Blown Away! Read online

  When I returned home I told Mom and Dad all about my day building the fence. “So Jewel high-jumped the corral,” Mom said, laughing.

  About then we heard a loud knocking on the store door downstairs. “Who can that be on a Sunday night?” Dad muttered. He went down and I could hear Sharkey’s anxious voice.

  I flew to the stairway with Mom right behind me. “They’re gone again, Doug,” Sharkey was saying. “I went into my house for two minutes and they both disappeared.”

  “We haven’t seen either of them,” Dad said.

  “I’ll help you look,” I offered, and went to put on my shoes.

  “Yes, go with him, Jake,” Mom called. “And while you’re at it, bring Star home from Mara’s. She went over there with Bessie to visit Mara for a while. Supper will be ready soon.”

  “I’ve already checked up by the train station, so now I’ll head toward the church and cemetery,” Sharkey explained. “I’ll check with the Ashburns, too. Meanwhile you go down to the shore by way of Miss Edith’s place.”

  Miss Edith was inside when I got there. Smoke was curling up from the chimney, and I could smell onions and cabbage cooking. I hated to inform Miss Edith that the mule and dog were loose again. She was upset when I asked her if she’d seen the two runaways.

  “No, I haven’t seen them,” she said. “I hope they don’t cause any more trouble.”

  “Where’s Star?” I asked, changing the subject quickly.

  “She’s with Mara and Bessie. They’ve gone to pick berries and sea grapes down the path.”

  I ran down the trail that led into the woods and out to the shore. After a short distance I could hear voices.

  “Star!” I called. “Suppers ready.” I came to a wider section of the footpath. The sun shone through the branches of the trees, making flickering patterns in the clearing. I could see Mara and Bessie several feet away, moving among the low branches of the sea-grape trees.

  Star was alone and sitting on the ground straight ahead of me, her long hair falling in her face. She had removed her sandal and was shaking out the stones. Then I saw another shadow on the path. Whatever it was moved along a branch above me.

  I looked up and froze. High over Star’s head, crouching in the twisted branches, was the panther, its golden eyes focused on my little sister!

  13

  DANGER IN THE TREETOPS

  Star! Don’t move,” I called softly, not wanting to startle her or the panther. I was sure the panther hadn’t seen me, as I was still on the path in the thicket. Star’s eyes lit up when she saw me, and she was about to speak. “Shh! Be quiet,” I said.

  Star looked puzzled, but she did as I said. However, before I could reach her, the panther leaped from the canopy of leaves overhead, landing about five feet from my sister. I surged forward, clapping my hands and yelling as loudly as I could. “Get outta here! Scram! Yaaahhh!”

  The huge cat was startled, and it turned toward me with a snarl. I’d never been so scared. My skin felt icy, and I thought I would throw up. Suddenly the panther veered directly toward Mara and Bessie.

  I scooped Star up into my arms and screamed, “Mara! Panther! Run!”

  Mara’s piercing shriek cut through the underbrush. “Jake, help us!” I could hear Bessie howling.

  I raced with Star toward the clearing. Bessie and Mara, frozen in fear, clung to each other as the panther crept toward them, its ears back and its tail straight out. I looked for a rock or stick that I could throw at the animal, but I couldn’t find anything.

  “Help us!” Mara screamed again and again.

  Suddenly, from the waterfront, two silhouettes appeared. Rudy and Jewel! Rudy, growling and barking, raced toward the huge cat. I was afraid of what was about to happen, thinking of Ripper. One bite of those fangs and Rudy would be dead instantly!

  Then Jewel blasted out with that honking whinny of hers and galloped toward the ruckus at full speed. As if with years of coordinated practice, Rudy circled the panther, drawing it away from Mara and Bessie, and the confused cat backed away, right into Jewel’s path. Jewel reared up on her hind legs, then came crashing down, her front hooves aimed directly at the panther’s midsection. The panther rolled over, howling, then picked itself up and tried to dart by Rudy into the brush. But Rudy put himself between the cat and the undergrowth, barking all the while.

  Jewel was following that panther like a shadow. This time she bent down and grabbed the cat by the nape of the neck, shook it like a scatter rug, and tossed it into the bushes. The injured animal tried to hobble away, but Jewel was still not satisfied. She bounded over to the panther for a final kick. Rudy waited nearby, then went to the wild cat and sniffed at it. The panther lay still.

  “Is it dead?” Mara asked in a shaky voice.

  “I think so.” I went to Jewel and stroked her sweaty neck. “What a gem you are, Jewel.” She shook her head and nickered. Rudy trotted to me and hit my leg with his paw as if to say, Are you all right Jake?

  I got down on my knees to hug him. “You’re pretty precious yourself, Rudy. Good dog!”

  Bessie and Star trotted over to Rudy and threw their arms around him. The dog wagged his whole body and licked their faces.

  Sharkey broke through the brush and called as he ran toward us, “What happened? I heard noise and screams.” He looked bewildered as we all spoke at once. “Are you telling me that Jewel and Rudy killed the panther?”

  “Go see for yourself,” I said, pointing to the animal. “The panther was going after Mara and Bessie. I don’t know what would have happened if Jewel and Rudy hadn’t shown up.”

  Sharkey nudged the panther with his boot. “It’s dead all right. Cougars out west will attack people occasionally, if they’re wounded or if food is scarce. But this is the first Florida panther I’ve ever seen stalk anyone.”

  “You and Rudy are heroes,” I told Jewel.

  “I’ve never been so frightened!” Mara’s hands were trembling as she stroked Jewel’s neck. “Thank you, Jewel, you wonderful mule. No one in this town will complain about either of you ever again once I tell them how you saved us.”

  Jewel snorted with her whinny-bray, and Rudy wagged his tail in agreement.

  Mara was right. For the next month after the panther episode, everyone in town treated Jewel and Rudy as the heroes they were and gave them the best of everything. Folks brought bags of hay and fruit for Jewel and slices of meat and leftovers for Rudy. No one yelled at Jewel if she chomped off a star fruit or two from their trees; nor could anyone resist Rudy when he came calling at dinnertime and begged with his outstretched paw. Since Ripper was gone, the Robinsons welcomed Rudy with a pat and a treat. Miss Edith handed him a big piece of kielbasa sausage as an offer of apology. From then on, whenever they meandered by Miss Edith’s cottage, she greeted them with “ Dzien dobry ,” which Mara said was Polish for “good day.”

  The word of Jewel and Rudy’s heroism reached the veterans’ camps, and workers came by to see the famous animals. Yes, Jewel and Rudy were celebrities, and they were smart enough to make the most of it. The mule and dog were allowed to walk anywhere in town as free as a breeze!

  14

  MARA’S FISHING LESSON

  Early one morning a couple of weeks after the panther incident, I took Mara fishing. Mara brought a picnic basket filled with egg-salad sandwiches, fruit-filled kolacki cookies that Miss Edith had made, and a thermos of lemonade. Her auburn hair was tied back in a long braid, and instead of a dress she wore a pair of tan pants and a green shirt. Even in boys’ clothes she was neat and pretty. As for me, well, I felt sloppy in my old shorts and oil-stained shirt. But Mara didn’t seem to notice.

  We climbed into the little dinghy my dad kept on the town dock, and I rowed us out onto the calm water.

  The morning fog surrounded us in ghostly curtains. “It’s as if we’re on another planet, or in a dream,” Mara said.

  Gradually the morning sun lifted the fog, and the water began to sparkle. Mara plunked a straw
hat on her head and tied it under her chin.

  “You could pass for a conch today,” I said as I pulled my sun visor out of my pocket and slapped it over my eyes.

  “Good!” she said. “Once I learn to fish properly, I’ll be a real, one-hundred-percent Florida conch.”

  I rowed and she sat in the stern with her hand dipped into the water. When we reached a cove where I knew we might catch some snapper, I pulled in the oars and threw down the anchor.

  “Here,” I said, handing her one of the fishing poles I had brought. “It’s all ready to fish, except for the bait.” I opened the pail of shrimp and pushed it toward her. “A real conch will know how to bait the hook.”

  Mara made a face as I placed a wiggling shrimp in her open palm. I showed her how to put the hook in a soft part, and then she tossed the line into the water.

  I put bait on my hook and dropped the line on the other side of the dinghy. Then I lay back across the seat and pulled the visor over my brow. “Now we just wait for a bite. Fish like the shade, and they’ll get together under the boat,” I told her in a whisper. “When you see that red and blue bobber start jumping, you’ll know there’s a nibble on the line.”

  “Is that all there is to it?” Mara asked.

  “No, that’s not all. When you get a bite, you’ll have to pull that line just right to hook the fish.”

  We sat quietly for a while. Then Mara asked, “Who taught you to fish?”

  “My dad.”

  “I thought it might have been Sharkey.”

  “Sharkey helped me with the bonefishing the other day,” I said, “but it was my dad who taught me how to fish when I was a little kid. I never knew Sharkey well until recently.”

  “But now you’re friends with him, right?”

  Sharkey, a friend? I guessed that was true. We’d had a great time down in Key West. He taught me a lot about bonefishing, and he even showed me his secret fishing place. And every time I worked with him I learned something new, and had fun at the same time. “Yes, come to think of it, I’d say Sharkey really is my friend,” I told Mara.

  Suddenly her fishing pole began to twitch. “I’ve got a fish!” She jumped up, rocking the boat.

  “Give him some line and then reel him in a little at a time.” It looked like a snapper as it came closer to the surface. “Nice fish, Mara!” I said.

  Mara was hopping up and down, and the boat was tipping even more.

  “Don’t jump around!” I warned, as I peered over the edge to see the fish more closely.

  “Get the thing … the whatchamacallit!” Mara ordered.

  I assumed she meant the net, so I grabbed it from the bottom of the boat. “I’ll land him as you reel him in.” Once again I leaned over, but this time water began to slip into the dinghy.

  Mara leaned over too. “Jake! Get him!”

  But now my weight plus Mara’s on one side of the boat made the gunwales dip into the water. Before I could move to the other side and level the boat, I lost my balance and fell with a huge splash into the bay.

  Mara’s screams mixed with the gurgle of bubbles as I tumbled and kicked my way back up to the surface. “Oh, Jake! Are you all right?” she cried, leaning toward me, her hand outstretched. “I can’t swim, or I’d come get you.”

  “I’m all right. Don’t try to rescue me. Just get back to the middle of the boat!” She reached out again, and I called out in a stern voice, “Do not lean over like that!”

  Mara looked sheepish and sat obediently on the middle seat.

  But something was biting me—at least that’s what it felt like. Something prickled against my rear and stung. A stingray? A jellyfish?

  I kicked forward in a panic, only to have my legs tangle between both of our fishing rods, which had fallen overboard with me. One pole had a nice-size snapper attached to it. The other pole had me attached to it. I was hooked by the seat of my pants.

  “I’m sorry, Jake. I’ve lost the fishing pole.”

  “No, you haven’t,” I replied. “It’s right here.” I unsnarled the lines and threw her pole into the boat—along with the flapping red snapper.

  “Eeek!” Mara yelled. “It’s flipping all over the place.”

  “Don’t panic,” I cautioned. “You’ll tip the boat again.”

  She sat on the seat and pulled her feet up under her. “Get in, Jake. I don’t know what to do with this fish.”

  I unhooked myself from my fishing rod and tossed it into the boat. Then I hoisted myself up. “Calm down and lean the other way,” I told Mara. “You’ll need to keep the boat stable as I climb on board.”

  Mara did as she was told and held the dinghy steady as I scrambled in.

  “I’m so sorry, Jake.” Mara was perched on the seat with her feet still pulled up. She pointed to the fish that was now flapping more slowly in the bottom of the boat. “Do something for that poor thing,” she begged.

  I pushed my dripping hair back from my eyes and realized I’d lost my visor overboard. What a way to show Mara how to fish, I thought miserably.

  I reached for the slippery snapper, which wiggled out of my hands several times before I finally pulled the hook from its mouth.

  “You’ll have a nice fish dinner,” I said as I dropped the fish into a pail.

  “I … I don’t think I could clean it, or … oh, Jake. I can’t eat that fish. I’d feel awful. I mean …” Mara’s brow wrinkled into a worried frown. “It’s not the same as buying it in a store. I … I’ve come to know this fish in person, face to face. I’ve seen it alive. I couldn’t eat it dead.”

  I was about to say I’d take it home to Mom, but I changed my mind. Mara would probably never forgive me for eating this snapper. “What do you want me to do with it?” I asked.

  “Let it go, Jake. It should be set free.”

  I pulled it from the bucket and held it out over the edge of the boat. “Are you sure?”

  Mara nodded, so I let the fish drop into the water. Mara and I watched as it lay there on the surface belly up for a moment, then popped over, wiggled its tail, and swam away.

  After a few minutes we ate the sandwiches and kolacki , sipped lemonade, and watched pink spoonbills soar overhead.

  Mara sighed. “This is nice. I love fishing.”

  I was soaking wet, had lost my visor, and had been hooked by my own line; the boat was ankle-deep in water, and we had no fish. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “You love fishing?”

  “Yes. I never dreamed it would be so much fun.”

  15

  HARSH WORDS

  One morning in late August Sharkey said to me, “Folks will forget about Jewel and Rudy’s bravery now the excitement is cooling, and they may consider them pests again. I need to get them under control.”

  So he and I finally hitched up the next two rungs on the fence. The gate worked well, and it still fastened with the cone-shaped wooden peg that fit tightly into place. “This should keep Jewel contained,” he said. Sharkey paid me two more dollars for the work I did on the fence. Now that I had some money saved, I was thinking I might ask Mara to the movies up at Tavernier. The government sent films down for the veterans, and we locals were allowed to attend for a fee.

  About a week later Dad and I were waiting for the train when Jewel and Rudy came meandering up the street, big as life. They had already made their usual stops at the hotel and the houses along the way.

  “I thought you and Sharkey had the corral finished. How did Jewel get out?” Dad asked.

  “Beats me. Sharkey keeps the gate latched, and now the fence is too high for Jewel to jump. At least I think it is. Of course, at this point nothing Jewel could do would surprise me.”

  Within ten minutes or so, Sharkey came down the road with a rope. He saw us at the train station and stopped. “Have you seen—”

  “Yep, we saw them go by. Looks like they were heading toward the Robinsons’ house,” Dad answered.

  “How did Jewel escape?” I asked, puzzled.

  “You
know that latch we made with the cone-shaped plug? Well, Jewel has figured out how to work it. I’ve noticed her investigating that latch as she hangs around the gate, and I saw her chewing on the plug a few times. Then today, by golly, she pulled it clear out of the lock with her teeth and pushed open the gate.”

  “I don’t believe it!” Dad said, laughing.

  “Believe it, Doug,” Sharkey said. “That mule is just too intelligent for the likes of us ordinary humans!”

  The following day Sharkey saddled up Jewel and took her for a ride. I stayed behind with Rudy and added a knotted rope to the gate. “Until Sharkey gets a lock and chain, Jewel will have to chew a lot more rope in order to escape,” I told Rudy, who sat by watching me. “Maybe shell get discouraged and stay put for a change.” When Sharkey returned, he was grinning like an alligator.

  “She’s a good riding mule, that’s for sure. Most mules run when they see you coming with a harness or saddle. But not Jewel. She’s only too glad to oblige,” he bragged. “And for your information, Jake, my feet don’t drag on the ground. She’s plenty big enough.”

  “You were right,” I admitted.

  He put Jewel back into the corral and we began painting Sharkey’s boxcar—this time a bright shade of red paint that Dad had on sale. “This looks like a caboose,” I said when we had finished one side of the car.

  Just as we were getting ready to begin the other side, Mara and Star appeared from the road. “Hi, Jake!” Star called. She ran over and gave me a hug.

  “We’re real busy here, Star,” I said, brushing her aside. Then she noticed Jewel all saddled up in the corral. “Can I have a ride on Jewel?” she asked Sharkey.

  “Star, don’t go around asking for things all the time,” I said. “You’re being a pest.”

  “I’m not a pest, Jake.” Her mouth quivered and her eyes filled with tears.

  Mara took Star’s hand. “I’m sorry we bothered you, Jake. But we came to see Sharkey.”

  “You can have a ride, Star,” Sharkey called, letting Jewel out of the corral. “Come on over here. Jewel’s waiting for you.” Star smiled and ran to him.