Thistle and Twigg

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Authors: Mary Saums
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Cal’s place. They say there are bobcats and coyotes in there, you know. No telling what else.”
    “Bobcats?” Jane said. Her voice rose and cracked a little. “Oh, dear. I had no idea. That is, I’d read a small number were in the area west of here, but hadn’t thought of them being so … close.”
    “Well, sure. There’s some of everything in there, I imagine, since nobody human is ever allowed to go in. I can’t believe I’m getting to walk on Cal Prewitt’s own personal property. I’m like the only one in fifty years, I bet you. Maybe one or two exceptions, but that’s it. It’s a miracle. Plus I get to shoot a gunl What did you mean I need to pick one out? You have more than one?”
    “A few,” she said. “Come with me.”
    A few, she said. Ha. I couldn’t hardly believe my eyes. They nearly popped out of their sockets when she opened up what I thought was a nice, normal antique chifferobe she’d set in her den.
    Instead of clothes hanging up inside, she had a row of rifles lined up and stuffed in there like she was expecting Armageddon. I’m talking about big guns and lots of them. She took the little ring of keys she’d used to open the cabinet out of its door, flipped around and found another key, and unlocked the two drawers inside. I remember my grandmother on my mother’s side had used her old chifferobe’s drawers to store gloves and handkerchiefs. Jane used hers for spare gun parts and cleaning kits. Grandma’s always had a faint scent of rose petals. Jane’s smelled like gun oil.
    “Now, mind you,” Jane said, “I didn’t actually buy these myself. They were the Colonel’s. It was his hobby, really, scouting out bargains and trying all the different models. He was a bit of a packrat when it came to firearms, I must say.”
    She studied the guns for a second, then took one of the little keys on her ring and unlocked a padlock. With the lock in one hand, she pulled a chain through the trigger holes of the rifles. She grabbed the rifle she wanted and leaned it against the wall. After rechaining and relocking everything, she said, “Right. Now, let’s see about a handgun for you.”
    “There’s more?”
    She walked around the hearth of her fireplace to the back wall of the house. One half of the wall had moving boxes she hadn’t unpacked yet stacked against it. Jane had already cleared out the other half, closer to the fireplace, and placed furniture along that part of the wall. An old-timey cedar chest sat next to an antique trunk covered with leather straps that you could tell was old by the funny-looking lock.
    Jane unlocked the trunk and let the humpback top rest against the wall. I moved around to Jane’s right side so I could see better. Down in the trunk were stacks of square black boxes, or cases, I guess they were, some wooden, some made out of molded plastic. Also down in there, I could see pieces of velvet and felt, all different colors, that looked like they were wrapped around bundles. Of what, I couldn’t tell.
    I let out a whistle as she carefully unwrapped dark blue velvet from around a pistol. “Jane, honey don’t tell me them’s all guns down in there.”
    “I’m afraid they are, dear. More of the Colonel’s fancies. Now, Phoebe, I must ask you not to tell anyone these are here. I suppose, all together, they are quite valuable. I wouldn’t want anyone to be tempted to break in, you understand?”
    “Consider me sworn to secrecy,” I said. I crossed my heart and held up my hand. “I promise.”
    “Good. I do intend to sell them. I’ve been meaning to ever since the Colonel passed away.” She sighed and fell quiet for a moment.
    I thought it was a good time to change the subject so she wouldn’t start crying again. “Now what’s this right here?” I said like I hadn’t noticed she was fixing to get sniffly. “Look at that, a trophy.” I pulled a gold cup from the side of the trunk. It had a purple ribbon curled up in it on top of a photograph.

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