Taken by the Cowboy

by Julianne MacLean

  But it wasn’t her mom. It was never her mom.

  In this case it wasn’t her dad, either.

  It was a man she had never seen before. He was an older man, and taller than most. He had a strange, pointy-shaped beard which hung down off his chin like a long triangle. His moustache curled up at the ends, and his long gray hair was tied back into a ponytail. A gold brocade jacket came down to just above his knees. He wore funny shoes with big gold buckles on them, and white knee socks. His matching gold brocade pants ended just below the knee. A long, thin sword hung from his belt. A hat with enormous brim sat upon his head. A buckle decorated the front, and a long white feather extended from the side. A white ruffled shirt and a burgundy brocade vest topped off the costume.

  The strangest thing about him, besides his choice in attire, was his eyes. They were the most unusual eyes Callie had ever seen. They were not blue, or green, or even brown, or a mixture of any of those. They were gold. Shimmering gold. Like his suit. He almost looked like a special effect from a movie.

  “This man has a delivery for you, Callie,” Ms. Randall said. She bent down, gave Callie’s shoulder a reassuring pat and whispered in her ear, “It’s probably for your birthday.”

  The strange-looking man took off his hat with a flourish, extending his foot out in front of him and making a formal bow. “Sir Reginald Abercrombie,” he said, and when he said it, he rolled his R’s so much it sounded like, ‘Sir R-r-r-r-r-r-r-reginald Aber-r-rcr-r-r-r-r-rombie. Rr-r-oyal Cour-r-r-ier.” He pointed to a heavily embroidered badge on his jacket that said exactly that: Royal Courier.

  Ms. Randall smiled down at Callie, obviously impressed. “I’ll leave the door open.” She stepped back into the classroom and stood where Callie could see her. Ms. Randall always knew exactly what to do.

  Sir Reginald pulled a package out from where it was tucked under his arm. It was wrapped in brown paper, but it was a very strange, heavy brown paper that looked like it was made from leaves. It was tied with a beautiful blue velvet ribbon. Sir Reginald smiled, and even that was odd. He seemed to have more teeth than the usual person.

  “Package for Miss Calandria Richards,” he said, still rolling his R’s. He placed the package into her hands with an absolute grace of movement.

  He knew her full name-Calandria?

  Callie was too stunned to speak. She looked down at the package, which was long and rectangular, but thin-like a tall hardcover book. It was also heavier than one would have expected.

  Callie looked up at Sir Reginald. “Is this a birthday present?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Who is it from?” she asked. There were no “To” or “From” addresses written on the brown paper. In fact, Callie wondered how Sir Reginald had known where to deliver it.

  Sir Reginald said, “I cannot say, Your Royal High-I mean, Miss Richards. If I were to name the Personage who had sent this most Priceless Gift to you, on this, the Twelfth Anniversary of your Magnificent Birth, I would be forced to endure the most grievous torture, and finally death, that you could ever imagine.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” He nodded.

  Callie couldn’t help but ask, “Like what?”

  He waved his hand around. “Oh, you know, the usual turn on the rack, a little keel-hauling, and then being hung upside down by my toes until I expire. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

  “Yikes,” Callie said.

  “But that shall not happen, Miss Richards. For I, Sir Reginald Abercrombie, decorated for Hard-Headedness at the Battle of Tarif, and for Pig-Headedness at the Battle of Gamaro, would not give you even a hint of the name of the Royal Personage who has entrusted me with this most resolute and honorious task.” Then, as if just realizing what he’d said, he covered his lips with his long fingers. “Oops. I said ‘Royal Personage.’ She’ll feed me to the dragons, now.”

  “What royal personage?” Callie asked.

  Sir Reginald looked up at the ceiling and hummed an off-key tune.

  “Hey, I said what Royal Personage?”

  He covered his ears, chanting “I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you,” for a little while. Then he took his hands away from his ears and said, “Promise you won’t ask me who Her Royal Personage is anymore?”

  Feeling sorry for the guy, Callie said, “Fine.”

  Sir Reginald let out a huge breath in relief. “Oh, Miraculous Wonder! The honor of the Abercrombie name is preserved! I am not used to being so torn by my duty, Your Royal-I mean, Miss Richards. You see, the Abercrombies have been serving as Royal Couriers for over nine hundred years.”

  As Callie tried to comprehend what he had just said, she glanced into the classroom. Ms. Randall looked back, tapping her watch.

  “Uh, I have to get back to class now.”

  “Of course, my lady. But first, may I impose upon you to sign this as proof of delivery?” Sir Reginald took a parchment scroll out of his inside jacket pocket, followed by a feathered quill pen.

  Callie looked at the scroll. Strange swirling letters covered the old parchment, but the words were so small, Callie could barely read them. “What does it say? The writing’s awfully small.”

  Sir Reginald rolled the parchment out further, squinting at it himself. “It says ‘I, Calandria Richards, do hereby accept the aforementioned package, delivered to me on this, the twelfth anniversary of my birth, et cetera, et cetera….’”

  Callie peered at it again. It looked like the scroll said a whole lot more than that. She regarded Sir Reginald. “I’m not signing anything I can’t read.” That was the one useful thing she’d learned from Sharon, her Dad’s lawyer girlfriend. Sharon had told Callie to always read the fine print.

  Sir Reginald seemed close to scowling down at her, but somehow restrained himself. “Of course, Miss Richards. Very wise of you, indeed.” He reached into his jacket pocket again and pulled out a huge magnifying glass. “Perhaps this will help.”

  Callie didn’t bother to think about how the oversized magnifying glass had fit into his pocket. She just took it and tried to read the fine print. Unfortunately, some of it was fine, fine, fine print.

  “I can’t read all of it. The writing’s still too small.”

  Sir Reginald shrugged, sadly. “Alas, that is the only magnifying glass I have. And I am sorry to inform you that according to official ‘Royal Courier’ procedures, I cannot leave the package in your care unless I have a receipt of delivery. I will just have to take your birthday present back, I’m afraid.”

  Callie sighed. She really wanted to find out what was in the package, and who had sent it to her. It had to be her dad-didn’t it?

  But with everything else that had happened today….

  She took the quill pen and signed her name on the bottom. “Okay, there. I’ve signed it. Happy now?”

  Sir Reginald smiled down at her and said slowly, “More than you could ever imagine.” He put his hat back on. “My duty is done. Thank you for choosing ‘Royal Courier.’ Good day.”

  Sir Reginald walked jauntily down the hallway, humming the same off-key tune, and disappeared around the corner. Callie rejoined the class, taking her seat while curious eyes looked over at her and her mysterious package. She looked out the window to see Sir Reginald climb into a delivery van that, sure enough, had the words “Royal Courier” emblazoned on the side. But when he pulled away, the van shuddered and bucked, careening sharply left and then right. It almost seemed like Sir Reginald didn’t know how to drive, which was odd if he had a job as a courier.

  Lewis whispered, “What’s in the package, Cal?”

  “I don’t know.” Callie shrugged.

  Ms. Randall directed her to put the package away in her desk until recess. Callie did as her teacher asked, but as the history class went on and they learned about the kings and queens of England, she couldn’t stop thinking about what could possibly be in the package. Callie was so excited about that, she’d almost forgotten about Wanda and the fact that she still had Call
ie’s eraser. Unable to stop herself, she glanced back at Wanda, and was shocked by what she saw.

  A look of pure hatred, directed squarely at Callie, burned in Wanda’s eyes. Callie shivered. Then she remembered that Wanda’s own birthday had been two weeks ago. No one had delivered any special packages to the classroom for her birthday. She hadn’t worn any new clothes to school the next day, either. Come to think of it, there was a rumor that Wanda’s parents didn’t even celebrate birthdays.

  The buzzer finally sounded. Callie tucked the mysterious package under her arm as the kids began shuffling outside. Lewis walked next to Callie. “I’m sorry, Cal. I didn’t mean to laugh at your note. It just took me off guard, you know?”

  Callie gave a half-hearted smile. “I know. It wasn’t your fault. It was a weird message. And now we have Wanda to worry about, too.”

  “Don’t worry about her. Just tell me what happened this morning.”

  Callie was just about to tell him as they walked onto the playground, but waiting for them outside the door was Wanda Morris. She squinted her beady eyes at them and crooked her finger. “Over here, morons. We have a little business to discuss.”

  Callie and Lewis exchanged a look. They knew they had no choice but to follow.

  “Passing notes, huh?” Wanda said imperiously. “I wonder what Ms. Randall would say if I showed her this eraser?” She held it aloft, the words, We’ll talk at recess, still written across it in pencil.

  “What’s to say you didn’t write it yourself?” Lewis asked.

  Wanda made a face, as if the two people she was talking to were obviously the stupidest people on earth. “The fact that your writing looks like Egyptian Hieroglyphs?”

  Lewis pondered for a moment. It was true. He was left-handed and had very distinctive handwriting.

  “No one else in class writes like you, ding-dong,” Wanda said. “All I have to do is show this to Ms. Randall-”

  “And the whole class stays after school to write a math quiz,” Lewis said. “Great idea. You’ll be even more popular with the class than you are now. And we both know you don’t want to write that test either, so give the eraser back.”

  Wanda narrowed her eyes. She didn’t like being beaten at her own game. “Well, if we did have to stay and write the test, it would be because of your little girlfriend, here. I’d just be doing my duty as a responsible student, reporting people who pass notes. I’m sure Ms. Randall would take my side.”

  She had a point.

  Callie sighed. “How much do you want? I assume you’re going to blackmail us.”

  Wanda held out her hand, looking completely proud of herself. “I prefer to call it a donation to the Wanda Morris College Fund. Just think, Callie, you and all the rest of these jokers will be paying towards my higher education. Today’s donation will be ten dollars.”

  “Ten dollars! That’s not fair,” Callie protested.

  “Newsflash: life isn’t fair, numbskull. I would think a girl without a mother would have realized that by now,” Wanda said nastily.

  Callie’s heart did a painful flip-flop. She felt her eyes welling up with tears but fought valiantly against them. She took a deep breath to try and steady her emotions.

  “Ten bucks or the class writes Ms. Randall’s test,” Wanda said. “Take your pick.”

  Callie reluctantly dug in her pocket and pulled out the ten dollar bill her dad had given her that morning. At this point, she would have paid any amount of money to make Wanda go away.

  Before Callie could hand over her birthday money, Lewis shoved a balled-up bill into Wanda’s hand. “There. Now give us back the eraser, Wanda. And in case you didn’t know-which judging by your behavior you obviously don’t-it isn’t cool to make fun of someone whose mother died. And speaking of mothers, at least Callie’s mother loved her, which is more than you can say about yours.”

  This time it was Wanda’s turn to be speechless with shock. Her expression darkened like a sky before a thunderstorm, and her eyes narrowed dangerously. She shoved the ten dollar bill into her pocket and hissed, “Later, Losers,” then stomped away.

  Callie let out a deep breath. Lewis put a comforting arm around her shoulder and led her over to their favorite spot on the retaining wall that surrounded the playground. “I’m sorry about that, Cal,” he said. “Wanda Morris is getting worse every day. Talk about dysfunctional.”

  “I know,” Callie agreed. “I think what you said might be true. Maybe that’s why she’s so mean to everyone…her parents don’t really love her.”

  Lewis gave a lop-sided grin. “Forget about her. Open up your package!”

  Callie felt a whoosh of excitement course through her stomach. She gently untied the velvet ribbon and put it in her pocket. “I wonder what it could be?” she mused, unfolding the stiff brown paper.

  Lewis craned to get a better look. “Do you think it’s from your dad?”

  “It must be. Who else would have a gift delivered to me at school?” She lifted out a rich-looking rectangular case covered in burgundy leather. The top was embossed with gold. Intricate swirls and designs combined to form the letter A.

  “Open it,” Lewis said.

  Before she could stop herself, she blurted, “I’m afraid.” She couldn’t explain it, but somewhere deep inside she knew that whatever was in that case would have a huge impact on her life.

  Lewis looked puzzled. “What’s to be afraid of? It’s just a case with a present in it. It can’t hurt you.”

  Callie had the same funny feeling as she’d had after her dream and the message in her cereal. “The dream….” she mumbled, slowly opening the case.

  What she saw there made her gasp. It made Lewis gasp, too, and Lewis was not much of a gasper.

  On a bed of dark blue velvet was the most spectacular jeweled necklace that Callie had ever seen. It was covered in brilliant stones, which to Callie’s untrained eye looked like diamonds, but they had a soft pink hue. They sparkled in the sunlight. Unable to stop herself, Callie lifted the beautiful necklace from the case. The pink stones formed a long chain, and hanging from the bottom of it was a jewel-encrusted key. One large stone on the top of the key had the image of a unicorn cut inside it. It was the most beautiful thing Callie had ever seen.

  “Wow,” Lewis said. “Your dad sure outdid himself this year.”

  “I don’t think this is from my dad,” Callie said. Her dad loved her, but he would never buy his twelve-year old daughter a priceless necklace for her birthday. It looked like it was worth a lot of money.

  “If he didn’t send it, who did?” Lewis asked.

  “Maybe this will tell us.” Callie pulled out a thin scroll tied to the inside of the case. It seemed to be made of the same strange parchment as the proof of delivery she had signed. She unrolled it, and gasped again. “It’s a map! And there’s another poem. Just like the one in my dream. It went like this:

  When one is two and two are one

  King Eldric’s magic has begun

  The Queen will call the princess home

  To sit upon the Enchanted Throne.”

  “What does this one say?” Lewis asked.

  Callie took a deep breath. “At the top it says Royal Summons.” Then she read:

  “The key will open the magic door

  Found beneath the forest floor

  The unicorn will lead the way

  And protect you both night and day

  Make your way through the Grimstead Gate

  Come and claim your royal fate

  Proceed to the Palace of Arraband

  Our country’s fate lies in your hands.”

  “A unicorn? A door in the floor? What the heck does that mean?” Lewis asked.

  Callie felt a chill shimmy down her spine, but it was a strange chill-one of excitement and trepidation combined. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Now there was a mysterious key, a map and a royal decree to contend with.

  She touched her friend’s arm. “Lewis, there’s an old statue of a un
icorn in our back garden. It’s covered now by weeds and ivy.”

  The house was set on a huge property and bordered a shady forest of maples. Her dad had never been much of a gardener, and since Callie’s mom had died, everything had been allowed to grow over.

  “What does the map say?” Lewis asked, reaching over to look at it.

  Callie held it across her lap so they could see it better. The swirling letters said, “Royal City of Arraband” across the top, and showed what looked to be a fairly large city surrounded by a wall with several gates of entry.

  “Look here,” Callie exclaimed. “It’s the Grimstead Gate! Lewis, that was in my dream, too. And here’s the palace in the middle of the city.” She pointed at it.

  “Hold on a minute,” Lewis warned. “We don’t even know who sent you this. Cal, come on. You can’t seriously believe all this.”

  “You think I’m making it up?”

  “No, I don’t think that. I just think, maybe you should talk to Dr. Sam about it.”

  Callie put the necklace back in its case and slammed it shut. “I don’t need to talk to Dr. Sam. What I need to do is look for that door tonight. Something strange is going on, and I want to find out what it is. If you don’t want to help me, I’ll do it alone.”

  “Callie-” Lewis began.

  “And by the way, Dad’s having the pizza delivered tonight at seven. Be there.” She packed up her things and stood, then stopped.

  Staring at them from the nearby trees was Wanda Morris with a very strange expression on her face. Then Wanda slunk back towards the school like a snake.

  THREE

  The Door in The Floor

  That evening, after the pepperoni pizza had been eaten, the birthday candles had been lit, and the cake and ice cream had been gobbled up, Callie received the worst news she had gotten since learning of her mother’s death.

  Her dad and Sharon calmly announced that they were getting married.

  The funny thing was, this had been the extra special surprise her dad had told her about that morning. The “something rare and beyond price.” Callie had been hoping the mystery gift was a trip to France.