The Secret of the Stone House Page 3

  “Me either,” Kate shook her head. “It’s probably nothing important, or it’s long gone. You could probably just chuck that.”

  “No way,” Emily protested at the same time as Aunt Liz objected.

  “The box has to be somewhere,” Aunt Liz looked in disbelief at her sister.

  “Okay, okay,” Kate said in self-defence. “I just don’t see where anything like that could be, after all the sorting and cleaning we’ve done.”

  Tucking it into her pocket, Emily said decisively. “I’m sure we’ll find it.”

  She was eager to know what the key was for and what it might reveal. It had to be somewhere. She’d just have to search for it.

  They continued down the length of the room, stopping beside each piece of furniture. Emily nodded her head each time, indicating that it wasn’t going anywhere near the auction block.

  “I really don’t agree with you keeping all this stuff,” her mom complained again.

  “It’s a good thing Gerald Ferguson is letting us use the house for as long as we want!” said Aunt Liz.

  “Yes, although I’m not sure if he meant until Emily was grown up!” Kate shook her head in dismay as she looked over all the furniture.

  “Why not?” protested Emily. “He’s only buying the land. He doesn’t want the house now that he’s built his new one.”

  “I suppose,” said her mom, reluctantly. “You are so much like your gran! Both pack rats!”

  Emily wasn’t sure if her mom was smiling or grimacing. Either way, Emily was glad she was going to be able to keep the furniture.

  As they moved on to the boxes, Aunt Liz didn’t even bother opening them. They were stacked and clearly labelled: a selection of pioneer clothing, glass negatives, photo albums, and the old camera and developing equipment her Grandmother Renfrew had used. As they scanned them, it was plain that everything was staying.

  “Whew, that was probably the easiest floor to do,” said Aunt Liz. “I thought it would be the worst.”

  “I guess we did a thorough enough job sorting in the spring,” Kate agreed, heading back down the stairs. “Just seems like we didn’t get rid of enough.”

  “We hauled plenty out,” Emily said, remembering how many trips she’d made up and down the stairs, and out to the bins and veranda where everything was stored for the upcoming auction. Her mother seemed to guess what she was thinking.

  “I’m not letting you anywhere near them,” Kate said, looking pointedly at Emily.

  Aunt Liz laughed, “Yeah, we sure don’t want stuff coming back in!”

  When they reached the second floor, they automatically headed into Gran Renfrew’s old bedroom. The only furniture left in it was the oak bed, a matching dresser, and a little table with a lamp on it, for when they came to stay. A small stack of boxes with extra bedding and linens stood in one corner. Aunt Liz was using the room this time. Her mom had a smaller one down the hall, and the third one was already empty.

  “You don’t need me anymore, do you?” asked Emily, hopeful that she could escape. She fingered the key in her pocket and thought again about the stones lying on her bed. “You already know what I want, and I haven’t changed my mind about anything.”

  Her mom sighed. “I suppose you can go for awhile. Just don’t be gone too long,” she cautioned. “I don’t want to have to come looking for you.”

  Emily was already halfway up the stairs, dashing to her room to collect her stones. Now she could try out her plan! Excitement tingled throughout her body. She was free for a while at least.

  She strode over to her nightstand with the key in her hands. She fingered it one more time, looked over at her bed and back at the key. Reaching a decision, she placed the key safely in the top drawer. She’d search for the box later. She didn’t want to miss this opportunity to leave the house.

  Closing her bedroom door securely, she listened for a few moments to make sure her mom and Aunt Liz hadn’t decided to come upstairs again. As an extra precaution against any intrusions, she pushed the chair in front of the door and wedged it under the handle. Quickly, she changed from a pair of shorts into a pair of jeans. If she was successful returning to the past, she didn’t want to shock anyone from the olden days by revealing her bare legs.

  She gently lifted her jacket from the bed and laid it on the trunk to reveal the scattered stones once again. She picked each one up, rubbed it and returned it into the embroidered bag, skirting the special black stone and saving it to the end. It was crucial to her success. At least, she hoped so.

  When she’d used it before, she’d slipped back a hundred years. Her fingers trembled as she reached out to pick up the mysterious stone.

  Did it have any power left? Would she be flipped into the past, or did she need to be at the sentinel rock for it to work? If she touched it right where it lay, she had no idea where she might end up. Did she dare touch the stone now?

  Mulling it over, she concluded she’d never gone anywhere by just touching the stone. Taking a deep breath, she clutched it. Moments passed. She remained on her bed. Sighing in relief, she tucked the stone into the pocket of her jeans, returned the others in the bag, along with her journal, to their hiding place under the window ledge. Then she removed the chair barricading the door and left the room.

  She dodged her mom and Aunt Liz on the second floor, with a brisk, “See you later.”

  “Be back soon,” her mom called out.

  Emily could hear the pair of them shuffling the boxes in the second bedroom. She didn’t plan to be gone long. She only wanted to see if the stone still worked, until she hatched the rest of her plans.

  The sun was probably at its hottest, Emily thought as she hurried across the yard and scrambled under the barbed-wire fence into the pasture. Overhead, swallows dove towards the barn. A smudge of tiny flies buzzed about her as she strode across grasslands ripe with summer flowers and blooming sage. The sky was clear and the air stifling, with no sign of a breeze. Crows cawed through the air and jays swooped onto fence posts.

  Emily stopped and closed her eyes. She let herself drift, breathing deeply. She could almost feel her grandmother beside her. As she continued walking, she followed the same path they had often travelled together picking herbs and berries. She passed poplar bluffs filled with wrens and larks trilling their pleasure in the day. At times, she followed the deer trail over the rough terrain, dodging boulders half-hidden in the tall, tangled grass.

  Heading up the gradual incline, she came at last to the outcropping of rocks. The special rock that she and her grandmother had climbed when Emily was younger sat on the edge of a coulee, overlooking a long shallow valley that stretched as far as she could see.

  When she reached the base of the large dolomite rock, she stopped and thought through everything carefully. Moving to the front of the rock, she gave one last look across the meadow towards Grandmother Renfrew’s stone house. She looked again at the patchwork of neatly fenced fields and pastures below, and then at the skyline to the tops of the elevators that marked the town of Glenavon, way off in the distance.

  Circling the rock to the other side, with the makeshift toeholds scraped into the crevices, she stared across the flat prairie. Calmly, she pulled the stone out of her pocket and held it tight. Using her other hand, with palm facing outward, she closed her eyes and reached out to touch the rock.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The moment Emily touched the rock, her eyes popped open. It worked!

  She couldn’t stop grinning. In front of her was the familiar landscape of the past. Where flat open prairie had stretched in her own time, there was now a large bluff of aspen and scrubby brush. Wolf willow and silver sage dotted the wild countryside, broken only by a meandering creek. All the cultivated and fenced land had disappeared.

  She’d done it! Now, could she get back home again? Successfully coming one direction didn’t mean she could safely return. The way it had worked in the springtime was that she’d kept the stone in her pocket while she stay
ed in the past. When she wanted to return to her own time, all she’d had to do was leave the stone in a crevice of the sentinel rock. Would it all work the same this time? The only thing she could do was try it.

  Cautiously, she slid the warm stone into the side pocket of her blue jeans. With trembling fingers, she let it go. Nothing happened. She sighed with relief.

  Glancing over her shoulder at the stand of aspens, she looked for the trail she knew led to the Elliott homestead. From where she stood, she couldn’t see it. I’ll just take a quick peek she thought, reminding herself again that she needed to be home soon. Walking over to the aspen stand, she trekked around the outside edge, looking for the entrance to the trail. Where was it?

  Sudden fear prickled the back of her neck. What if she hadn’t come back to the right time period? She backed away towards the rock, looking for identifiable landmarks. The meadow to her left should be brimming with chamomile and medicinal plants, but everything was tall grasses and foxtails. The thicket of aspens seemed familiar, but something was different. All at once, she knew what it was. Everything had matured. The trees were bigger now and the grass meadows fuller and wilder.

  Searching diligently and bending low, Emily at last found a narrow animal path through the trees. The family mustn’t use it anymore. Everything had grown over. She fought her way inside the bluff, pushing branches out of the way and stumbling over the tangled undergrowth. Was she going in the right direction? She looked behind her and decided she could always find her way out again. She’d left a definite trail of broken twigs and trampled underbrush that anyone could follow. So much for her grandmother’s teachings of leaving nature as she’d found it!

  The air was humid and sticky as she struggled her way through to the other side of the dense trees. The season seemed to be similar to what she’d left behind, although she sensed it might be a little later towards fall. The mosquitoes found her without effort, and so did the tiny blackflies. Sweaty, scratched, and frustrated, she at last emerged into a clearing, and stood with her mouth gaping open.

  The original dwelling site was gone! The small meadow in the centre of the trees seemed to be the same. But where once there had been an open firepit, and a clothesline stretched between two large poplar trees, now there was nothing. The rough fence made of branches to confine the pigs and the oxen had fallen down in ruins. She could see only traces of it. The spot where the three grey tents had been before the family had moved to their sod house was no longer visible. Quick-growing poplars encroached into the entire area. It was obvious no one had been there in a long time.

  Emily’s mind whirred with questions. Was she in the right time period? And if so, was this the right place? She retraced her steps in her mind. Yes, she’d definitely come in the right direction from the rock. But if the bluff of trees had grown to such a great extent, then how much time had passed?

  She swung around, trying to get her bearings. Where was the Elliott family? Why couldn’t she hear anyone working? Where was the well, and what about the path through the meadow that led to their sod house? Their home should be just across the small meadow and over the next rise, easily within hearing distance. Obviously, they no longer used this area for any of their needs.

  Emily stumbled through the meadow in the general direction of the sod house. Oblivious to the tall grasses and thistles whipping at her legs and arms, she hurried to the top of the incline. She had only a few precious moments before she had to return home.

  She reached the crest of the hill. There it was – the sod house. Only it was bigger now, and the yard was more developed. A lean-to had been added to one wall of the soddie, and some straggly delphiniums and lilies planted on either side of the doorway. But the place seemed deserted. There was no movement anywhere.

  Except for the slight breeze that swished through the tall grass at her feet, the only sounds were distant calls of birds and the occasional bzzt of flies. Emily looked at the low angle of the sun. Why wouldn’t someone be around at this time of the day? But there was no time to explore further.

  Emily turned on her heels and headed back to the rock. Instinctively, she knew she’d been gone too long. She’d have to figure out the circumstances of the

  pioneer family on another trip. At least she was in the right place, although she wasn’t sure what year it was. She’d always had trouble judging how much time must have passed in the present while she’d been in the past.

  Running headlong across the final meadow, she jumped in fright and twisted an ankle when a sharp-tailed grouse rose in the tall grass in front of her. Shaken, she rubbed the ankle till it stopped hurting, then continued at a more careful pace, making as much noise as possible as a warning to other meadow inhabitants.

  At last, she reached the special rock. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath and wiped the sweat from her face. She fished the stone from her pocket and stared at it. Obviously, she was going to have to leave the stone behind, if she wanted to return home. She didn’t know whether she’d be able to find it again in the present, but there was no choice. She swept particles of dirt out of a deep crevice in the boulder about chest high.

  She plopped in the stone with closed eyes, drew her fingers away, and squinted at her surroundings. She could see her grandmother’s house a quarter of a mile away. She was in present time again!

  But was that it? Were her adventures over? Or would she be able to go back to the past another time? Emily searched the crevice uneasily, and then exhaled with relief. She saw the stone. Looking around her to be sure she was home, she touched the rock with one hand and snatched the stone up again with the other. Instantly, she was back in the past, with its tangled grass, wolf willow, and sage.

  Wahoo! She laughed aloud. She could travel at will now. Popping the stone back into its resting place, she found herself in the present. She breathed deeply of the sage and looked out across the fenced fields and pastures. Then she sprinted across the meadow for home, heat from the afternoon sun pounding down on her.

  A dark green Ford pickup truck sped down the access road towards her grandmother’s farmyard. It must be Gerald Ferguson and his brother Donald. She was panting now, and she wished she’d brought along a bottle of water.

  At last, she reached the barbed-wire fence and crawled through it. The Fergusons hadn’t yet arrived. She plodded up the porch steps, tuckered out.

  Joining her mom and aunt in the kitchen, she headed straight for the cold water in the fridge. She gulped back a glassful, followed by a second one. She plopped on the edge of a chair to catch her breath.

  “The Fergusons are on their way,” she gasped out.

  Instantly, Kate jumped up from the table where she’d been sipping coffee and working at her laptop. She began tidying up her papers and packing up her machine.

  Aunt Liz watched with interest.

  “I’m just clearing the table in case we need to use it,” Kate said.

  “Okay, if you say so,” Aunt Liz teased.

  Kate gave her sister a piercing look, as she left the room with her arms laden. Moments later, the Ferguson’s truck pulled into the driveway.

  Emily joined Aunt Liz on the back porch as Gerald and Donald alighted from their vehicle. Donald was almost the spitting image of Gerald, except he was a tad shorter and wore his sandy-coloured hair longer around his ears. Both men reminded Emily of the common expression “beanpoles.” They were thin and tall with long legs like a pair of stilts.

  “Good afternoon, Liz,” Gerald said in his reserved way, reaching out to shake her hand.

  “Nice to see you again, Gerald,” Aunt Liz smiled at him, “and you too, Donald.”

  But as she turned to shake his hand, he grabbed her up in a bear hug.

  “It’s been such a long time,” he grinned as he released her.

  “Indeed,” she said with a wide grin.

  Uh-huh, Emily thought to herself, Mom isn’t the only one who finds him attractive.

  “And you must be Emily,” Donald adv
anced on her and took her hand firmly.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Ferguson,” she said, noticing the crinkly laugh-lines around his warm blue eyes.

  “Call me Donald,” he said, laughing, “Otherwise I won’t know who you’re talking to.”

  “Okay,” Emily agreed, liking him already. She pulled herself away and acknowledged his younger brother.

  “Hello,” she greeted Gerald.

  He calmly shook her hand. “Nice to see you again, Emily.”

  Emily noticed how rough and callused his hands felt compared to his brother’s. The screen door squeaked and her mother appeared beside her. She had tidied her hair and put on fresh lipstick.

  “Hello, Gerald.” She nodded a greeting, staring directly at him. Then she took a quick breath and turned to Donald.

  “You’ve come home,” she said with a slight smile.

  “Just couldn’t stay away,” he grinned at her, then pulled her to him for a quick hug.

  Flustered, Kate stepped back. “Do you want to come in, or shall we just get to it?” she asked.

  “Still the same direct Kate.” He laughed, leaning casually against a column on the porch.

  “What about you? I’m surprised you’re back at the farm,” Kate retorted.

  “People change, I guess,” he answered with a relaxed shrug.

  Her mom and Donald didn’t seem to have anything else to say. They just kept looking at one another.

  Aunt Liz interrupted the silence, “How about I get the keys, and we’ll get started?”

  “That would be fine,” Gerald answered. “I’ll go over and take a look at what needs to be done.”

  “Emily, I left the list on the kitchen counter. Will you get it for me while I grab the keys?” Aunt Liz signalled her to follow, leaving Kate and Donald on their own.

  Inside the house, Emily asked, “Are you sure that was such a good idea, Aunt Liz?” She handed her aunt the list.