Read Bones On Black Spruce Mountain Online
Authors: David Budbill
Bones On Black Spruce Mountain (11 page)
Mr. Bateau excused himself and headed out the door. As be stepped onto the porch, his eyes fell on the boys’ packs. His heart warmed to their worn and dirty, end-of-the-hike clutter. He knelt down next to them. Mr. Bateau knew these packs were the keepers of memories, and he remembered his own days as a boy in the woods.
Slowly, absentmindedly, his hand ran over the packs. He could see a drinking cup protruding from a side pocket. He drew the cup out and held it. There w a plastic bag in the cup and in the bag a small object. It was a bone.
Mr. Bateau took it our and rubbed it between his fingers. stood up, looked back through the screen door at the parents and smiled. He bent down to tuck the cup and bone back into the side pocket of the pack. He stood up again, the bone still in his hand. Then, abruptly, he jammed the bone into his own pocket and headed down the lane
.
As she spoke, Seth’s family pickup truck pulled into the drive.
“How was fishing?” Seth’s father asked. “Fishing!” Daniel exclaimed. “We’re so sick of eating trout, we never want to see another one as long as we live!”
“Come on, now.”
“He’s not kidding,” Seth added. “There’s a beaver pond up there so thick with trout you can walk across the water on their backs.”
“Dat a lot a trout.” Mr. Bateau hesitated, then said, “Did you find da bones”
“What bones?” Daniel asked.
“You know what bones.”
“Well, if there are any bones up there, we never found them.”
“That’s right,” Seth added. “In fact, we never even looked for them. We climbed to the top of Black Spruce, but there’s nothing up there but a big cliff.”
“You mean der’s not even a cave up der?”
“Nope.”
“Come on, Seth, let’s go swimming.”
The two boys bolted through the screened door and raced each other down the lane toward the pond.
“Well, those two are growing up,” Daniel’s father said.
“They sure are,” Seth’s mother agreed.
Mr. Bateau stood in the corner of the kitchen, disturbed and hurt. He still believed the story. He wanted to believe it. Could the boys be right? Could he have been wrong all, these years? He knew everybody thought he was and he had never cared, but now, if ‘the boys were right . . .
Mr. Bateau excused himself and headed out the door. As be stepped onto the porch, his eyes fell on the boys’ packs. His heart warmed to their worn and dirty, end-of-the-hike clutter. He knelt down next to them. Mr. Bateau knew these packs were the keepers of memories, and he remembered his own days as a boy in the woods.
Slowly, absentmindedly, his hand ran over the packs. He could see a drinking cup protruding from a side pocket. He drew the cup out and held it. There w a plastic bag in the cup and in the bag a small object. It was a bone.
Mr. Bateau took it our and rubbed it between his fingers. stood up, looked back through the screen door at the parents and smiled. He bent down to tuck the cup and bone back into the side pocket of the pack. He stood up again, the bone still in his hand. Then, abruptly, he jammed the bone into his own pocket and headed down the lane.
The old man could hear the boys shouting and laughing as he approached the pond.
“Hi, babies! Sounds like you have good times like I say you would.”
“Yes, we did,” Seth said.
“Oh, by da Daniel, I was over to yer mudder and yer fadder’s house last night.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yas, I was. I walk home just after dark too.”
“Oh?”
“Yas, I do, and I see yer fire on da mountain.”
“You did?”
“Yas, I did. Look like it might be where da cave s’posed ta be.” Mr. Bateau watched the boys’ faces.
“Nope
“Wall, I be goin’ now.”
Mr. Bateau turned to leave, then turned again to the boys and said, “Oh, by da way, here somet’ing I find up der on da porch. Maybe it belong to you?”
He held the bone out to them.
Both boys flushed red. A warm. smile spread across Mr. Bateau’s face. Then the three of them laughed out loud together.
“You babies bedder keep track a dat. Weren’t be so good somebody find it, weren’t suppose to.”
About The Author
DAVID BUDBILL was born in Ohio. He has been at various times a short-order cook, gardener, farm and woods laborer, carpenter’s apprentice, and English teacher.
Mr. Budbill has written several plays and two books of poems, the most recent of which is The Chain Saw Dance. Of his most recent book for young readers, Snowshoe Trek to Otter River, Booklist said, “With clean, simple sentences the author captures the lure of the wilderness and the beauty of the animals in their environment.”
David Budbill lives with his wife and children in the mountains Of northern Vermont.
Enter the exciting
wilderness with
JIM KJELGAARD
In these adventure stories, Jim Kjelgaard shows us the special world of animals, the wilderness, and the bonds between men and dogs. Irish Red and Outlaw Red are stories about two champion Irish setters. Snow Dog shows what happens when a half-wild dog crosses paths with a trapper. The cougar-hunting Lion Hound and the greyhound story Desert Dog take place in the Southwest. And, Stormy is an extraordinary story of a boy and his devoted dog. You'll want to read all of them.
15578 A NOSE FOR TROUBLE
15743 HAUNT FOX
15434 BIG RED
15546 IRISH RED: SON OF BIG RED
15427 LION HOUND
15686 OUTLAW RED
15560 SNOW DOG
15468 STORMY
15687 WILD TREK
15491 DESERT DOG
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