Crossbow Page 2

  “No.” He shook his head. “I thank you for letting me stay.” He glanced above the treetops at a slate gray sky, and then he stood up and reached for my plate. “I’m afraid I have to eat and run. I need to find a place to sleep before the night turns as black as my cooking.”

  He laughed, but I felt terrible. Was this really what I wanted? How could I sleep all nice and dry inside the cabin if he was out in the cold damp forest? But I couldn’t stay here with him either; that would be stupid. I didn’t even know the guy. I needed time to sort out my thoughts, so I asked, “Where’d you get the venison?”

  He gestured with his head. “I picked up a buck near the lake.”

  “You have a gun?”

  “Nah. Never owned a gun. Messy, noisy things. Besides, I figure the animal deserves a fighting chance. Use a gun and they’re dead before you get anywhere near.”

  “So, how’d you get the deer?” I asked.

  “Wait right there and I’ll show you.”

  Carrying the two plates and the last of the venison, Forrest trudged toward my cabin door. He came back with something under his arm. It was odd looking, like a rifle with an archery bow attached sideways on the front.

  “What is that, a crossbow?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  My heart did a little flip-flop when I noticed the arrow set in place. He raised the crossbow and before I could react, he aimed and pulled the trigger. The arrow whooshed past my ear and slammed into the trunk of the cedar tree where I had been hiding earlier. The hairs on my neck stood on end.

  He lowered the crossbow. “It’s very accurate,” he said.

  My jaw hung open so wide I almost choked. If he had aimed that thing at me—but of course he hadn’t. I pushed my mouth closed with the back of my hand. “Awesome,” I whispered.

  “It’s not hard, just takes a little practice.”

  I studied the cedar tree. Its branches formed a thick blanket, and there was no sign of the arrow. “When I was hiding in there, how did you know I wasn’t a cougar or maybe a man?”

  “Simple. You made too much noise for a cougar and I saw your stuff inside. I admire how you built this cabin, Matthew. You did a better job than me when I was your age.”

  “You built a cabin too?”

  He nodded. “Not near as fancy as yours. My dad called it a fort.”

  “That’s what my mom said when she saw it,” I said.

  He pushed his hunting cap back from his forehead. “What about your dad?”

  His question slammed into my stomach. Sounds screeched inside my head. I gazed up at the quiet trees and took a deep breath, struggling for control.

  After a minute Forrest muttered, “I’ll get the rest of my gear and clear out of here.”

  I watched Forrest’s retreating back and suddenly wanted to be home. “No, wait! I need to go anyway. You might as well sleep here tonight.”

  He turned and nodded. “I appreciate that, Matt. Mind if I call you Matt? Matthew sounds a bit stuffy, don’t you think?”

  I thought of the way my mother refused to let anyone, ever, call me Matt. “Sounds good to me.”

  It’s a good thing I knew the trail so well, otherwise I might have gotten lost on my way home. Darkness closes in early by late October, especially on a gloomy evening where tall trees block out most of the light.

  By the time I reached our small town at the edge of the lake, rain was teaming down. Lights from the houses cast bleary reflections on the wet pavement. The pulp mill at the edge of town was a black hulk, no lights, no stinky smell.

  No jobs. If my dad was still working at the mill, maybe he wouldn’t have started drinking, maybe none of the bad stuff would have happened. I kept my head down and hurried home. By the back door I yanked off my muddy boots. “Mom?” I called, “I’m home.”

  She hurried to meet me, a book in one hand and surprise all over her face. “Matthew! Are you okay? I thought you were staying in your fort all night. What happened?”

  I cringed at the word fort. “I changed my mind. It’s was uh...kinda cold up there at my cabin.”

  She smiled and placed her hand on my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re back, Matthew. I wouldn’t have slept a wink thinking of you all alone up there!”

  “How about hot chocolate?” I suggested. “I’ll make it.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  chapter five

  Mom sat on a kitchen stool and curled her fingers around her hot chocolate. “Did you hear about the break-in?” she asked.

  I raised my hot chocolate and drank. Its rich warmth filled my mouth and wiped out the last memory of Forrest’s bitter coffee. I scooped up some fluffy, sweet, whipped cream on my tongue. At the same time, I watched Mom and wondered if she was losing it. Didn’t we talk about the break-in already?

  She must have guessed what I was thinking because she added, “I don’t mean the one last week, Matthew, there’s been another one. This time it was the McNair’s summer cabin down by the lake. Luckily they came up for the weekend or they might not have known for weeks.”

  “So? When did it happen?”

  “They figure it was yesterday, after the rain started. There were muddy prints just inside the door, but it seems the thief took off his boots so he wouldn’t make a mess!”

  “Very considerate,” I said.

  “He didn’t do any damage either. Somehow he opened the door without breaking the lock. The police say he knew what he was doing, so he’s most likely a professional thief.”

  “Who knew thieving was a profession?” I grinned. “It makes being a hermit sound a whole lot better, doesn’t it?”

  Mom’s faced turned sad. “Matthew...”

  “So?” I cut her off. “What did he take?”

  “The police won’t say exactly, but I know there was food missing from the freezer and some of Tom McNair’s clothes were gone. The thief didn’t take anything valuable, even though some brand-new stereo equipment was in plain view.”

  “A professional crook who only steals food and secondhand clothes? He should go back to Crook college for a refresher course.”

  Mom laughed.

  The next morning I dragged myself out of bed and looked out the window. A weak sun was pushing through the mist that rolled in off the lake. I stumbled into the kitchen where Mom was drinking coffee and drawing circles around ads in the news-paper.

  She looked up. “Want to come saling with me?”

  I yawned. “Garage saling? No thanks, I’d rather go for a hike.”

  Her smile shriveled. “Not up to your fort again?”

  “It’s not a fort,” I snapped. “It’s a cabin. And why shouldn’t I go there?”

  She looked hurt, which made me feel bad. Why didn’t she just get mad and yell like other parents do? “Matthew, it’s not good to be alone so much. Ever since...” She looked up at me.

  I held my breath, waiting, wanting to cover my ears with my hands. Was she going to talk about what my father did?

  She bit her lip and circled another ad. “You never hang out with friends anymore. Why don’t you phone Amanda? You two always got along so well, and she loves the outdoors as much as you do.”

  “Mom,” I tried to explain, “Amanda and I played together when we were little kids. We haven’t been friends for years. Besides, she plays soccer on Saturdays.”

  “Okay then, there’s Tyler. You like him, don’t you?”

  I shrugged. “Sure, he’s okay. But you’ll never catch him hiking in the woods. He’d rather be at the mall.”

  Mom tapped her pen on the table. “Matthew, you know I don’t like it when you wander into the woods alone.”

  “Trust me, Mom, I know what I’m doing. Besides, it’s part of my work experience.”

  She put down the pen. “Oh, Matthew, not that hermit thing again?”

  I grinned. “Hey, how many fourteen-year-old guys have a long-term career goal in mind?”

  She pressed both hands to her forehead as if it hurt. “Being a hermit is not a career goal.”

  “No,” I agreed, “it’s a way of life. I like being alone, I like the wilderness and I don’t much like people. Being a hermit is my calling.”

  Mom sighed and got up from the table. We’d had this argument before and would have it again. Right now, she needed to get going. She’d gone to garage sales every Saturday morning for as long as I could remember. The good news was she didn’t drag me along anymore.

  After Mom left I got my backpack and carried it to the kitchen. I took the butter from the fridge, sliced off a big chunk and wrapped it up. I poured cream into a plastic water bottle and sugar into a small jar. I tossed in a loaf of bread, two cans of chicken soup and a box of crackers. I thought for a second and then went back to the fridge for a hunk of cheese and a couple of apples. Finally I grabbed my jacket and headed outside.

  Amanda was standing at the end of her driveway. Her head swung toward me and her short brown curls fluttered around her freckled face. “Want to come and watch my game?” she asked. “Brianna’s mom could give you a ride.”

  “Thanks, but nope. You know I’m not into sports, Amanda, but I hope you have fun.”

  “I will.” Her dark brown eyes stared straight into mine, from exactly the same height. In her shiny blue soccer jacket and black shorts she looked strong and fit. Amanda had been able to out-run me, out-swim me and beat me at anything else that resembles sports since we were three years old. Her eyes wandered to my pack. “Where are you going with that fat backpack?”

  “Nowhere,” I snapped. I had never told Amanda about my cabin. Once, in the summer when I was building it, I almost told her but I chickened out. She would never understand. What if she laughed at me and told her friends about Matthew and his fort?

  “Sor
ry I asked,” she said. Her angry eyes looked past me, up the street.

  Why do I always say the wrong thing and make people mad at me? I tried again. “It’s no big deal. I’m just going for a hike, nowhere special.” I patted the strap of my pack. “I like to be prepared in case I get lost or something.”

  A blue minivan stopped in front of us. “Here’s my ride,” she said. She hopped in and slammed the door shut. Which is impressive since the door was a slider.

  chapter six

  Once more a creature of the wild, I stopped, looked and listened. Nothing. I sniffed the air and crept forward. Slowly, slowly, one foot down, shift weight, move other foot, silent as the mist. Forrest wouldn’t hear a thing. How could he? I couldn’t even hear myself.

  There was no hint of smoke. was he still asleep? a breath of wind swished through the trees overhead, and then the silence returned. I moved on, soundless as the forest, hunched forward, on silent feet. I circled to the sloping ground above my cabin where I had dragged all the logs down from the clear-cut. That left a wide swath where the bushes were trampled and sparse. There was nothing to rustle and warn of my approach. One corner of the cabin and part of its tarpaper roof peeked through the bushes below. Hunkered low, I started down, chuckling in my throat. This time I would catch Forrest by surprise.

  When I could clearly see the round logs notched to fit together at the corner, the circles of growth rings on their cut ends, I stopped. My fire pit sat black and soggy and empty, no black coffeepot, no sign of life. I waited and listened. Maybe he had packed up and gone.

  Good. I would have my cabin to myself again, just like I wanted. So how come I felt all hollow inside? I stood up.

  “Aiiehh!” Something slammed onto my shoulder. I leaped in the air and spun around yelling, my fists up, ready to fight.

  “Hey, Matt! Good to see you.” Forrest grinned and held his arms up in self-defense. “I hope you aren’t planning to punch me out. I make it a rule never to get into a fight before my morning coffee.”

  Surprise, relief and anger all hit me at once. I was supposed to sneak up on him, not the other way around. This was all wrong. “How’d you know I was here? I didn’t make a sound this time, I know it!”

  “I told you, no one can take Forrest by surprise.” He glanced away. “a man lives alone long enough, he develops a sixth sense.”

  I shook my head. “Nah, you must have seen me.” Then I noticed, coming from somewhere on the sparsely forested slope behind us, a faint sound of trickling water. That explained everything. He must have climbed up to get water for his coffee. “I bet you were on your way back from the creek and spotted me from above.”

  Forrest didn’t answer, simply walked away. At the cabin door, he stooped to pick up a four-gallon, collapsible water carrier half-filled with murky water. So, I grinned, I was right, he had been up above. Then the truth hit me.

  If he had been coming back from getting water, the jug would be in his hand, not already by the cabin door. Which meant he must have put it down and then circled back around to catch me sneaking up on him. How did he know I was there?

  I settled on my log seat and watched him build up the fire. “Can I help?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. Was Forrest mad because I didn’t believe he had a sixth sense? Just like with amanda, I had no idea. People were impossible to figure out. This was why I wanted to be a hermit.

  I studied the flames crackling around a tent of sticks. One thing I knew for sure was, you can’t be a hermit if you have a house-guest. So if Forrest was already mad, now would be a good time to kick him out.

  Forrest disappeared into the cabin and returned with his black-as-soot coffeepot. He paused by the water jug to fill it up. “Want some coffee?” He chuckled. “I noticed how much you enjoyed it yesterday.”

  So, he wasn’t angry after all. I grinned and reached for my backpack. “Sure, I’ll try some.” I pulled out the cream and sugar. “This might help.”

  He ate four slices of bread slathered in butter and drank two cups of coffee, while I stared into my coffee mug. Once in a while I held my breath and took a swallow. Even with milk and sugar it tasted disgusting.

  Finally Forrest threw a last splash of coffee on the ground and stood up. “Ever shoot a crossbow?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “How’d you like to learn?”

  I dumped the rest of my coffee out and studied the dying flames, trying to decide what to say. Shooting a crossbow sounded like a sport to me, and I didn’t exactly shine at sports. I didn’t want to look like a fool in front of Forrest. “I’m not very good at stuff like that,” I mumbled.

  “I thought you never tried it.”

  “I haven’t, but I can’t hit a baseball worth a darn; they kicked me off the soccer team; and don’t even ask about hockey.”

  “So what? Those are kids’ games, they don’t count for anything. Shooting a crossbow is not a game, it’s a livelihood.”

  “A livelihood?” I glanced up.

  “Of course! How do you plan to feed yourself if you can’t shoot?”

  I hadn’t thought that far ahead, I’d always brought food from home.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t let you shoot yourself in the foot. I’ve got a foam archery target we can use and a crossbow that’s just right for you. We’ll set up behind your cabin and see what you can do.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, because I couldn’t think of a good excuse.

  chapter seven

  Thwang! Another arrow found its mark. It hit the target smack in the middle of the bull’s-eye. Forrest made it look easy.

  Thunk. Another arrow bounced off the cabin wall and dropped uselessly on the ground. Matthew made it look hopeless.

  “You’re not holding it right,” Forrest said. He reached for another arrow. “Here, let me show...”

  I lowered the crossbow. “Forget it. What’s the point?”

  Forrest snorted like an angry bull elk. He waved the arrow in my face, so close I thought he would stick it up my nose. “What’s wrong with you?” he bellowed, his blue eyes cold as ice.

  My heart thunked into my stomach. That angry face, those awful words, reminded me of my father. A couple of drinks and Dad always started yelling, about the same thing every time. It bugged him that the girl next door could run faster, kick a ball farther and shoot a puck better than me.

  Now Forrest had discovered the terrible truth. I tried a lazy smile as if I didn’t care what he thought. But when I tried to speak, my voice came out all wrong. I sounded like a hurt little boy. “I tried to tell you, I’m hopeless.”

  He snatched the crossbow out of my hands. “You’re not even trying. Did you listen to one thing I said?”

  I turned and walked away, back stiff, eyes burning.

  “So,” he shouted after me, “is that it? You’re giving up, just like that?”

  I kept walking.

  “You deserve to be a loser!”

  I stopped but couldn’t turn around. I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to remind him he was staying in my cabin. What kind of a loser did that make him? A grown man with no place to live? But I knew my voice would fall apart if I tried to speak.

  His footsteps approached across the mossy ground. “Listen, I’m sorry I yelled, but you’ve got to try, Matt. How can you learn anything if you give up before you begin?”

  I swallowed, the lump in my throat wouldn’t go away.

  “Matt, if you want to get good at something it takes practice. But I guess you can’t be bothered.” Forrest strode past me to retrieve the arrows. “I’m out of here.”

  I opened my mouth to say, Good, I never wanted you here anyway. But a whole different set of words fell out. “You don’t have to go, it’s my fault...”

  He yanked his arrow from the bull’s-eye, and then stopped to rub his hand over the join between two logs on the cabin wall. “What I don’t get,” he said, “is how someone, who put so much time and hard work into this beautiful cabin, won’t even try learning something new.”

  Beautiful cabin. Not childish fort. He was right. I was so afraid of making a fool of myself that I didn’t give it an honest try. “Who said I was giving up?”