He’s very friendly and talkative, I said. Well, that is when he’s not distracted by food and a girl moose.
“And I am too easily distracted as well,” Dad said more seriously. He looked back to Lobo. “Forgive me for my negligence. I make no excuses and accept all blame.”
“Blame is not my priority,” Lobo said. “Your cooperation interests me far more.”
Dad nodded and asked, “What do you know of my brother?”
“Chuck Dewfield,” began the wolf, “is indeed exactly as you have described him—the opposite of yourself. There have been whisperings in these woods for some time, and now those whispers have shown us toward a factual plan. This land has long been coveted by another man, and now it is your brother’s intent to help that man acquire it.”
“That much I know,” Dad said. “But Chuck has assured me that the inn will be ours to live in and run for as long as we desire.”
“Is that so?” said the wolf. “Then he’s shared nothing with you regarding the plan to build upon it”
“No,” Dad shook his head.
“That is the plan, according to all sources” Lobo said. “From the base of the mountain, over this hill, and down through the apple orchard to the edge of the established town. There will be many condominiums.”
“I just can’t believe he’d do that to us,” Dad muttered with a shake of his head.
“Believe it,” the wolf said. “If you require further proof, I will show you myself the new ribbons marking the trees above the beaver pond—the kind always seen before a forest is cut down. I can also bring forth the informant—the housecat who resides in the home of the wealthy man who intends to accomplish this goal.”
I met the cat, I told my father. He told us everything.
Dad dropped his head and ran his hands through his hair. I can’t believe this is happening, he said silently.
Suddenly there was a shout (or rather a loud squeak) from Twitch the squirrel. “Incoming!” he warned. “There’s a small dog running up the hill.”
Everyone looked across the driveway and out over the ski hill. Sure enough there was a small dog running at an impressive rate up the final section of the hill, yipping frantically. It soon crossed the road and the driveway and bounded into our midst, panting hard from the vigorous sprint.
“My apologies,” panted the little tan-colored dog, which turned out to be a short-legged little female Corgi. “I was not able to escape last night to join the meeting, but I’ve managed my way here this morning.”
“And you are?” Ginny asked.
“Millie, they call me,” replied the Corgi. “My humans own the apple orchard at the foot of Raccoon Hill.”
“Welcome, Millie,” said Lobo. “Catch your breath, my short but speedy friend, and then share with us whatever news you bring.”
“The news is not good,” she said after a few deep breaths. “My people have been offered a great deal of money for their land—more than it is actually worth, they say. At first I had hope for them, but now I fear they are leaning toward accepting the offer.”
“Whose dog is this?” my mother asked, seeing that we were all now paying close attention to the Corgi.
“I’ll explain in a minute,” Dad assured her as he stood up from the steps and moved toward Millie. “Are you familiar with the name Chuck?” he asked her.
“Why yes, I am,” Millie answered. “Chuck Dewfield, they call him. He’s the wheeler and dealer behind the whole thing, as I understand it. To be honest, I didn’t like the looks of him the minute he stepped into our house. I gave him a piece of my mind, you can be sure. Then my people made me stay in my kennel until he had left, or else I’d have really let him have it. His ankles would’ve never been the same again, once I was through with them.”
Dad was turning to Mom before the Corgi was even finished. “We were absolutely right to be suspicious of Chuck,” he told her. “He’s cooking up quite a scheme here, and we’re right smack in the middle of it. It seems we’re all that’s standing in his way of helping Schwindler extend the ski area all the way over the hill and to the center of town.”
“What?” Mom said, scrunching up her brow. “You need a Corgi to bark at you to realize that we can’t trust your brother?”
“Ellie, I’m dead serious,” he said as he moved toward her. But before he could reach her Mom jumped up in a state of total confusion and darted into the house. I started to go after her, but Dad told me to give her a few minutes to calm down. Then he faced all the animals again.
“Listen,” he said. “This news is as upsetting to me as it is to each one of you who loves living on this hill. I can’t stand the thought of losing this place, of seeing all the trees cut down and condos plastered all over the place. I hate to disappoint you all, but … I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do to stop it.”
A gasp went up from all the animals, followed by a rumbling of voices muttering and questioning.
“What do you mean by this?” Lobo asked my father. “Is this not your property by rights, to do with as you see fit?”
“It is,” Dad agreed. “But what I see fit and what I’m capable of doing are two different stories. Ellie and I have no desire to sell this place. The only reason we ever considered it is because of the heavy financial burden. And that’s a problem I don’t expect any of you would understand.”
“And that,” said Lobo with an angry snarl, “is a statement I do not much appreciate.”
“It’s the truth,” Dad said solemnly.
“The truth is, Russell Dewfield, that you are a human being. Humans make mountains of their own struggles, while often overlooking the struggles of all other living things.”
“I meant no disrespect,” Dad said, extending his hands out pleadingly. “I simply mean that—”
“That your own burdens surpass those of us all,” Lobo said sternly. “Yes, that is how you see it, but it is not truly the case. Every living thing on this earth struggles daily for existence, through hard times and good, cold days and warm days alike. Every animal, great and small, takes its living from this earth, in some way, some form. Though we are different in appearances and methods, we are all connected in this way. But there is one truth that can be laid solely at the feet of mankind—that they alone take more than is necessary to live well, as often as possible, with little regard for those with less available to them. This may not be true of every single human being, but it is too true of many of your kind.”
“You can say that again,” muttered Bandit the raccoon from the back of the crowd.
“Okay,” Dad said. “I can’t deny that. You’re absolutely right. But what I’m talking about here is a plain case of having or having not. You don’t understand the taxes involved for a plot of land this size, the upkeep to the building and grounds, or the monthly bills that keep rising and rising, even while we try to keep our prices low and fixed for our loyal guests. The sad truth is … we can’t afford it for much longer. At the rate things are going, in a few more years—maybe five years at best—we won’t be able to keep the inn going any longer.”
“Russell Dewfield,” said Lobo, stepping slowly toward him. “I am one who sees very well, and I see you to be an honest man with good intentions—better than many. But remember, you have been out of touch for many years, living as a common human. Therefore you’ve been bearing your burdens completely alone. Being lost in the midst of these burdens, it seems you have forgotten more than you realize. Was this building and this land always free of struggles in your father’s time?”
“No. No, it wasn’t,” Dad said. “But—”
“Searching back through your childhood memories, can you recall a time when trouble loomed, and yet somehow your father found a way through it?”
“I guess,” my father exhaled. “There were probably several times when things went wrong and money got tight.”
“You spoke of a ‘sad truth’ a moment ago,” Lobo said. “Now let me do the same. In truth, if you had not
closed yourself off from your abilities years ago, you would have remained in good fellowship with every creature abiding on these lands. In that case, it is highly unlikely that you would have ever reached this low point where you now find yourself. That is indeed a sad truth.”
“I don’t understand,” my father finally admitted after a moment’s silence.
“Yes, that much is very clear,” agreed Lobo.
The wolf then turned and called forth speedy volunteers. Eight or ten squirrels and chipmunks came forward, and Lobo ordered them to run fast for the nest of the old, wise owl. They were told to wake him, and in Lobo’s name, to instruct him to make his secrets known.
Chapter 12
My father excused himself from all those watchful animals and went inside to speak with Mom. Within a few minutes he’d persuaded her to come back out with him, though he had to hold her by the hand and urge her forward every step of the way. She looked very pale and disoriented. He kept telling her that it was okay, we weren’t in danger, and that she just had to trust him.
“I guess your Mom can’t understand us,” Prowler said to me.
I guess not, I said.
“I’ll say, if she’s alarmed by the moose eating her corn stalks, she really won’t like what comes next. Haw-haw-haw.”
What comes next?
“Scat,” said the raccoon, holding his forelegs outstretched. “The more they eat, the more they poop. Big piles everywhere. You can always tell where a moose has been feeding by the scat. I doubt your mother had that in mind for her decorations. Haw-haw-haw!”
I was laughing at Prowler when I heard Lobo speaking again. “Step to the front,” he was saying. “Everyone, make way for the small ones to pass without being trampled.” After a few seconds I realized that the squirrels and chipmunks had returned and were now making their way through the crowd toward the base of the steps. I moved over beside my parents and noticed that all the little animals standing in a row—the chipmunks in particular—had extremely puffy cheeks. Since they had been sent to wake the owl I expected to see him come flying along, but a quick glance around showed no sign of him anywhere.
“Now,” said Lobo to my father. “Before we proceed, I must have perfectly straight answers to some crucial questions.”
“Of course,” Dad answered.
“Russell Dewfield, what is your earnest desire, for your home, your family, and your land?” asked the wolf.
“I don’t want to sell, if that’s what you mean,” he replied. “Neither does Ellie or Ethan. It’s never been a question of wanting to.”
“If the opportunity to sell passed you by for some reason,” said the wolf, “would you maintain this place and this land as it now is—that is, unspoiled for both humans and animals to enjoy?”
“Gladly,” Dad said. “That’s what I’ve been struggling to do for almost fifteen years now.”
“Then, as the one who pays for the land and cares for it, you are entitled to a portion of the Earthkeepers inheritance, which is the secret fruit yielded by the land.”
Lobo took a step back and nodded to the chipmunks and squirrels. At once they all reached into their mouths, but rather than having bits of food packed into their cheeks, instead they each brought forth small, rocky objects. Each object varied in size and shape, the largest being roughly the size of a small acorn’s cap. They were then laid out in a row in the snow at my father’s feet, looking like rocks with the coloring of mustard.
My father knelt down as the small animals stepped back again. He picked up one of the objects, and its uneven golden surface shined when the sun caught it just right. He picked up several more and hefted them together in his palm. Though small, together they seemed to weigh more than one might guess. “What?” he muttered low under his breath. “You’re kidding me.”
“Gold,” said Lobo. “A small advance of what is available to you. Is it not of great value to you humans?”
“Very great value,” Dad said. He looked up at Mom, then to me, and back to Lobo again. “Where—where did this come from?”
“Some secrets must remain secret,” answered the wolf. “In times gone by, Earthkeepers such as yourself have allowed themselves to be corrupted by such treasures. For that reason, smaller amounts are now given, only when needed, not when merely wanted.”
“I mean, it’s from our land?” Dad blurted.
“It is,” Lobo answered. “Any such items found on land belonging not to an Earthkeeper must remain hidden.”
As I stood there watching my father heft that handful of golden nuggets, hearing Lobo’s explanation, it took me a moment to comprehend the magnitude of what was happening. It was my parents’ dream coming true right before my eyes, and in a smaller way, it was my dream too. The feeling of hope and excitement swelling up within me made me feel like I was about to burst. Does this mean? I started to ask my father, but before I could finish he was talking over me.
“This means,” he said, standing up quickly and pulling Mom and I towards him, “the Dewfield’s are staying put!” He laughed not as if he’d heard a joke, but a relieved sort of laugh, as if a great weight had suddenly been removed from his shoulders. He squeezed us hard and said, “This is the best Thanksgiving ever.”
I think Mom was still too confused to say much. As for me, I was too happy to know what to say. So we just stood here hugging one another for a while.
After some time Dad released us and faced the animals to make his official announcement. “No land will be sold,” he said with cheerful authority. “No trees will be cut. And certainly no condominiums will ever be built on Raccoon Hill—not as long as I have something to say about it. Enjoy these woods, all of you. And a happy Thanksgiving to us all!”
At that triumphant announcement there was a unanimous eruption of joy from each animal. It was chirps, squeaks, grunts, snorts, growls and groans, all together forming an odd but very merry sound. Even Berrybottom bear, as sleepy as he was, started bobbing his head up and down as he grunted in celebration.
“Is this real?” Mom asked, looking round as the cheering settled down. “Somebody pinch me.”
“Real!” I said rather than pinching her.
“Very real,” Dad agreed.
“If the Dewfield’s don’t sell,” said Millie the Corgi, “then my people will have no reason to sell either.”
“That’s my hope,” Dad said to her. “I have a feeling my brother won’t bother talking to them anymore, once he finds out we’re not selling.”
“Yip, yip, yippee,” said the Corgi, and danced around in a little circle.
“Now,” said Lobo, “I must make something else clear to you, Russell, though I believe it is a fact you already understand. Such an inheritance as this comes with a strict need for secrecy. Men like your brother—men of greed and blind ambition—must be kept in the dark as to the existence of such treasures. Otherwise, there is no telling what could happen if such men set themselves to extracting the riches hidden within these woods.”
“I understand,” Dad said. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now, as far as I can see, the only problem we have left is deciding how we’re going to break the news to old Chuck.”
“By this,” asked Lobo, “are you suggesting that you expect him to react badly?”
“I would hope that being Thanksgiving, he wouldn’t let his disappointment get the best of him. But honestly, I don’t expect him to take it well. In fact, I expect it could get rather ugly.”
“Tell me what can be done to help,” the wolf said. “My pack is ready to back you, if you should feel it necessary. We are diplomatic whenever possible, but well capable of defending what needs to be defended.”
“I certainly hope that it won’t come to that,” Dad said.
***
While Dad was discussing strategies with Lobo, and simultaneously trying to get my mother to understand everything, I was starting to get a little bit restless just standing around. I was excited and relieved and feeling too good to
hold still.
An idea suddenly popped into my head. Remembering the confusion of the animals to understand what skiing and sliding was, it occurred to me that I could now demonstrate for them first hand in the light of day. That would eliminate all confusion, and be fun for me at the same time.
Let me take a sled down the hill, I said to Dad, running up to his side and tugging at his coat. Please?
“There’s not enough snow, buddy,” he said. “The long grass on the hill will slow you down.”
I just wanna go to show everyone, I explained. They don’t understand the things we do.
“All right,” he shrugged passively, still having a lot on his mind. “Go grab a sled from the barn. Just be careful.”
I next ran up beside Stomper, who was finishing up the last of Mom’s fall decorations, and asked him to follow me.
“Hmm? Follow you where?” he said with half chewed corn cobs falling from his mouth. “Is there more food I have yet to discover?”
No, I said. I want you to come watch me slide down the hill. It’ll be fun.
“Hills, hmm, are best walked down,” mused the moose. “To tumble down one is not something I wish to do.”
You don’t have to tumble, I said. Just come watch me. Anyone else can come too. I’ll show you how humans slide and ski.
Of course Ginny immediately followed after me, as was her unbreakable habit. And as I crossed the road to the barn to get a sled, I noticed Prowler, a few deer, and both moose following along. Even one of the wolves seemed curious as to the goings on.
There were three trails on our hill. I chose the one nearest to the barn, which was the shortest and most gradual hill, usually used for sleds and tubes and novice skiers. As I set the plastic sled down and lined it up straight, Stomper lowered his head and gave it a curious sniff.
“It’s a sled,” Ginny told him. “It’s not edible.”
“Hmm, strange,” he muttered, and then took a few steps back. “I think I will walk rather than, hmm, slide.”
“Don’t hurt yourself showing off,” Ginny warned me as I got ready to take off. “This day has turned out very well so far. We don’t need an accident to ruin things.”
The Earthkeepers Page 13