Read Online 2 The Patchwork Puzzler by Marjory Sorrell Rockwell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marjory Sorrell Rockwell
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Point B. We can’t get lost. Besides, I have this.” Maddy flicked on the tiny Mag-Light she carried on her keychain. “As the Good Book says, ‘Let there be light!’”
≈≈≈
The two women bumbled their way along th e narrow passageway, unsure of their footing due to the uneven stones lining the floor and walls. A lot of work had gone into creating this escape route for runaway slaves.
“Stay close,” advised Maddy.
“Close! – I couldn’t get very far from you even if I tried. This is like crawling through a storm drain.”
They weren’t actually crawling, but the low ceiling did force them to walk slightly hunched over. Perhaps people in the 1860s were shorter than their counterparts today, mused Maddy. She’d have to remember to ask Cookie about that. Her shoulders were starting to ache from this awkward bent-over position, but darned if she was going to admit that to Miss I-Told-You-So Bootsie Purdue.
The tunnel was dank, a musty smell that reminded Maddy of her grandmother’s root cellar. They were still near the river, she reminded herself. Her flashlight played on the vertical stonewalls, braced with wooden beams. The floor was paved with flat rocks, like cobblestones. Muddy earth oozed between them like orangish grout. She was careful where she stepped.
“Maybe a quarter-mile more,” predicted Maddy. She estimated they had traveled about 3/4 of the distance between river and the cemetery.
Her friend was not to be mollified. “My hair’s a total mess, Maddy Madison. I’m going to send you the bill from my next hairdresser appointment.”
“Keep walking. It can’t be far.”
“Says you,” groused her friend. “For all I know, we’re going in the wrong direction.”
“There’s only one direction.”
“Yes, but – ”
“Hold on,” shushed Maddy. “I think I see a light up ahead. That’s strange. I’d think the security company would’ve turned off the fluorescents in the main chamber.”
Bootsie squinted toward the light. “That’s not the chamber. That light’s moving. It’s somebody coming this way!”
≈≈≈
Maddy’s f irst thought was that the light belonged to a rescue team, volunteers searching the rickety tunnel for her and Bootsie. But when she heard a voice call out, “Who goes there?” she recognized it as belonging to Henry Caruthers. Uh-oh.
She felt Bootsie poke her, a signal not to answer. Her friend had recognized the former mayor’s voice also.
Instinctively, Maddy clicked off her Mag-Light. There was no place to hide, but at least Henry Caruthers wouldn’t be able to judge their distance from him.
“That you, Nan? Did you forget something?”
The two women held their tongues (some say that was a triumph of willpower over natural proclivities). Maddy felt Bootsie’s hand squeezing her arm like a vise.
“Nan?” The man’s light grew closer, less than twenty feet away now.
Thinking fast, Maddy shouted, “This way, Chief Purdue! Tell your deputies he’s up ahead!”
The light bobbed, then flicked out. They could hear feet clattering on the cobblestones, heading in the other direction.
Bootsie tugged on Maddy’s arm. “Come on, Nancy Drew. Let’s get out of here the way we came.”
They hurried through the tunnel, banging their heads on the low ceiling, stubbing their toes on protruding rocks, scraping their shoulders on the sidewalls. You’d think the Headless Horseman was pursuing them. But, fact was, Henry Caruthers was racing pell-mell in the other direction – back toward the cemetery!
“Whew! That’s was close,” breathed Bootsie as they climbed up into the one-room outpost. “Let’s go find the highway and thumb a ride back home.”
“We almost had him,” Maddy said dazedly, as if talking to herself. “Or vice versa,” replied Bootsie
Chapter Fourteen
Home Again, Home Again
T hey got home around midnight, having caught a ride with a UPS driver outside of Burpyville. All the lights were
≈≈≈
The two women bumbled their way along th e narrow passageway, unsure of their footing due to the uneven stones lining the floor and walls. A lot of work had gone into creating this escape route for runaway slaves.
“Stay close,” advised Maddy.
“Close! – I couldn’t get very far from you even if I tried. This is like crawling through a storm drain.”
They weren’t actually crawling, but the low ceiling did force them to walk slightly hunched over. Perhaps people in the 1860s were shorter than their counterparts today, mused Maddy. She’d have to remember to ask Cookie about that. Her shoulders were starting to ache from this awkward bent-over position, but darned if she was going to admit that to Miss I-Told-You-So Bootsie Purdue.
The tunnel was dank, a musty smell that reminded Maddy of her grandmother’s root cellar. They were still near the river, she reminded herself. Her flashlight played on the vertical stonewalls, braced with wooden beams. The floor was paved with flat rocks, like cobblestones. Muddy earth oozed between them like orangish grout. She was careful where she stepped.
“Maybe a quarter-mile more,” predicted Maddy. She estimated they had traveled about 3/4 of the distance between river and the cemetery.
Her friend was not to be mollified. “My hair’s a total mess, Maddy Madison. I’m going to send you the bill from my next hairdresser appointment.”
“Keep walking. It can’t be far.”
“Says you,” groused her friend. “For all I know, we’re going in the wrong direction.”
“There’s only one direction.”
“Yes, but – ”
“Hold on,” shushed Maddy. “I think I see a light up ahead. That’s strange. I’d think the security company would’ve turned off the fluorescents in the main chamber.”
Bootsie squinted toward the light. “That’s not the chamber. That light’s moving. It’s somebody coming this way!”
≈≈≈
Maddy’s f irst thought was that the light belonged to a rescue team, volunteers searching the rickety tunnel for her and Bootsie. But when she heard a voice call out, “Who goes there?” she recognized it as belonging to Henry Caruthers. Uh-oh.
She felt Bootsie poke her, a signal not to answer. Her friend had recognized the former mayor’s voice also.
Instinctively, Maddy clicked off her Mag-Light. There was no place to hide, but at least Henry Caruthers wouldn’t be able to judge their distance from him.
“That you, Nan? Did you forget something?”
The two women held their tongues (some say that was a triumph of willpower over natural proclivities). Maddy felt Bootsie’s hand squeezing her arm like a vise.
“Nan?” The man’s light grew closer, less than twenty feet away now.
Thinking fast, Maddy shouted, “This way, Chief Purdue! Tell your deputies he’s up ahead!”
The light bobbed, then flicked out. They could hear feet clattering on the cobblestones, heading in the other direction.
Bootsie tugged on Maddy’s arm. “Come on, Nancy Drew. Let’s get out of here the way we came.”
They hurried through the tunnel, banging their heads on the low ceiling, stubbing their toes on protruding rocks, scraping their shoulders on the sidewalls. You’d think the Headless Horseman was pursuing them. But, fact was, Henry Caruthers was racing pell-mell in the other direction – back toward the cemetery!
“Whew! That’s was close,” breathed Bootsie as they climbed up into the one-room outpost. “Let’s go find the highway and thumb a ride back home.”
“We almost had him,” Maddy said dazedly, as if talking to herself. “Or vice versa,” replied Bootsie
Chapter Fourteen
Home Again, Home Again
T hey got home around midnight, having caught a ride with a UPS driver outside of Burpyville. All the lights were
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