The Longest Halloween, Book Two. Frank Wood
returned.
Joel led the two younger boys through the rusty gate and up to the wooden door, which opened before Joel could knock. “Mr. Grubb,” Joel greeted the older man.
“Come on in,” Grubb roughly ordered, “and wipe your feet!” He clutched his beloved but never-loaded rifle, which he called Elizabeth. As the boys entered, Grubb put Elizabeth in the adjacent closet and closed the entry door behind them.
“Sorry to drop in like this, Mr. Grubb. Mr. Greene sent me with your grub, get it?” Joel joked, laughing a bit. Grubb’s eyes narrowed in return. Joel set the groceries down. “And my brother’s stumbled onto something that I think you can help us with.”
“That so?” Grubb peered down quizzically at Jasper and Dreyfuss. “You’re good for stumbling into things, aren’t ye?”
“It’s a special skill set I guess,” Jasper stammered, still not quite sure how much he could trust this reformed Eliezer Grubb.
“Show him the map, Jasper,” Joel ordered. Jasper produced the old sheet of paper and unfurled it carefully.
“Come on in here,” Grubb said, taking the map and leading the boys into the parlor. He clicked on a table lamp and made a spot for the map on the busy table. Grubb wasn’t much for housekeeping and the room was filled with stuff that was probably older than all of the boys’ ages combined. He fit a pair of spectacles to his face and looked down at the map.
Berethia found a perch on a nearby window and peered into Grubb’s parlor. ”Looks like he’s got some company,” McClafferty said, stirring slowly. “Can’t quite make out who it is, though,” she murmured. “I’d better alert the boys that they might need to be ready for battle,” she concluded, stepping away from the cauldron.
Elsewhere, Josiah Scroggins and Gribbett Keith were making a hurried exit from the middle school. On his phone, Scroggins snapped, ”Well, did you find it?”
“It was headed north before the signal started to fade,” came the young voice on the other end.
“Here,” Scroggins barked to Gribbett, tossing him a set of keys, “you drive!”
“Yes!” Gribbett chortled; he loved to drive. “Where to?”
“Head north!” Scroggins barked, tossing his bag in the backseat of the car. As he turned to get into the passenger side, Elijah Peterson appeared in front of him.
“Hey Mister Scroggins, is that your car?” the boy asked, pushing up his glasses.
“What of it, Mr. Peterson?” Scroggins snapped.
“Oh, nothing.” Elijah shuffled his feet and pulled out a wrinkled slip of paper. “Can you sign this for me, please? I forgot to ask you during class.”
“Can’t this wait?” Scroggins barked.
“Mrs. English says that if I don’t get all my teachers to sign, then I’ll be de … delin … delin …” he stumbled.
“Delinquent!” Scroggins impatiently finished, “how you children can mangle the Queen’s English! Give it to me!” he ordered, snatching the paper and hastily signing it. “Now on with you, Mr. Peterson, have a good weekened!” he fairly shouted.
“Thanks, Mister Scroggins!” Elijah called.
“Let’s be on!” Scroggins told Gribbett, folding his seven-foot body into the car, “and watch your speed! This is still a parking lot … tons of rug rats running around!”
“Do you think it’s real?” Jasper asked. “Mr. Grubb?”
“Give me a minute,” Grubb snapped back. “That’s the problem with you kids today, you want to know everything yesterday.”
“This map looks like Portersville,” Joel said, studying it.
“That’s because it is Portersville,” Grubb replied, “only about twice the size as it is today! That part’s odd.”
“Did Portersville shrink?” Joel asked.
“Hard to say, but this is authentic, that’s for sure,” Grubb answered. “Look at these watermarks right along here. I haven’t seen this kind of paper since my old mechanical drawing class years ago. They don’t make that kind of paper anymore.”
“So it is real?” Dreyfuss excitedly gushed.
“Oh, agewise, this is real all right,” Grubb said. “Where’d you kids get this?”
“Jasper found it in our school lost and found,” Dreyfuss replied.
“After ninety days, it’s up for grabs to anyone who claims it,” Jasper said.
“Still sounds like ya stole it to me,” Grubb shot back.
“We’re no thieves!” Jasper retorted, impressing the older man with his spirit and in so doing knocking over a vase filled with water.
“Watch out, Jasper!” Joel cried but it was too late; the water trickled onto the map. Grubb pulled the now-moistened parchment from under the vase and dabbed it dry.
“Good job, butterfingers,” Joel chided his brother. “Sorry, Mr. Grubb. We can clean that up for you.”
“Wait,” Grubb commanded, examining the map again. They all saw it. With the water on the map, a new overlay was revealed: a set of dotted lines and arrows that led to a partially formed ‘X’ in the center of the map, where nothing but water was documented. Underneath the partial X were the words “Sebastian Silverbeard’s Trough.”
“Who’s Sebastian Silverbeard?” Joel asked.
“And what’s a trough?” Dreyfuss asked.
“Trough means property or treasure,” Joel said.
“Ye’re right,” Grub said, his voice rising sharply, “and Sebastian Silverbeard was a notorious pirate who spent his last days here in Portersville, many years ago.”
“Portersville had pirates? Cool,” Dreyfuss said.
“Portersville was a big asylum for buccaneers,” Grubb continued. “Silverbeard was one of many who moored here to escape the authorities of the day. Legend also has it that he carried with him a tremendous treasure. It was supposed to have been lost at sea, but others say he buried here in Portersville.”
“Do you think this map shows where he buried it?” Joel asked.
“Quite possibly,” Grubb said. “Though where this marking is makes no sense.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No, there’s nothing to be found there …” Grubb trailed off.
“But you said it was a hunnert … I mean a hundred years old,” Jasper said. “Couldn’t things have changed since then?”
“Of course they would have,” Grubb said, “but not that much! Come with me.”
The boys followed Eliezer into a huge room filled with books that stretched all the way up the walls. Grubb had Joel mount a tall rolling ladder that could reach the higher shelves.
“That’s the one, right there, with the brown backing,” Grubb said as Joel pulled out the oversized book in a cloud of dust. He carefully made it down the ladder and laid the book on the island table in the center of the room. “My grandfather was this town’s first surveyor,” Grubb said. “These are all of his original drawings.”
“What’s a surveyor?” Dreyfuss asked.
“Don’t they teach ye anythin’ at that school?” Grubb asked, then explained, “A surveyor lays the land, divides the counties, says who gets what.” He fumbled through the pages until he reached a relief map of Portersville and wiped it free of dust. “Hand me that map,” he ordered.