Fool's Gold

by Zilpha Keatley Snyder

  Rudy stared at the phone as if he might find some answers printed on the touch-tone buttons. Answers to questions like, Was Barney really that busy or was he just trying to get out of hanging out with an old friend? Instead of a new one, maybe? Rudy was beginning to feel angry, when all of a sudden it came to him what it really was—Heather Hanrahan. Heather was going to be at the Crooked Bar tomorrow and Barney had to have everything just right for her visit. All the tack had to be cleaned and polished, the floor of the horse barn probably had to be swept, and poor old Applesauce was going to get groomed to within an inch of her life.

  “Oh, I get it,” Rudy said. “It’s because Heather’s—”

  “No.” Barney broke in. “That has nothing to do with it. My dad’s been after me to clean up the tack for a long time. I just decided tonight would be a good time to do it. Okay?”

  “Oh, sure,” Rudy said in what must have been a slightly sarcastic tone of voice.

  Barney sounded a little angry when he said, “Well, it’s the truth.”

  “Okay, okay.” Rudy tried to sound sincere. “I believe you.” And then under his breath he added, “And I also believe in the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny.”

  So Barney said good-bye and no doubt went back to polishing everything on the ranch that Heather might possibly lay eyes on. Which was great actually, when you came to think about it. Nothing could be better than the news that Barney was so wrapped up in Heather’s riding lesson that he couldn’t think of anything else.

  Rudy found that his good mood had returned, so he told Natasha he’d be back in an hour or so and went downtown by himself.

  It was a clear, warmish night, and a full moon was hanging over Main Street like a great big outdoor chandelier. In the mingled moon- and lamplight the old wooden buildings with their gingerbread trim and overhanging balconies looked almost as good in real life as they did on the postcards the tourists sent home to Buffalo—or wherever. Picturesque Pyramid Hill in the Heart of the Sierra Gold Country.

  In fact, everything—not only the buildings, but also the trees, flower boxes, window decorations, and even the local inhabitants—looked mysteriously different, as if seen through a magical veil that somehow smoothed out all the smears and cracks and wrinkles. The people, particularly, seemed strangely changed for the better.

  There were quite a few people out and about. Not as many as on weekends, of course, when the whole town swarmed with tourists. But tonight some high school kids with guitars were playing and singing in the little park by the city hall, and a bunch of local types were listening, or going in and out of the bar and restaurant at the Grand Hotel. Rudy knew most of them, and for some reason, maybe because he was feeling good or else because of the moonlight, they all looked a lot better than usual.

  Hank Edwards, the mechanic who had saved Betsy the station wagon from the junkyard five or six times, went by looking a little less greasy than usual. And then came Sharon Booker, who had been a good friend of Natasha’s since they were in school together, and whose peroxide-blond hair, in the moonlight, looked almost natural. And the Wilson Fairweather family—all ten of them, and all smiling for once. And old Mrs. Hopper and her fat cocker spaniel, who waddled slowly past without smiling, but without whining either, which was possibly a first for both of them.

  In front of the library he ran into three girls he’d been in school with for most of his life—Julie Harmon, Jennie Street, and last but not least, Stephanie Freeman. As the three girls came around the corner Rudy did an elaborate double take, staggered back against a lamppost, and slithered down to a sitting position, clutching his chest.

  “Arrrgh!” he groaned.

  Jennie and Julie laughed hysterically, but Stephanie only frowned and looked the other way. Stephanie Freeman, about whom Rudy had invented his big Romeo number way back in second grade, had lots of great qualities. Her brain, for instance—she was an A student in everything, particularly math and science. Not to mention her face and figure. But she did have one or two little character flaws—like not much personality and absolutely no sense of humor.

  Stephanie almost never laughed at anything Rudy did—not even his weekly current events report, for which he was practically famous. In the fourth grade he’d started winding up his current events reports with something like, “And now, a back to the future news flash from the year 2001—the famous movie and television comedian, Rudy Drummond, has just announced his engagement to his beautiful childhood sweetheart, Stephanie Freeman.” It got so everybody, even the teacher, sort of counted on Rudy ending up his current events with something about Stephanie. And everyone always fell out laughing—everyone, that is, except Stephanie.

  But Rudy had never held Stephanie’s personality against her. After all, nobody’s perfect, and in other areas Stephanie came closer than most. And, he had to admit, part of the reason his Romeo act had been such a big hit all these years was because Stephanie hated it so much.

  Rudy was still collapsed against the lamppost when Jennie squatted down and pretended to take his pulse. “I think he’s dying,” she said. “Call an ambulance.”

  Rudy opened one eye and then staggered to his feet. “Never mind,” he said, dusting himself off. “It’s nothing serious. Only a minor heart attack. I think a Coke at the Parlor would fix me up fine. Anybody for a Coke?”

  Stephanie in the moonlight was even more gorgeous than usual, and she actually spoke to Rudy, or at least more or less in his direction. “I can’t,” she said. “I promised I’d be home by nine.”

  “Me either,” Julie said. “Maybe next time.”

  “Next time?” Rudy said to Stephanie. “Okay?”

  Stephanie almost smiled and said, “Okay,” and then she turned around and waved as the three girls started off down Main Street. Rudy waved back, feeling good. With Stephanie a wave and a halfway smile would have to be called real progress.

  Still in the mood to celebrate, Rudy went on around town, stopping to talk to people he knew. There were a lot of them. Lots of people and dogs and cats, too, whom Rudy had known for years and years. Everybody said hello—all the people, anyway—and quite a few of them stopped to talk for a minute, including one of Pyramid Hill’s most famous characters, old Windy Dayes.

  As usual, Windy was hanging out in front of city hall on the lookout for someone who might listen to one of his stories about the old days in Pyramid Hill—and then maybe treat him to a drink in the Grand Hotel bar.

  “Howdy there, pardner,” Rudy said, sticking out his hand, and Windy howdied back, grinning widely—changing the direction of the wrinkle gullies that ran down his cheeks and showing glimpses of stubby teeth through his straggly mustache.

  “Now, don’t tell me,” he said. “It’s old Bill Drummond’s grandson—er, don’t tell me—your calling name is right thar on the tip end of my tongue.”

  Windy always remembered Rudy’s grandfather’s name, and sometimes his mother’s, but he usually had a problem with Rudy’s.

  “Rudy,” Rudy said finally. “Rudolph William Drummond.”

  “Shore it is,” Windy said, slapping his thigh and nodding. “Rudy Drummond.” He went on nodding for a while before he said, “It’s Rudy Drummond and—” He glanced around. “Whar’s your sidekick? Good-lookin’ young feller with all that yeller hair.”

  “Barney,” Rudy said. Rudy was glad to see that Windy, for one, hadn’t forgotten that Rudy and Barney were “sidekicks.” “Barney couldn’t come to town tonight. He had some work he—”

  But Windy had spotted some promising-looking tourists who’d stopped to read the historical marker in front of city hall and he was edging away. He went over to them and Rudy heard him say, “Howdy, folks. Right glad to see you reading up on this here town’s history. Mighty historical place, Pyramid Hill. You ever hear tell of…”

  Rudy moved on—bowlegged, elbows flapping—practicing his Windy Dayes bit on the next two or three people he met, and they all laughed and “howdied” back—knowing he was impe
rsonating Windy, and knowing his reputation as an impersonator too.

  It was like that when you’d lived in Pyramid Hill all your life. It wasn’t a bad place to grow up, actually. There was something satisfying about knowing so many people whose parents and grandparents, and even great grandparents, had all known each other.

  It was just about then that Rudy noticed a familiar-looking couple coming out of the restaurant of the Grand Hotel. The man was tall and square-jawed and the woman was short and plumpish and they were both wearing the style of clothes that Murph called “Hollywood Cowboy.” It was the Lewises, Ty’s parents. They’d met Rudy before, at the eighth-grade graduation just the other night, and before that when Ty had taken Rudy and Barney to their brand-new phony Victorian house—which was full of expensive antiques, phony and otherwise. Having a mother who worked in an antique store had made Rudy more or less an authority—and he knew a phony antique when he saw one. He’d gotten a good look at all the antiques at the Lewises’, and the Lewises had certainly gotten a good look at him. But now they walked right past without recognizing him. He didn’t bother to remind them, but a minute later the restaurant door opened again, and an all-too familiar voice said, “Hey, chickie-baby.”

  It was Ty, all right, wearing a different pair of stylishly shredded jeans, the same flashy red-and-black boots, and carrying a big paper bag.

  “Hey, Styler,” Rudy said. “What’s up?”

  “Not much,” Ty said. “I’ve just been doing the town with my old man and lady. They’re not much fun, but the good news is—they’re loaded. I mean, we’re talking b-i-g bucks.”

  Rudy thought of saying, “Yeah, so you keep saying,” but he decided on “Yeah, so I’ve heard.” And then, because the topic of how rich Ty’s parents were had been pretty well covered, he changed the subject. “What’s in the bag?” he asked. But almost before he finished saying it something told him he didn’t want to know.

  “I got one,” Ty whispered, rolling his eyes to indicate that he was saying something very important. “I told my mom I was starting a collection of antique gold-country stuff, and she fell for it. She’s really been into gold-country antiques lately. Look.”

  He glanced at his parents, who had stopped to look in a window, and then opened the top of the paper bag. Inside was an old beat-up miner’s helmet with a carbide lamp on the top.

  “I couldn’t get her to buy two of them, so Barney’s going to have to get his own.” He glanced sideways at Rudy. “And you are too. That is, if you aren’t going to chicken out on the action.”

  “Chickening out has nothing to do—” Rudy had started to say, but Ty was already hurrying after his parents.

  On his way home a few minutes later, Rudy made himself walk slowly and concentrate on noticing things like the sound of distant music and the smell of honeysuckle in the cool night air. But it wasn’t easy. His good mood had pretty much vanished, and the moon had definitely gone behind a cloud.

  Rudy had trouble getting to sleep that night, and when he finally did drop off he had another nightmare. Not about dark tunnels this time, but one almost as scary. He dreamed he had just come home from the store carrying a bag of groceries, but when he put the bag down on the kitchen table he suddenly began to hear the kind of music they play in a movie when something gruesome is about to happen—like when somebody is about to have an intimate meeting with a vampire or get slimed over and digested by the Blob. In his dream he was really scared when he heard the music without knowing exactly why. He looked all around the room and out all the windows, but he didn’t see anything, so finally he went back and opened the bag to take out the groceries. But when he looked inside, the milk and bananas had disappeared and all that was in the bag was a miner’s helmet. Just an old miner’s helmet, but while he was staring at it he kept feeling more and more panicky until he suddenly woke up with his heart pounding and a painful tightness in his throat.

  That was all there was to the dream, but the next morning while he was getting dressed he was still thinking about it and hearing echoes of the threatening music. The whole thing definitely felt like some kind of a warning.

  He was on his way to the kitchen when the phone rang. He made his usual mad dash to get it, but by the time he got to the kitchen Natasha had picked it up and was talking to someone. Or listening mostly, in between making comments like “Oh no,” and “How disappointing.” He wasn’t paying much attention until he heard Natasha say, “But that really wasn’t fair. After all, you paid for a riding lesson, not to sit around and watch people being boosted into the saddle.”

  “Is that Heather?” he asked.

  “Yes. Yes. Well, good-bye dear. Here’s Rudy,” Natasha said into the phone and then to Rudy, “Here. It’s Heather. For you.”

  He knew it. Heather was calling to back out of the riding lesson. He had just known something terrible was about to happen.

  “Rudy.” Heather’s voice was as great as the rest of her. “I just flashed on something. You might as well ride out to the ranch with me. I’m driving my new car. I’ll pick you up at ten o’clock. Okay?”

  “Sure,” Rudy said very calmly. “Okay by me”—while on the inside he was yelling “Great! Wonderful!” To arrive with Heather at the Crooked Bar, with both Ty and Barney watching! To be seen getting out of Heather Hanrahan’s car! Absolutely awesome. The only thing, in fact, that could possibly make it any better would be if he could be the one driving. Which, to be honest with himself, wasn’t likely, since he hadn’t learned to drive yet, and there probably wasn’t time to learn before ten o’clock.

  By a little after nine o’clock Rudy had polished his boots, combed his hair four or five times, and even splashed himself with a little of the masculine-type cologne that had been on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet since his stepfather forgot it when he took off for Texas. When he’d done everything he could think of to get ready he paced around the room, looking out the window from time to time. After a while he noticed that Natasha, who had moved into the living room with her coffee and paper, was watching him.

  “Now, what is it that you’re doing today at the ranch?” she asked finally, in the offhand way she always had when she was particularly curious. “That is, if you don’t mind letting your mother in on the secret.”

  “No secret,” Rudy said. “I’m just going to teach Heather to ride. That is, I’m going to help. Actually, Barney and Ty and I are all going to teach her.”

  “Oh, I see.” Natasha’s lips were twitching.

  “Okay. What are you laughing at now?”

  “Oh, nothing. Just wondering how that was going to work. Are you all going to give instructions in unison, or take turns? I can’t quite picture it.”

  “Very funny,” Rudy said sarcastically, but then he smiled. “Hey, what’s to understand? You’ve heard of team teaching, haven’t you?” Just at that moment a horn honked in front of the house, and without waiting for an answer, he made a mad dash out the door.

  Heather was wearing the same awesomely sexy cowgirl outfit she’d worn on Saturday, and her new car wasn’t even secondhand. A Toyota, silver-gray, and factory-fresh.

  “Hey!” Rudy said when he got in. “Some wheels.”

  “Well.” Heather shifted gears and pulled away from the curb. “It’s not a BMW. But it is new. The first new car ever in my family.”

  “Tell me about it,” Rudy said. “All we’ve ever had is Betsy, at least as far as I can remember. According to my mom, Betsy is like part of the family and a valuable antique besides. Very high-class car. Even runs once in a while.” He looked around, running his hands over the sleek upholstery and checking out all the stuff on the dashboard. “But I’d take a new Toyota any day. Remind me to look into this rich uncle bit. I must have one stashed away somewhere.”

  On the way out to the ranch they talked at first about the car and how Heather’s inheritance from her uncle had made it possible. And then they got onto the riding lesson and that brought up the subject of Tyler
Lewis.

  “Is that Lewis kid going to be there?” she asked.

  Rudy couldn’t help liking her tone of voice, because it seemed to be expressing some of the same feelings he had about Ty from time to time. Like disgust and hatred. He wanted to say as much, but he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to turn her against Ty any more than she already was. So he just said, “Yes. He’ll probably be there.”

  Heather shrugged. “I was afraid of that. I don’t see why you and Barney hang out with that mouthy little creep.”

  Rudy squelched another grin. “Oh, old Styler—that’s what we call him, Styler—Styler’s not so bad. Sometimes. And Barney likes him, I guess.”

  “Yes, so it seems.” They were at the turnoff onto the ranch road by then and for a minute Heather was busy with the car, stopping to wait for oncoming traffic, and then shifting gears and turning expertly onto the narrow road. And Rudy was busy watching her. So busy, in fact, he forgot to listen to what she was saying. He got his mind back in gear in time to hear “…a bad influence on Barney. He used to be such a great little kid. But now, when I try to talk to him, he just stands around and stares at me.”

  “Oh, that,” Rudy said quickly. “That’s just…” He paused and thought of saying, “That’s just because he’s madly in love with you,” but decided against it. Instead he said, “That’s, well, it’s not because Barney’s unfriendly or anything. He’s just a little shy, I guess.”

  “That’s strange. He didn’t used to be shy at all. You know, like back when you two used to play together so much. He didn’t seem at all shy then.”

  Rudy was trying to explain why certain people might become shy at certain times and with certain people even when they weren’t shy at all most of the time, when they drove into the ranch. And, sure enough, just as he had hoped, Ty and Barney were both there in front of the horse barn where they couldn’t help but see the grand arrival. They couldn’t help seeing, for instance, how Rudy jumped out of the car and opened the door for Heather and pointed out things for her as they walked across the barnyard. He pointed out the stock barn and the hay barn and the corrals and the cattle-loading chutes, and Heather listened and nodded.