Read Online Every Hidden Thing by Kenneth Oppel - Free Book Online Page B

teacher?” he asked me.
    â€œHe was. I don’t think he knew any other way to talk to me.”
    â€œGave you your first magnifying glass.”
    He’d remembered. “Yes. And showed me my first dinosaur fossil. He woke me up early and took me to a field where a farmer had plowed up some sandstone slabs.” I could still feel the chill in the morning air, see the long light through the trees. “There was a line of huge bird tracks in them. The farmer said it must’ve been Noah’s raven; he’d never seen a bird so big. My father told him it was no bird. They were dinosaur footprints. It had been walking on two legs, dragging its tail behind it through the wet mud. You could see the tail marks. Millions of years ago. It was one of the most incredible moments of my life.”
    He nodded, saying nothing, eyes on mine. He knew how it felt. I had the sense I could say anything without baffling him, so unlike the people at my father’s dinner table, with their thin-lipped smiles of disapproval or even pity. So I said, “I started looking at everything more carefully after that, for longer, too. The magnifying glass helped. A snail. A moth. A beetle. Even things that seemed ordinary or ugly at first could be beautiful.”

6.
LET ME KISS YOU SWEET GOOD-BYE
    W E TALKED AND TALKED, NEBRASKA swelling gently past the windows. We played one more round of the word game—and I played my other game, trying to learn as much as I could about Rachel’s expedition. It would’ve been nice to win at least once. But I would’ve played any game that kept her near me.
    The only thing reminding me of time was the train, stopping every so often to let people on or off. But Cartland’s party showed no signs of leaving.
    It was Father who eventually halted our conversation, by coming and introducing himself.
    â€œI believe the last time we met,” he said, smiling his most charming smile, “you had a very good grip on my ear.”
    I was glad to see she didn’t fall victim to his grin and crinkled eyes. Solemnly she let her hand be taken and pressed.
    â€œI have an appetite for lunch,” Father said to me.
    Reluctantly I said good-bye. We walked back to the dining car. My mind was singing with my long conversation, and I listened to little bits of it again and watched her laugh and frown and look at me gravely. Each thought and image of her was like one of those river rocks you held before putting it back so it stayed wet and beautiful.
    The dining car was filling up when we arrived. We were directed to a free table and warned by the headwaiter that others might be seated with us if the need arose. My stomach rumbled happily. The food we’d been eating at station stops since Philadelphia was disgusting. Gray meat cunningly hidden beneath puddled gravy. It looked like something already chewed and rejected. I’d heard the Union Pacific’s food was supposed to be good.
    Father leaned in. “You two had a good long chat. What did you learn?”
    I told him how I’d asked her leading questions about Nebraska and horses. But she’d been evasive.
    â€œBut,” I said, “did you know they have an army escort?”
    â€œDo they?” he murmured. “Trust Cartland to strum all the moneyed strings. But this is a very interesting bit of information. Because the soldiers have to come from somewhere. . . .”
    â€œSo we know he’s getting off near a fort.” I was quite pleased with myself.
    â€œPrecisely.” He pulled the Union and Central Pacific mapfrom his jacket. He consulted his pocket watch.
    â€œWe’ve cleared Silver Creek,” he muttered. “We’ve got North Platte coming up. That’s near Fort McPherson. That situates them perfectly for excursions into both Kansas and Nebraska. He’s found a lot of his horse fossils in that region. Even up into southern Dakota. After that there’s