Blossoms Meet the Vulture Lady

by Betsy Byars

At first Junior was glad to be awake, then he remembered where he was. Without opening his eyes, he knew he was back on the same ledge, on the same ragged blankets, covered with the same musty quilt, breathing the same chilly air. He shuddered.

  A moan almost escaped his lips, but he held it back. He wanted to be asleep—at least to look asleep in case the witch was still there. As long as he was asleep—or looked asleep—the day could not start.

  He lay there without moving for what seemed like hours. He was listening. He heard nothing. Finally he cracked one eye.

  The light was dim and everything had a gray look. Nothing moved in the sooty distance. Junior opened his other eye. He leaned up on one elbow.

  He was so astonished that he sat straight up. He was in a cave. This place was a cave! How could it be? He had fallen asleep in a trap and now … now …, his brain sputtered, now he was in a cave!

  He got to his feet and began to walk around. He was too surprised not to. He paused. A rocking chair. There was a rocking chair in this cave.

  There was no end to the surprises. He walked around, touching everything. All Junior’s life his family had tried to break him of the habit of touching other people’s things—he was so used to having them slap his hand in department stores that he hardly felt it anymore. Now there was nobody to stop him. He touched everything.

  A pile of rags and old clothes over here had been covered with a blanket; it was a chair. Another pile of old clothes by the fire was a sort of stool. There were pots and pans and bottles of water lined up on a rock ledge.

  Another rock ledge made a table, and there were old dishes on it. And at the back of the ledge there were shelves made out of boards and rocks. On these shelves was food, real grocery store stuff, the same kind of stuff the Blossoms had on their shelves—matches and flour and salt. Junior didn’t know witches used matches and flour and salt.

  And there were jars of dried apples and strings of peppers and baskets of sprouting potatoes and shriveled carrots. Junior stepped back to see what he’d missed, and he bumped into the cave wall. Something brushed his head.

  He looked up, startled. There were all kinds of weeds hanging on the walls. That was more like it. Witchweeds. Junior reached up and touched a bunch.

  It was dried and some leaves crumbled in his fingers. He brushed his hand against his pants, and when he lifted his hand, his fingers had a spicy smell. Junior wiped his hand quickly on his pants again.

  Junior kept walking. And over there, by the door, were boxes and boxes and more boxes. Junior had never seen so many boxes. He bent down to see the contents.

  Books.

  He threw back the lid on another box.

  More books.

  Junior’s mouth dropped open in amazement. There were more books in these boxes, in this cave, than in the whole school library.

  To Junior these books were the most astonishing thing of all. He had never, ever known of a witch who liked to read.

  CHAPTER 20

  The Longest Day

  The rest of the Blossoms were up at dawn too. They were in the kitchen, sitting around the table.

  “Now, I know nobody’s hungry,” Vicki Blossom was saying, “but we all got to eat. It may be a long day.”

  “I hope not,” Pap said. “I can’t take many more long days.”

  “Then stay home.”

  The sharpness of her tone made everybody look up. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I did not sleep one wink last night and I am worried sick.” She reached for a big spoon and began to serve the oatmeal. She shook raisins on top, but she was so nervous, the raisins rained onto the table.

  “I’ll do that, Mom.” Maggie took the raisin box and finished the job.

  “I’m sorry. Please just let me alone. I’ll be all right in a minute.” She put one hand to her forehead. “Did I call the beauty shop and tell them I wouldn’t be in?”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “I can’t seem to remember anything.” She got up and stood with her back to them. She poured herself another cup of coffee and went to the window to drink it. “Well, one good thing,” she said, trying to sound as if she were in control of herself now, “the rain’s stopped. The search won’t be in the rain.”

  “What time’s the search supposed to start?”

  “Seven o’clock.”

  “I hope there’s a lot of people,” Vern said. “I don’t know where Mad Mary lives, but I bet it’s a hundred miles from nowhere.”

  “Will you please stop calling her that?” Vicki said without turning around.

  “What?”

  “Mad Mary.”

  “Sure.”

  A silence fell over the table then. Maggie was swinging her legs under the table, and she was the first to realize that Mud was not there. She never swung her legs without hitting Mud. Never. She leaned down and looked.

  “Where’s Mud?”

  Pap looked at Vicki’s tight, unyielding back and then at Vern. “Didn’t he go with you and your mom last night?”

  “No.”

  “I told him to.”

  “I know, but he didn’t. I thought he followed you on back to the house.”

  “No.” Pap sighed and dropped his spoon into his oatmeal. “Now we got two missing Blossoms.”

  Vicki spun around. “A missing dog is not like a missing child.”

  Again the fury in her face and voice startled Pap. He pulled back into his overalls to get out of her way. “I know that.”

  “Well, you don’t act like it.”

  Vicki Blossom threw her coffee mug in the sink. “I’m going out. People ought to be coming soon.”

  “Mom’s really uptight,” Maggie said when they heard the screen door slam. She patted Pap’s arm. “Having Mud missing isn’t the same as having Junior missing. We all know that, but, Pap, Mud is just as much a Blossom as any of us.” She got up. “I’m going out too.”

  Junior pulled back a laurel branch and peered outside. He gasped and stepped back. She was out there!

  He flattened himself against the side of the cave and glanced around for somewhere to hide—under some rags maybe; but Junior knew he always trembled when he was scared, and so the rags would tremble too. Maybe behind one of the boxes of books. Maybe he could push two boxes together and—

  Breaking off his thoughts, he held his breath and peered through the laurels again.

  She was still there. The woman. THE woman. And he didn’t have to turn her around to see what her face was like. He had done that enough in his grocery store nightmare.

  What was she doing? Why was she just standing there, looking down the hill? Did she see something? Could somebody be coming for him? He would give a hundred million dollars to see her wave, to hear her call “If you’re looking for a little boy, he’s up here.”

  Instead she did the thing he most did not want her to do. She turned.

  The turn happened so fast that Junior didn’t have time to duck back in the cave and dive for the books. He barely had time to cover his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see that terrible face again.

  A voice said, “Well, come on out.”

  Junior was too scared to disobey.

  With his hands over his eyes, he took one step through the laurels and out into the misty July morning.

  CHAPTER 21

  The Search Party

  “This isn’t nearly as many people as we need, Pap,” Vicki Blossom said.

  She and Pap were standing on the porch, looking at the people gathered on the wet lawn.

  “I thought when the call went out on both the radio and the television, we’d have hundreds of people.”

  “Well, we don’t,” Pap said.

  “That is obvious,” she said. “Twenty-six people, total.”

  “Some of them my age.”

  “And some of them just kids. Look over there. And that boy with the little brothers—he limps worse that you.”

  “Now, Vicki, that’s Ralphie, Junior’s friend. Remember, he was in the bed next to
Junior when Junior was in the hospital? And ’course he limps. The boy’s got an artificial leg.”

  “I’m too upset to remember anything.” She sighed deeply. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  “I know, but him and his brothers were the first ones here this morning.”

  “May I have your attention.” This was the policeman from the night before. He had on hiking clothes like the rest of them. “Now, our goal for today is to find out where Mary Cantrell lives. Most of you know her as Mad Mary, and most of you know she’s been living in these hills for years, but nobody knows where.

  “It seems pretty obvious that yesterday she took the youngest Blossom boy—Junior; and it’s likely that she took him to wherever she lives. Now, if you find out where she is, you come to me or Pap Blossom.”

  On the porch Pap raised his hand so everyone would know who he was.

  “Both Mr. Blossom and I know Mad—Miss Cantrell, and would like to be the ones to approach her. The last thing we want to do is scare her. I don’t have to tell you that if she got a mind to take off and hide, we never would find her and the boy. She knows these woods a lot better than we do. Any questions?”

  There was a pause. Mist was still lying low on the ground, but overhead it had started to burn off. Beyond, patches of bright blue sky were beginning to show through.

  Ralphie raised his hand.

  The policeman said, “Yes?”

  “This isn’t exactly a question,” Ralphie said, “but my uncle hunts a lot and one time he almost shot Mad Mary on Owl Hill. It was deer season and she was wearing something brown. Anyway, he said he thinks she lives somewhere around there. She scooted off toward the north.”

  “That’s good information. Your uncle couldn’t be here today?”

  “He works the early shift, but he may come later.”

  “Fine. We can use him. No more questions? Then let’s get going. We’ll pair off at the coyote trap.”

  And in a body they crossed the yard and headed into the dripping trees.

  As soon as Ralphie heard that they would be pairing off, he decided two things. One, he would get rid of his little brothers, and two, he would be the one to pair off with Maggie Blossom.

  He had had his eye on Maggie ever since his mom had dropped off the three of them early that morning. “Ralphie, you look after your brothers,” his mother had said.

  “Mom, I’m here to search for Junior, not be a babysitter.”

  “Remember what I said. The only way I’d let you come is if your brothers came too.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, you aren’t acting like it.” She looked at the brothers. “You stick with Ralphie.”

  “We will,” they chimed.

  About a half hour after his mom had driven off, Ralphie decided to lay the groundwork for getting rid of his brothers. “See that girl,” he said, “the one on the porch?”

  They said, “Yes.”

  Maggie was still standing on the porch steps. She only had one braid this morning, and she had been chewing on the end of it—out of nervousness, Ralphie figured—when he and his brothers had arrived. The moment she had seen him get out of the car, though, she had flung the braid back over her shoulder and looked down at the ground. She had not even waved, and she had not looked up one single time. Now she was staring at her foot, swinging it over the lower step.

  “See the girl I’m talking about?”

  The brothers nodded.

  “Well, don’t get close to her.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want to tell you. You’ll get scared and want to home.”

  “No we won’t.”

  “Promise?”

  They nodded solemnly.

  “Well, she hates little boys, and if you get close to her she’ll bite your ears off.”

  “No she won’t.”

  “She’s got a whole belt made out of them.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes it is too. She was a counselor at a boys’ camp, and nobody noticed till they were getting on the bus to go home that none of the little boys had any ears left.”

  “That is not true.”

  “Yes it is. The policeman over there told me. You saw me talking to him, didn’t you? Well, that was what we were talking about. He asked me to keep an eye on her and to make sure she didn’t get close to you. So you go with someone else.”

  “No. Anyway, I don’t believe you. I’m going to ask her if she has a belt made out of boys’ ears.”

  “Oh, never mind. Come on back.” Color flushed Ralphie’s ears. “Come back! Listen, I was just kidding.”

  But before Ralphie could stop him, the little brother was at the porch. “Do you have a belt made out of little boys’ ears?”

  Maggie looked down at him. Maggie had noticed Ralphie as soon as he’d arrived. She had been so glad to see him it had made her feel bad. Nobody should feel happy when their brother is lost. She was trying to make herself feel better by explaining to herself that the reason she was so glad to see him was that if anybody could find Junior, he could. She was saying to herself, Remember how he took over last summer and made everything come out all right? when Ralphie’s brother asked about the belt. “What?” she said.

  “Do you have a belt made out of little boys’ ears? My brother said you do, but I don’t believe him.”

  “Out of what?”

  “Little boys’ ears.” He took his ears in his hands and wiggled them.

  “Oh, ears.” Maggie nodded. “Yes.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where is it, then?”

  “Hanging up in my closet.”

  The little brother came running back across the yard. “She says yes. She says she does. She says it’s in her closet.”

  Maggie looked right at Ralphie, the first time she had looked at him since he’d arrived. Then she grinned. Ralphie’s heart almost turned a flip in his chest. She still had her lovely chipped tooth.

  CHAPTER 22

  The Blossom and the Ball

  The face wasn’t quite as bad as Junior had remembered. He had taken his hands off his eyes as soon as Mad Mary had said, “Is there something wrong with your eyes. Let me see.”

  “No,” he had cried, dropping his hands instantly. “They’re fine!”

  He removed his hands—they were stiff at his sides now—but he didn’t look at her face. He couldn’t. He looked at her boots. He recalled with a slight shudder the way he had clutched one the night before.

  The boots were coming closer. He swallowed aloud. Closer. Now she was there, directly in front of him, and she said, “Who locked you up in that cage?”

  The question surprised him so much that he looked directly up at her face. That was when he saw that it wasn’t as bad as he had thought. “I wasn’t in any cage.”

  “What was it, then?”

  “A trap.”

  “Then who locked you in the trap?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Nobody?”

  “It locked itself.”

  “What are you telling me?”

  “I made the trap. I was going to catch that coyote everybody’s been talking about and get the reward, one hundred dollars. I had it all figured out. I made the trap just perfect—you saw it. Every part of it was perfect. Only, while I was setting the trap, the hamburger meat got stuck on my hand, and the trap sprang and the door slammed down and I couldn’t get out.”

  “Oh, dear,” Mad Mary said.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Why do you keep saying that?”

  Mad Mary’s look sharpened. “Who are you?”

  “Junior. Junior Blossom.”

  “Are you kin to Alec Blossom?”

  “That’s Pap, my grandfather. Why?”

  “Because I hope he comes looking for you instead of the police.”

  “Why?”

  “Because over the years, Junior, the police have
not been kind to Mary.”

  Mud lay curled in a ball of misery.

  Since dawn he had been watching the clearing without hope. The only living thing he had seen was blue jays and squirrels.

  All Mud’s life he had hated squirrels. He hated them so much that a couple of times he had run headlong into trees trying to catch one. This morning he did not care. He would not have felt like chasing a squirrel, even if he could have.

  Sometimes, in happier days, he had chased blue jays, too, but only when someone like Pap said, “Mud! What’s that bird doing stealing our worms?” He had never actually caught anything.

  The gnats had found Mud and hovered over him, drawn by the wet heat. His fur steamed in the early-morning sunshine. Mud usually snapped at gnats and flies and occasionally caught them. Now he didn’t care about gnats either.

  Mud whined in and out, with every breath. The sound was as constant as the drone of a bee. Mud didn’t even know he was whining.

  The mist was off the clearing now, and the sun slanted down through the trees.

  Mud heard a new noise. He had heard a hundred noises since dawn—a limb falling from a tree, a twig snapping, birds flying, squirrels leaping from tree to tree; so Mud didn’t leap up at just one more sound.

  Still, there was something different about this sound. He didn’t raise his head from his paws, but he lifted one ear, raised one eye.

  The noise came again.

  Mud lifted his head. Both ears went up, both eyes. Mud got to his feet.

  There was another noise. Voices.

  Mud’s tail had been curled between his legs in despair, and now it straightened. It wagged once.

  It was not just voices. It was Pap’s voice.

  Mud shook himself, threw back his head, and began to bark.

  CHAPTER 23

  Cave Books

  “Can I ask you something?” Junior said.

  Mad Mary nodded.

  Junior and Mad Mary were eating breakfast—leftover varmint stew. At first Junior wasn’t sure he was hungry, when he saw and heard what it was, but now he was enjoying the stew as much as Mary was. He swallowed and took a drink of water from a Coke bottle.

  “Well, I didn’t know that witch—” He swallowed the rest of the word and corrected it carefully: “—that people who live in caves read books.”