“Neat,” I said. “I’m starving.”
“Gus?” he asked with a tentative smile. “Can you read me again the letter from Willy?”
“Sure.” We’d been going back over all Willy’s letters every day. The therapist said it helped to cement his language skills, especially if he heard the same sentences over and over again and if we discussed their meaning. I pulled out Willy’s latest missive and began to read.
Mes chers amis: Elsbeth, Gus, and Siegfried,
Mrs. LaFontaine has enrolled Bosco and me in a private school in Baton Rouge now. It’s très posh and we are the only colored kids here. But her money and her influence got us in and they all have to treat us as equals, or else she goes ballistic and threatens to pull all the funding. Isn’t that too funny? It is fun and we are learning a lot. I just need to become accustomed to the snotty girls who remind me too much of Monique. But the teachers are nice, and I did find one girl who’s from India who is very smart and actually friendly to me. It’s good to have a friend down here.
We have a new puppy, and his name is Siegfried, in honor of you, Sig! Gus told me how saying our special chant worked its magic, and I’m positive that’s why you woke up. I believe the first time we held your special ceremony, your brain wasn’t ready to receive the healing. But when Gus repeated it and your eyes came open, it made me feel proud of my heritage and the power of voodoo. Did I say I’m SO glad you’re awake?
And I really hope we can see you all next summer up at Loon Harbor. Gus, your grandma has offered Aunt Carmen, Bosco, and me jobs at the camp. So we’re hoping it might actually work out since Mrs. LaFontaine (I still can’t call her “Mother,”) says she’d like to summer up there, without all the work and anxiety she had this past year, of course. She says she misses the “good parts” of Maine. The lake, the pines, the quiet. Fingers crossed, okay?
Avec amour,
Willy
I handed him the letter and encouraged him to try to read a few words. He studied the page, then found my name and his own.
“There,” he said. “That is you, Gus. And that is me, Ja?”
“Exactly, bud. Right on the money.”
He looked confused.
“Oh, sorry. That’s just one of those weird sayings I keep telling you about. It means ‘you are correct.’ But basically, it means you did well.”
“There is so much to learn,” he said with a heavy sigh.
“I know,” I patted his shoulder. “But you’ve got your whole life to do it. And before long, you’ll hardly remember this time in your life. It’ll all be behind us. And we’ll be back to riding our horses again.”
His eyes lit up. “Mein Gott! I remember horses.”
“You do?”
“Ja. I have a horse. His name is Frito.”
“Close,” I chuckled. “It’s Frisbee.”
“Oh, Ja! Frisbee. He is a good boy.”
“He is. And the harder we work here, the sooner we will get you onto his back so we can go for a nice gallop across the fields.”
He grabbed the walker. “Then, let’s walk more, Gus. I want to go home.”
Epilogue
June 20, 1966
I walked with Siegfried down the school hallway, keeping a close eye on him. He needed only one crutch now, and was making his way around pretty well. He’d only stumbled once today, and although I knew the whole thing exhausted him, he had made me proud. He’d faced his fears with great courage, and in spite of the stares from all the curious onlookers, he’d persevered. He’d sprouted even more and now stood at a full height of six feet.
Mrs. Ventier, his special education teacher, had taken him under her wing for most of the past few weeks, and between this wonderful lady, Elsbeth, and me, we made sure he got to his classes.
The lunch bell rang and we headed for our lockers to grab our lunch bags. Elsbeth—whose locker was right beside ours—popped up around the corner at a run. “Phew! I thought we’d never get out of that gym class, guys.”
Her hair was wet from the shower and it hung over her shoulders in dark curls, still dripping. I guess she’d really been in a hurry.
“Glad you made it,” I said. “My mom packed us some of her famous Snickerdoodles.”
Siegfried’s face lit up. “Oh, Gus. I love those cookies.”
In addition to growing to gigantic proportions, my friend had also grown a monstrous appetite.
I laughed. “I know you do, that’s why she gave me a whole dozen. But you have to leave Elsbeth and me a couple, deal?”
He grinned. “Deal.”
I shoved the box under my arm and grabbed my brown paper bag that held my usual tuna sandwich, a box of raisins, and an apple. “Come on. Let’s try to get the table outside under that hickory tree.”
We dropped our books and closed up our lockers, then turned to walk toward the cafeteria.
When we’d almost reached the entrance, three junior boys blocked the doorway. I vaguely recognized them as Mickey, Terrance, and Sneaker.
“Giants have to pay a toll,” Mickey said. “Especially giant freaks, like you.” He leaned forward with a sneer.
“Come on, guys,” I said, trying to reason with them. “Have a heart. Sig’s just trying to get back in the swing of things here. Let us pass.”
I noticed Mrs. Ventier watching from her classroom door, but hoped she’d let me handle it by myself. Nobody made points by having a teacher rescue them.
Terrance, the kid who looked like a pro wrestler, barked a laugh. “What, the freak’s got a boyfriend now?” He made kissing noises and leaned toward me. “Gotta defend your lover boy?”
That did it.
I handed Sig my lunch and the cookies, twisted sideways, and barreled into Terrance’s stomach, head first. With a soft thump, my hard skull hit soft tissue, and the bully fell back with a loud “oof,” losing his balance and tumbling to the floor. I was on him in seconds, screaming “Blooga meeka reezie!” as if possessed. I pummeled his face with my fists as if I’d gone demon-mad. He got in a few punches, but they weren’t as good as mine.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elsbeth launch herself at Mickey before he could interfere with Terrance and me. She stomped hard on Mickey’s foot with her boot and poked a knuckle into his eye socket, causing him to hop around and hold his streaming eye. “You’d better watch out,” she screamed, “Or I’ll put the voodoo curse on you, too!”
I was darned proud of her.
“Holy St. Peter,” Sneaker said. “That Gus LeGarde is crazy. And she’s just as nuts. Come on, guys. Let’s get out of here.”
I stood panting, wiping blood from my mouth, and watching them retreat. Elsbeth and I exchanged huge grins.
Mrs. Ventier nodded her head as if she approved wholeheartedly, but couldn’t admit it as a teacher who should have broken up the fight. She’d stood and watched, and for a moment, I thought she wanted to applaud. She backed into her room with a thumbs-up sign.
I straightened, took back my bag and cookies from a wide-eyed Siegfried, and acted as though nothing had happened. “Who’s hungry for lunch?”
“Me,” Sig said. He looked back and forth between Elsbeth and me with a slightly surprised smile, and then shrugged. “I am starving.”
We headed inside, grabbed our milk from the lunch line, and wandered out to claim our table under the tree.
- The end -
What’s Next?
If you enjoyed this story, you might like the other books in the LeGarde Mystery series, many of which are set in the same locale with the same characters. (see complete book list following this).
If you specifically enjoyed this glimpse into Gus’s youth, you might like to read the prequels, Tremolo: cry of the loon, and Don’t Let the Wind Catch You, or any of the “adult Gus” books in the series where you can join him as a father and grandfather in multiple adventures throughout the Genesee Valley. And if you enjoy the style of these books, check out The Green Marble Mystery series or the author’s romant
ic suspense stories at http://www.lazarbooks.com.
Please consider hopping over to Amazon to leave a short review if you enjoyed the book!
- Aaron Paul Lazar
Following is an excerpt from Don’t Let the Wind Catch You, available on Amazon, Barnes&Noble, etc. as an eBook. It is also available in print and audiobook.
Chapter One
We crept toward the old shack on our bellies, crab-crawling over moss and oak leaves. Elsbeth breathed softly to my left, just out of sight. Siegfried took the lead, several feet ahead of me. Behind us, the horses stood tethered to maple saplings; they munched steadily on the sweet leaves with a rhythmic crunching sound, their tails swishing against the sting of deerflies.
"Gus?" Elsbeth's whisper glanced off the air. "Do you think anyone lives here?"
I pressed a finger to my lips. "Shh. I think I heard something." I was glad I'd left Shadow at home. That little beagle would've betrayed us, running all over the woods baying at every new scent he found.
Siegfried raised a hand, signaling us to stop. He'd heard it, too. It was a keening sound, a high-pitched wail that was speech but not speech, closer to song, but with no melody I recognized.
Ice crawled down my spine and tingled in my toes. My heart pounded against the soft earth beneath me. I chanced a look at Elsbeth, whose eyes had gone wide with what some people might think was fear. But I knew better. Excitement lurked behind those big brown eyes. She didn't scare easily now that she was eleven.
Wood smoke escaped the chimney in a lazy tendril, spreading into gray softness that filled the air with the aroma of campfires on cold winter mornings. Whoever lived inside this remote, ramshackle cabin must have just started a cooking fire, for the scent of wood smoke was soon followed by the clanging of a cast iron pan and the distinctive scent of bacon.
Siegfried glanced back at us, motioning toward a tumbled-down stone wall. He hopped to his feet and scrambled toward the cabin, chest tucked tightly to his knees. Although I was a full year older than the twins, I often let Siegfried lead. He was the one with the compass and the navigational skills, and took us on excursions into the forests behind the Ambuscade.
While we lay on our bellies watching the cabin, I couldn't help but remember snatches of Mrs. Wilson's history lessons last year. Even though we'd often played around the Ambuscade Monument, which was back in the field we'd just crossed, I really hadn't appreciated the importance of the area until she started telling us the story.
She said Washington sent John Sullivan and his men to fight for the settlers in 1779. They'd attacked the Indians, and had burned villages, cut down apple orchards, and destroyed families. It had been a real slaughter.
But it was hard to know who to root for, because some of Sullivan's men had been later ambushed by British troops and some Iroquois Indians. Fifteen men were massacred very close to where we lay. Two of the officers, Boyd and Parker, were captured and tortured in Little Beard's village in a town we now know as Cuylerville.
A plaque stands there today, marking the spot where they were tortured. Now, in 1965–a hundred and eighty-six years later–I stared at it in fascination whenever my father drove us past it on the way to Letchworth State Park.
Siegfried poked my side and pointed to the house, where a shadow crossed the window. I nodded and watched.
Elsbeth lay snug against me behind the stone wall. She nudged me in the ribs and whispered so close to my ear it tickled. "Someone's in there!"
A one-sided conversation had started up inside the cabin. I strained to hear, trying to calm the heartbeat in my ears that pounded over the words I couldn't make out.
I listened to the deep male voice. Gruff and playful, he seemed to be discussing plans for the day. But no one answered him.
I scanned the area. Siegfried noticed and followed my gaze. No telephone poles or wires. No electricity. Unless he had one of those walkie-talkies like they used in the war, he must be talking to a mute person or to a very soft-spoken person.
I noticed several cracked windows and wondered why the man inside hadn't fixed them. The front door looked solid, made from rough planks, but the roof dipped and waved near the chimney. I imagined when it rained it probably dripped from the ceiling into buckets. Globs of tar and different colored shingles plastered the roof in various spots. A beat-up Ford pickup was parked under the trees in the back.
Siegfried crawled around the edge of the wall. We followed him, creeping closer to the side of the shack until we were right under the window with two cracked panes.
Now we could hear better. The man's rumbling voice gave me chills.
"Why don't you want me to go?"
Silence.
"Okay. So come with me. What's the big deal?"
More silence.
The man groaned. "Nobody will see you. You can wait outside."
The twins and I exchanged puzzled looks and moved closer to the window.
The deep voice spoke again. "What? Who's outside?"
Siegfried's eyes grew round as fireballs. I tensed. Elsbeth grabbed my arm and squeezed. Heavy footfalls thundered across the floor and the window above us flew open. The blast of his voice came milliseconds before his head poked out.
"What in tarnation are you kids doing?"
Frozen in place, we stared at the man, whose grizzled face twisted in fury. A tangled white beard hung six inches beneath his chin, resting on a red-and-white checkered flannel shirt. Black suspenders looped over his shoulders, and his gnarled hands batted the air in front of his face. He yelled louder this time. Three crows cawed and abandoned their perch in the giant cottonwood overhead.
"Well, speak up! What the hell's going on here?"
Elsbeth spoke first, shocked into her native language. "Es tut mir leid."
When the man squinted his eyes in confusion, she recovered.
"Um. Sorry, sir. We didn't think anyone lived here."
We scuttled backwards on our hands and feet, our backsides scraping the earth like bouncing bulldozers. Siegfried jumped up and pulled his sister to her feet.
I stumbled back against the wall, ramming my spine against the stones. I winced, scrambled to my feet and stared at the ground. "We're sorry, Mister. We were looking for a fort."
The sound of a rifle cocking made me look up again. A long barrel poked out the window, aimed at my chest.
"If you kids aren't gone by the time I count to five, you're dead meat. Now scat!"
I don't know if he actually counted or not. The blood rushed in my ears and drowned out all sounds. We raced to our horses, swung onto their backs, and galloped down the woodland trail to safety.
Chapter Two
Pancho thundered beneath me in a steady gallop, close behind the twin’s mounts, Frisbee and Golden Boy. Branches whipped my arms and face. I leaned down on my horse’s neck and twisted my fingers into his thick black mane. Heat prickled beneath my bare legs. I gripped harder. The woods flew by in a blur.
Pancho passed Siegfried’s piebald, so close Sig and I bumped elbows. When we blew past Golden Boy, Elsbeth shot a smile at me. It was then I realized she wasn’t scared at all—she was enjoying herself.
Pancho had taken the bit before, but this time we were riding in the direction of home, and he took full advantage. Lowering his head, he hardened his mouth and pulled the reins out of my hands.
Somehow, I didn’t care. The faster we got away from the bullets I was sure were flying toward us, the better.
When we reached the clearing near the Ambuscade, I regained control of my horse. I slowed him to a walk, slipped off his back, and flopped to the ground. I dropped the reins on the grass and my trusty black gelding began to graze as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. I rolled onto my back, breathing hard. “Holy mackerel! I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
Elsbeth slid from Golden Boy’s back and tied him to a fencepost. Sig did the same with Frisbee, and they joined me on the grassy hill.
“Mein Gott! How did he know we we
re out there?” Elsbeth propped herself up with one elbow and turned to me. “And who was he talking to?”
Siegfried was quiet for a moment, but I could see his brain working furiously behind half-closed eyes. “Maybe he has a prisoner in there. And his mouth was gagged. That’s why we couldn’t hear their answers.”
I sat up. “But he heard the answers, right? He was really talking to someone.”
Sig’s mouth twisted. “Ja. I guess so.”
When Elsbeth turned on her stomach, her dark brown curls fell forward, nearly obscuring her face, her cheeks still flushed pink from our gallop to safety. “I think it was a psychic child, his only daughter who can read minds and make spoons bend. She sensed we were outside and told him. Maybe she told him in his head. She didn’t even need to talk.” Her eyes flashed with excitement, even though Siegfried seemed to dismiss the theory with a half head shake.
“It could be.” I rolled onto my stomach beside her, finally feeling my breath come under control. “Or maybe he was talking to a ghost. What the heck was that weird singing sound, anyway?”
Siegfried snorted and ignored my question. “Let’s face it. It’s more likely he was delusional. He imagines a friend is with him. He is so lonely he had to make one up. And he has conversations with them on a regular basis.”
“That would make him nuts,” I said.
Siegfried looked at me as if I were a slow student. “Ja, precisely.”
Elsbeth combed her hands through the deep grass, looking for the elusive four-leaf clover. “There’s just one problem with that idea.”
Sig sat up and challenged her with his startling blue eyes. “What? It’s a perfect theory.”
She pulled her knees close to her chin and narrowed her eyes as if she were about to reveal a secret. “If he’s crazy, how’d he know we were out there?”
Voodoo Summer (LeGarde Mysteries Book 11) Page 22