Touch that frog, Clara Spencer, and you’ll be covered with warts from head to toe!” Ruby Mae Morrison warned.
The two girls stood at the edge of Dead Man’s Creek with their friend Bessie Coburn. It was a sparkling, warm afternoon, and the icy water burbled over their bare feet.
Clara rolled her eyes. “That ain’t true about frogs, Ruby Mae. Miz Christy says frogs is amphi-bians. We’re goin’ to study ’em for science class. And I’m gonna catch me this here one for her to teach us with.” She pointed to the fat green frog sitting on a boulder in the shallow creek, sunning itself happily.
Ruby Mae sighed. Sometimes Clara acted like the biggest know-it-all in Cutter Gap.
“Warts,” Ruby Mae repeated firmly. “Hundreds of ’em. Granny O’Teale says they start on your nose first-off.” She nudged Bessie. “Ain’t that right, Bessie?”
Bessie watched as Clara took another careful step toward the frog. “’Member that fairy tale Miz Christy told us where the girl kisses a frog and he turns into a prince?”
“’Course I do. Anyways, you oughta be careful how far out you wade, Clara,” Ruby Mae advised. “We ain’t never been this far up the creek before.”
Clara took a deep breath and lunged for the frog. She grabbed him with both hands. Then she slipped him into the deep pocket of her worn dress and returned to the bank.
“I’m a-callin’ him Prince Egbert,” she announced, peeking into her pocket.
“Can’t call him Prince,” Ruby Mae said. She picked up a smooth stone and flung it far down the rushing creek. “We already got ourselves a Prince, in case you forgot. And the mission’s stallion is a whole lot purtier than any warty ol’ frog.”
“Prince Egbert,” Clara repeated. “And he don’t have warts, I’m tellin’ you.”
“Kiss him then,” Ruby Mae challenged with a sly grin. “Prove it.”
Clara lay back on the grass, her hands behind her head. “Don’t need to kiss a frog, ’cause I don’t want to be a princess. I’m a-goin’ to be a doctor when I grow up. Just like Doc MacNeill.”
Bessie groaned. “Gals can’t be doctors, Clara. That’s just plumb foolish.”
“How about Miz Alice?” Clara sat up on her elbows. “She’s got a bag full of herbs and medicines. And she births babies and fixes up broken bones and such, just like the doc.”
Bessie joined Clara on the bank. “Well, I’m a-goin’ to be a teacher, just like Miz Christy. Only in a much fancier school than ours. One with lots of books and pencils, and no hogs under the floor. And no bullies like Lundy Taylor, neither. All my students will behave nice and proper-like, with citified manners.”
Ruby Mae turned to stare at her two friends. They were lying side by side on the grass, staring up at the sky. They looked alike, the two of them. They were both smaller than she was, with long blond hair. Of course, there were differences, too. Bessie had plump, rosy cheeks and a silly grin. Clara had a thinner face, with sensible brown eyes, like she was always fretting over something or other.
She usually was, too. Clara was a thinker. She was always asking how or why or when— questions that would make a normal person’s head spin like a top.
Bessie, on the other hand, was more of a dreamer. She was the kind of girl who would forget her head if it wasn’t attached.
Ruby Mae knew both girls leaned on her. After all, she was a year older, and that made her a whole year wiser. She was taller than they were, with long, curly red hair. If only she could get rid of her freckles, she figured she’d be just about perfect.
“Doctor Clara Spencer,” Bessie said in a wishing kind of voice, “and Pro-fess-or Bessie Coburn.”
Ruby Mae sighed. Of course, they were only twelve. They weren’t so smart about the way the world worked.
“Hate to tell you, but you ain’t a-goin’ to be doctors or teachers or frog princesses,” Ruby Mae said as she stooped to get another stone.
“Since when can you see the future, Ruby Mae?” Clara demanded.
“Only Granny O’Teale can see the future,” Bessie said. “And that’s if she’s reading the innards of a squirrel on a full moon night.”
“What I’m sayin’ is, you need cash-money to get those highfalutin’ jobs. ’Cause first you need your schoolin’.” Ruby Mae tossed another rock upstream. “And in case you ain’t noticed, we’re just kinda short of cash-money.”
“Still and all, Ruby Mae,” Bessie said, “what do you want to be when you’re all growed up? If’n you could be anything you wanted, I mean.”
Ruby Mae didn’t have to think for a second. “I’d be a mama in a big house in a big city, like Asheville. Maybe even Knoxville. And I’d have me a beautiful golden horse, the fastest in the world. And about twenty-seven kids. All of ’em little angels, mind you . . .”
“Not like their mama!” Clara teased.
“And a husband as handsome as . . .” Ruby Mae paused. “As handsome as the preacher and Doc MacNeill, all rolled up into one. Only he’d comb his hair more often than Doc does. And wear fancy clothes with no patches. He’d have the preacher’s eyes. And the doctor’s smile. And he’d have a voice like—”
“R-R-R- R-IBBIT!” cried the frog in Clara’s pocket.
“Like Prince Egbert!” Clara exclaimed. She started to giggle. Before long, she and Bessie were rolling on the grass, laughing so hard tears came to their eyes.
Furious, Ruby Mae rushed up the bank. “Ain’t funny!” she cried, grabbing for Clara’s pocket. Prince Egbert popped out and made a flying leap. He landed on the edge of the bank, eyeing the girls suspiciously.
“You made me lose Prince Egbert!” Clara cried. “Now help me get him back, Ruby Mae Morrison, or I’ll tell Miz Christy what you done!”
Ruby Mae sighed. “You stop laughin’ at me, and I’ll help you get your frog. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Carefully the girls made their way toward the frog. But as soon as Clara reached for him, he hopped into the air. He landed on a big rock farther down the creek.
“Pretend you’re huntin’ squirrels,” Bessie whispered as they made their way toward the rock. “Nice and slow and quiet-like.”
“If we was huntin’, my papa’s hound would be doin’ the hard work,” Clara said.
“We need us a froghound,” Ruby Mae joked. Bessie giggled, but Clara was still too mad to laugh.
“This time, we’ll surround him,” Clara advised as they waded closer. “When I say three, we grab him. I’ll do the countin’. One, two, THREE!”
All three girls lunged for poor Prince Egbert. He took another leap and landed at the water’s edge underneath a thick, overhanging bush. Ruby Mae reached down in a flash and scooped him up, along with some rocks and sand from the bottom of the creek.
She held him up, nose crinkled. “Hope you’re satisfied,” she said, depositing the frog into Clara’s pocket. “I’ll be covered with warts by morning.”
Ruby Mae dropped the stones she’d scooped up back into the water. As she started toward the bank, something sparkling on the bottom of the creek caught her eye.
Was it just the sun, bouncing off the water? Pieces of shiny metal? Maybe a belt buckle or some nails?
“Come on, Ruby Mae,” Clara urged. “It’s gettin’ late. And I need to take Prince Egbert home and find a place to keep him till school tomorrow.”
Ruby Mae bent down. The bottom of her dress was soaking wet. The icy water swirled around her legs.
She scooped up the shiny things into her hand. For a long time, she just stared at the handful of rocks.
“Confound it, Ruby Mae,” Bessie whined in her high-pitched voice, “what are you a-starin’ at?”
“Rocks,” Ruby Mae whispered.
“Well, toss ’em, already. My papa’ll whop me good if’n I’m late again for supper.”
Slowly Ruby Mae smiled at her friends. “You don’t understand. These here ain’t just rocks. These is the most beautiful, purtiest, shiniest, amazin’ rocks in the history of rocks!”
She held out her hand. The rocks glistened like tiny pieces of sun.
“Fiddlesticks, Ruby Mae,” Bessie said. “Them’s just creek rocks.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Ruby Mae whispered. She could feel her heart leaping inside her like a kitten in a burlap sack. “These is creek rocks made of gold! ”
For a moment, nobody spoke. The only sound was the musical babble of the creek.
Clara finally broke the silence. “Come here, Ruby Mae,” she said. “Let me see those.”
Ruby Mae waded over and held out her hand. Bessie and Clara bent close. Bessie held one of the golden stones between her fingers. Her mouth was hanging open.
“Sakes alive,” she whispered, “I do believe this here is real gold!”
“But where did it come from?” Clara whispered. “I ain’t never heard of no gold in these mountains. Coal and such, sure. But gold? ”
“Who cares where it came from?” Ruby Mae felt like her smile might just be too big for her face. “Do you know what this means?”
Bessie nodded, eyes wide. “Means we found us some cash-money.”
“Wrong, Bessie,” Ruby Mae said. “It means we’re rich! It means we don’t have to kiss us a frog to become princesses!”