CHAPTER 11

THE CAVES

There were a number of caves up and down the creek, all right in the same vicinity, all near the place Gus thought he had seen the man disappear. Cassie and the boys decided to search first the ones that would be easiest for them to locate in the early morning twilight—two dugouts hidden among the switch cane about a quarter of a mile downstream. They also figured these caves would be the most likely ones for a stranger to find. But the first dugout they checked was empty, and the second one had caved in—recently, it appeared.

Philip, staring at the mud slide inside the dugout, turned to Cassie and said, “Reckon you were lucky you weren’t in this cave the other day, huh?”

“Yeah. Lucky,” Cassie answered absently, for another thought had just occurred to her. Gus had mentioned the man “melting into the creek bank.” Suddenly she had a good idea which cave the deserter had likely found.

“Philip,” Cassie said, “you recollect that cave under the big rock? You know, the rock that sticks out from the bank right over the creek?”

“Yeah?”

Breathlessly, Cassie told him what she was thinking. “That’s got to be the one our feller’s hiding in. I know it.”

Cassie was surprised at how quickly Philip agreed with her. “That rock’s only a little farther downstream, ain’t it?”

Cassie nodded. “Next to the sweet gum tree with the coon grapes all over it.”

“Lead on, girl,” Philip said.

Cassie was off at a trot. Soon she spotted the sweet gum, right on the edge of the creek; it was unmistakable. All up and down its huge trunk and into its branches crawled thick, green grapevines. Beneath the tree, protruding from the bank and jutting out over the creek, was a large, jagged stone covered with moss and lichens.

Cassie stopped. Though she wasn’t winded, her heart was pounding. Beckoning to the boys, she hunkered down behind a hedge of mock orange shrubs. “There it is,” she whispered. “Over across the creek.”

The boys crouched behind her. “I don’t see no cave,” said Gus.

“You can’t see it unless you’re in the creek, peering straight up at it,” Philip said. “And ain’t nobody going to do that, unless they know what they’re looking for.”

Gus let out a low, soft whistle. “I can’t believe these caves. You could hide in ’em forever and no one would ever suspect a thing.”

A shiver went through Cassie. No one would ever suspect a thing. From this cave the deserter could come and go as he pleased. He could do whatever mischief suited him—he could tease and torment Cassie from a distance, sneak into her house, take what he wanted, even Jacob’s silver mug—and laugh to himself at his cleverness. He could strike at her and her family whenever he wanted and return to safety here. No wonder Myron’s search party had never found the rascal. Who would suspect that a stranger would ever find this cave on his own?

Now Cassie’s fear was growing into panic. She fought the urge to run, to put as much distance between her and that crazy deserter as she possibly could. No! she told herself. The deserter had done too much already, from invading her secret thicket to invading her home. He had to be stopped before he did anything worse; Cassie didn’t want to think about what.

Cassie pushed down her panic and forced resolve into her voice. “Reckon that’s what the deserter’s been counting on—no one suspecting nothing. And it’s up to us to show him different. Likely he’s snoozing just as snug as a thieving fox in his den.” She hoped she sounded braver than she felt.

“Well, then,” said Philip, “what say we go down there and flush the old fox out?”

Cassie chewed on her lip. She did not want to go down to that cave, but she would rather die than admit it to Philip or Gus. She drew a deep breath. If she must go, it had better be now—quickly—before she lost her nerve. Without a word, she slipped out from the cover of the bushes and started down the bank.

“Dad blame it!” she heard Philip cussing behind her. “Will you wait for us?”

Cassie paused, just for a second or two. If she waited too long, she knew she could never make herself go on.

Then Philip caught hold of her sleeve, and Cassie thought he was going to pull her back, insist on going first. But all he did was shove the musket into her hands. “You know the way best, Cass, but take the gun. You know how to use it. We’ll be right behind you.”

Cassie accepted the musket. Even if she had thought of something to say, she probably couldn’t have said it—her mouth was like cotton. Cautiously she picked her way down the bank, strewn with rocks and overgrown with weeds, briers, and cattails. Here and there, wildflowers—dogtooth violets, bellwort, wood anemones—nodded above the brush.

Cassie could feel the boys behind her, but she kept her eyes trained on the opposite bank where she knew the cave was. She watched and listened for any sign of movement, any indication that the deserter was hiding inside. The only thing she saw was a kingfisher flitting out of a hole in the bank and skimming across the water. All she heard was the ripple of the creek and the twittering of the birds in the trees.

Now that she was down the bank, Cassie could see the cave, a great black hole yawning underneath the rock. She stopped, every breath coming hard. Her muscles felt tight and uncooperative. She didn’t think she could move if she wanted to—which she didn’t.

Then Philip nudged her. “What you waiting on?”

Yes, what was she waiting on? For the deserter to poke his head out of the cave and say “Here I am. Come and get me”? What was she so scared of, after all? She wasn’t alone and helpless like before. She had the musket. And Philip—she knew she could depend on him, and she realized suddenly that she knew she could depend on Gus, too.

Bracing herself for anything, Cassie crossed the creek, treading from stone to stone. The boys were a few steps behind her. On the other side, beneath the cave, the ground was rocky. A person could come and go, Cassie thought, without leaving tracks or any sign of his passing.

Cassie approached the mouth of the cave, then paused, listening for any sound from within. Behind her, rocks crunched—the boys’ footsteps—but from the darkness of the cave, there was only stillness. Cassie squatted and peered inside. She had forgotten how big this cave was. The mouth was narrow, but the cave widened farther back. She could probably stand upright inside, though the boys, she expected, would have to stoop.

The weak early-morning light penetrated only a yard or two beyond the cave’s opening, then was swallowed up by gloom. Still, right on the edge of the darkness, Cassie thought she saw something, something white and glistening on the floor of the cave. She squinted, trying to make it out. Maybe it was only stones …

She beckoned with her finger to the boys and pointed inside. “What you think that is?” she whispered. “Shining like that?”

Gus shook his head.

“I don’t know, neither,” Philip whispered back, “but I don’t think there’s nobody in there. Let’s take a look.”

“Yeah, let’s,” said Gus. His voice was eager.

Cassie swallowed hard. Since neither of the boys was moving, she figured they expected her to go first. For a fleeting second, she wished for the old, pushy Philip who wanted her to do nothing but take his orders. Then, trying her best to ignore the queasy feeling in her stomach, Cassie dropped to her hands and knees and crawled through the opening. Philip came behind her, then Gus.

The instant she was inside the cave, Cassie felt her skin prickle from the drop in temperature. She rose to a kneeling position, rubbed her arms to warm them, and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. Then she gasped, for she could tell now what it was that she had seen glistening on the floor.

Eggshells.