Horns & Wrinkles (10 page)

As soon as it got dark, we pushed off, searching for the trolls. Up the river we paddled, clinging to the shadows of the shoreline so that a barge wouldn't cream us.

Now that the ice was off the river, there was a steady flow of barges hauling grain and coal and gravel. Barges were the reason there were so many new sandbars. For the river to be deep enough to handle them, its main channel had to be dredged constantly. The sand dug up from the bottom had to be spit somewhere, and the closest place for spitting was the riverbanks. The sandbars grew higher with each season of dredging, some rising until as tall as trees or hills or office buildings. They went on and on and could have hidden anything from a small village to a pyramid.

We spotted the trolls' green campfire about a mile above Big Rock, on the highest sandbar yet. When we pulled into shore, Jim Dandy and Stump treated us better than royalty. Biz stood off to the side of the campfire, not yet ready to throw us kisses.

"What did I tell you?" Jim Dandy crowed when Duke held up the minnow bucket. "What did I tell you?"

"But how did he get them?" Biz asked, his voice squeaky but stubborn, so stubborn that he no longer thought twice about talking in front of us.

"He stole it from a little kid," I tattled.

"I told you he had promise," Jim Dandy boasted.

"But did he make the kid cry?" Biz asked, not won over so easily.

"Big tears." Duke held his hands wide apart to show their size.

"He's lying," I told them.

"All the better," Jim Dandy answered with a laugh. "He's one of us for sure."

Even Biz couldn't help but smile a fraction then. Seeing that, Jim Dandy reached into the minnow bucket, pulled out a wiggling willow cat, and lobbed it over the fire to Stump. Before the shortest troll could drop the fish down his gullet, Biz recovered, saying, "Wait a minute. Let's count these screens."

Looking worried that Biz might make him put the fish back, Stump gulped it fast. At the same time, Duke stepped away from me, denying everything.

"It's her fault."

Instead of arguing, I took a half-step toward the shadows myself. I needn't have worried, though. The trolls didn't blame me for anything. Not yet, anyway.

They inched forward as though afraid of being bitten, but I soon saw that it wasn't the screens that scared them. It was counting the screens that had them buffaloed. For once, even Biz wasn't eager to get on with business. He crept forward, a quarter-step ahead of the others, but giving them plenty of chances to take the lead. Any time he waved Jim Dandy and Stump ahead, they came to a dead stop behind him.

"No, no, no." Stump wagged a finger.

"You're the one so big on counting," Jim Dandy said.

"Tadpoles," Biz mutter-squeaked under his breath.

So Biz reached the screens first, and after a half-dozen tries, he managed to run a trembling finger over their edges. He couldn't count beyond one, though. Actually, I'm not sure if he got that far, which made it the worst case of counting jitters I'd ever seen. Jim Dandy and Stump weren't any help either. They constantly distracted Biz by trying to peek over his shoulder.

"There's only two of them," I announced at last, tired of their stalling. "The old lady wouldn't give me any more, not even when I talked extra sweet."

"I knew it!" Biz squeaked triumphantly.

"Now, let's not get all excited." Jim Dandy made a calming motion with his hands.

"I'd say you better swim on home for another silver dollar," Biz replied, ignoring him.

"If you think I'm going to miss the new moon like Stump's fool brother did," Jim Dandy shot back, "you're dumber than driftwood."

That crack had Stump clenching his fists hard enough to juice apples. Biz wanted to snap back, you could tell by the way his stubby tail was twitching, but before he could answer, Jim Dandy went on smoothly.

"Besides, there's other ways to get that third cricket from Bo."

"Not tried-and-true ways," Biz squeaked.

"Relax, boys," Jim Dandy cooed. "I got you the ukuleles, didn't I?"

"He did do that," Stump remembered, unclenching his fists.

"Yes, and she got two of them back," Biz reminded everyone.

"Hey," Jim Dandy protested, "I got you Duke, didn't I?"

"He did that too," Stump cautiously agreed.

"What good's he done us?" Biz challenged, crossing his arms.

Duke got a real nasty look on his kisser when he heard that, the kind of look that sooner or later always gets him into deep trouble. Since he wasn't saying anything sooner, I figured later was what he had in mind.

"He got us his cousin, didn't he?" Jim Dandy swept a hand toward me.

"We wouldn't have needed either of them," Biz squeaked, "not if we'd all gotten a silver dollar from our mothers."

"Let me ask you this," Jim Dandy said, changing the subject as fast as he could. "Have you ever thought about what happens if Bo has enough shooting stars?"

"She never has enough of those," Biz scoffed.

"How do you know?" Jim Dandy asked. "She might be sitting on her throne right now, thinking, 'It's way, way too bright in here. I'm tired of all these shooting stars.'"

"Never happen," Biz squeaked, but you could tell he wasn't absolutely certain about it.

"Never?" Stump echoed weakly.

"But what if she did say no?" Jim Dandy insisted. "Then what would we do? I mean, we'd still need the crickets, right?"

Such questions crinkled up Biz's forehead and made Stump's eyes wild. One look told you that according to all reports, Bodacious Deepthink had always been willing to swap a cave cricket for a shooting star. No one had ever suggested otherwise—until now.

"Can't you get by without the crickets?" I asked.

"Impossible," Jim Dandy stated. "We've got to have them to find our dads. So the question I'm asking is this—what do we give old Bo if she says no to shooting stars?"

Both Biz and Stump scowled as if it was a trick question.

"Duke," Jim Dandy said, making my cousin jump. "You tell them."

"An IOU?" Duke suggested. He'd always been a firm believer in them, so long as he didn't have to pay them back.

"Bo doesn't take IOUs," Jim Dandy chided.

"Oh," Duke muttered, deflating fast.

"Duke's cousin?" Jim Dandy moved on to me without having bothered to learn my name. "What would you give her?"

"Something else?" I had no idea what he was fishing for.

"That's it!" Jim Dandy whooped.

"But what?" Stump said.

"What else do we know that she likes?" Jim Dandy prodded.

"Eats?" Stump guessed, inspired.

"She
is
a rock troll," Biz reluctantly agreed. "She'd be hungry."

"So there's your answer." Jim Dandy bowed. "If we come up short on shooting stars, we offer her a feast she can't resist. And that's where our old friend Duke comes into the picture."

"I do?" Duke revived.

"He does?" Stump seconded, so surprised that his nostrils bubbled out some extra green froth.

"Indeed he does," Jim Dandy assured them, slapping Duke on the back in that especially friendly way he had. "We need someone to help us carry the eats."

"What kind of eats?" Duke sounded eager to please as a puppy.

"Oh, legs of mutton, wheels of goat cheese, a barrel or two of pigs' feet." Jim Dandy laid this out with a generous wave of his hand. "Some ox tails would go over big. The usual stuff that rock trolls gobble."

"Where are you going to get all that?" I asked. "You don't even have a dollar to buy a screen."

"Don't be so ignorant," Duke scoffed. "Trolls have their ways."

"Indeed we do," Jim Dandy agreed wholeheartedly. "And fine ways they are."

"She's going to want her stars," Biz stubbornly squeaked.

"But if she doesn't," Jim Dandy insisted, winking at me and Duke, "we've got a plan, right? So let's not worry our pretty little heads about shooting stars. Agreed?"

As Jim Dandy explained all this, Biz and Stump gazed toward the river, giving me the uncomfortable feeling that they couldn't bear to look Duke or me in the eye.

Grandpa B always claimed that shooting stars were craters falling off the moon, though he had a twinkle in his eye whenever he said it. How many of them hit the ground? I don't imagine anyone knows for sure, but to find some of those that do touch down, you've got to look in the right places. It turned out that any place that was covered with trees and bushes and grass was the wrong place. When it came to shooting stars, plants hide things. That was why the trolls headed for the center of the sandbar, which was nothing but a huge sandbox, hardly a plant anywhere.

"Nose funnels are the only way to go," Jim Dandy lectured. Digging out a pair of small brass funnels from his alligator bag, he stuck them into his nostrils.

"Lot you know about it," Biz squeaked. "All you really have to do is clear your sniffer out good and clean so there's nothing between it and the aroma."

To prove his point, Biz pulled a small gold box out of his alligator bag. The box was filled with a moldy bluish powder, a tiny pinch of which he packed up his nostrils, one at a time. The sneezes that followed were like cannon blasts and bounced him backwards two hops.

"Rookies," Stump muttered, shaking his head to show how pathetic Jim Dandy and Biz's approaches were. From inside his alligator bag, he lifted out a wire cage and from inside the cage he coaxed out a teacup poodle, all done up in ribbons and frills and hardly bigger than a pocket-size teddy bear. After patting the toy-size dog gently on the head and whispering softly in its ear, he set it on the sand and called out, "Fetch!"

The poodle darted off into the night, with Stump grabbing a burning stick from the fire to chase after him. Jim Dandy and Biz grabbed torches and took off running too, snouts working hard. I tried a sniff or two myself, with no results other than to make Duke laugh.

"You haven't got the nose for it," he told me, and then, to prove he had, he stuck his nose straight up in the air and took one long, hard sniff. "Yup," he gloated. "They're out there."

"So what do they smell like?" I wanted to call his bluff.

"A little like a grilled cheese sandwich that's been burned." His nose twitched. "Only sweeter."

The sandbar we stood on rose as high as a good-size hill, with a crown that was as flat and large as a football field. Duke and I dragged the screens and other mining stuff up top and waited for instructions. It took several trips, and for once in his life Duke did most of the work. He didn't want me touching anything valuable, and when it came to his friend's mining equipment, most everything was priceless.

The night was dark and, so far, moonless. We wouldn't have been able to spy Jim Dandy, Biz, or Stump if they hadn't been carrying torches. By then I'd figured out that I was probably going to need help finding the stone feather and, unlikely as it seemed, Duke was my best bet. I started my campaign to win him over with a shot in the dark.

"So what's Jim Dandy promising you?"

"Nothing." Duke answered way too quickly.

"Whatever it is," I predicted, "he'll never deliver."

"Which proves that you don't know doodley about Jim Dandy Eel-tongue."

"I know his own friends don't trust him."

"They're river trolls," Duke shot back. "What'd you expect?"

"I don't think they brush their teeth either."

"Never." Duke was happy about that. "Don't floss either."

"How about cleaning up their rooms?"

"They don't have rooms."

"Go to school?"

"Unheard of." Duke grew happier by the minute.

"Sounds perfect," I said. "Think I could join up?"

Not that I had any intention of signing up, but I had to burst my cousin's bubble somehow. Wanting to tag along was tried-and-true.

"Not a chance," Duke cautioned, stiffening.

"What'd they say when you asked to join them?"

"Never mind about that," Duke growled.

He took such an active dislike to my questions that I naturally kept right on asking them.

"Maybe you could ask for me," I begged. "They'd probably listen to you."