Wanted . . . Mud Blossom (12 page)

“Smart man.”

“Anyway, some people were driving by and saw her. She had passed out in the ditch. So they loaded her in their car and took her to Alderson General. Only they left her bag and her cane.”

“Well, leaving that bag made sense.”

“We've got the bag—it's hanging on our kitchen doorknob, and I told Pap I'd go back for the cane; but, Ralphie, I'm not sure I remember the exact spot. Do you?”

The exact spot where he had entwined a flower into Maggie's braid. You bet he remembered …

And then Ralphie sat up straight in his chair. He smiled for the first time since he had told Mrs. Blossom—what he had told her. His smile widened to a grin. Ralphie beamed.

For Ralphie remembered the last time he had seen Mad Mary's cane. It had been in the Blossom kitchen. That cane was in the Blossom kitchen! It was leaning against the back door beside the bag! But if Maggie wanted to pretend the cane was still lost in the weeds in order to see him … well, he would pretend the cane was still lost in the weeds.

Ralphie said in a mature voice, “I remember.”

“Oh, Ralphie, then will you meet me there?”

Ralphie took a deep breath, and he said the words he had wanted to say, yearned to be man enough to say, ever since he met Maggie.

“It's a date.”

Ralphie hung up the phone. If he hurried …

Ralphie knew that speed was not something a person with an artificial leg was usually good at. He was different. He prided himself on his lightning fast reactions. Once in English class the teacher had asked the members of the class to write something about themselves. Ralphie had written:

I am the fastest man on earth. I drive my bike up mountains without slowing down. I have been known to run to New York City and back during recess. I hold the world record for the Indy 500. To let off steam one Saturday afternoon, I dug a hole to China, had tea, and filled the hole back up in time for the family barbecue. When I am bored, I race eighteen-wheelers on the freeway.

At this moment, he felt it was not an exaggeration. In moments like this, he was the fastest man alive.

Not only would he break the world record getting to Maggie, but he would also whip out Beanie's parachute before he left.

After all, a child's life was at stake.

Maggie was riding Sandy Boy through the woods, taking a shortcut to the place where she and Ralphie had found Mad Mary's bag. At her side, like a knight's lance, was Mad Mary's crook.

Maggie rode in an easy, unhurried way, but her thoughts were not on the woods or the horse or the golden afternoon. Maggie's thoughts were on Ralphie.

When Maggie first learned that Ralphie had told her mother he loved her, she had felt her hatred solidify.

She had heard the news at the supper table along with all the other Blossoms. “It's Ralphie,” her mom had said, returning from the phone. “He says he loves me, but hopefully he thought I was you. I'm not that desperate—yet.”

“Is he still on the phone?” Maggie had asked.

“Yes.”

Maggie pushed her chair back and stood up. She flung her braids behind her back, out of the way.

“Well, he's got his nerve calling after I told him I hated him with all my heart.”

“Maggie, honey, make it short, please. Rooney could still call.”

“It'll be short, all right.”

Maggie had gotten up, walked quickly to the phone, and picked it up. She was ready for the conversation.

He would say, “Maggie?” in an uncertain way. It would be satisfying to hear Ralphie being uncertain, but that would just be the beginning.

She would say, “Yes, this is Maggie, the daughter of the woman you love.”

He would fall silent. She had never heard him silent before, but that would not weaken her hatred any more than his uncertainty would.

She picked up the phone, but she didn't get to say anything. The dial tone buzzed in her ear.

Ralphie was gone.

Maggie let the telephone rest on her shoulder for a moment. There was a finality about that dial tone, as if it wasn't just the end of a telephone call. That dial tone meant that Ralphie was not going to call again—ever. Ralphie was not going to come see her again—ever. Ralphie was out of her life.

From her shoulder, came the operator's voice, “If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and …”

Maggie hung up and went back to the kitchen.

“So what did Ralphie say?” Junior asked with interest.

“Nothing.”

“Does he love you or Mom?”

Maggie shrugged. “Who cares?”

Maggie wasn't good at arranging meetings with boys and that is why it took her until Sunday to think up a way to see Ralphie. She would have to ask his help.

Maggie had done this before—he had helped her sneak Mud into Alderson General Hospital to see Pap, she had asked him to help find Junior when he was lost. He had even come up with helium when the Green Phantom was in trouble.

Finally, she came up with it. She would ask Ralphie's help in finding Mad Mary's cane. Of course, she had already found it. She and Pap and Junior had gone back that same evening, and there it was. But Ralphie didn't know that.

Now she was heading toward the spot to meet Ralphie, and she was on horseback. She wanted to get there fast, hide the cane, and be standing there when Ralphie arrived.

She came through the trees and reined Sandy Boy to a stop. This was the spot. Maggie slid off Sandy Boy's back. She looked around. The bag had been right about here. She paced it off. So the crook should be right about here.

Maggie dropped the crook in the tall grass. She brushed the grass over it. She wasn't satisfied. It was too obvious. She took the crook and dropped it closer to the trees so that it was camouflaged by the fallen branches and twigs.

Then she walked to the ditch and sat down.

Holding Sandy Boy's reins in one hand, she watched the road for Ralphie's bike.

Ralphie was in battle dress.

He had on black jeans, black T-shirt—both faded to a gun-metal gray—and black, high-top sneakers, untied, with the laces whipping around his ankles.

Ralphie was bent over the handlebars of his bike, head down, eyes squinting into the wind.

With every spin of the wheels, his heart sang.

Ralphie to the rescue! Ralphie, the fastest man alive, is on the way!

He came over the crest of the hill, and he saw Maggie at once. She was sitting beside the road, holding Sandy Boy's reins.

When she saw him, she got up and brushed off the seat of her jeans.

Ralphie rested back on the seat of his bicycle and coasted down the hill. He was letting his natural brilliance coast downhill in the same way. He was not—no matter what restraint it took—he was not going to be brilliant.

After all, it took real brilliance to find just the right tone of non-brilliance.

Ralphie braked right in front of Maggie, stopping on a dime, as the saying went. He laid his bike on its side, and the rear wheel continued to spin as he turned to Maggie.

“Now,” he said, with studied non-brilliance, “let me be of assistance.”

“Where have you been with Mary's cane? I was looking for that,” Junior said when Maggie and Ralphie rode up.

Maggie was on Sandy Boy, Ralphie on his bike. “Here,” Maggie said quickly. She handed down the crook.

“Thanks, I wanted to be the one to give it to her.”

Junior sat back down on the steps with the crook across his knees. His eyes watched the bridge for the sight of Pap's truck. He had been sitting on the steps, waiting, ever since Pap had left for town.

Maggie said, “Want to come to the barn with me, Ralphie?”

“I guess.”

Beside Junior on the steps was Scooty's cage. Ever since the miraculous moment when he had learned Scooty was alive, Junior had not let Scooty out of his presence. Scooty had even slept beside Junior in his bed.

Junior saw the truck turn off the highway. He got quickly to his feet and ran down the steps, forgetting Scooty in his excitement. Then he ran back, got Scooty, and ran across the yard.

By this time the truck had come to a stop. Junior was jiggling with excitement. He was going to see his best friend in the world and he had so much to tell her—about Scooty, about the trial, about … oh, everything. He wouldn't be able to shut up for a hundred years—that's how much he had to tell her.

Mary got out of the truck and Junior's words died. His excitement did too.

This wasn't Mary. This wasn't his friend. This woman was clean. He would never have recognized her in a million years. This could have been just any woman in the grocery store or in the drugstore.

And Pap had said, “I'm going to try to get Mary to stay the night.”

And Junior had said, when he still thought she was the woman he knew and loved, “She can sleep in my room with me and Scooty!”

Pap had tried to warn him. “She's bound to look different from what we're used to, Junior. A stay in the hospital don't help a person.”

“I know! I went in the hospital one time and came out with two broken legs!”

“Well, if you're sure.”

“Oh, I'm sure. Like, I spent the night with her in her cave and now she'll spend the night with me in my room, and then I'll spend the night in her cave and she'll …”

Spending the night with his friend Mary was one thing, but spending the night with a grocery-store stranger was another.

Behind Junior, Mud pushed open the screen door. He stood for a moment while the door banged shut behind him.

Junior turned. “No barking, Mud, I mean it. I was supposed to put you in the basement. Now, watch Dump and see how nicely he behaves. You could learn a lot from Dump.”

Mud came down the steps and Junior twisted his fingers in Mud's bandanna. Mud twisted free and ran the rest of the way to the truck.

Mary threw up her thin arms for protection, but Mud was just hurrying to greet Pap. Even Mud didn't recognize a clean Mad Mary.

Junior pulled himself toward the truck. His feet felt heavier than usual, so his walking was slow. His shoes left long reluctant marks in the dirt.

Junior had never expected to see anything like Mad Mary in his life. It was as if she had been disguised by experts.

Her clothes were new. Her hair had been washed. They'd even combed it!

“Well, Junior!” she said. Junior was grateful that her voice was the same.

“Your cane.”

Junior presented it in a formal way, with a little bow, and then he stepped back out of the way.

She took the cane and held it against her as if it were something that had been lost for years, not just days. “Oh, Junior, maybe my life's going to get back together after all.”

“Mine did.”

She took a few steps with her cane as if to make sure it was really hers.

“Your bag's in the kitchen.”

“You and I seem to go through the same things, don't we, Junior?” she said as they started toward the house. “Because you know what I thought of in the hospital?”

“What?”

“I thought of you waking up in the same hospital and not knowing where you were. That's just what happened to me.”

“And it was scary, wasn't it?”

“Yes, it was.”

“See, I told you.” Junior glanced over at Pap. “Pap, I told her that waking up and not knowing where you were was the scariest thing that can happen to a person, but she didn't believe me.”

“Well, I believe you now.”

“You're going to sleep in my room,” Junior said firmly. “You can have the bed and Scooty and I will sleep on the floor.”

“I wouldn't want to put you and Scooty out.”

Junior was warming to Mary. She didn't look the same. She didn't smell the same. But the important thing—she was the same.

“You won't put us out. We're very, very glad to have you.”

Ever since Ralphie had told Mrs. Blossom that he—what he had told her—Ralphie had been dreading the moment when he would see her again.

In his worst nightmares, Mrs. Blossom had smiled in an amused way and said something like, “Well, if it isn't my admirer.”

In his one good nightmare, she had given him an amused, knowing smile—but not so Maggie could see it—and kept her thoughts to herself.

Ralphie and Maggie were in the barn when the dreaded meeting took place. Maggie was unsaddling Sandy Boy, and Ralphie was standing back, concentrating on not being brilliant, when Mrs. Blossom walked into the barn.

Ralphie stepped back with alarm. His face began to burn.

“Don't bother unsaddling him,” Vicki Blossom said. “I'm going for a ride myself.”

Ralphie pressed back into the bales of hay. He looked down at the floor, faking interest in the dirt, the manure, the straw-strewn boards. He figured if he didn't actually see the amused smile, he could pretend it hadn't been there.

“I thought you were waiting for Rooney's call,” Maggie said.

“I got the call. He can't come till next weekend.”

Vicki Blossom got into a saddle as easily as ordinary people get into dining room chairs.

“Which might as well be next year for all the good it does me.”

“He'll come, Mom.”

“Sure, he'll come. IF there are no more horse trials. I always did detest people who were cruel to horses, and now I have an extra reason to detest them.”

Sandy Boy neighed with pleasure and tossed his head as she took the reins. He never did that for anybody but Vicki Blossom. He allowed Maggie to ride him—he wouldn't even buck when Vern or Junior got on—but Sandy Boy was Vicki's horse in the way Mud was Pap's dog.

“Plus, if he doesn't come soon, my pants suit is going to look funny. It's got short sleeves. I'll have to wear a coat over it! And where am I going to get the money for a good-looking coat?”