The Secret of Sentinel Rock Page 4

  A meadowlark sang nearby. Emily smiled at the refreshing sound. Maybe she’d climb back down and explore while she waited for Emma. Reaching the edge, she flipped on her stomach and swung her legs over. All at once she felt something grab her right ­ankle.

  Emily squealed and looked over the edge at Emma’s laughing face. “Yikes, Emma! You scared me half to death.”

  “That was what I had in mind, lass.” The other girl giggled. “Well, you might as well keep coming down now.”

  “I don’t know if you’ll still be there if I do.” Emily was remembering how Emma had disappeared the evening before when she’d moved away from the rock. She pushed her hair out of her face to get a better view of Emma there on the ­ground.

  “Well, try. If I disappear, you can climb back up and I’ll join you.”

  Emily slid to the ground. Emma had vanished. “Oh, no!” Emily wailed, preparing to climb back up. Then she heard giggling, and Emma’s face appeared around the ­rock.

  “Emma, that wasn’t funny.” Emily tried to look stern as Emma rejoined her. She’d really thought their plan hadn’t worked. Then she dismissed Emma’s trick with a laugh and grabbed the other girl’s arm. “Come on, let’s enjoy the day.”

  Invigorated by the slight chill that still lingered from daybreak, they ran to the front of the boulder and inspected the scene below them. A low mist rose over the meadowlands as the bright morning sun drew off the dew. A huge flock of geese flew overhead, honking loudly as they circled and settled on the broad marsh at the end of the ­valley.

  “I feel like one of those wild birds when I’m out here,” Emma said, breathing in deeply. “I wish I could stay here forever, though I’ve not much time today, Emily. But if you’d like to come back with me and see my family, you may.”

  “I’m not sure.” Now that the moment had arrived for her to make a decision, Emily felt apprehensive. Deep in thought, she turned back to the rock at the same time as Emma, and they climbed on top. “I think I’d like to go, Emma. But can you tell me about your place first?”

  Uppermost in Emily’s mind at the moment was knowing where Emma’s home was, and how long it would take to get there. What if Emily stayed too long in the past and couldn’t get back? She wasn’t exactly sure how any of this worked yet. It would be awful to be trapped forever. On the other hand, she was excited about seeing how Emma ­lived.

  As Emily fidgeted, trying to make herself more comfortable, Emma explained that they had only to follow the trail a short distance through the trees and they’d come to her family’s homestead. “My dad and brothers are still working on the buildings every day. We don’t want to spend the winter in the tent.”

  “You live in a tent?” Emily was flabbergasted. She’d never imagined early pioneers living in tents. She’d only heard of sod houses or log ­cabins.

  “What did you expect?”

  “I…well, I’m not sure.” Emily glanced uncertainly at Emma, mulling thoughts over in her mind. “I mean, in school we learned about pioneer families coming to settle in the west, but I didn’t realize they – you – might live in a tent to start with.”

  “Well, there isn’t anything else,” said Emma, sweeping her hand across the wilderness scene before ­them.

  “No, I guess not.” Emily plucked at some imaginary fuzz on her jeans. She was trying to remember what she knew about early homesteaders and considering Emma’s explanations. What was she getting herself into? Would she get back out again? Still, this might be her only chance to experience the past with her new ­friend.

  “I’ve decided to go, Emma,” she said ­decisively.

  “Good. Come on.” Emma led the way down the ­rock.

  Excitement spread through Emily in waves as they dropped to the ground. She took a few steps away from the boulder. Nothing ­changed.

  Behind Emma was the huge bluff of poplar trees with the winding trail where Geordie had come from two days ago. Masses of wispy blue harebells grew on a nearby hillside, and the sun was high in the ­sky.

  Emma ran toward the trees. Emily stepped carefully through the clumps of grass and around stones, not sure if she should keep going. With each step, she became more confident. The surroundings remained the ­same.

  “Wait up,” she shouted. She began to run. Low branches whipped against her as she stumbled along the narrow trail. Here and there a butterfly fluttered past. She swatted at a fly that landed on her arm, conscious of the keening buzz of insects around her. It definitely was a warmer season here, Emily realized. How could that be possible? Up ahead, Emma disappeared through an opening in the trees. Emily came to a clearing and ­stopped.

  Smoke rose from a fire in front of a grouping of three grey canvas tents and a wagon. An old woman in a long grey dress stooped over a huge pot that hung over the fire, almost like a witch tending her brew. A weird acrid smell permeated the air. What was the old woman stirring? And where had Emma ­gone?

  Emily hung back at the edge of the bush, surveying the scene. Two massive oxen with long pointy horns chewed their cud. They were tethered to a rope fence under a stand of tall poplar trees. A few chickens were scattered about scratching the ground and clucking at their choice finds. Two pigs snorted in their log pen near the oxen, shaded from the heat of midday by another clump of ­trees.

  The old woman wiped her hand across her brow and stood up. She looked straight at Emily. Emily felt the old lady’s eyes boring right through her, yet she sensed the woman couldn’t actually see her. She ­shivered.

  Just then Emma emerged from one of the closest tents with a bundle in her arms. She waved for Emily to come over. Emily stepped forward. The woman by the fire followed Emily’s progress across the clearing to Emma, but didn’t ­speak.

  “That’s Granny,” said Emma, when Emily tilted her head in the old lady’s ­direction.

  “She’s looking at me.” Emily stepped closer to ­Emma.

  “Yes, I told Granny about you. She seems to be able to sense you, but I don’t think she can see or hear you.” Emma placed her hand on Emily’s shoulder. “Don’t be frightened.”

  Just then the woman nodded her head in Emily’s direction. “She’s here, isn’t she?” she asked Emma, in a thick Scottish ­accent.

  “Yes,” Emma answered, and the old lady turned back to the huge kettle. She stooped down for another piece of wood and placed it in the fire, sending sparks and smoke into the ­air.

  “Never mind her. Look here.” Emma lifted the blanket to reveal a baby. “This is Molly. She’s sweet, isn’t she?”

  Emily stared at two wide blue eyes staring up at her. A tiny smile lit up the baby’s face as Emily leaned closer. Perhaps the infant could also sense her. “Hello there, little Molly, and how old are you?”

  “Two months. She was born on the trail when we were travelling here. It’s taken a fair bit out of Mother, and she needs to rest a great deal. Especially with this hot sun.” Emma eased the baby over her shoulder and patted her tiny back. “I help with Molly whenever I’m free from working in the garden or making meals.”

  Emily shifted her feet, unsure of what to do next. The strange smell coming from the pot over the fire burned in her nostrils. And the warmth of the sun made her itchy wherever her sweater touched her skin. She wished she hadn’t worn it. But how could she have known it would be more like summer here? Scratching at her back, she watched Emma make faces at Molly. The baby gurgled and waved her arms in the ­air.

  Behind the tents Emily could see an enormous patch of raw earth where the low grassy clearing had been cut out and dug down about a foot. Just at that moment Geordie emerged from around a bush, pushing a crude handmade wooden wheelbarrow. He rumbled it over to the woman by the fire, not seeming to notice Emily at all. Together the woman and boy lifted the huge pot and poured the slimy white contents into the ­mud-­caked ­wheel­barrow. Geordie hoisted the weathered handles up and set off in the direction from which he’d come. The wheel ground into the track, and Emily could see he was struggl
ing to keep the barrow from tipping over. “What on earth is he doing?”

  “Hauling a mixture of lime and clay to fill in the cracks of the sod house, so the wind won’t blow through come winter.” Emma untangled the baby’s fingers from her ­hair.

  “Where’s the house?” Emily craned her neck, ­looking.

  Emma pointed over her shoulder. “Just over that knoll. Come on, I’ll show you. Just let me give Molly back to Mother, so she can feed her.” Emma darted back into the tent as the baby began to ­whimper.

  They walked through the open grassland and over the swell of prairie, following a trail packed hard by the travel of many feet. Emily swished bluebottle flies off her arm and scurried along. Just over a ridge the path suddenly opened onto a brilliant carpet of red ­lilies.

  “Prairie lilies,” Emily squealed with delight. She jerked to a stop. “I’ve never seen so many in my life. We hardly ever see them any more.”

  “Oh, is that what they are? They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

  Both girls stopped and breathed deeply. Then laughed. They could only smell the wild clover and primroses at the edge of the ­meadow.

  “Wait a minute. They’re not supposed to bloom until ­mid-­June.” Emily shook her ­head.

  “It is June. June 18, to be exact.”

  Emily stared, ­open-­mouthed. “But it’s April. I only came to the rock yesterday.” That explained why it was so hot here. She grabbed Emma’s arm. “Not only have I gone back in time, but it’s speeding up as well. I wonder what’s happening back at home? Maybe I should go.”

  “Take a quick peek at the building, then we’ll run back.” Emma started forward, trying to drag Emily with ­her.

  Emily drew back. What if everything had changed back home and she’d actually been gone for several months? Would her parents have given up looking for her by now? Maybe they’d returned to Regina and she’d find no one back at the house. Of course, if no one was there, it wouldn’t matter if she was a few minutes later than she was already. Emily turned and ran to catch up to ­Emma.

  Just then they stepped over another hillock and Emily forgot for the moment that she was in a hurry. Three bearded men, dressed in overalls and grey shirts with the sleeves rolled up, were hauling huge squares of sod off a wagon and stacking them up like bricks to form the four walls of a building. Two oxen were tied to the wagon, snorting and swishing their tails at the flies. Nearby another sod structure was already complete and two teenaged girls were scooping the white mixture from Geordie’s wheelbarrow with huge paddles and patting it onto the ­walls.

  “There’s our house. Isn’t it grand?” asked Emma. “Now we’ll be snug for the winter.”

  Emily looked at the girl in disbelief. Snug for the winter? How could Emma think that? The place was little more than a low shack, made of mud and grass. It had no glass windows, only slatted shutters. True, the walls were thick, but the roof was only logs with more sod on ­top.

  “How will you heat it?” Emily asked, amazed that anyone could exist in that kind of house during a cold prairie ­winter.

  “With wood, of course.” Emma seemed unconcerned and pointed to the other structure going up. “That’s the shed for the animals.”

  An instant later Geordie appeared with an armload of dry wood from the nearby stand of aspens and added it to the huge stack between the two buildings. Obviously this was their wood supply for the winter, Emily ­realized.

  On the other side of the wood pile, two smaller girls chased each other through the long grass, yelling as they went. In the distance Emily could see a small field with green shoots waving in the wind. Beyond it the red stems of willow were mirrored in a glassy slough rimmed with marsh ­marigolds.

  An older girl, with long dark hair braided and piled on top of her head, was hoeing in a garden several yards from the house. “Emma. There you are, lass. Were you gadding about?” The girl swept some loose strands of hair from her forehead and leaned on her hoe, totally unaware of Emily’s presence. “Come help me with the gardening if you’re not looking after Molly.”

  “I can’t right now, Bella. I told mother I’d be right back,” Emma called, and then turned to Emily. “Let’s get you home.”

  The two girls raced back through the ­campsite, dashed down the trail through the trees, and climbed onto the ­rock.

  “That was really great,” Emily panted as she collapsed onto the top of the slab and lay on her ­back.

  “I’m glad you came,” Emma gasped, joining Emily on the flat surface. They stared up at the hazy afternoon sky, trying to catch their ­breaths.

  “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could come and visit you anytime – even without you having to be with me?” Emily was already thinking of going back ­again.

  “I think I may know a way.” Emma sat up. “Here, I’ve brought you something.” Out of her apron pocket, she pulled a small embroidered pouch with leather thongs and thrust it toward ­Emily.

  “What is it?” The bag was heavy and felt ­lumpy.

  Emma loosened the opening. Emily peered ­inside.

  “Stones?” she ­said.

  “Special stones. From Scotland. I brought some of my homeland with me – in case I never go there again. Go on, pick one.”

  Emily drew a large dark stone out of the pouch. It felt cool and smooth in her sweaty hand. “What’s it for?”

  Emma explained how she’d told her grandmother all about Emily. Although the older woman had been mystified and fearful at first, she believed such things could happen and was curious. “Gran reckoned if I gave you something of mine you’d be able to enter more easily and maybe even stay without me.” She ran over to the edge of the rock. “Come on. Let’s see what happens.”

  Clutching the stone tightly, Emily clambered down behind Emma. They reassured each other that if it didn’t work they’d meet back on ­top.

  “Very well now, put the stone down,” Emma said when they reached the bottom. “And I’ll leave.” She ran towards the ­trees.

  Reluctantly Emily placed the stone on the ground. As she withdrew her hand she felt a tremor run through her body, and she was back in her own time. At least she thought it was the same season as when she’d left. She could see leaves budding out on the trees, so it must still be April. And there was no Emma. Quickly she snatched up the small stone again. Emma reappeared by the stand of ­trees.

  “It worked!” Emily gasped. She stared at the rock in her open ­hand.

  “It worked,” Emma yelled, returning to Emily’s ­side.

  “But now what?” asked Emily, holding the stone firmly in her grasp. She knew Emma was about to leave for real this time. “What do we do with the stone? If you take it, I’ll have to wait for you each time I want to go into the past. And if I hang on to the stone I’ll always be in your time.”

  “How about if we leave it here somewhere safe? Then you could come and go as you please,” suggested ­Emma.

  “Great idea, but where could we hide it?” Emily scanned the rock. “Maybe in one of those crevices.”

  The girls examined them. One of the toeholds was deeper than the others and slanted ­inwards.

  “No one will find it here.” Emily looked at Emma for ­reassurance.

  “Good. I have to go. See you soon.” She gave Emily a quick wave and ran towards the ­bush.

  As soon as Emily could no longer see Emma, she set the stone in the crevice. She shuddered, and the trees where Emma had run ­vanished.

  Emily dashed for home. She ran harder when she saw how high the sun was in the sky. She hoped this was the same day that she’d left. Her mom was going to be furious. She’d been gone longer than she’d ­expected.

  Chapter ­Five

  Emily didn’t notice the dark clouds gathering in the west as she reached the farmyard. But out of the corner of her eye she saw Gerald Ferguson, hurrying from the tractor to his truck, by the granaries at the bottom of the nearby field. She slackened her pace, concentrating on what excuses she�
�d give for being gone all this time. If only she knew exactly how long she’d been away from the house, it would help. Her mother could be a real bear sometimes, and there was no telling how she’d react this time. Perhaps the straightforward approach would work ­best.

  She let the porch door bang open and stepped into the quiet kitchen. Her earlier note was gone. Cereal bowls and coffee mugs were drying on the drainboard near the sink. Oops, she’d missed breakfast, but at least it seemed to be the same day that she’d left, according to the calendar. It was turned to the right date. Emily glanced at the clock above the wainscotted wall. ­Eleven-­forty. Almost lunch time. Her stomach gurgled in agreement. She sprinted up the stairs and ­yelled.

  “Mom? Aunt Liz? I’m back. Sorry I took so long.”

  There was no ­answer.

  “Mom?”

  She walked along the hallway, peering into each of the four bedroom doorways as she went. She was met with silence. Then she heard a scraping sound along the floor above her. They must be in the attic. She opened the door and hollered again as she ascended the narrow ­staircase.

  “Hello. I’m back.”

  “It’s about time, young lady,” said her mother. “Your aunt Liz and I could sure use a hand. There’s a lot of work to be done.”

  Emily poked her head up through the opening. Her mother and aunt were working in one half of the attic. Two rooms were separated in the attic by a slatted wall. The one side had later been plastered and painted to create the bedroom which Emily used; the other was for ­storage.

  The two women were bending over a trunk. In one corner were shapes on the ­dust-­covered floor where boxes and old pieces of furniture had stood. The objects themselves were spread along one wall. Corners of wallpaper were curled and discoloured with mildew. The whole place smelled of dust and dead air, so different from the refreshing environment Emily had just ­left.

  “It was such a fantastic morning. You should have come out. You can’t stay inside all the time,” Emily said, wrinkling her nose in ­disgust.