An Unnatural Beanstalk: A Retelling of Jack and the Beanstalk (Entwined Tales Book 2)

by Brittany Fichter

  Jack studied the fields a little more carefully. He was too far away to see every part of their farm, for the barn stood between him and most of the crops, but the part that he could see did not look promising. “Mother wants me to sell the cow, so we’ll figure this out later. You want to come along?”

  Larry immediately whooped and hollered as he tore off toward the road, but Ray frowned even harder. “She wants you to sell the cow? That milk is all we’ve had for the last three days. That and those wrinkled old apples from the back of the barn. And cooked oats. So many oats. He visibly shuddered. “I hate oats.”

  Jack shrugged. “You know Mother. When she gets an idea—”

  “She only says the cow is dry because the Douglas’s cow did run dry, and she can’t stand to be shown up by someone who has it harder than her.”

  Jack thumped his skinny little brother on the back, grabbed a rope from the porch, and put it around the poor cow’s neck. Then he began walking in the direction Larry had gone. “True though that may be, it’s her cow, and we have to do as she says. Might as well make the best of it.”

  Despite the way his legs felt like jelly after five minutes of walking, and the way the movement made his head swim, Jack found the outing to be rather pleasant. At this time of day, he was usually hard at work in the fields. But his fever had only broken the night before, and he hadn’t awakened until long after the sun had risen, much to his mother’s dismay. No wonder the crops were dying. She hadn’t seen fit to step foot outside that ridiculous garden in the three weeks he’d been sick. Not that he would have expected her to.

  As they continued walking, however, the uneasy feeling returned as Jack realized that his wasn’t the only farm that looked unhealthy. As they passed their neighbors’ gardens and farms, each one was the same. Shriveled brown plants lay flat against the ground, contrasting with the bright red clay beneath. By the time they reached town, Jack was tempted to see if he could sneak the cow back into the barn and hide her there, hoping his mother would eventually forgive him for disobeying her when milk was all they had left.

  But then, what would they feed it? According to Ray, they’d eaten nearly all the oats he’d set aside to feed the horses in the winter, and they’d been feeding the cow and horses all the hay set aside for the cow.

  He paused at the edge of the auction platform where a small crowd of unhappy people had gathered to wait for the next auction. They were mostly strangers, which was unusual for his sleepy little town, and the way they eyed his cow set him on edge. So instead of going straight to the auctioneer, he decided to wait for the auction to begin, and he headed instead over to the drinking trough where he knew he would find some more trustworthy friends.

  “The dead lives!” Jim Farnsworth greeted him as he approached the trough.

  “Ray! Larry! You can visit the Millers, but don’t leave their yard.” He eyed the strange crowd across the street again before he turned back to shake hands with Jim and Robert. Jim looked a bit leaner than Jack remembered seeing him last, and Robert looked exhausted, but both gave him a hearty handshake and their usual smiles. Jack leaned in a bit closer. “What’s going on around here?”

  Jim gestured at the auction block. “People are packing up and moving out. Everyone else around here is waiting to buy their beans.”

  “Beans?” Jack asked.

  “That’s right. Beans. Soybeans are the only crop that’s grown since this famine started.”

  “Mine are dead.”

  “So are everyone else’s.” Jim leaned forward, a gleam in his eye. “Word has it that that duke, the one that lives not too far west of here, has brought some sort of magic with him from Astoria that is keeping his crops alive.” He leaned back and stretched. “And with him being the smart politician he is and all . . . I mean, the kind soul he is, rather,” Jim smiled wryly, “he’s been sending enough beans all over the place to keep folks alive. So those who don’t want beans leave. Those who want to stay, buy.”

  “How far does the famine go?” Jack asked.

  Robert looked at the inside of his mug. “All the way to the borders is what we’re hearing.”

  Jack shook his head in disbelief. “Just three weeks. That’s all it took?”

  “Evidently.” Jim frowned at Jack’s cow. “What are you doing with old Sacha here? Better be careful, or you’re going to get mugged as soon as you step out of town. Won’t do for your brothers to see you all mashed up and bloodied.”

  “Too bad your father isn’t here,” Jim said with a grim smile. “That man knew how to fight, that’s for sure.” He made a face at Jack. “Not like those two hooligans you like to waste your time with. What were their names? Cayman and Paul?”

  Jack gave his father’s old friends a wry smile. “Johnathon and Kayden. Speaking of which,” he looked around, “have you seen them?”

  “Also packed up and headed out to Anura and Caladonia.” Robert still studied the bottom of his cup as if looking at it was going to fill it once again.

  Jack stared at him in disbelief. Johnathon and Kayden had been his two closest friends growing up. “They left their farms? Their families have been here for—”

  “Six and eight generations?” Robert nodded. “Yes, I know.” He shook his head and let out a gusty breath. “Look, son. This famine . . . or whatever it is, is bad. The only work to be had around here is at that duke’s property. And the only food around here are his beans.”

  “We’ve had droughts before.”

  “This is no drought. We have water, yes, but there is no food. The only way anyone has survived this long is through the food that’s already been gathered and stored, and with us just at the beginning of summer, that’s not much. If we’d known to prepare, we could have, but—” he broke off and simply shook his head.

  As if seeing anew, Jack looked up and down the town’s main street once more. The butcher and the baker had closed up shop, their windows and doors already boarded over. Josephine was in the process of boarding up her dressmaking building as well. The candlemaker’s front looked empty, as did a number of family homes that lined the street. Dozens of people, many of whom were usually out tilling fields by this time of day, were wandering around as if in a daze. Then, as he turned to look up the north side of the street, a new question occurred to Jack.

  “Did you ever meet Eva, Tamra’s cousin, the one that moved in with her?”

  Robert shook his head, but Jim nodded. “Blonde, tall, sweet.” He paused. “A bit skittish?”

  Jack nodded. “I was talking to her the night of the last dance, but she disappeared after that.”

  Robert, with his pipe in hand, puffed three gray smoke circles into the air that matched the exact shade of his beard. “She sure did. Word is that she was taken sometime that night or soon after. Her cousin denies it, though. Tamra just says she took off with some rich fellow.” He puffed away silently for a moment before continuing. “The way she tells it, you’d think the girl had taken off with all her jewels and those babies of hers. Though the babies would be better off with the girl, if you ask me.”

  Jack felt as though someone had kicked him in the gut. She truly was gone. His mind immediately flew back to that night, trying to figure out when it must have happened. He had asked about her after she’d run off, but Tamra had insisted . . .

  Tamra.

  The duke.

  “Whoa there.” Jim nodded at Jack’s hands. “Careful, or you’re going to strangle that poor cow.”

  Jack immediately gave the rope some slack, but his anger didn’t diminish. Someone needed to find her. Everyone should be looking. There hadn’t been a case of a disappearing person in the area in years, and the last one he could remember was when old man Sutter had taken too much of a sleeping potion his wife had purchased out of town and had passed out in the loft of his barn. But, he realized as he looked around again, who would look for her? Those who were left were busy simply trying to survive.

  If he had been on his own, he would’v
e dropped the cow and everything else and run off in search of her himself, but he had his brothers to think about. If he had known things would be so bad, he would never have even brought them into town. Even now, as he kept an eye on them from just down the street, he couldn’t help noticing more strangers eyeing his cow. None of them looked like they had much money, either, with which they planned to pay.

  He looked back at his old friends. “Thanks for letting me know. Are you planning to leave, too?”

  Jim and Robert looked at each other.

  “I was raised on this land,” Jim finally said slowly, the merriment gone from his eyes. “I plan to die here as well.”

  Robert shook his head and puffed another ring of smoke. “And when this fool passes out from hunger, I’ll be along to drag his sorry self over the border to someplace with food.” He paused. “But that won’t be until we have no other choice.” His voice softened. “As long as there’s a choice, I’ll stay.”

  Jack bid his friends goodbye, hoping it wasn’t for the last time, and called for his brothers. As he did, a man passing by caught his eye. But instead of tipping his hat or smiling and looking away politely, the man watched their cow until they had turned the corner.

  “You didn’t sell the cow,” Ray pointed out as he hopped down the road like a toad.

  Jack pulled them close and told them in a low voice, “Stay close to me.”

  “Why?” Larry’s brown eyes grew wide.

  “The people here are desperate.”

  “Don’t you trust our neighbors?” Ray looked around in alarm.

  “Our neighbors I trust. But a lot of these folks I don’t know.”

  “Papa always said we were supposed to help people in need.”

  “And if anyone wants a cup of water, I’ll give it to them quicker than you can blink. But I won’t have any stranger taking your food out from under my nose. As soon as we get home, I want you to grab your coats and good shoes and meet me at the barn. Tell Mother to do the same. We’re taking the cow and horses and leaving.”

  “But what if Mother won’t go?” Larry had turned a new shade of white.

  Jack took a deep breath. “Then we’re leaving without her.”

  All the way home, his mind was spinning. How had their happy little farming kingdom fallen so far while he was sick? It had only been three weeks. But now his hometown was filled with strangers as gaunt and desperate like he’d never seen. And it bothered him. Guthward had always been known for its hospitality, and its people for their willingness to take strangers in and share in the abundance they worked so hard to grow. But now it seemed many of the people who would have helped one another were gone. And Jack didn’t know where to turn.

  And on top of all of that, Eva was missing.

  Jack only let the boys leave his side when they were within a hundred yards of the house.

  As they ran for the house, he planned. They would hitch up that old cart, the one too small to use for anything except the garden’s produce. They would take the remaining oats and hay and anything else that they could find and put it in the cart. He would bring his father’s old dagger, and the boys would take the few clothes they had. His mother, if she came at all, would insist on carrying the money, if they had any left.

  But where would they go? Every relative he had was in Guthward.

  “I hear you’re trying to sell your cow.”

  Jack jumped. He whirled around just in time to see a scowling man in a long gray robe with . . .

  He blinked. It had been a long time since his father had told him a bedtime story, but this creature looked like—

  “Yes, I’m a fairy, if that’s what you’re wondering.” The man rolled his eyes. “Now aren’t you going to take my offer?”

  “Your offer?” Jack tried to focus. This creature didn’t look much like any of the fairies his father had told him stories about. From his wings, which looked too small to carry his tall frame, to the stubble that shadowed his face to his hair that looked as though he’d never seen a mirror, he was as unlike a fairy as anything Jack had ever imagined. Still, looks or no, if those stories had even an inkling of truth, his troubles might just be over.

  Before he could utter a word about thriving crops or being whisked away to another kingdom, however, the fairy rolled up his sleeves. “Look, I’ll make it worth your time.”

  The offer brought Jack somewhat back to his senses. “What do you need a cow for?” He looked the fairy up and down. “You’ve got magic. Can’t you just make one appear out of thin air or something?”

  “That’s not how this works,” the fairy snapped. “But if you’ll trade the cow, I’ll give you something better.”

  “Like what?”

  The fairy dug into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a scrap of paper.

  “Used parchment?” Jack was not impressed.

  “No, no, no!” The fairy continued to dig through his pockets. There were more random bits and pieces of paper, twigs, several objects that sparkled, a blue speckled egg, and several pieces of fruit tucked into the flowing robe than Jack would have previously thought possible. “Ha!” Triumphantly, the fairy finally held up a fistful of something. “Now give me your hand.”

  But Jack backed up a step. “Not until you tell me what it is.”

  “Does it matter? You’re getting something from a fairy. You should be groveling at my feet, begging to make the trade.”

  Jack gave a hard laugh. “I have two growing boys and a nagging mother to feed, and my crops have died without a clue as to why. And you’re wondering why I’m not jumping for joy at the prospect of getting a surprise trade?”

  With a huff, the fairy held out and opened his hand.

  “Beans?” Jack stood up straight and ran his hand through his hair. “Five measly beans?”

  “Magic beans!”

  “Well, what do these magic beans do?”

  The fairy flared his nostrils. “They’ll take you to your true love.”

  Jack snorted. “If you knew anything about my love life, you would know it’s nonexistent. And as if I have time to run off searching—”

  “Look, do you want to find the girl or not?”

  Jack had begun walking toward the barn again, but at these words he froze. He turned again. “Eva?”

  The expression was so quick that Jack nearly missed it. But in the silent nod the fairy gave him, Jack recognized the emotion that flickered across the fairy’s face for what it was.

  “Wait, you know something, don’t you?” He stepped back and studied the fairy again. But the fairy wouldn’t meet his gaze. “That’s it!” Jack cried. “You’re guilty, aren’t you?”

  “I am not!”

  “You’ve done something, and now you need someone else to fix your mess!” Jack rubbed his face. The weeks of being ill had caught up with him hours ago, and he felt more like fainting than taking on a quest. But if he could last a little longer, maybe he could use this to his advantage. And perhaps get a loaf of bread to boot. “Very well, if you want me to take your beans, then I first need some guarantees from you.”

  “What is it with you ungrateful humans and striking deals?” The fairy shook his head. “You’re as bad as the woodcutter’s little wicked one.”

  Jack hadn’t the slightest idea as to what that meant, but he was too caught up in his plan to care.

  “If I do this, I need you to provide food for my family until I bring the girl safely home.”

  The fairy gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Fine. Whatever. Anything else, your highness?”

  Jack nearly laughed at the absurdity of the situation. He had a fairy on a string, and he was nearly ready to pass out from hunger. He’d better make the rest of the deal quickly. “Make the crops grow again.”

  “Can’t. Next?”

  “What?” Jack cried, but the fairy shook his unbrushed head.

  “Other magic at work. Now what more do you want before I find someone else?”

  Jack paused and thought.
His family would be fed. Now he just needed them to be safe. “Give them a guard then, someone to keep away intruders while I’m gone.”

  “Very well. Rabid cat it is.”

  “Wha—”

  “Now give me the cow and get a move on.”

  “Wait, why do you still need the cow?”

  “These are magic beans, in case you forgot. I can’t give them away for nothing!” And with that, the cow and the fairy were gone. And in Jack’s hand lay five shiny green beans.

  4

  That’s Why I Called You Jack

  Jack cringed as another plate hit against the wall behind him, falling to the floor in a thousand pieces.

  “I don’t know what you’re so upset about,” he tried again. His answer was another flying plate.

  “You’re as dim as your father was!” His mother’s face nearly matched the color of her graying copper locks. “How could you give him our cow?”

  “For the last time, I didn’t give it to him!” Jack fixed his mother with a glare. “He took it. But again, you were the one who wanted me to sell her, and since I made the deal, you and the boys will have food and protection until I finish this task. We’ll be better off than anyone else nearby.”

  “No,” his mother scowled so hard her thin shoulders shook, “we will be better off than them. You will have to find your own food!” She stomped out of the little kitchen and stuck her head out the door. “Larry! Ray! Get over here and bring a bag of oats while you’re at it!”

  “What about Jack?” Ray piped.

  “He’s finding his own supper tonight.”

  “Mother, really.”

  She whirled around to face him. “Let me see them then. Let me see these magic beans.”

  Jack rolled his eyes but reached into his pocket and pulled them out. Before he even finished opening his hand, however, she snatched them up and threw them out the window.

  “Why would you do that?” Jack ran to the window and looked out, but it was no use. The beans had landed in the pigpen and were nowhere to be seen, already buried in the mud. He turned to his mother. “Why would you do that?”