, I grabbed her right arm and lifted her sleeve. She forcefully pulled away, demanding to know what I thought I
was doing, but not before I got a cursory glimpse of her mysterious scar. I saw four red, inflamed gashes. It was hideous, and looked like it was excruciatingly painful. My heart raced as I
realized that it almost exactly matched the slash mark the wolf had made on the wall of the chicken coop.

“It's from the wolf, isn't it?” I asked. “The wolf hurt you, didn't it? And yet, you escaped it. How did you get away from it, Granny?”

“Don't be ridiculous. I'm going to be late. Get out of my way.”

“I'm going with you.” I ran to my room and placed the salve, note, and leather pouch full of coins into the wooden box in my bureau. Before closing the lid, I shook the tiny
amber-colored jar. Nothing happened.

The villagers swarmed the town hall like bees around a hive. Miss Cates cornered Granny to chat about wedding cake ideas, but Granny quickly wrenched away to secure a spot in
the front row. As I pushed my way through the crowd, two carrottopped children ran smack into my legs, making me trip. Thankfully, Priscilla was right behind them to steady me. “I'm so
sorry, Red,” she said, shaking her head. “Believe me, I'm already counting down the days till they're old enough to leave the nest.” Baby Ezekiel cooed at me from his
swaddle, and I smiled and tugged his ear.

Violet, Florence, and Beatrice held signs reading:
DON
'
T LET THE BEAST TAKE OUR FORGET-ME-NOT BALL AWAY FROM US
! and bounced around the
building with a growing herd of devotees.

Priscilla arched her right eyebrow. “It's always something with them, isn't it?” Her twins twined around her legs, and the baby babbled adorably.

“Look, Ma! Doggie!” said the little girl twin, pointing at Amos Slade's hound. Sure enough, the dog was keeping a close eye on his new master, who made his way into the center
of the bustling room with his father. My heart skipped a beat when Peter's handsome brown eyes found mine. He grinned and mouthed, “
Hallo
.”

I gave him a little wave, until I realized that Priscilla was watching us with interest. “Looks like Peter has taken a shining to you, my dear,” she said.

I felt heat rush to my face, and I let out a strange giggle. “Well, I don't know abou—”

She pressed her finger on my lips and lowered her eyebrows. “Yes, you
do
. I might not be a fortune-teller, but I know what true love looks like.” She slid her finger down to
my chin and angled my face back toward Peter, who was coming straight for me. However, Hershel Worthington had edged up to us, blocking my view. Priscilla's baby batted at the feather in his
hat like a kitten.

“Ah, if it isn't the lovely Miss Lucas. May I have a quick word with you?” the tax man asked, and Priscilla gave him a curt nod and went after the twins, who looked to be
headed for the fountain.

“I'm glad I bumped into you. I wanted to ask, is there something I need to do to activate the magic?” He reached in his belt-pouch and pulled out my mother's gold cross,
holding it in front of my face. “I figured there must be some magic words?”

I never thought I'd see it again, and under these circumstances, it felt like a blow to my gut. I swallowed and tightly gripped the sides of my cloak. I wanted to reach out and grab it,
but I knew I couldn't. A deal was a deal. “Just tell her how you feel about her. Those are the magic words.”

Mr. Worthington raised his left eyebrow musingly. As he tucked the necklace back into his pouch, Peter sidled up to us. “Excuse me, Mr. Worthington,” Peter said, clapping the older
man on the back. “Mayor Filbert is asking for you. He's outside, in the back, getting a little fresh air before calling the meeting to order.” Then Peter spun him around and
walked several paces alongside him, saying, “Over this way. Yes, that's good. All right, good luck.” Smiling, Peter jogged back to me.

“Since when have you been all chummy with the tax man?” I asked. “What was that about?”

Peter's smile broadened, and I lost myself in his dimple and the way his eyes sparkled. “I happen to know that my brothers have a bushel of rotten tomatoes, cabbages, and eggs to
throw at the bastard. I was just getting him within range,” he said.

I knew the thought of Hershel Worthington being pelted by stinking balls of slime should make me laugh, but I couldn't help feeling a little bad for the man. However, I did what I had to
do, and what was the harm in having him believe that a beautiful gold pendant and a few tender words would make his wife fall in love with him? “You boys are just a bunch of
bullies.”

“I know. So, what're you doing here, anyway? I thought you hated town meetings.”

“You'd hate them, too, if your grandmother got her jollies out of taking the stand and getting the whole village riled up. It's so embarrassing.”

“Ah, well, she has good intentions. She just wants everybody to be safe from the wolves—especially you. And can you blame her? You're pretty nice to have around.” He
tucked a tendril of my hair behind my ear, and I swallowed hard. When he wrapped his long, muscular arms around me, I melted so deeply into his chest I heard the soft and steady patter of his
heart.

Much too soon, he broke our embrace. Then again, a hundred years would've been too soon. “So, you never answered my question. What brings you to the meeting?” he asked.
“And don't tell me it's to support your chum, the tax man, when he takes the stand in a couple of minutes.”

“I think I might actually be here to support Granny.” My words surprised even myself.

Grinning, he rocked back on his heels. “The Lucas women united. Now that's more than a bit daunting.”

Florence's stepfather, Mayor Filbert, yelled, “Order, order!” as he rang the bell. “I call to order this town meeting. Our first order of business is the most unfortunate
and untimely—though he was rather old, come to think of it, and probably wouldn't have made it through the winter—”

Florence's mother elbowed him and whispered harshly, “
Benjamin
.”

The mayor cleared his throat and straightened his belt. “Back to topic, our first order of business is the recent and tragic death of Amos Slade, may he rest in peace.”

“May he rest in peace,” the townsfolk repeated.

“Yes, yes. Thank you for that. All right then,” he continued, adjusting his glasses as he glanced down at a scroll. “Upon study of the body and the tracks surrounding the place
of death, it is clear that Mr. Slade was attacked and killed by a very large wild animal.”

“The wolves!” Seamstress Evans yelled. Her young son held up his wooden sword and grunted.

While other villagers joined in, the mayor cleared his throat. “People, quiet down. Quiet!” As soon as the din died down enough for him to carry on, he said, “Yes, the
consensus is that the wolves are to blame for this horrific act. We have no way of knowing whether it's the same wolf that's been wreaking havoc on our farm animals or one that's
particularly keen on human blood. What we
do
know is one of our finest hunters is dead.”

“What the dickens are we going to do about it?” a middle-aged woman with a green shawl over her head demanded.

“These bloodthirsty beasts won't rest until they've slaughtered the lot of us,” the shoemaker added.

“The wolves
will
attack again. We have no choice but to hunt down and kill the entire pack!” Peter's father said.

The mayor nodded at the blacksmith. “And the sooner, the better. Any man, young or old, who's willing to fight in tonight's hunting party, gather by the fountain immediately
following this meeting.”

“You're all a bunch of idiots,” Granny's voice called out from the front row. “Soon you'll be a bunch of
dead
idiots!”

“That's one of her favorite sayings,” I whispered to Peter.

He nodded and then a second later said, “Stay right here, all right? I need to do something real quick.”

“Everything all right?” I asked, but he'd already disappeared into the throng.

“Your input is duly noted, Widow Lucas,” said the mayor, and I hoped that was the end of her input.

However, I knew better. “And you can note this too, Mr. Mayor,” Granny continued, shouldering her way to get as close to him as possible. “If you allow the Forget-Me-Not ball
to take place on the next full moon, as scheduled, the wolves will have one hell of a feast on our young people.” A few villagers gasped, and others sniggered.

I waved my hand in the air, and the mayor acknowledged me with a nod. It seemed like every pair of eyes in the entire hall was glued on me, and my cheeks felt hot. Finally, I said, “Never
mind.”

“Sorry, dear, but you need to speak up,” the mayor said. “Otherwise, we can't hear you.”

I swallowed, and if my cheeks were red before, now they were on fire. I glanced at Granny, who was up on her toes and craning her neck to try and see me over the sea of people. Taking a deep
breath, I faced the mayor and shouted, “What's the harm in rescheduling the ball for another night? One that isn't during Wolfstime?” I couldn't believe I'd
spoken up, and with such confidence! While waiting for him to answer, I concentrated on not biting my lip.

The mayor hitched his belt and said, “I'm a firm believer that it's better to be safe than sorry. You, the fine people of this village, have made me your mayor, and I
don't take my job, or your lives, lightly. After all, what good would it be to be your mayor if there's no one to preside over?” He chuckled to himself and then cleared his
throat. “So, as requested by the Widow Lucas and her granddaughter, the Forget-Me-Not ball will be rescheduled for a safer date.”