CHAPTER 11

THIEVES AND ROOMMATES

It’s pointless to lie to a roommate.

They see you for what you really are.

Your dishes piled in the sink, dirty laundry spewed over the floor, and yet…they choose to live with you anyway.

Don’t be stupid.

Just tell the truth.

Wendell’s eyes blew open, torn from the nightmare by a shriek of such intensity he nearly lost control of his bodily functions. Heart pounding into his throat and arms flailing outward, his self preservation instincts kicked in.

…and he reacted as any brave hero would.

Wendell screamed like a girl.

“AHHHHHHHH!”

Stumbling backwards, the little boy tripped over a few stray pieces of wood on the floor and went sprawling to the ground.

“AH—AHH—AHHHHHH!” he screamed back in reply.

Eyes as big as saucers, tiny hands and feet scrambled away from Wendell like a trapped rodent, scurrying across the wooden floor until his body slammed against the stone wall of the hearth.

“AHHHHHH!” he repeated even louder.

A clamor of footsteps rumbled through the house and another, older boy, appeared in the doorway. Blinking the sleepiness from his eyes, he blurted, “Kale, what’s wrong?!”

Kale’s small hand trembled as it raised to fixate on Wendell, his tiny fingers pointing, “D-D-DEAD MAN!”

“WooAH!!” the older boy jumped back. Head whipping about, he grabbed the wood axe leaning against the tinder box and pulled it up to the ready. Legs uncertain, he quickly hopped across the floor to place himself in front of Kale.

“WOAHHHH-HO THERE!” Wendell shrieked, struggling to get free from the assaulting blanket. He yanked and twisted, struggling to pull his hands loose, but the cloth was determined to win the grappling match. He rolled in a not-so-graceful burrito move, away from the kid with the axe. Tumbling backward across the wooden floor, it creaked in protest. Wendell finally gave a loud grunt, kicked the blanket violently from his legs and stumbled to his feet.

Just in time to see another face appear in the doorway.

“He doesn’t look dead to me,” added the little girl, rubbing her eyes calmly with a yawn. She looked to be no more than five or six years old, with soft brown curly hair and chocolate eyes. Clutching a tiny doll to her chest, she yawned again, which ended up in a smile at Wendell. She wiggled her fingers in a wave.

“Lyndie, stay back!” shouted axe boy, who stared at Wendell warily. He wiggled the axe with mock gestures of violence. “He’s dangerous!”

“I’m not dangerous,” Wendell grunted, eyes darting between each child.

“That’s what a dangerous person would say,” replied the boy, “so you can kill us in our sleep!”

“Just whack ‘em, Tim!” cried Kale, “He was dead anyway—so, not like it would be a bad thing to do!”

Lyndie looked up at Wendell, her bottom lip popping out in a pout. “You want to kill us in our sleep?” She squeezed her doll tightly against her chest, her eyes quickly turning red and moist. “That’s not very nice.”

“No!” Wendell stammered, “I would never kill you in your sleep, Lyndie.” He forced out a grin, which looked more ominous than genuine.

“See,” Tim sneered, bobbing the axe in his grip ready to strike, “SEE! He admits it! It might not be in our sleep, but he DOES want to kill us!”

Lyndie gasped.

Wendell held up his hands, “What? No. NO! That’s not what I meant! I…”

With a thump-thump-thump down the stairs, another set of feet added their presence to the room.

“Someone found a dead man?”

The excitement in the youths voice came to an abrupt end as soon as he hit the last step. One look at Wendell caused his legs to lock, arms to fling out to his sides and his mouth drop wide open.

“AAAAHHHH!”

Kale’s eyes popped wide all over again, nodding to the last boy in frantic agreement. Glancing back at Wendell he opened his mouth and added  “AHHHHHH!”

“PLEASE STOP YELLING!??” bellowed Elsa from the top of the stairs.

Like a magic spell, the room fell silent.

“Is anyone cut?” she called out firmly.

“Noooo,” came the united reply from the children…though Tim never lowered the axe.

“Anyone been mauled by a wolf, dog or other unfriendly animal?”

Again in unity, “Noooo.”

“Has anyone fallen INTO the fire?”

Kales head lowered as he answered alone, “Nooo.”

“Then kindly stand BACK from the frightened man,” Elsa grunted. Then she added quickly, “and Tim, put down whatever weapon you have recently acquired.”

Tim snorted and lowered the axe.

Wendell sighed relief.

Nearly stumbling over her robe and down the stairs, Elsa caught herself by the railing, stopped, and then adjusted the rope tie around her waist. Counting to three in silence, she then proceeded the last few steps. “No one is DEAD. This is our guest. His name is….” Yet when she got to the bottom of the stairs, she paused.

She frowned.

Then she looked to Wendell, puzzled.

After a moment, her hand went to her mouth and she giggled. “You know, I’ve quite forgotten your name.”

“You let a stranger in our house?” pleaded Lyndie. “Someone who wants to kill us?” Glancing up at Wendell directly, “…but not in our sleep.” She gave Wendell a short nod.

Wendell sighed, his attention shifting to the little girl. “I don’t want to kill anyone, Lyndie. At all. Ever.” Staying where he was, Wendell dropped to his knees, allowing for eye level between him and the child. He gave her a serious look. “That would be very mean…don’t you think?”

Lyndie nodded.

He smiled, raising his right arm to the square, “Then I promise you I will never hurt you or anyone in this house. Not when you’re awake, or asleep…,” then with a raised brow, “or even when you’re supposed to be asleep,” he winked at her. “Okay?”

Lyndie nodded slowly.

Wendell grinned back at her, “ Then would it be alright with you if I stay, if I don’t hurt anyone, at all?” Crossing his heart with an index finger, “Promise.”

She smiled, then nodded again.

Returning the smile, he held out his hand for Lyndie to shake, “My name is Wendell.”

“THAT’S right,” Elsa sighed, smacking her forehead with a palm. “Wendell. So sorry,…Wendell.”

Little toes peeked out from beneath the sleeping gown as Lyndie inched across the floor to take two of Wendell’s fingers and shook them.

“There,” Wendell said softly, his voice a warm tone. “Now you know my name and we’ve shaken hands. We’re not strangers, we’re friends.”

Lyndie beamed.

“That’s right!” Elsa sighed, shaking her head, “I’m…so sorry. This,” she turned to the rest, “is Wendell, children. So stop screaming, and,” she gave Tim a sharp look, tainted with a good dose of embarrassment, “no axes—I —goodness, Tim, an axe?!?” Running her fingers through her hair, “I invited him to stay with us for a little bit.”

“For how long?” Tim grunted.

Elsa’s eyes narrowed, “For as long as it takes, young man. He’s come to town looking for a job.”

Tim snorted again, loudly. “Forever then.”

Elsa growled, “No, it won’t be—”

“B-but he’s dead,” Kale cut in.

Elsa crinkled her brows in confusion. “Who’s dead?”

In unison, all three boys raised their hands and pointing them at Wendell, “He is!”

“Elsa…I’m hungry,” squeaked a tiny voice.

A round-faced child stumbled through the doorway, dragging a tattered, grey doll with one eye behind her. The child's long brown locks bounced as she walked.

“Good morning, sweetie,” grinned Elsa. Walking across the floor, she scooped the child up and gave her a hug. “We’ll get you something to eat as soon as we work this craziness out. Alright?”

The child nodded.

Elsa stepped forward and took a deep breath. “Wendell, this crazy group is my family. Over there you have Tim, the oldest, and the man of the house. The two screamers are the twins…Kale and Jacob…”

“We’re from different mom’s,” grinned Jacob, who slid down next to Kale on the floor.

“And dad’s,” added Kale. The boys bumped their outer knees together, followed by a casual elbow bump and a unified nod.

“Then we have Lyndie, my amaaaazing helper,” reaching back, Elsa tussled Lyndie’s hair, which made her blush. “And this beautiful little angel,” she gave the child in her arms another squeeze and a kiss on the cheek, “is my Shayle. We are the Mayer family. Six kids, no parents, long stories—so don’t ask. We’re a family…and that’s what matters, right guys?”

“Right,” they said half-heartedly, all eyes still warily on Wendell.

Elsa rubbed her temple with a thumb.

“Well I wouldn’t call Shayle an angel, cause angels don’t eat their boogers…” blurted Jacob.

“Alright,” replied Elsa.

“….or pee in their clothes,” added Kale.

“OR…” started Jacob, with an impish grin.

“That’s enough!” Elsa snapped. “Right. Okay. Let’s get to what’s really going on here, shall we? Tim, what’s wrong with you? Why would you and the twins keep saying Wendell is dead? You boys aren’t making any sense. He’s standing right here, breathing.”

“But he wasn’t, Elsa,” piped up Kale. “He was all bloody, stretched over rocks. And he was dead, I promise!”

Now it was Wendell who couldn’t stop staring. Why would they say I was…

Then it hit.

They found me when I was… He took a step towards the boys to say something, but in a single motion Tim yanked the axe up from the wall and spun it into a striking pose over one shoulder.

“Woah!” Wendell squeaked, stumbling backwards, “Okay, staying right over here…no problem.”

“TIM!” snapped Elsa, “Put that axe down, right now!!”

“No,” the boy glared. He eyes narrowed to slits, but they never left Wendell “I saw it, just like Kale and Jacob did. He was out there, in the forest, dead as can be.”

“I wasn’t dead,” Wendell choked out. Raising his hands, palms forward, he breathed, “I fell. Out there, in the woods, before I found your village. Got lost when I tried to cut through the forest from the valley below. When I fell I hit my head and passed out.”

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Elsa. She stepped closer to Wendell and with her free hand, tugged on his sleeve to turn him around. Her hair was flopped to one side and messy, but it provided a perfect view of the scar down her left cheek. Wendell noticed the skin had been torn…and she was missing most of her left ear.

Elsa frowned. “Your face.”

Wendell’s hands jumped to his face reactively, feeling with his fingers. “What? What’s wrong with my face now?”

“Well…nothing,” she smirked, “just…there’s not a scar on it. Not a bruise, no swelling…nothing.”

“Oh good,” Wendell sighed, relieved, but instantly realized his mistake.

“What was wrong with his face?” Tim asked, now curious. “Other than, ya know, the obvious?”

“He met Sawyer last night,” Elsa said dully. “…and he didn’t like Wendell.”

All three boys let out a unified, “Ooooo!”

Tim grinned, “Did it hurt?”

Wendell shrugged, “Not if you like your lips between your teeth and being thrown against buildings.”

Both Jacob and Kale laughed then.

A little hand tugged at Wendell’s pant leg, “Sawyers not very nice,” Lyndie frowned. “He’s nice when Elsa’s here, but not when she’s gone.”

Shayle nodded, her tiny brows high on her forehead.

But Elsa wasn’t phased by the conversation. “You…shouldn’t have healed that fast, Wendell.”

Wendell swallowed, “What do you mean?” Dang it—she knows something and now I’m gonna get caught. He tried to form a smile, but it just made him look more guilty. I’m in a town where they hate magic and nowhere to run. Crap.

Crap, crap, crap!

“It makes me wonder,” she added, then set Shayle down on the floor. With a rough shove, Elsa flipped Wendell around by the shoulders.

“What are you doing?” he stammered, her slender fingers running through his hair.

“Looking for bumps.” Then, “Tim—you say he was bleeding?”

“Well, no—not bleeding. Okay, there was blood in the snow, but, I didn’t really see any wounds. When we found him, he was half covered in fresh snow. We were looking for wood and…”

“Wait one minute.” Now Elsa’s gaze turned to the boy. “You were out? Looking for wood in the forest? How far did you go?”

Tim looked away. Jacob and Kale bit their lips.

“You went out into the deep forest, didn’t you? After the wolf attacks?! Tim, I’ve asked you time and again to please not go beyond where I can help you.” Yet her tone softened as she stepped closer to the youth. “Why would you risk getting hurt?”

Tim lowered the axe and tossed it against the stone hearth. “I just wanted to do something nice for everyone. Wolek’s coming to town today and I thought, if I could find a really nice piece of wood for one of the carvers, I could get something for everyone.”

Drawing the boy in, Elsa wrapped her arms around him. Shayle rested her own head against Tim’s leg.

“You may not believe me, but what happens to you matters to me, Tim. What happens to all of you matters to me.” Elsa pulled back and looked at Tim squarely. “We’re the only family we have and I…” she choked, “don’t want to lose anyone else. Alright?” She sniffed, “I can’t do this without your help.”

Tim nodded silently, then leaned down and gave Shayle a kiss on the forehead.

“Now back to you,” Elsa turned once more to face Wendell.

“Me?” he squeaked, taking a step back. “What about me? I’m allowed to go into the forest.”

All eyes were on him now.

Elsa glared at him. “There’s no bump on your head. If there was blood like the boys said, where’s the bump? Where’s the wound? Where’s the stains on your nice clothes?”

Uh-oh, she’s got— but Wendell suddenly had an idea.

Lying might be better than being lynched or driven from town out into the snow, but what if I didn’t have to lie?

Tha-Thump-Thump.

Sure,…NOW you show up! I can’t let them know about you, Ithari, and I don’t want anyone to learn about who I really am. But I think I know how to keep us both safe.

Tha-Thump-Thump.

“I didn’t want any trouble,” Wendell finally replied in a soft tone. “You told me at the Den that folks around here don’t like mägo, so…”

“You do magic!?!” chimed Jacob. Springing to his feet he approached Wendell with a grin so big it almost took over his face.

Wendell shook his head. “Not really, no, but my…dad does. These clothes are magic—and they were a gift from him.” Well, it’s not a complete lie, he told himself. Shrugging, “They were a present to me, and they heal me as long as I wear them.” He smiled weakly at Elsa, who didn’t seem too convinced. “Have you heard of mägoweave?”

She shook her head.

Wendell looked around at the children, but they all shook their heads in reply.

“My family is, well…”

Elsa folded her arms, “Go on.”

Wendell shrugged, “Wealthy. Very wealthy. Mägoweave is used by very wealthy, and my father gave it to me for when we travel. If I understand it right, it has magic put into the threads. My clothes repairs and cleans itself—which is why you won’t find stains on it. Even changes into what I need it to be.”

“No way,” Kale frowned, folding his arms in front of him. “Clothes don’t change, they just get old and make holes.”

Jacob jabbed him in the arm, “Clothes don’t make holes, dummy, the get holes.”

Wendell smirked. “Well these don’t get holes and they do change—into whatever I need them to be. Like this…” Holding a picture of his original outfit of jeans and the smiley t-shirt in his mind, Wendell willed the cloth to reform.

The effect was all he needed.

Tan and brown leather darkened to black, while a bright yellow circle rolled across the cloth to center on this chest. Wendell’s britches faded to blue with wash streaks down the center of his thighs, while boots crumbled downward into converse sneakers once again.

Kale and Jacob jumped up and down, clapping their hands in applause. “Do it again!!” they cheered. “DO IT AGAIN!”

Even Tim stood there smiling.

“Sorry I scared you, Tim,” Wendell said, the smiley giving each boy an individual wink, “I was hurt pretty bad. When I woke up, I almost suffocated. Took so long to heal I was completely covered in snow.” The thought made him shiver. “You guys won’t tell anyone about this…right?”

Each of the kids looked around at one another, all except for Elsa. Her focus was on the smiley—who blew her a kiss.

She frowned sternly, “Wendell, can you change into something else? I don’t like that…whatever that is on your chest.”

The smiley pouted.

“I like it,” Lyndie beamed, “It’s cute!”

The smiley blew her a kiss as well, small hearts bubbling out from its pucker.

Wendell chuckled, “Sure.”

His outfit instantly wavered for a moment, then like a shimmer of water, morphed into a simple pair of leather pants and a loose-fitting, pull over shirt. It looked like something from a bad high school play, but it was all he could think of—something from a Pride and Prejudice movie his mom watched over and over again.

Thank you Mr. Darcy.

Wendell smiled at Elsa, but it wasn’t reciprocated.

Uh oh, Wendell, she’s not convinced. Darn it!

Nervous, he shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Is…this going to be a problem? I don’t want to cause you guys any trouble.”

As if working out a conversation in her own mind, Elsa shook her head in resignation. “It’s fine,” she said with a deep sigh. “Magic isn’t the problem, it’s the people. Folks think those who practice the arcane are worse than others. Rotten to the core, so you can’t be trusted.” She glanced up at Wendell, paused and then waved her hand. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I know it’s foolish. I also don’t agree with them. Magic is another way to make a living or to live your life, just like the rest of us. But the people around here hate the very thought of something they can’t understand…or control.”

She marched past the little girls, “Well, come on. Let’s get breakfast made.”

Wendell looked curiously to Tim and the younger boys, but all three simply shrugged.

****

There wasn’t much talk as the children got dressed and went about their morning chores.

Tim wrapped up warmly and went to the barn to milk the goats, while the twins fetched eggs and then picked some winter berries from the bushes out back. Lyndie swept the floors while Shayle, unsuccessfully, tried to help her. The two girls then set the table while Elsa stoked the fire and placed a large pot over the open flames.

Breakfast was porridge with fresh raw buttermilk, salt, butter and the wild berries, which looked like grape tomatoes. They turned out, to Wendell’s delight—to taste exactly like raspberries.

The food was simple, plentiful and tasted wonderful. Wendell smiled to himself. For the first time in months, he felt…happy. He wasn’t altogether sure if that was because of the food, or because he felt calm and safe for a change.

No one looking at him expectantly.

No one chasing him or trying to kill him.

…and no one knowing who he was supposed to be.

I’m accepted for who I am, he grinned again, just me.

“Something funny, Wendell, or is the cooking bad?” Elsa asked curiously.

“What?” He looked up to find her watching him closely. “Oh, no. Sorry. I was just thinking how nice this was. The food I mean. It’s delicious…and I like the company.”

The little girls beamed across the table at him.

“Yummy, huh,” grinned Shayle, scooping an extra big spoonful and shoving it in her mouth. Little dribbles of cream ran down both sides of her cheeks as she chewed away.

“Smaller bites, please,” Elsa whispered, the hint of a smirk on her own face. Then to Wendell, “You said you were looking for work—to apprentice? What is it that you want to learn?”

Wendell swallowed, enjoying the intense, hot berry flavors. “I’m not really sure. Never had this kind of an opportunity before, and until now I didn’t know I needed the money.”

Elsa smirked openly now, “Right. You’re wealthy. I remember.”

“My father’s wealthy. I just didn’t have a money problem until last night. When I fell into the ravine, I lost my coin pouch. Didn’t think to check my pockets until I had to pay for my meal last night. There’s no way I’m going to find it now. Don’t even know if I could find where I fell to even look for it.”

Jacob choked on his porridge and started coughing.

Kale leaned over and smacked him hard between the shoulder blades. The blow sent his brothers cheek bouncing off the table.

“Ow!” complained Jacob, sitting back and rubbing his face. “You don’t have to hit me that hard!”

“Sorry.”

Jacob swirled the porridge in his bowl with his spoon. “Uhhh, Wendell? I think you were robbed.”

The room fell silent.

Leaning forward, Elsa stared intensely at the boy. “Why would you say that, Jacob?”

He gulped. “It’s just that…welllll…”

“Well what?” she prodded.

Kale waved his spoon between Jacob and Wendell, little bits of cereal flying from his mouth as he talked, “Jacob picked Wendell’s pockets when we found his dead body.”

“I did NOT,” snapped Jacob, jabbing his twin in the arm. Then softer, “Only one pocket,…before Tim caught me doing it.”

Wendell frowned. “You picked my pockets? Wait, what did you find?”

With a huge sigh, the boy slapped his hands on the table. “Nothing! But I sure lost stuff. It’s just a stupid, worthless bag. I put things in but they don’t come out!”

“What is that supposed to mean?” sighed Elsa, “You boys don’t make any se…”

“It was a nice looking bag, Elsa. Pretty brown, red pull-string, these funny shapes stitched all around the edges, and…well, he was dead,” justified Kale, “why would he need it, huh? So I bring it home and think, now I have a bag for my stones and string and…,” he took a huge breath, “it ate my dads ring!”

Kale gave his brother a cheesy grin, “He wanted to put Lyndie’s head in it when she tattled on him for not doing his chores yesterday, but the opening’s not big enough.”

Lyndie stuck out her tongue.

Wendell burst out laughing.

“It really happened, I swear!” Jacob pleaded. “You put something in there and it don’t come OUT!”

Wendell grinned, “I believe you, Jacob.”

All eyes turned to him.

“It was a gift along with with my magical clothes. Only works for me.”

The boy sniffed, “Really?”

Wendell nodded, “Really.”

“My stuff ain’t gone?”

“I don’t think so—but if you’ll bring me the bag, I’ll see if I can get your stuff back. Deal?”

Jacob blinked his growing red eyes, “You can get my dads ring back?”

“I’m pretty sure I can,” Wendell nodded. “But I need the bag to find out.”

“Is it magic too?” asked Lyndie.

Wendell nodded.

Elsa stood up. “That’s a good idea, Jacob. You get the bag and bring it here. And why don’t the rest of you get your rooms straightened before we deliver our weekly package. I’ll clean up here.”

Jacob snorted, “We already cleaned up our…”

“Check it again,” she cut him off sternly, “alright?”

For a moment, the twins just stared at her.

“Okay Elsa,” replied Jacob, resigned, “if you say so.”

She nodded, “Thank you, Jacob.”

The kids all got up from the table, though Wendell sat still, watching the strange emotional ballet in the room—the one where secrets were dancing about without being seen. As Tim turned to leave, Elsa reached out and grabbed his arm. Silently she nodded for him to come closer and they waited until the room was empty.

“There’s been another attack,” she whispered. “A wolf killed one of Austin’s goats. Sawyer said its throat was torn out.”

Tim shook his head, “Sawyers a liar, Elsa, everyone knows that. Besides, he’d say anything to get your attention.”

Wendell quietly watched the exchange.

“My point, Tim, is that we might want to skip the delivery today as a group. I can run up the hill on my own and…”

“No. No way, Elsa. You just said ‘I can’t do this without you’, and now you want to go into the woods alone? Yeah, that makes sense. Why can’t we just let the old guy fend for himself? He’s not helpless. Downing lives there.” He paused. “Or is THAT why you’re so keen to make the delivery?”

“No, I…NO—that’s…” she replied, flustered. “You mind your own business, young man.”

Tim’s grin was unmistakable. “If I’m the ‘man’ of the house like you said, you ARE my business, Elsa.”

Elsa’s countenance dropped. For a moment, it looked as if she was going to cry. Her eyes watered, eyelids turned red and she sniffed, “I don’t do this because he’s helpless, Tim. I do this because it wouldn’t be right not to. He’s why I’m still alive. I’ve explained that to you. He’s lost everything.”

Tim’s expression turned hard. “So have you.”

She shook her head, “No, Tim. I have you. I have Jacob, Kale, Shayle and Lyndie. Silas has no one. It’s the least I can do.” But she shook her head. “No. I’m doing it because it’s important. Just like visiting our parents’ graves during the fall, Tim. I do this to remember.”

Tim sighed, the frown still on his face. “Alright.” Reaching out, he squeezed Elsa’s forearm. “But you should know that I found tracks out back, not more than ten feet from the barn door.”

Wendell perked up. Tracks?

“Tracks?” the worry on Elsa’s face was plain.

“Wolf tracks. And they were big, too. Bigger than any I’ve ever seen.”

“Here it is!” beamed Jacob, bouncing into the room with a tiny bag in hand. Plopping it onto the table, the coin purse lay there, dead and as flat as could be. He smirked triumphantly at Wendell. “See?! I told you, it’s empty, I’m telling ya. Nothing in it but…more nothing.” He snorted, “Look for yerself.”

Wendell reached his hand towards the purse.

…and it slowly inflated.

“What the?!?” cried Jacob as Wendell’s hand loomed closer.

“What’s happening? What’s happening?!?” yelled Kale form the other room, sounds of heavy feet thumping across the floor. “Don’t start without meeee!” Sliding the last few feet, the child banged into the doorframe and fell to the floor. “Ow.”

“You’re missing it,” chimed Jacob. “It’s growing!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Peeking up over the lip of the table, Kale’s eyes grew wide. “Oooooooo!”

Wendell couldn’t help himself. Drawing their attention to the bag, he smiled, then opened his mouth and eyes wide in mock surprise. “What do you think is in there?” He wiggled his fingers, but didn’t touch the bag. “Treats? Treasures? Somebody’s old socks?”

“Ew,” grunted Jacob, sticking his tongue out, “That’s just gross.”

“Yeah, who would put a sock in a tiny bag like that?” snorted Kale, “That’d be dumb.”

Lifting the bag from the table, Wendell pulled it close to his face, tugging on the drawstring ever-so-slowly.

It only fueled the curiosity of the twins. “Go on,” they cried out, “Go on! Open it!!”

Looking inside, Wendell could see the gold, silver and copper wink back at him…along with some odd new items. Several smooth stones, both black and pink, lay scattered as well as string and…

“Ahhhhh,” Wendell exhaled. “Weren’t you looking for…this?” Yanking his hand from the bag, a small, crudely crafted ring with a tiny red stone embedded in its center, appeared between his fingers.

“My RING!” exclaimed Jacob with a squeal of glee. Holding out his hand, Wendell gingerly placed it in his palm. “Thank you, Wendell!”

Both Elsa and Tim laughed.

“I guess he’s not so bad,” Tim whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

Elsa put her elbow on his shoulder and leaned her mouth to his ear. “It’s odd, but I had a good feeling about him the moment he walked into The Den.” She watched Wendell interact with the twins, amused. “I don’t know what it is, but I like the feeling when he’s around.”

“Like you feel when Jan’s around?” Tim whispered back.

Fingers poked Tim in the side, making him flinch. “Shut up.”

“Is there something in there for me?” asked Shayle. She’d walked into the room, towing her odd looking doll behind her. Lyndie wasn’t far behind.

Once the children were around the table, Wendell looked into the bag once more and frowned. “You were right about this thing eating stuff, Jacob. There’s all SORTS of things in here that don’t belong to me.” Raising an eyebrow, he shoved his hand back into the bag—but this time pushed his fingers past the top layer of coins, making his arm vanish up to mid forearm, just for effect. It looked as if the pouch was eating him.

“Wowwwwwwww,” the kids exclaimed.

First came the string. Then the stones, which made Jacob giggle.

“Oh….wait a minute…there’s something else in here!” Glancing to each child, Wendell stopped at Shayle. “I think it’s yours, Shayle,” and he pulled a silver coin from the purse.

“WOW!” cried the twins together.

Jacob slapped his hands to his own face, “That’s silver…,” but he paused, “How come Shayle gets a silver coin? She didn’t lose it! Heck, she doesn’t even know what to DO with a silver coin.” He jabbed his twin with his elbow, “Bet she’ll jus’ eat it.”

“Will not,” Lyndie rebuked them, “cause I’ll help her.”

“That’s what all good sisters should do,” Wendell encouraged. “Ooooo, and look here—there’s something for you too, Lyndie,” and out came another silver coin.

“For ME?” Lyndie squealed so loud, Wendell’s head popped backwards.

He laughed, “Yes, dear, for you,” sliding the coin across the table.

Wendell pulled three more silver coins from his pouch and placed them neatly on the table. Then one-by-one, he placed a finger on each and slowly slid them over the surface to rest in fronton each child.

“For…us?” Kale gasped.

“For you,” Wendell grinned, “Except for Elsa. She doesn’t get one.”

The children stared at one another, frowning.

“Elsa doesn’t get a silver coin?” pouted Lyndie.

“Course not, silly,” Jacob smirked, “Elsa makes chores, and everybody knows chores are mean. Mean people don’t get gifts.”

Wendell coughed, trying not to laugh.

“T’ain’t mean,” Lyndie scolded, “Elsa loves us and cares for us!”

“Bah!” scoffed Kale, “we’re just cute slaves that clean her house.”

“Kale!” Elsa snapped, her face bright with embarrassment.

“AND chop her firewood,” added Jacob.

“AND fetches water,” added Kale.

“Don’t forget diggin the outhouse,” jumped in Tim.

“And she makes us eat beets,” whispered Lyndie. She looked up at Wendell with her big round eyes, “Beets taste yucky.”

Elsa flushed bright red. She covered her face with her hands and started laughing.

“You’re right,” Wendell cut in. “Sounds like Elsa definitely does not deserve a silver coin. Someone who does all the things she does should get…” and he slid one last coin across the table.

The twins gasped, “She get a GOLD coin?!?”

Wendell shrugged, “Have to pay for my room and food, don’t I?”

Jacob snorted, “She’s not that good of a cook.”

Kale looked up at Wendell, one eyebrow raised. “If I let ya sleep in MY bed, can I have half of Elsa’s coin?”