“I supposed I should be flattered.” I smiled, for I actually was.
“Guv’nor!” I glanced over and saw Stibbins, Bludergard’s valet, approaching us. “Be careful!”
Bludergard chuckled. “About what, Stibbins? These birds are perfectly harmless.”
“Tell that to my hat!” Stibbins tapped it, and I could see the beak-shaped indentation in the lid. “My very best topper, too.”
“He was probably up to something,” I whispered to Maia. Stibbins was only slightly less trustworthy than a hungry mugger who was late with the rent. “I did tell you to have an eye kept on him?”
“You did,” Maia whispered back. “He's rather slippery.”
“Once he’s gone, be sure to count the eggs and feathers.”
Stibbins made a great show out of removing and dusting off his hat. “I tell you, guv’nor, no good is going to come from these balmy birds!”
“I must disagree,” Reg said as he popped up next to Stibbins. “I think these are marvelous creatures! But roosters make much better pets!”
“What?” Stibbins blinked.
“But we haven't been introduced! And I promised Alice I'd be on my best behavior!” Reg shook Stibbins’ hand first, then Bludergard’s. “Reginald J. Cheshire. Reg for short.”
“Yes!” Bludergard exclaimed. “I read about how you helped Ms. Peavley! Are you here for a visit?”
“Indeed!”
“A pleasure to meet you! Perhaps you could drop by my manor sometime!” Bludergard smiled. Stibbins sighed and shook his head.
“I shall keep that in mind.” Reg stroked his whiskers. “What do you think of these moa?”
Stibbins gave Constantine a good once-over and licked his lips. “There’s some good eating on those, ain’t there?”
“Mr. Stibbins,” Maia said politely, “moa are not bred as game birds. Their meat is rather tough in any case.”
“What about the eggs?”
“We recommend not trying to get past a brooding moa. It could be rather painful.”
“There are much better birds to dine on, Stibbins!” Bludergard said happily. “These are meant for other things.”
Reg looked up at Constantine. “Could these be ridden?”
“Yes!” Maia spoke before I could try to dissuade her. “In fact, moa racing is a popular pastime in the south.”
“What a splendid idea!” Bludergard smiled. “I’ve love to get a chance to ride one!”
Maia was about to reply, but she stopped and glanced over at me. “Mr. Bludergard?” she said. “Would you excuse me for a moment?” He nodded, his stare fixed on the moa.
She took my arm and led me away from the others. “Is there something wrong?” I asked quietly.
“Not at all,”Maia said. “In fact, I just had the most amazing idea!”
“Which is?”
“We can stage a moa race! We could have one set up by next weekend! It’ll draw attention to the farm, it could help sway Bludergard, and we can sell tickets to raise funds for charity!”
“A moa race?” I smiled. “How splendid!”
“Thank you!”
“I’m sure you can get Bludergard to take part.”
“And you as well?” Maia said hopefully.
My smile decamped for parts unknown. “Pardon?” I said.
“I’ve read about the motorcar rally. It seemed like a natural fit.”
“But I’ve never been on a moa!”
“We can train you! One of the handlers was a moa jockey before she started here!”
“I…”
My pause gave Maia a chance to dive in. “Alice, the Velessan council is planning to vote on motorizing their streeetcars in two weeks. We need to get all the positive publicity for moa that we can, and as much as I hate to say it, having you in the race would help with that. I know I’m imposing upon you, but I’m worried that Wilkins could lose the farm.”
I was tempted to turn Maia down, as politely as possible, but I had already committed to help her and now was not the time to back down. It had also occurred to me how I could turn the situation to someone’s advantage. “Very well then,” I said. “I will take part in this race, under one condition.”
“And that is?”
“The charity that you are raising funds for will be the Darbyfield Library.”
Maia smiled. “Splendid! Thank you so much, Alice! I’ll start making arrangements!”
“Just don’t say that I won’t regret this,” I said sternly, for I was already suspecting that I would.
I rejoined the others, said a quick round of goodbyes and returned to the motorcar with Macalley. As we waited for Reg to pull himself away from the moa, I told Macalley of Maia’s idea. “It does seem like a rather sound plan,” he said.
“It does. Except for the part where I participate in the race.”
“It can be safely assumed you’ve never ridden a moa before?”
“Very safely. I’ve only tried to ride a horse once, and the beastly thing nearly bit me. I wasn’t meant to be around farm animals.” I sighed. “This must be the daftest thing I’ve ever agreed to do.”
“I must respectfully disagree with that assessment, madame,” Macalley said as he started the motorcar.
“Thank you, Macalley!” I was all a-smile.
“I'd have to agree with Macalley,” Reg said cheerfully as he jumped into the back seat.
“Thank you, Reg.”
The pooka grinned. “You've definitely done much dafter things.”
I covered my face with my hands. “I retract my most recent expression of gratitude,” I muttered as we drove off.
Maia moved with such speed to set up the moa race, I became convinced that she could find a better job than processing paperwork and washing off bird droppings any time she wished. I had agreed to allow the race to begin on the road in front of Peavley Manor, from whence it would continue to Darbyfield and conclude in the town square. The contestants and spectators would not be allowed on the manor’s grounds, as I remembered very vividly what had happened the last time I had permitted that. One must look after one’s gladiolas.
I had been asked to come alone to Withers’ Farm for training and practice before the race, for secrecy reasons. I was actually glad to leave Reg behind, as he had been dropping hints, with decreasing levels of subtlety, that he wanted to ride a moa as well. It doesn’t take a soothsayer to foresee how that would go.
The farm was buzzing with activity when I arrived. I could see two moa, already saddled, waiting out front as I parked my motorcar. I had been advised that riding sidesaddle on a moa might not be practical, so I had worn red breeches and a matching topcoat. I suspected that other people might have seen me and wondered who was crafting life size tin soldiers.
Maia hurried up to me as I got out of the motorcar. “Alice!” she said. “What a delightful outfit!”
“Thank you,” I said. “Are those the moa we’ll be riding in the race?”
“They are! We decided that you should ride Beatrice. She’s quite gentle.”
“We?”
Maia gestured towards a stocky woman with long frizzy hair tumbling out from beneath her helmet. “I discussed this with Langley, our moa trainer. She’ll be showing you the ropes. How to mount and dismount, the commands, what not to do.”
“I see. So who else is here?”
“Well…” Maia paused. “We need to swear you to secrecy until we make the announcement tomorrow. We’re trying to build interest.”
“I promise not to say a word,” I said solemnly.
“Splendid! Yesterday, we had Bludergard here, along with Zek Monviso. You know him, right?”
“We’ve met, yes.” Monviso was a hard-working dwarf, and Darbyfield’s leading produce seller. His carts were everywhere, and I’d had a close encounter with one during the motorcar rally.
“He’s very influential in the dwarf community. You should know the last competitor. I had to call in a favor—ah, there we go!”
My imagination was sparked by that remark. For a moment, I expected Maia to say I’d be competing against the dread faerie Countess Gylburnt, or that I’d soon see Lady Sylvetta Travers in a ridiculous yet splendid racing getup. In spite of that, I was still surprised when I saw the final rider.
A tall man with a rather full yet unimpressive beard strode out through the front gate. He was wearing baggy white trousers that showed off his spindly legs and a topcoat with white, blue and red criscrossing stripes. “Thank you, Maia,” he said with a smile. “That pump did the trick on these old boots!”
He stopped and gaped at me, and I was doing much the same. “Razzmatazz?” I said slowly.
“Alice Peavley!” He grinned again and bounded over to me. “What a pleasant surprise!”
“Likewise,” I said as we shook hands. Razzmatazz was a traveling musician, of sorts; he recited his nonsensical lyrics instead of singing them, over a rather raucous beat.
“I haven’t seen you since that mess with Doctor Walrus and the grand piano...how is Leo doing?”
“Quite splendidly. He’s taken well to his official library dog position, and Clarinda spoils him rather rotten.”
“Excellent news!” Razzmatazz grinned.
“I’m surprised that Lobb let you go through with this,” I said, thinking of his personal assistant, who I had not gotten along with in the slightest.
“She hasn’t been in my employ for weeks.”
“Oh?” I tried not to smile at the news.
“She booked me a performance for Elfking Barkbirch.” Razzmatazz shook his head. “The musicians were off the beat, and then that bloody pooka showed up. After that, I felt it was best to head in a different direction.” I was tempted to ask which pooka, but I already knew deep down who it was. All the same, I was glad that Reg had been left behind at the manor house.
Thankfully, further discussion was stayed when Langley joined us. She was very good, and very patient, as she worked with us. By the time she had finished, I was fully confident in my ability to ride a moa, and was daydreaming of winning the race.
Naturally, my confidence in that began to dwindle by the time I got home, and had vanished completely the following morning.
The Saturday of the moa race was soon upon us. I was up bright and early, mostly through the convenience of not sleeping a whit the night before. Macalley made the strongest tea he could find, and I consumed a great deal of it, so that I could pass for being awake and alert when the race started. Macalley also had to be at his most alert, as he had an even riskier task than mine. He had to keep an eye on Reg and prevent the pooka from making a mess of things.
Thankfully, the staff of Withers Farm arrived before anyone else could. Langley gave me a refresher course on riding my moa, and I was pleased that Beatrice seemed so willing to cooperate with the two humans. I started to regain a small measure of confidence as I rode my moa along the road in front of the manor.
Soon after that, the other riders arrived, along with reporters and photographers from various newspapers. The four of us posed politely with our moa, individually and together, chatting quietly. Monviso was pleasant but reserved in his dwarfish way, Razzmatazz looked even more in need of tea than I had been, and Bludergard was so far over the moon I feared he might not ever return.
Next to arrive were two people with enchanted megaphones, who would announce the start of the race and report from the action along the course. Their words would be heard in the town square, where announcer Tony Clamour would call the race’s finish.
I was surprised to see Constable Alf Matterhorn, that old sturdy dwarf, with them, along with that best of all bloodhounds, Murgatroyd. It turned out that Maia had called in another favor, and as a result, Constable Matterhorn would be the one to wave the flag that signaled the start of the race, along with a hearty shout of “Go!”
The constable took his spot near a line that had been drawn in the trail, and posed with his flag for more photographs. As he did, Langley helped Monviso into the saddle of his moa, a quiet bird named Gertrude. “You’re up next, Alice!” she said with a smile.
I nodded and forced myself to smile back as she came over. As I started to mount the moa, I heard a round of cheers. I looked back and saw Vyne, Leif and Ackley coming up the road. “Look at you!” Vyne said with a grin. “All set to win this race!”
“I’ll settle for completing it without injuring myself,” I said. “Will you be around for the finish?”
“I wish we could be.” Vyne sighed. “We’re starting over with the snarkleberry jam.”
“This time, with less limburger!” Leif added.
“We didn’t use any the first time,” Ackley said.
“You’re always so literal.” Leif shook his head. “Such a spoilsport.”
“Shhhh.” Ackley smiled and kissed Leif. I could see Vyne rolling her eyes and grinning at the same time.
“Thank you all for coming.” I smiled as Langley handed me Beatrice’s reins. “It was good to see you here. And…”
From my position on the moa’s back, I could easily see into my front lawn, past where Vyne and the others stood. I was glancing at my gladiolas, and I thought I saw something moving through them. My heart started to race when I realized that the flowerbed intruder was red.
“Ms. Peavley!” I snapped my attention away from the gladiolas at the sound of Jonah Harrisburg’s voice. He and Shilo Ogden were walking up to me. “Good morning!”
“Good morning!” I said loudly, hoping that the volume would cover up my nerves. As I spoke, I saw Langley and Stibbins getting Bludergard into the saddle; he would be riding Constantine.
“Lovely morning for a race, eh?” Ogden said to me.
“Couldn’t be better!” Harrisburg took a deep breath. “Smell that morning air!”
“You’re still not fighting?” I ventured.
“The truce continues until we find that rebellious rooster!”
“You haven’t seen him, have you?” Ogden added.
“Not since that first meeting.” I hated to lie, but I felt that keeping the truce going between the formerly feuding farmers was worth the slight mistruth. I forced myself not to glance at the gladiolas; instead, I fixed my gaze on Razzmatazz. Langley was trying to help him onto his moa, an absolute monster named Justinian, and it was not going well.
“It was worth a try.” Ogden shook his head.
“Had to ask, old bean.” Harrisburg patted Ogden’s back. “Had to ask.”
“George?”
I never thought, until that moment, that a simple name could cause my blood to suddenly run so cold. I stiffened as Reg Cheshire strode out of the manor house. I had no idea how he slipped past Macalley, but I realized that if anyone could, it would be a persistent pooka.
Harrisburg and Ogden glanced at one another, then at Reg. “You…?” Harrisburg said slowly.
“Good morning, all!” Reg tipped his top hat to the assemblage as he hurried towards the flowerbed. “There you are!” he said as he reached into the gladiolas and pulled out George.
“I should have known,” Ogden snarled. “You were behind it all, weren’t you?”
“You cursed prankster!” Harrisburg clenched his fists. “First you plant that apple tree, then you train a rooster to attack us!”
“Me?” Reg blinked. “But George wouldn’t hurt—”
“You!” Razzmatazz pulled a hand free from where it was tangled in his moa’s reins and pointed at the pooka.
“Yes. Still me.” Reg grinned. “How are—”
“You’re the one who ruined my concert for Barkbirch!” Razzmatazz begin to flail about, and Langley tried to hold him and Justinian still.
“I’m sorry,” Reg said contritely. “I really did think you were looking for a duet partner.”
“I don’t do duets, you bloody nuisance!”
“But we could try rehearsing next time—”
“Put that rooster down!” Razzmatazz was turning a rather startling s
hade of purple. “You need a good seeing to!”
“My good man,” Reg said calmly, “violence never solved anything. Besides, look how content George is!”
Before I could make the observation that I’d seen more content faces on students facing final exams at university, George took a deep breath. I caught Vyne’s eye and covered my ears. She did the same, and Leif and Ackley quickly caught on and followed suit.
George’s crow was even louder and longer than the first few times I had heard it. Everyone who had hands used them to cover their ears, with the exception of Razzmatazz. He had been balanced precariously on his moa to begin with, and the racket coming from the rooster caused Justinian to start swaying nervously, which led Razzmatazz to try to clutch at the saddle’s pommel, the reins, the moa’s neck and his ears at the same time. Since he only had the two hands, he was not terribly successful at this.
I had wrapped my reins about my wrist, Bludergard was surprisingly steady on his moa, and Monviso was completely unperturbed by George’s mighty crow. I saw that Langley was desperately waving at Constable Matterhorn; I assumed she was trying to convey to him that he should not start the race until things had settled down. Matterhorn nodded and, having missed her message completely, waved the starting flag the moment George went quiet. “Go!” he shouted.
Justinian saw the flag being waved, and instinct must have taken over. He turned around, jostling Razzmatazz halfway out of his saddle, and sprinted at a remarkable speed in the opposite direction from that of the race. Razzmatazz begin to scream, dangling precariously to one side as he and his moa vanished from sight.
Monviso looked over at me and Bludergard, shrugged, and cracked the reins. As his moa started slowly down the trail, Bludergard grinned and copied the dwarf’s action. “Oh, this is wonderful!” he said as he set off.
I glanced at the front lawn. George had escaped from Reg’s well-meaning clutches and was striding across the grass. Reg was on his knees, holding his battered nose and mumbling to himself. Harrisburg and Ogden were snarling as they started towards the rooster. “Gentlemen!” I snapped.
They stopped and turned towards me. “Yes, Ms. Peavely?” Harrisburg said.
The Rebellious Rooster (Or, Macalley Gets Cocky) Page 3