Mystery of Drear House Page 11

  Then his mama came in, said, “Not today, Thomas. Give Grandmother Rhetty a chance! It’s Sunday. It’s church.”

  Darn! “I forgot all about it’s Sunday,” he said.

  They took Great-grandmother Jeffers to church. The whole time there Thomas tried to be like his father, always alert, thinking and listening. My mind just wants to wander, he thought. He did enjoy hearing Pesty sing in the choir. And he pointed out Mac Dar-row, playing the organ, to Great-grandmother.

  But it was over at last. “You are the biggest surprise, you have the best voice I have ever heard!” Great-grandmother exclaimed to Pesty.

  “Thank you,” Pesty said shyly. Then she gave Mr. Small a searching look.

  “That was fine singing, Pesty,” he said, but he had nothing else to tell her.

  What will he say when he does ask her to do something? Thomas wondered. What is it going to be about?

  “Mr. Thomas, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Pesty said to him. She hurried on.

  “I liked the way you sang,” Thomas called after her as she left through a rear door. “She always sings real fine like that,” he told Great-grandmother.

  Mac Darrow disappeared in the time it took Pesty and Thomas to talk. Let him just fall in a hole and get lost, Thomas thought.

  They ate at a restaurant out in the country at the top of a high hill. They could see the college where Mr. Small taught history. Great-grandmother said politely, “Very nice country. Pretty hills.”

  “Are you going to like it here, Great-grandmother?” Thomas asked.

  “Oh my goodness!” she said. “You’re here, aren’t you? I’ll like it fine!”

  The next day Pesty dropped by. “Be here tomorrow right after school,” Thomas told her. “We’re going to take Great-grandmother to Mr. Pluto’s.” Pesty sat down and waited long enough for Mr. Small to come home, to see if he would say something. Mr. Small did come in at last. He saw them, greeted them, hung up his coat. He stood over Thomas a moment before going off to his study.

  “Sure is busy in his head,” Pesty said. “Wonder what it is he’s going to ask me.”

  “I’m wondering if he ever will ask you something,” Thomas said, “or even if he remembers he said he would.”

  Thomas didn’t see Pesty again until Tuesday, when she came over about three-thirty.

  “Hi,” she said. She sat down next to him. He was having a snack.

  “Hi, yourself. You got here fast,” Thomas said.

  “I hurried,” she said.

  “Won’t your mama be missing you?”

  “Unh-unh,” Pesty said. “She wanted to walk with my daddy today, so he took her out in the fields with him.”

  Thomas pictured River Lewis, leading Mattie around a cornfield. He fixed Pesty a bologna and cheese sandwich, with lettuce and mayonnaise, just like his.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Can I have some milk?”

  He got it for her. He heard Great-grandmother come out of the front parlor. The first thing this morning he had settled with her that he and Pesty would take her over to Mr. Pluto’s. The day wasn’t too cold, and the snow was gone.

  “You’ll make it just fine today, Great Mother Jeffers,” Pesty said as Great-grandmother came into the kitchen.

  “I’m so glad,” Great-grandmother said. “I need the walk.”

  “It’s not too cold, not too bright either,” Thomas told her. “You want a sandwich before we go?”

  “No, dear, I’ve had my lunch,” she said. “Let’s be on our way. I’ll leave a note on the refrigerator for Martha.” Mrs. Small had gone after the boys at nursery school and hadn’t got back yet.

  They were soon bundled up and on the outside. Great-grandmother leaned on her cane with Pesty holding her arm on one side and Thomas on the other side.

  In no time, it seemed, they neared Pluto’s place. They had gone around the hill and had found an easy grade where trees gave way to an open space.

  “Why, look at this!” Great-grandmother Jeffers exclaimed.

  “It’s a clearing,” Thomas said.

  Before them was a rectangular bed of flat rock. At the end of the rock was a cave. The opening was covered by heavy plank doors. “Mr. Pluto’s,” Pesty said. With that the plank doors opened soundlessly. And there was Pluto, big as life. His white hair and long beard were like a cushion for his green eyes, the deep brown of his face.

  “Well here!” Pluto exclaimed in greeting. He sounded a little hoarse still. “Heard somebody, and guess who!”

  “Yes.” Great-grandmother laughed. “It’s a nice walk over here.”

  “Come on in,” Pluto said. “Bet you never been in a cave, Mother Jeffers.”

  “Not lately!” she said. That made Thomas laugh.

  She gazed around the large underground room, thirty feet long. Its ceiling was jagged rock. And the floor was stone, a portion of which had a dark carpet. There was an armchair, a table, family pictures—they made her smile—all things one would find in a house. Great-grandmother had never seen a forge like Mr. Pluto’s where he hammered iron into horseshoes and harness rings. The large bellows used to blow air for the forge fire rested on a tree stump.

  “But where is the … you-know-what-it’s-called?” Great-grandmother asked.

  There was a silence after which Thomas said to Pluto, “She’d like to see it,” nodding his head toward one of the walls of the cave. It was a false wall.

  “Well then,” Pluto said, “here.”

  He bolted the plank doors of the cave opening. Then he walked over to the opposite wall. It was largely blank, except for a ladder leaning against it. He climbed the ladder and pulled on the rope hidden behind it. There was the grating noise of Sheetrock rubbing along the stone floor as the wall slid away.

  Thomas held his breath. Great-grandmother stood looking. Mr. Pluto stepped to the side, his head slightly bowed. “Great-grandmother, see?” Thomas said, a dreamy expression on his face.

  She stepped into the opening the wall had made, one hand on Pesty, one on her cane. “I lived to see this,” she murmured. “Great day!”

  “Dies Drear did this for us,” Pluto said, “for us to save for all time.”

  “Let it be!” Great-grandmother said almost in a whisper.

  “Let’s go see,” said Pluto. And they went down into the great cavern.

  18

  “SHHH! THOUGHT I HEARD something,” Thomas said. In the treasure cavern the smallest noise seemed to hang suspended. He thought he’d heard a sound up in Pluto’s cave. Great-grandmother Jeffers had been about to read from a letter she’d found in a century-old bondage ledger. When she lifted the letter, pieces of it fell away from the rest. Gently she moved the sheets until she had two facing pages. They were part of a letter from one Pompey Redmond, a runaway slave. The letter had been delivered to Dies Drear in 1855.

  “Mr. Redmond had learned to write. You can read some of the letter, Mother Jeffers,” Pluto said. “It tells a lot.”

  Thomas heard the sound again. They all did this time. Mr. Pluto recognized the muffled pounding. “You’d better go see,” Pluto told Thomas. “Let that wall back to cover the opening. Make sure the wall ladder is in place. Don’t open the plank doors to my cave, but ask who it is.”

  “What’ll I do if it’s a stranger?” Thomas had asked.

  “Tell him I’m sick. Ask who, but don’t let him in.”

  Thomas went up, did as he was told. “Who is it? What do you want?”

  “It’s me, Thomas, open up.”

  “Papa!” He unbarred the door. Mr. Small looked over his shoulder once and hurried inside.

  “Did we stay too long?” Thomas asked. “I’m sorry. We were just talking. Great-grandmother Jeffers loves it down there. She found a letter from a slave! Papa, she and Mr. Pluto are just alike. They both just love it.”

  “Bar that door again, Thomas,” his father said, grimly. He looked all around, said, “I suppose you had to bring Grandmother Jeffers here. Walking all this way—don’t yo
u realize she’s no longer young?”

  “But, Papa, she wanted to come,” Thomas said. “Me and Pesty—”

  “Pesty and I,” his papa corrected.

  “Pesty and I watched her every step of the way. She was fine,” Thomas said.

  “She could have fallen,” his papa said scoldingly.

  Thomas hung his head. Of course, Great-grandmother could have fallen. But she didn’t, he thought, because we wouldn’t let that happen, Pesty and me. “We would never let her fall, Papa,” he finally said.

  “Well, I know Grandmother Rhetty when she makes up her mind about something,” his papa said. Then he changed the subject. “Show me the other way in here.”

  Thomas barred the plank doors. He went over to a tapestry and held it aside. There was the opening to the narrow tunnelway that led to the horse stalls. Mr. Small knew it well. “Nobody would guess it’s here,” he said.

  They took the short walk to the stalls. Thomas showed his papa the place in the back wall where Pesty and he had entered the stall. “Now it looks like somebody’s tampered with it,” Thomas said.

  “I see,” Mr. Small answered. “So that’s how they got in if they got in.”

  “I think Mr. Pluto believes they did,” Thomas said. “I’m pretty sure it was Macky.”

  “Then let us assume that Macky got in here. That he came to worry Pluto and find out something,” Mr. Small said. “But it looks like now Pluto’s sealed the opening with sand and lime.” He shook his head. “Nobody’s coming in this way again.”

  “Are you sure? Not Macky?” Thomas said, resigning himself to the fact that Mac Darrow might truly be an enemy, like his brothers.

  “Not Macky or anybody else,” his papa said.

  They went back into the cave. Thomas climbed the ladder against the wall. He pulled the rope. The wall made its noise and swung away.

  Each time Walter Small saw the enormous beauty of it all down there, he felt an urgency inside him, knotting his stomach. Each step he took down he feared the earth might tremble, bringing everything to a crumbling end. Most of all, he feared River Lewis Darrow would find his way into this awesome place. And loot it. Lord, it could happen! he thought.

  They went down the natural ramp. Thomas felt the heat of the place. The steady warmth of deep underground had not changed for at least a century they knew of. He was not to raise his voice here, for any noise might set off a cave-in.

  Great-grandmother Jeffers sat in a straight chair next to Mr. Pluto behind the massive desk he used. One of the slave ledgers was open on the desk. Pesty was sitting cross-legged on top of the desk. Great-grandmother smiled as Thomas and his papa came down through huge stalactites hanging from the vaulted ceiling and stalagmites rising sharply from the cavern floor. It was always splendid night deep in the underground. Mr. Pluto had lit torches all around.

  Great-grandmother Jeffers began. “Dear Brother Drear,” she read from Redmond’s letter. “Your continuing solicitation and bid for a more secure situation is most pleasing to this poor fugitive. ... I am no longer property, but am a man, and because of you. Good citizens by the hundreds gallop out to hear Douglass and to join the antislavery societies. But alas, you have slavers in numbers coming up from the southern border. I fear being forced back into cruel Kentucky. If you beseech me to come to aid in your labour, know that I shall. You spake darkly of a great underground. What might be your meaning? What plan, Brother Dies? Forgive this wretched soul and its folly of weakness ... I dread journeying the black forests that lie between me and thee. …”

  Mr. Small paced back and forth in front of the desk. Great-grandmother Jeffers stopped reading. Her eyes shone with pride in the fugitive, Redmond.

  “Papa, wasn’t the great underground he mentioned this treasure place?”

  “So it would seem, Thomas,” Mr. Small spoke softly.

  “All this time Pompey Redmond has been waiting to tell us something,” Great-grandmother said with feeling. “Would’ve been something to help him along!”

  “Would’ve indeed,” Mr. Pluto said. “Not hard to see how Mattie Darrow came to be the way she is. Living the underground the way she does. Ah, the meanings of the word—’underground’!”

  Mr. Small stopped his pacing. He turned to Pesty, sitting on the desk. “The time has come,” he told her. He looked at Pluto. Something in the look made Pluto get up. The dark throw flowed and settled around him like a shroud. “The time has come,” Mr. Small repeated to Pluto.

  “No.” Pluto’s mouth shaped the word soundlessly.

  “Thomas, we have to go now,” Mr. Small said. His hand went briskly through his hair. “Pesty, you, too. Let’s go.”

  Quickly Pesty got down and stood next to Thomas. “Grandmother Rhetty,” his papa said, “Martha’s back with the boys. We saw your note. I’ll drive the car over as far as I can, and you won’t have to walk the whole distance.”

  “I’ll stay right here, then, until you return,” she said, at Pluto’s side.

  Pluto’s eyes glinted hard at Mr. Small. “You think I’m too old,” he said. His woolen throw spread over his arms like raven wings. “I can’t carry Mother Jeffers home in my buggy? You think I can’t protect someone … this—”

  “A buggy ride!” Great-grandmother exclaimed. “Oh, I’d love that. I haven’t had a buggy ride in thirty years!”

  “Well, have one now then,” Mr. Small said. And to Pluto: “I meant no offense. I know how well you handle a horse-drawn buggy. I just thought ...”

  “You just thought to tell everybody what to do,” Pluto said quietly, sadly.

  “Mr. Pluto, I’m doing the best I know how,” Mr. Small said shakily. “I must see you tonight. I’ll be back.”

  Pluto looked surprised. He studied Mr. Small for a moment but said nothing.

  “Come on, children, we’ve things to take care of,” Walter Small said. Thomas and Pesty went out with him. Pesty glanced shyly back at Pluto and Great-grandmother and waved.

  “Bye,” Thomas said to them.

  They could hear Pluto following. He would lock the doors of his cave behind them. Great-grandmother was reading again: “The Philadelphia Vigilance Committee heeds your call. Mr. Purvis gave to me food and clothing and a place to rest at his estate. I met more abolitionists from everywhere.”

  Outside Pesty, Thomas, and his father walked in silence for a time, toward the Drear house. Mr. Small was deep in thought. “Papa, what is it?” Thomas said.

  “It’s just the time,” his papa said. “It’s a good and bad time.”

  “What do you mean, Papa?”

  “I mean, we’ve kept the great cavern secret for so long. I’ve been inventorying everything all these months, to give a listing of the treasure to the foundation that owns the house and the hill. That’s what I told myself I was doing.” He laughed. “Well, I never gave them a list of anything. I kept it all to myself. Still a secret. And I as much as promised Mr. Pluto that I would not tell the foundation anything as long as he lived.” He sighed. “Well, I had no right to promise such a thing! And now what has to be done makes me very sad—”

  “What’s that?” Pesty asked. “What’s it that has to be done?”

  Mr. Small stared down at the ground for a long moment before he said, “Well, it’s a plan worth trying. Pesty, your share of it has two parts. The first thing in the morning I want you to get your mother out of the house and into our house without anyone else knowing. Can you do that?”

  “Sure!” she said. “We can go the tunnelway, and if it’s morning, everybody just think Mama is taken to bed or is sleeping late.”

  “And Pesty, after bringing your mother, will you go back and do something else important?” Mr. Small said.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  He told her, speaking just above a whisper. Thomas listened. His eyes grew wide, startled, as he heard it all. Looking all around, Mr. Small made sure that only the three of them could hear. “Timing is everything,” he told them. “Pesty, you must
have your mother in our house by eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

  “Eight o’clock,” she said. “She don’t sleep long these times. I can do it. We’ll be out in the tunnel by eight anyway.”

  “No, in the house at eight,” Mr. Small said firmly.

  “And no later than eight-ten, you hear? Because the last part comes at nine. You remember?”

  “Yes,” she said, “I—I just hope I don’t get in worse with …” She wouldn’t name her papa, River Lewis, but that was whom she was thinking about.

  Mr. Small knew it. “Let’s hope that everything happens just the right way, so there is no time for folks to think about how and why it’s happening.

  “Timing. Timing!” he continued. “Once and for all. There’s no other way. … The timing must be perfect.”

  “But I don’t understand, the part about—” Thomas began.

  Mr. Small stopped him. “I’ve said all that needs to be said for now. Wait until tomorrow. Seeing is believing, Thomas, and this you have to see.”

  Supposing something goes wrong? Thomas was thinking. Supposing the Darrow men … and Macky— he didn’t want to think what would happen if things went wrong.

  Although she had misgivings, Pesty trusted Mr. Small. “Wish things wouldn’t always change,” she said. “Then again I wish they would.”

  “Me, too, Pesty,” Mr. Small said.

  Everything’s up in the air. What if Pesty gets into trouble? Thomas was thinking. What if Pluto gets mad at Papa, or Mrs. Darrow can’t be moved? And River Lewis, what if ... ? The what-ifs made his head spin.

  19

  THOMAS WOKE UP EARLY and dressed quickly. He paused long enough to think: Good luck, Pesty! Next, he put her out of his mind while he made sure his papa was still confident about everything, that Great-grandmother was ready. He guessed that was his part of the plan to do. Papa sure didn’t give me a lot to work out in perfect timing, he thought.

  He was right about what Pesty would be doing. She and Macky were up first, while it was dark out. Next, her daddy was up, and her older brothers, Wilbur, Russell, and River Ross. Her mama might stay awake all night. Or she might sleep and wake up a million times. Or like these days, she would wake up peacefully and want to get dressed to go walking. Pesty had a time with her. Today she would need to keep her mama quiet for more than an hour. She’d told Mr. Small she could do it. Mr. Thomas had heard her say so.