The Evaporating Eagle
The Evaporating Eagle
a new moon mystery
Andy Akins
Ella Akins
Will Akins
THE SUGARBENCH PRESS - NEW YORK - 2024
Acknowledgments
For my family. You’re characters. And to our maple man, Gramps.
A.A.
This book is dedicated to time. Time is so incredible. This book is an example. It took time, from minutes, to hours, to years. Thanks for reading!
E.A.
This book is dedicated to Ella, Mae, Mom, and Dad.
W.A.
Editor's Note
This book was inspired by the countless mystery books that we’ve read together as a family. The characters made us laugh and think and wonder. For our book, we either hand-cut our own designs or took inspiration from previously published block prints. We hope you enjoy reading this book as much as we enjoyed writing it.
Copyright © 2024
all rights reservedA knot tied too long
forgets that it's a rope.
- Bee Begonia
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 - Bacon Hill Bound
Chapter 2 - Slush & Sticks
Chapter 3 - Uncle Lennie?
Chapter 4 - The Black Bear Trail
Chapter 5 - Cold Cannonball
Chapter 6 - The Cliff
Chapter 7 - An Eagle Pop
Chapter 8 - Chasing a Crow
Chapter 9 - Best Served Warm
Chapter 10 - A Sour Taste
Chapter 11 - The Ravine
Chapter 12 - Boar’s Den
Chapter 1
BACON HILL BOUND
Fifth grade pals, Bella Begonia, Wilwulf Keyo, and Clara Mayfield had been friends since, well, forever. They grew up on the same ribbon of dirt, in Odessa, Vermont and saw each other every day. Through a thousand sticky situations, they became as thick as thieves.
Everyone called Clara, Claire, except when she buzzed her baby sister's hair with a beard trimmer. Claire spoke through photos, in a world of shutter speeds, frame rates, and exposure times.
Nobody called Bella, Bella. They called her Bee, due partly to her love of hives. As a toddler, Bee was stung on the ear, sparking her curiosity. Dozens of papery bee homes hung from old fishing line in her bedroom, swaying above worn honeycomb bedsheets.
Wil was short for his birth name, Wilwulf. At the start of each school year, his teachers would correct the name on the top of his homework assignments to Will. He’d scratch out the second ‘l’ until they surrendered. Some teachers resisted for weeks. At one parent-teacher conference, his mom explained that he was only one ‘d’ from wild. He had a homemade slingshot, smelled like two campfires, and had several fishing poles. A few of the poles hadn’t broken.
It was half March, before sunrise, when Bee’s mom grabbed three round-trip bus tickets to Bacon Hill from the cluttered kitchen counter. A half-awake Bee shut off her alarm clock, grabbed her bag and hopped into the passenger seat of her moms blue Toyota. They picked up Claire from her house, then Wil from his, before heading downtown to the bus station. As the kids clutched their tickets, Mrs. Begonia hugged Wil and Claire goodbye, then tucked extra granola bars into all three of their backpacks. She handed Bee some wrinkled twenty dollar bills.
“In case ya get in a pinch,” she said and gave Bee a kiss on her warm forehead.
________________
Their kids-only trip to rural New York to visit Bee’s Aunt Bazil and Uncle Lennie had taken months to plan. The previous December, Bee received a homemade postcard from her Auntie Bazil, inviting her to the annual Sugar Moon Ice Festival. Known as The SMIF to locals, it was an annual event that took place each Spring on the weekend of the Sugar Moon. Uncle Lennie and Auntie Bazil were the proud owners of the sprawling Frozen Fir Campground where the ice fest was held. Bee’s aunt and uncle rented cabins, tent-sites and lean-to’s year-round, but always sold out during the maple season. This year, they set aside the three smallest cabins, hoping that Bee and some friends would visit for the weekend. The kids worked hard to convince their parents, and in the end, the trio promised to behave, look out for each other, and help around the campground. Now, the wait was over. The fifth graders had arrived at their destination, the only stop in Bacon Hill. The air brakes hissed as the bus slowed to a halt.
Chapter 2
SLUSH & STICKS
Bee hopped off the rusting greyhound into a slush-puddle. She closed her eyes and pulled a deep breath into her chest. A lonely flake of snow, possibly the last of the season, spun and landed on her nose. The bright smell of pine trees moved her mouth into a smile as she exhaled. She turned and noticed Wil frowning as he stepped off the bus.
“Cold, buddy?” she asked, patting his shoulder. Her goldfish-orange hair was twisted into big, braided buns. Most mornings, Bee sat down at her kitchen table in the dark to braid her hair into a new impossible design. This morning, her hair was mostly frizz.
“Yeah. A little cold, but a lot starving,” Wil replied as he bent to tie his hiking boots. “You locate the continental breakfast yet?”
Claire jumped from the last step of the bus, wearing a plush, tie-dyed sweatsuit. She held a worn polaroid camera against her face and gazed through the viewfinder, toward the wide Green Mountain vista. Her camera made a click as she pressed the red shutter button.
“How are you still hungry, Wil?” Claire asked. “You've been fillin’ your face since we crossed the state line.”
“Unfortunately, I lost thirty minutes of valuable snack time due to that nap I took,” Wil explained.
“That was you snoring in the back?” Claire asked before making loud snoring noises.
Wil pretended to be offended and chased Claire up the grassy hill, away from the paved road, hands in front of him, like a zombie.
“Slow down! I've got some fresh drool for ya!” Wil shouted in his scariest voice. Claire laughed and sprinted up the cracked concrete sidewalk until she arrived at the L.J. General Store, their pre-arranged meet-up location. Claire was swift and nimble and easily outran the others. Following way behind, Bee shouted, “Careful Claire! Hangry is a dangerous thing! Especially so soon after hibernation!”
Once they all made it to the sturdy wooden patio attached to the small store, Wil managed a half-hearted roar while attempting to catch his breath. Claire laughed as he wrapped her in a hug. Bee joined in, smiling and gently squeezing Claire from the opposite side.
“Okay, okay,” Claire said, “You two animals ever heard of personal space?”
“Like, space travel?” Wil asked.
“Wrong,” Claire replied.
“Like, the Space Needle in Seattle?” Bee asked.
“Nope,” Claire managed.
“Like, the ‘Space Jam’ movie?” Wil asked.
"Way off, space cadets! What’s it gonna take for you two to buzz off?” Claire demanded, still wedged between Wil and Bee.
“I’ve been successfully bribed with fruit snacks before,” Wil replied.
“Same,” Bee added. “But nobody’s bribing anyone before I say thank you. Honestly, you two coming to Bacon Hill means a lot to me.”
“For the record, I had zero other spring break options,” Wil said.
"None for me either…but seriously, you’re squishing my…camera.” Claire managed as her polaroid made a muffed ‘click’ sound.
“Say cheese?” Bee offered, unwrapping Claire with a smile.
The kids turned and sat down with a heavy sigh on a crumbling concrete bench. They gazed eastward, in the direction of their hometown. A brown and green patchwork of rock and trees rose beyond the New York border. A flock of Canadian geese flew in a wide ‘V’ overhead, two trailing birds honking as they flapped back into formation. Meanwhile, Wil opened a granola bar as Bee applied sunscreen to her freckled nose.
"Snacks. Sunscreen. We’re really spring breakin’ now,” Wil said, spilling crumbs onto his Carhartt pants.
"Finally,” Bee and Claire said at the same time.
“Jinx,” Wil replied. “You both owe me a yoke.”
“You mean a Coke?” Bee asked.
“No. Two runny eggs with toast, please,” Wil replied.
Chapter 3
UNCLE LENNIE?
“I bet Uncle Lennie forgot about us,” Wil said as he stared at the empty road.
"Never. Lennie is always precisely where he means to be,” Bee said.
“Well, if he was here, he’d have seen that someone’s been messing with his poster,” Wil said.
On the wide stained glass window at the front of the general store, a realty advertisement had been taped over a flier for the upcoming Sugar Moon Ice Fest, blocking it.
“Not sure who Alice is…but not cool,” Bee said as she carefully removed the overlapping poster and moved it a few feet to the right.
“That’s better. Okay, scootch in you two,” Claire said as she raised her camera and took a few steps back. Bee crossed her eyes and Wil stuck his tongue out before the camera flashed. Claire waved the developing photo back and forth before sliding it into a clear sleeve inside her leather photo album.
“That 'Welcome to Bacon Hill' sign keeps reminding me of breakfast,” Wil said. “These kindergarten snacks aren’t cutting it.”
“I second that,” Claire said, rubbing her stomach.
“Bee, is your uncle a hash browns or home fries guy?” Wil asked.
“More of a venison and squid guy, but you can ask him yourself,” Bee replied, as a smiling, stocky man wearing a tattered knitted sweater walked toward them. His old cross-country ski boots crunched on the gravel as he tugged his sagging pants up with his left hand. He tipped his winter hat with his right.
“Uncle Lennie!” Bee shouted across the parking lot.
“Fumble Bee!” Uncle Lennie yelled back, chuckling as he trotted toward his niece. “You've grown at least an eighth of an inch! And who might these rascals be?”
“Oh, these two? Beats me,” Bee said with a shrug.
“You two any good at stacking wood?” Uncle Lennie asked pointedly, staring at Claire and Wil.
Wil only managed a groan, gazing longingly at the spot where the bus had dropped them off. Claire's eyes danced with excitement.
“Alright, pause game, Uncle Lennie. These are my friends, Claire and Wil,” Bee said.
Bee then cleared her throat and winked seriously at Wil, then Claire.
“All together now. Just like we rehearsed,” Bee whispered.
The kids sang, nearly in unison:
“We’re buzzing Bee and wild Wil and shimmering Sea,
And we pledge allegiance to the bugs in the creek,
To earthworm knees, sugar snap peas,
tiny tumbleweeds and soaring maple trees.
To snail’s trails and mouse’s houses.
To cottontail tracks and pack packs.
And to every last galaxy in the sky.
We thank our lucky stars.
Fill our plucky jars.
Learn from our ker-splats,
(Wil made a fart sound with his armpit)
and high five our whys.”
Their right hands slapped together at the end, with a semi-successful, three-person high five.
Uncle Lennie shook his head at the three kids staring at him, their hands resting at their sides.
“Earthworm knees? Plucky jars? I’ve never heard of such things,” Lennie said.
“We had loads of unsupervised time on the bus,” Bee explained.
“And we’re so jazzed to finally be on vacation, Mr. Oxtail!” Claire said.
“Well, you’re welcome and clearly a clever bunch too. That’s plain to see. Call me Uncle Lennie.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Oxta…Uncle Lennie!” Wil said.
“I hope you three are stronger than ya look, though,” Uncle Lennie said as he squeezed Bee’s bicep.
Bee flexed as hard as she could.
“Not too bad,” Uncle Lennie said with a smile. “But what took ya so long to get here? We coulda used you three weeks ago when we were tappin’ the trees,”
“We’ve got a ton of fifth grade responsibilities,” Claire said.
“Yeah, it’s a tiny miracle they let us come here at all. Also, that bus was a real clunker,” Wil said.
“Speaking of clunkers, are we taking your old railroad truck back to the Frozen Fir?” Bee asked.
When Uncle Lennie retired, he kept his old company railroad truck, using it for driver’s education classes during the slow season. The narrow wheels allowed him to drive on the steel tracks. Aunt Bazil didn’t approve of such things.
"Oh, Auntie’s running errands with it today,” Lennie replied. “We’ll be cross country skiing to the icehouse on our own.”
________________
Back in the summer of 1923, well before Uncle Lennie and Aunt Bazil were born, Lennie's great grandfather, Wout, built a sturdy icehouse by hand. The icehouse was used to store massive sawn blocks of ice that teams of horses had pulled from Fir Lake each January. Wout nestled the huge blocks in pine sawdust to insulate them from the summer heat. Much of the ice lasted until Fall when the weather turned cold again. Every once in a while, Wout would use his father’s ax to carve an extra block into something interesting. These days, the old ice house still stands, with it’s thick insulated walls, steep roof, and gray clapboard siding. Now, instead of storing ice, Lennie and Bazil use the old building for boiling deliciously sweet maple syrup.
________________
"Is the sap running yet?" Bee asked her uncle.
“Faster than a hornet in a hailstorm, my nifty niece,” Lennie replied.
“Faster than a frantic falcon?” Bee followed.
“Faster than a caffeinated catfish,” Lennie replied.
“Faster than a tootin’ turkey?” Bee asked.
“Faster than a napkin at a Texas barbecue,” Lennie said.
“Wait, can someone just tell me if sap is dripping from the maple trees?” Wil asked.
“Well, I’m not fluent in maplespeak, but if you forced a guess, I’d say yes, the sap is indeed running,” Claire replied. “Not sure who it's running from, though.”
The kids laughed as soft brown mud squished under their boots and the sun warmed their cold faces.
“Oh, we'll be boiling sap in no time,” Uncle Lennie confirmed.
“As suspected,” Claire replied as she raised her camera for a photo of some skunk footprints.
“I hope everyone packed light,” Uncle Lennie said. “My old chum, Lortetta Jett, owns the general store here and she agreed to shuttle your bags to the campground."
Suddenly, a tall woman with curly, graying hair opened the screen door of the store.
“Loretta!” Uncle Lennie exclaimed.
“I heard ya talking about me.” Loretta said as she wrestled three sets of well-used cross country skis and poles under one arm. She carried a six-pack of sap soda in her other hand, raising it up so the kids could see it.
“Well, ya actually made it,” Loretta exclaimed to the kids. “These ski poles may be a little long and the boots will definitely give ya blisters, but this sweet sap soda should make up for it."
Loretta handed the bottles of soda to the kids. Bee, Wil and Claire each took one and thanked her.
“Don’t mention it,” Loretta said. “They expired last week.”
Wil immediately cracked his bottle open. After chugging the sweet treat, he made a loud refreshed Ahhhhhhh sound. Bee and Claire stowed theirs and laced up their borrowed ski boots by the time Wil burped.
"Once I lock up here, I'll be driving over to the campground, so feel free to toss your bags in my truck," Loretta said, nodding toward a small green pickup parked next to the store.
“You got ‘em staying near the swimming hole, Leonard?” Loretta asked.
“They’re in the biggest cabins on Sugardown Street,” Uncle Lennie replied.
“Roger that,” Loretta said. “With a little luck, I’ll beat ya over there.”
“Oh, you’re gonna need it!” Wil said, pretending like he was downhill skiing. “I grew up water skiing, so this’ll be a piece of cake.”
“It’s been ages since I’ve been to a Sugar Moon Ice Fest,” Bee added, as Wil continued through several more imaginary race moves.
"For the record, I'm mostly here for the butter and syrup,” Wil said.
“He’s also on the lookout for a mythical hill of crispy bacon,” Claire said.
“Very funny. But, seriously. Has anyone located the actual bacon hill yet?” Wil asked.
“Oh, it’s out there,” Bee said. “Probably piled next to that new golf course they’re planning. What's the scoop there, Loretta?”
“Oh that’s just ol’ Alice Evergreen. She’s trying to bring in out-a-towners with more money than smarts. Thank goodness all she owns is a stagnant swamp,” Loretta said.
“Alice has been dreaming of ways to turn this town into a tourist trap for decades,” Uncle Lennie chimed in, smiling at the three kids. “She’s hoping for plastic plants, no kids and more lawn sprinklers than a firework factory…actually the No Kids rule doesn’t sound terrible though, does it?”
“HA. HA.” Bee said flatly. “You’re stuck with us.”
“Yeah, there’s no way we’re missing the sculpture contest,” Claire said.
“No sense waiting, though.” Loretta said as she walked over to a tall object covered with a thick blanket. Loretta pulled back the covering, unveiling a gleaming piece of ice. The unfinished block had been carved into the head of a fierce polar bear, large teeth sparkling.
“Yipes!” Wil exclaimed, backing away from the bear.
“Loretta…you carved this?” Bee asked.
Loretta nodded proudly. “With two hands and one sharp ax. Still plenty to finish before the 11 o’clock deadline tonight, though. Gotta load it and drive it to the campground before dinner.”
“Loretta’s one of the best,” Lennie interjected as they all helped wheel the sculpture to her truck.
“With talent like this, you've probably won the sculpture contest before,” Claire said from behind her camera as she snapped a photo of the bear’s shadow.
“Well, no gold medal yet, but I may actually have a chance this year considering Thor ‘The Boar’ Svenson called it quits.”
“Thor the who, what?” Wil asked.
“Thor’s won this competition for the past eight years in a row,” Loretta said. “I think Lennie keeps inviting him back just to irritate me. He even won the international Tutu Bay world championship in Iceland three times. Uses the most beautiful ice anyone’s ever seen. Not sure how he does it, but my chance of winning the grand prize went way up when he retired last year.”
"Sounds like tomorrow’s gonna be your day!” Bee said.
Chapter 4
THE BLACK BEAR TRAIL
"Time ta shake a leg, folks,” Uncle Lennie announced. "We’ll need to hustle if ya wanna to get to beat Loretta to the campground.”
“Think we’ll make it in time for lunch?” Wil asked.
“Odds are good,” Uncle Lennie said with a wink. “We’ll make up loads of time on the downhills.”
Wil’s face went pale as he noticed the snowy mountain ahead of them. He unsteadily clipped into the borrowed skis.
“We're taking High Road until the fork at Black Bear Rock, then we’ll go over the summit of Mount Fir,” Uncle Lennie said. “Should be plenty of powder above the treeline. Sound okay to everyone?”
“Um, Lennie, it’s probably nothing, but I can’t help but ask…did you say something about a black bear?” Wil asked. “Bee’s spring break invitation mentioned zero black bears.”
“Well, wild things like bears and perch and cedar trees have called this place home for a lot longer than us. Not many coyotes at that elevation though, so you shouldn’t worry about them. Those cagey canines stay closer to the eastern ravine,” Uncle Lennie said, pointing to the deep valley.
"Bears? Excellent. Coyotes? Delightful," Wil said, his eyes reflecting the bluebird sky.
Bee, Wil, and Claire shuffled their nordic skis over the granular snow that blanketed the well-used trail. Tufts of yellow grass poked through the snow in spots. The air smelled like Christmas trees and freshly tilled garden beds. Once on the High Road, they stopped regularly to clear twigs and branches that blocked their way. The final uphill portion of Mount Fir was steep and slow. At the top, faces red from the effort, they rested and gazed down at the bustling campground far below them. In the center of the valley, was the gleaming Fir Lake, shaped like a giant exclamation point. The dot part of the lake was about thirty feet across and had been dammed, creating a waterfall into the long stretch of water beyond it. A wooden bridge separated the two bodies of water. Even from a mile away, the kids could see the squares they could tell were cabins, the main lodge, and several other outbuildings sprinkled around the property. The kids heard a car door slam and echo up the mountain. Bustling ice sculptors and spectators milled around like colorful ants, assembling tents and starting their barbecues.
“You own all this?” Claire asked Uncle Lennie as he pulled out an old map and stowed his down jacket.
“My great-great Gramps won the deed to this land in a bet,” Lennie said. “The year was 1851 and the honorable Howard Evergreen challenged Gramps to a game of poker where the winner would take all. Gramps was dealt a full house and well, we’ve had a full house since. This land has always been sacred to us. From the smooth dirt road to the west, to the sandy ravine in the east. Up to the cliffs in the north, and obviously our campground is there below us. We’re stewards of everything up to the northern swamp.”
“Yum. I love Stewart’s ice cream.” Wil said.
“Excuse Wil. For obvious reasons.” Claire said.
“Steward’s protect and care for the land, Wil,” Bee said. “From the smallest animals, to the oldest trees. Our health is woven into each leaf.”
“Spot on, fumble Bee. We’re just helpers here.” Uncle Lennie followed.
“Well, I may require more help than you can give,” Wil said, as he noticed four distinct bear claw marks in the bark of a blue spruce tree with sticky pitch running toward the ground.
“Achoo!” Wil sneezed loudly.
“He’s fine with tree nuts, gluten, and shellfish but he’s highly allergic to imminent death,” Claire explained.
Uncle Lennie laughed and pushed his poles into the snow, cresting the summit with a shout, “Race ya down, bear chow!"
Lennie folded at the waist, bent his knees, and tucked his poles under his armpits at the same time, blasting down the hill. Bee and Claire quickly jumped into his tracks, the wind pushing tears across their cold cheeks. Struggling to follow the others, Wil shouted, “Teammates! Maybe a quick refresher on stopping?”
“Easy bro! Just snowplow!” Claire shouted back.
“Whatta ya mean, snowplow?” Wil shouted, whistling down the hill in near freefall, the glades a blur of brown bark around him.
“Don’t be difficult, Wil! Just make a pizza!” Bee said, as the kids neared the bottom of the hill.
“Bake a pizza?!” Wil yelled into the wind, wobbling out of control. His bindings rattled and creaked as the edge of his right ski caught an ice ridge, sending him airborne, arms windmilling. He landed with a thud in a large, pillowy snowbank. Bee and Claire, watching from ten yards away, held their breath, hoping for some small movement. Then suddenly, Wil’s head appeared from under the pile of fluff. His skis and poles had landed in a rough circle around him, like a yardsale. His winter hat was more sideways than usual.
Once Uncle Lennie was fairly certain that Wil was not injured, he said, “Quit dilly dallying, Wil. You’re gonna make us late for lunch.”
Wil either ignored Lennie or genuinely couldn’t hear on account of the snow in his ears. He promptly started making a snow angel, staring up into the sky.
Claire and Bee laughed loudly before side-shuffling in their skis over to Wil, helping him to his feet.
“Snowplow? Frozen Pizza? I demand a friend replacement.” Wil said.
Chapter 5
COLD CANNONBALL
Aunt Bazil welcomed Uncle Lennie and the kids at the shore of Fir Lake with a reused bread bag full of cookies. They unclicked their skis wearily and leaned them against a nearby granite slab. Aunt Bazil handed out big glasses of pink lemonade. Her freshly baked sugar cookies had light brown maple frosting and were nestled among a single slice of Wonder bread. Wil smiled at the sight of food. As the kids snacked, groups of wild birds swirled happily in the air around the lake, visiting feeders, suet slabs, and license plate birdhouses. Plump chipmunks chattered and chased each other along the water’s edge. A group of six cardinals came to rest in a small, leafless pear tree near their picnic table.
“Little known fact,” Bee said, “A group of cardinals is called a college.”
One cardinal, a beautiful, gray-red female bird seemed very interested in the cookies, edging closer to the flat rock that the kids sat on.
“Well, I’m not ready for college yet, but I know how cookie subtraction works,” Wil said, shooing the puffed-up cardinal away.
The cardinal took flight, then spun in mid-air, landing on Wil's bare arm. The bird stared at him with one dark eye, scolding him with a chirp. Bee reached slowly into the cookie bag, grabbing the slice of bread and gently laid it in Wil's open hand. Wil offered the bread and the cardinal pecked, hungrily.
“Ha!” Claire chuckled as she stepped back to take a photo, “Long lost pals!”
“Yeah, what’s your bird bud’s name?” Bee asked.
“Oh, obviously. She’s um…Cathy…Cora…” Wil managed. “I mean, Kardy? Yeah. Kardy. We go way back. Been pals for eons,” Wil said seriously.
“Eons? That’s a long time. Strange you’ve never mentioned her,” Bee said.
“Yeah, whatta you two do in your free time?” Claire asked.
“Oh ya know. Typical bird things,” Wil said. We build nests. Preen feathers. Roost. Maybe an occasional game of duck duck goose. Normal things. Boring really.”
“Wil, I’ve been trying hard to limit my bird brain jokes,” Claire said with a laugh. “But you’re officially cuckoo.”
Aunt Bazil tousled Wil’s hair as she handed out egg salad sandwiches. In time, all the birds, including Kardy flew away. Bee, Wil, and Claire proceeded to finish the rest of the food that Bazil laid out, then asked for more.
________________
The stout timber frame cabins on Sugardown Street were stretched in a long row and were designed to fit a single bed and a small dresser. That’s it. Old, lichen-covered roofing slates were nailed to each of the cabin porches, with the specific cabin name engraved into the thin rocks. The rock on Wil's cabin read Sidewinder. Bee's said, The Ol’ Coop and Claire's said, The Sugar Shack.
Peering into his small room, Wil declared, “Lennie’s clearly made a mistake. This is a birdhouse, not a cabin.”
“Yeah, mine’s been in the dryer too long,” Claire said.
“Oh my spacious coop, how I missed ya!” Bee said, ignoring the others as she ducked into her cabin. “I swear, when I was five, these rooms were even bigger, you guys.”
Standing on their own tiny front porches, the three kids looked out across the long part of Fir Lake. Chunks of shimmering ice beached themselves on the shore. Rows and rows of cabins wrapped around the water. Visitors in sweatshirts threw frisbees to running dogs in the Spring sun.
“You kids ready to boil some sap or what?” Uncle Lennie asked as he approached their cabins.
“Just checked my watch,” Wil cheered. “It’s sticky o’clock.”
Jogging excitedly around the Western portion of the lake toward the icehouse, the kids noticed bubbles rippling from the liquid center.
“A natural spring at the bottom keeps the lake comfortable year-round. Never freezes in the winter. Never heats up in the summer. Best swimin’ hole on the east coast,” Uncle Lennie said as they walked.
Just then, Loretta, from the general store, noticed the kids and gave them a big wave. It was chilly but she wore a bathing suit and was wrapped in an oversized beach towel.
“I’ll officially call our race a tie.” Loretta said, plopping their bags down. “Who's down for a quick dip before work?”
The kids looked at each other and then back to the lake. They puffed their cheeks as they exhaled, the water looking unfriendly. After a pause, Bee said:
“How bad can it be? I'll go if Claire does.”
“If Wil swims, I’ll swim,” Claire replied.
“Sorry, chums. I’m a no-go,” Wil said. “I'd need an hour in an oven before I touched a toe in that frigid lake.”
Lennie heard Wil and nodded toward the barrel sauna near the pebbled shore. He said, “Today’s your lucky day, Wil. The sauna’s warm.”
Heat rippled the air around the rusty chimney poking from the big barrel. The breeze smelled like hot, dry wood and suddenly swimming seemed less terrible.
“What’s a saw-na?” Wil asked skeptically.
“It’s the opposite of a walk-in freezer,” Lennie said. “Is 160 degrees warm enough for ya?”
“Is that Celcius?” Wil asked, making an audible gulp, slinking back to his cabin. He had changed his mind. Bee and Claire sprinted past him, racing to get their suits first.
“Last one in’s a melted polar bear!” Claire said, with Wil chasing after them yelling, “Wait up!”
He muttered to himself as he approached The Sidewinder cabin, “I hope Dad packed a wetsuit.”
Soon, the kids had returned, huddled at the edge of the water, testing the temperature with their feet. Loretta cheered for Claire and Wil as they walked into the water, arms linked. Meanwhile, Bee shouted “Cold Cannonball!” as she leapt from a large gray rock on the shore. Claire and Wil tiptoed up to their necks, arms and voices getting louder, the deeper they went, before turning and running back to shore. Bee stayed in after her jump. She doggy paddled in small circles, eyes wide, while she adjusted to the water.
“Incredible how there's still ice chunks in here!” Bee said as she swam. Meanwhile, dime-sized bubbles corkscrewed from the lake bottom. They looked like marbles tumbling up a spiral staircase. The bubbles tickled Bee’s feet.
“You’re officially the cooooolest thing ever, Bee.” Claire said sarcastically, shivering in her tie-dyed towel. Bee laughed and launched a handful of icy water toward her friend, sending Claire scrambling back up the shore. Bee spent a minute locating the clearest ice chunks, tossing them on the dock. Her collection grew until her teeth began to chatter and her fingers stopped listening.
“You planning on taking that ice back to Vermont with you?” Loretta asked.
“Just starting a sculpture of my own,” Bee said. “I hope to finish it before Auntie Bazil rings the deadline bell.”
Lennie emerged from the icehouse, steam escaping from the two open roof hatches.
“You otters gonna lounge all day or get busy sugaring?” Lennie asked.
Bee, Claire and Wil sprinted past him, toward the hot sauna. “Be there in a minute Lennie! Just gotta make sure this old barrel isn’t too hot for Loretta!” Wil exclaimed.
The kids squeezed through the small cedar door with Loretta already inside, splashing water on the sizzling stones. After a few minutes in the steam, they ran back to the swimming hole. The kids went back and forth until they could see Uncle Lennie getting visibly impatient, muttering to himself. He skimmed dark foam from the steaming pan. Pungent hardwood smoke hung low in the woods around the building. Above his head, a hand-painted sign read:
0 16 Days Since Last Accident.
The kids finally had enough of the water and switched into their warm work clothes, ready to help Uncle Lennie boil the sap. The clear liquid drained from drilled holes in the maple trees, flowing downhill to the icehouse in a network of blue tubes. The cold sap flowed into the pan until the flames warmed it from below, bringing it to life. Steam evaporated from the sap, making it thicker and darker and sweeter.
Wide icicles dripped and splashed from the eaves of the icehouse, making new puddles as the afternoon sun started to fall. The flow of sap increased as the trees warmed. The kids raced around excitedly, filling new bottles with the finished syrup. Candy steam burnt their fingers as they poured the hot syrup through thick wool filters. They stacked chunks of dry wood on top of glowing coals. The pan roared its approval.
“Forty gallons of sap equals one gallon of syrup. So, if you feel like spilling something, make sure it's sap.” Uncle Lennie offered as he watched them work.
While the sap reduced in the pan, Bee drilled holes in the flat chunks of ice she had pulled from the lake. She then threaded a thick rope through the holes, one by one, stringing up the ice like an oversized necklace. It was heavy and shimmering. Claire, Wil, and Bee managed to lift the ice-laden rope as Uncle Lennie nailed it to a beam exiting the southern wall of the icehouse. They stood back, looking at Bee's creation, their heads tilting a bit in unison.
“Stalagmite?” said Claire.
“Close. StalacTITE.” Bee replied.
“Looks like a giant popsicle to me,” Wil said.
As they considered Bee's work, Aunt Bazil jogged up to the icehouse, holding a large envelope.
“The delivery person said it’s urgent, Lennie.” Aunt Bazil managed. “You’d better open it.”
Lennie left black soot marks on the package as he ripped it. Inside was a $5,000 stack of crisp one hundred dollar bills. Tucked under the rubber-band that held the bills together was a handwritten note on a yellow post-it. Lennie read it aloud:
“Looks like your bowling buddies finally paid you back!” Aunt Bazil announced. The news traveled quickly around the campground. Many of the competing sculptors joined Lennie, Bazil, and the kids in the icehouse to inspect the money.
“Five thousand bucks?” Uncle Lennie said, to nobody in particular. He took off his winter hat and scratched his head, staring at the money.
As he did, a bright yellow Jeep roared into the campground parking lot, sliding and spraying gravel against the lodge. As the vehicle skidded sideways, its growling engine made a sharp ‘POP! POP!’ sound. The license plate read:
“Jee. Arr. Eight. Dash. One?” Wil said.
“Yep, the so-called Great One,” Loretta whispered. “That was a short retirement.”
“Just in time for another big prize,” Uncle Lennie muttered. The crisp paper envelope crinkled under the pressure of his hand.
A hush swept over the group of onlookers as Thor ‘The Boar’ Svenson set up his sculpting stand. Thor was a huge, growling man. Overlapping dragon tattoos covered his furry arms and legs. He had won nearly every competition he entered and was quick to remind people. His blonde top knot shook as he yanked the start cord on his chainsaw. Instantly, Thor was buzzing ice shavings into the air as he circled his crystal-clear, refrigerator-shaped block. Within an hour, a magnificent ice eagle had emerged. Spectators swirled around the eagle and the other sculptures in the yard. News of the grand prize had quickly made it to the surrounding towns and cars steadily streamed in. Hundreds of people bustled around bonfires to the hum of live music and food truck generators. As more news crews arrived, Wil, Claire, and Bee looked up at Uncle Lennie. An uneasy frown had creased his forehead. He rubbed his chin and shook his head slowly at the crowd. As he did, a crisp $100 bill fell from the envelope in his hand. Bee noticed it first.
“Uncle Lennie,” Bee said, holding the prize money. “Mind if I trade my old twenties for one of your new hundreds? I’ve always wanted a Ben Franklin.”
“No worries, Bee,” Lennie replied with a reluctant smile as he swapped bills with his niece. Bee carefully tucked the hundred in her fanny pack as Claire took a second photo of Thor’s eagle.
Loretta saw Lennie staring into the distance and put her arm around his shoulder.
“Frozen fiddlesticks, Lennie. Next year’ll be my year,” she said.
“Wait an’ see,” Lennie muttered, eyes narrowing. “Wait an’ see.”
Chapter 6
THE CLIFF
Uncle Lennie sent the kids to a clearing behind the icehouse to stack firewood. The jumbled stack of split ash shrank like a spring snowbank. The kids carefully balanced one piece at a time. They slowly created a beautiful row of wood for future fires.
“Uncle Lennie wasn’t joking when he said he’d put us to work,” Claire said.
“Oh, this is a piece of cake,” Bee said. “I’m just thankful he got rid of his chickens. Three words. Coop. Poop. Soup.”
“Gross,” Wil said as he brushed a daddy long-leg from his arm. As he did, another group of cardinals swooped in, landing on the newly stacked wood.
“Kardy's back for dessert, Wil!” Claire announced.
“Oh, I saved a fig newton for this,” Wil replied, reaching into his pocket. With each crumb Wil offered the birds, the more brave they became. Above them, the sun shone brightly in a big sky. A light breeze moved the bird’s soft red feathers. After a pause, Kardy looked at Wil and took a few hops toward the North woods.
“Oh Wil! She has a mission for us,” Bee joked.
With each step, Kardy looked behind her, willing them to follow her. Wil, Bee, and Claire looked at each other, to the nearly finished stack of wood and then back to each other. Bee nodded and they quickly laced up their boots and clipped into their skis, zooming toward their feathered friend. They scrambled over fallen tree trunks and under overgrown brush, witnessing a flash of red feathers from time to time.
Thirty minutes later, they stopped at the steep north cliff that Uncle Lennie had warned them about. The kids peered down the steep drop that swept into a foggy swamp. Realizing that the cliff was too dangerous to climb down, they turned back toward the campground. Suddenly, the drumbeat of horse hooves rumbled through the forest. Four riders leaned forward as their black horses struggled up a switchback from the edge of the swamp. Currents of cold air blew the horse manes as they marched through a wall of cattails. The kids immediately ducked behind a pile of poplar branches. The group of riders stopped just ten feet from where they hid. They looked South, eying Uncle Lennie's land.
“I’m not sure, Alice,” A rider with a deep voice said. “I know you want condos and a golf course, but that was way too wet to build back there. We’ll be lucky to make it home.”
The kids could hear the man patting the side of his horse's neck as they inched around the sticks to get a better look. They could smell the sweating horses and the damp leather saddles. Fresh mud splattered the legs of the riders and the uneasy horses were nearly covered. One rider carried surveying equipment strapped to his saddlebag. The others were wearing matching riding vests. The woman wore a hat that said, Evergreen Realty.
“Don't you worry about the swamp, Frankie,” a scratchy voice responded. “It won’t matter soon. Just have your crews ready to build.”
“Whatever you say, Miss Evergreen,” the man replied. Alice nodded and pulled harshly on the left rein of her horse, spinning the animal and leading the group back down the twisting trail onto her marshy property.
When the kids could no longer hear the thunder of hooves, Bee whispered, “Let's get rollin’ like we’re bowlin.”
The kids hopped up and pumped their skis outward like Olympic speed skaters down to the campground where they found Uncle Lennie leaning over the evaporating pan. He was whistling into the steam, gauging the thickness of the syrup with a hydrometer.
When Uncle Lennie noticed the kids, he said, “Throw a few pieces of wood on the fire, won't ya?”
“Sure thing uncle. We gotta chat though,” Bee said as she swung the hearth door open, the hungry flames pulling new air.
“Did the campground toilet overflow again?” Uncle Lennie asked.
Claire and Bee turned to Wil and said, “Probably.”
“Why you guys looking at me?” Wil demanded.
"Well, it’s actually not about the toilet,” Bee replied. “We bumped into a group of riders on the trail. One was Alice Evergreen from the realty company.”
“They came up the ledge and seemed to be very interested in your property," Claire said.
"First, what in green bonnets were you three doing near the ledge? You were supposed to be stacking wood. It’s dangerous up there!”
“Lodge. Ledge. The English language is so strange,” Wil said, cringing. “Also, just for the record, isn’t it blue bonnets?”
“Kardy led us right to ‘em Lennie,” Claire interjected. As she said this, the bubbling sap overheated and foam rose, cascading over the side of the steel pan.
“Rats! Toss a little olive oil on the sap Claire, would ya?” Uncle Lennie asked. As Claire extinguished the rising foam, Lennie looked at the kids seriously. “Don’t go up there again. Also, in this life, feel free to pick whatever color bonnet you’d like.”
“Roger that,” Bee said. “But why is Alice snooping around?”
“Oh, Alice,” Lennie sighed, “She’s been tryin’ to get this campground back for years now, even though it’s not for sale. I’d take her cash if I didn’t think she’d turn this place into a putting green. As long as we’ve got The Sugar Moon Fest and the sap keeps returning each Spring, we’ll always have enough money to pay the bills.”
“You folks still cryin’ about Alice Evergreen?” Loretta asked as she walked into the icehouse.
“A sticky penny always turns up,” Uncle Lennie said.
Chapter 7
AN EAGLE POP
The sky turned a million shades of orange as the sun dipped below the mountains. A breeze pushed the thin clouds away, making room for the glowing moon and stars. Dozens of ice sculptures, large and small, sat frozen outside the lodge. Light from the bonfires danced on the carved ice. The air temperature dropped past freezing. Lit antique oil lanterns swayed between skinny wooden poles. Wil looked around at the glowing scene, took a deep breath, and smiled.
“Hey Bee, what are you gonna spend the five grand on if your Sta-lak-a-fight sculpture wins?” Wil asked.
“It's StalacTITE, Wil and it's not if I win, it's when I win,” Bee joked. “But seriously, I’d give the money back to Uncle Lennie and Aunt Bazil to help keep this place going. I want the Frozen Fir to stay in our family forever.”
“Pardon me, Wil,” Claire interjected. “What’s that dripping thing in your hand?”
“This?” Wil asked, surprised. “Oh, I’m still warm from the sauna. Just a lil’ icy treat.”
“It looks like a frozen feather though. Where’d you get it?” Bee asked in a skeptical tone.
“Yeah, I remember ice cream sandwiches at the food truck but I didn’t see any…” Claire began.
“Actually, it looks exactly like a feather from Boar’s ice sculpture!” Bee interrupted.
“Goodness Bee! Keep it on the down-low. You know how hot Lennie’s barrel was,” Wil said.
Bee was speechless.
“What part of Do NOT Touch the Sculptures! didn’t you understand?” Claire asked, staring at Wil with her right hand on her hip.
Over Wil's shoulder, Bee could see Thor closely eying his sculpture. The large brass nameplate under the sculpture said, Sight of Ease. Suddenly, all ease left Thor’s face as it twisted into a menacing snarl. Thor had noticed the missing tail feather.
“Let’s shake-a-leg folks,” Wil whispered, slowly backing away from the crowd before turning to run.
Soon the three kids were back at their cabins, out of breath, wondering if Thor had seen them. In the distance, they saw dozens of sculptures reflecting off the still lake. Uncle Lennie stoked the bonfire and spruce sparks sputtered like fireflies. Aunt Bazil danced with friends to a breathless mandolin as bluegrass music and laughter rang out.
Wil looked at the ice feather in his hand and paused thoughtfully after taking another lick.
Bee saw his expression change and asked, “What is it, Wil?”
“This is certainly icy, but it’s not ice,” Wil said as he looked at the clear feather, confused.
“I think that particular flavor is called Rocky Regret, Wil,” Claire said. “Get rid of that thing so we can get back to the party.”
“I second that,” Bee said, “Auntie Bazil will be looking for us on the dancefloor.”
As the kids started back toward the bonfire, Wil took one last lick and tossed the ice feather into Fir Lake. The songs and the disposal of the feather had them trotting more confidently. Back outside the lodge, there was an icy hammerhead shark, a clear tree with a beehive, and even a frozen fire with cold flames licking the air. The kids thought Loretta's polar bear was terrifyingly beautiful and, as expected, Thor's eagle was stunning in every aspect.
"That’s one magnificent piece of H2O," Bee said, staring at the eagle.
Wil gently elbowed Claire in the side and whispered, "Coulda added a few more tail feathers though, don’t ya think?"
“Way too soon,” Claire added, eyes straight ahead. Thor sat menacingly, arms crossed, guarding his sculpture.
Chapter 8
CHASING A CROW
The last note from a Billy Strings song rang out and campers cheered before strolling back in one’s and two’s to their cabins and tent sites. The full moon cast an eerie glow across the landscape, making flashlights unnecessary. It was nearing the 11 o'clock deadline for sculpture submissions.
“When's the award ceremony tomorrow?” Bee asked Uncle Lennie as she rubbed her eyes.
“Auntie’ll be clangin’ the breakfast bell at sunrise. I suppose the five thousand big ones will be handed over by the time the pancakes are finished,” Uncle Lennie replied.
“Another beautiful batch of ice!” Aunt Bazil added, winking at Bee. “Especially that fancy one dangling from the icehouse.”
“Oh, that’s a winner!” Claire exclaimed.
“Well, you kids are gonna need lots of energy to count your prize money tomorrow,” Uncle Lennie said. “Run along and get some sleep. I still need to boil off the rest of the sap for breakfast.”
“Smart to account for Wil,” Claire said.
“Let’s just skip the pancakes. All I need is a straw,” Wil said, making a slurping sound.
“I’ll be keepin’ an eye on those sculptures too,” Uncle Lennie said. “Can’t be too careful these days.”
“Yeah, we wouldn't want anyone messin’ with them, would we?” Bee asked, staring directly at Wil, his cheeks turning slightly red.
Loretta shook her head at the kids as she walked toward the sculptures. They noticed that her ice ax was still attached solidly to her leather belt.
Bee, Claire, and Wil waved goodnight to Lennie and Bazil before shuffling back along the shore of Fir Lake. Their porch steps groaned as they walked up to their miniature cabins. In the distance, they could hear Aunt Bazil ringing the deadline bell.
“Oh Sidewinder, how I missed ya,” Wil said as he opened the door to his cabin and belly flopped, face-forward into the thick down comforter on his single bed.
“Night y’all!” Bee shouted through her cabin wall as she fluffed her pillow.
“Doog Thgin!” Wil shouted back.
“¡Buenos noches, mi amigos!” Claire yelled.
Soon The Sidewinder, The Ol Coop and The Sugar Shack were quiet as the kids drifted off to sleep.
________________
Hours later, in the cold morning air, a crow belted, "Caw! Caw! Caaawww!" outside Wil’s window. Wil sat straight up in his bed, bonking his head on the sloped pine rafter above him. He then shuffled his way to the door. Above him, he could see three tiny red-winged blackbirds chasing a large crow across the new sky, batting the big bird with their tiny wings. Wil spun in his slippers and knocked on Claire's door before shouting toward Bee's door.
“Guys! Get up!” Wil said, “You’re missing a Bacon Hill bird battle out here!”
Claire opened her door and said, “Dude. Too. Early,” her eyes hardly open. “And just when I thought you and Kardy were getting along.”
“Oh, Kardy’s got nothing to do with this,” Wil said as he pushed the cardinal button on his animal sound reference book. A digital cardinal call rang out through the morning air.
“You’ve heard a crow, caw, right?” Wil asked.
The retreating crow complained more loudly now as it zig-zagged across the morning sky. Wil and Bee both stood on the small porch of The Sidewinder while Claire frowned behind her camera.
“Epic bird battle, Wil,” Claire managed.
“Thank the birds, not me,” Wil said, grinning at the rising sun.
“Well we’re up. We should probably go check on Uncle Lennie in the icehouse,” Bee said and the others shuffled behind her.
They walked along the shimmering lake on a narrow footpath in their pajamas. At the icehouse door, they looked through the frosty window and saw Uncle Lennie sleeping in his frayed recliner with a dozen freshly bottled syrup containers on the card table beside him. Just as they turned away from the pine door, they noticed a figure in a dark uniform walking from the main lodge with a flashlight. The person approached them.
“The name's Dodge. Sheriff Dodge. You kids seen Oxtail around?” The man said.
“Uncle Lennie? Who’s lookin?” Bee asked.
“I am. Received a complaint early this morning that he stole an important ice sculpture. I’ve got a few questions for him,” Sheriff Dodge explained.
"Stole? You must be. My uncle Lennie wouldn't steal a french fry!” Bee exclaimed. “What sculpture is he accused of taking?”
The kids turned their gaze to the dozens of sculptures flanking the entrance to the lodge. The sun continued to rise over the mountains, illuminating the yard in a pink morning glow. They could now see Lorretta's giant Polar Bear, Jimmy's swimming Salmon and Miss Raspeak's frozen cheeseburger. There was only one missing.
“The Eagle,” Bee whispered.
Chapter 9
BEST SERVED WARM
As Sheriff Dodge interrogated Uncle Lennie, the kids quietly huddled behind the icehouse. Bee wore her red rubber boots and had twisted green ribbons through her two french braids. As Bee and Wil talked, their breath billowed lazily in the cold air. Claire snapped a photo nervously.
“There's no way Lennie took Boar's eagle!” Bee whispered.
“Not a chance. He couldn’t lift it,” Claire said.
“Maybe Loretta chopped it up with her ice ax and they moved it piece by piece,” Wil offered.
“That’s a possibility,” Bee said. “She really wants to win this year.”
“This could be terrible news for the Frozen Fir,” Wil said. “If Lennie cheated to help his friend win, the Sugar Moon Fest could be ruined forever.”
“Loretta's his friend, but he loves this campground too much to risk gambling it away,” Claire said.
“It’s been gambled away before,” Bee said. “Let's see if we can find some facts before everyone gets worked up.”
The kids circled the lake, past the cabins and down to the lodge. The remaining sculptures shimmered in the cold morning light. People began to mill around the empty stand that once held the giant eagle. Wil shuttered at the thought of Lennie and Loretta chopping up Thor’s eagle.
“You didn't lick it away by chance, did you Wil?” Claire asked. Wil shook his head and said, “Not that I recall.”
“Even Wil couldn’t eat a popsicle that big,” Bee said. “Anyone locate Thor yet?”
“No, but if I keep standing around, you’ll be able to enter me into the contest,” Wil said, shivering.
“That’ll increase our chances of winning the five grand,” Bee said.
“Five grand…” Claire said softly. Something about the anonymous donation was bugging her.
“Very funny girls, but I’m still freezing,” Wil said.
“Sauna o’clock?” Bee asked.
“Lead the way, sensei,” Wil replied.
They walked past the rippling, spring-fed swimming hole, steam rising from its surface in the morning air.
In the distance they heard the unmistakable roar of Thor Svenson.
“Ooooxtail! Wheeerrreee's my EEAAAAGGLE! Tell me NOW!”
“Sounds like Thor’s taking this well,” Claire said as she swung open the cedar door of the sauna and ducked in and out of sight. On the long wooden bench, near the Eastern wall, there was a flat chunk of melting ice and a small note. The kids rushed in for a closer look.
“It's an eagle wing!” Wil exclaimed.
The chunk of ice was dripping through the cedar slats, splashing on the warm floor. Bee picked up the note laying next to the wing. It was typed on Frozen Fir Campground letterhead. Bee read it aloud:
Suddenly, Sheriff Dodge opened the sauna door. His long shadow stretched in front of him with the low morning sun at his back.
“I think we found the eagle,” Wil said to Officer Dodge. “Well, at least the wing bit.”
“Interesting. Hand it over and I’ll put it in the evidence freezer. Find anything else?” Sheriff Dodge asked.
Bee looked at her feet, then handed Sheriff Dodge the note they had found next to the ice.
Sheriff Dodge read the note slowly, then whispered, “Lennie? Loretta? I had a feeling one of them was behind this.” He frowned before turning to walk back to the lodge.
“Sheriff Dodge!” Claire shouted. “One more thing.”
“What is it?” Sheriff Dodge asked.
“Bee, give your Benny Franklin to him.”
“My hundred bucks? What for?” Bee replied.
“I got a hunch,” Claire said. “Can you have someone look it over at the station, Sheriff Dodge?”
A confused look came over Sheriff Dodge’s face as Bee reluctantly handed it over. Sheriff Dodge nodded and left.
Chapter 10
A SOUR TASTE
Bee, Wil, and Claire left the sauna and walked down to the lodge. They noticed the gravel parking lot overflowing with more news crew vans than the previous day. Reporters jockeyed to get their microphones closest to Thor as he prepared to speak. Thor sat on his newly empty carving stand, an island in a sea of reporters and fans. His eyes looked happy but his face was as angry as a kicked yellowjacket.
“How’d this happen, Boar?” an impatient reporter blurted out.
“It’s simple. Lennie Oxtail melted my precious Sight-of-Ease," Thor said with a menacing sneer. Some in the crowd gasped and then there was silence.
Then Claire stood up. “Morning, Mr. Svenson. I'm Clara Mayfield, correspondent for News Channel 12 KEXP in Odessa,” she said.
“Claire, what are you doing?” Bee hissed, tugging on the back of her pink sweatshirt, trying to pull her back into her chair.
Claire swifty swatted Bee’s hand away. She stood taller and asked, “What makes you think Lennie Oxtail destroyed your sculpture?”
Boar sighed. “Easy! We all know this place is a run-down dump. Lennie and Loretta had a plan to split the prize to pay the bills. They can’t win as long as I’m here.”
“When did they say that?” Claire asked.
“Yesterday, after they took one of my eagle's tail feathers. They’ll never get away with this,” Thor replied.
“What if you were disappointed with your design and you destroyed it yourself?” Claire asked.
“Silly kid. I keep every sculpture frozen forever. Each one is priceless and this one was my best yet. Next reporter please, before I get angrier!” Thor cried, scanning the crowd for another raised hand.
The kid’s eyes were full moon wide as they snuck back to their cabins.
“This is fishier than a perch patty at a cod concert,” Bee said as they squeezed onto the porch of The Ol Coop. The first peeper frogs had started their symphony from the muddy edge of Fir Lake, forcing them to raise their voices.
“Oh it’s fishy. Good thing I’ve got worms,” Wil said.
“Speaking of strange,” Bee said as she rolled her eyes at Wil, “Boar’s an odd dude but he's acting weirder than normal.”
“You’re tellin’ me,” Wil said. “If Uncle Lennie did melt his sculpture, I can’t say I blame him.”
“Yeah, I've got a sour taste in my mouth,” Claire replied.
“I could use one of Loretta's expired sap sodas to wash it away,” Wil said.
“Have mine,” Claire said absentmindedly as she handed her unopened bottle to Wil. She was thinking through the events of the past two days, trying to untangle the web.
Wil twisted the metal cap. It made a sharp fizzing sound. Tiny bubbles rose from the bottom of the bottle, filtering up through the clear liquid, nearly bubbling over. Wil took a swig and his eyes went wide.
“Gotta burp?” Bee asked.
“Boar's feather…” Wil whispered.
“Please do explain,” Claire said.
“BOAR’S FEATHER!” Wil exclaimed. “There was something sweet about the taste of the feather I plucked from Thor’s sculpture last night. It wasn’t regular ice. Claire’s soda helped me sort it out. I think Thor’s sculpture was made of frozen sap.”
“Could it be,” Bee wondered.
“Okay, I’m lost. Who cares if the sculpture was made of sap?” Claire asked.
“The wing and note in the sauna could have been placed there to fool us,” Wil said. “A stinky purple herring.”
“Don’t you mean a red herring, Wil?” Bee asked.
“Purple. Red. Who cares? We need to taste the frozen feather from the sauna!” Claire shouted.
“Quick, before it melts!” Bee exclaimed.
They ran toward the lodge just as Sheriff Dodge was asking Loretta Jett some questions. He was asking her about what she was doing with her ice ax the previous night and if she overheard Lennie mention anything suspicious about Thor’s sculpture. Loretta looked sad as she kicked a tuft of Spring grass.
“Hey Loretta,” Bee said “We can’t talk now but don’t give up.”
“Be a champion,” Wil gasped to Loretta before turning to Sherriff Dodge. “Can we please see the eagle wing that was in the sauna this morning?”
“I suppose so. Just wrapping up here. I'll meet ya at my police cruiser behind the lodge in ten,” Sheriff Dodge said.
The kids leaned against the Sheriff's police car, waiting while the midday sun reflected off what was left of the snow.
“Uncle Lennie said the syrup only gets good when the mud gets deep,” Bee said.
“He’s up to his whiskers now,” Wil replied.
Just then, Sheriff Dodge walked up, greeted the kids, and unlocked his cruiser. He removed a plastic cooler from the back. Inside was the small chunk of the ice wing they had found in the sauna. Sheriff Dodge handed the chunk to Bee.
“Well, Wil,” Bee said, passing the ice to him. “Could you please do the honors, Sir Tastes-a-lot?”
“I do appreciate when you use my official title,” Wil said.
“You three get a kick out of wasting my time, don’t you?” Sheriff Dodge said coolly.
Wil smiled at Dodge and took a big bite, crunching the brittle ice between his molars.
“Ice-eating is one of his few abilities. It’d be a shame to waste it,” Claire said to Sherriff Dodge as Wil closed his eyes and let the ice melt in his mouth.
“Ah ha!” Wil said, gagging a little. “This can’t be from Thor’s sculpture. It tastes like pure swamp water. Thor's eagle is made of pure maple sap, Officer Dodge. Also, I may need to be treated for a brain freeze.”
“As I suspected!” Bee declared.
“What? That Wil has a brain?” Claire asked.
"No! That someone planted that fake wing to set up Uncle Lennie and Loretta,” Bee said.
“I’ll need to get this evidence to the station,” Sheriff Dodge said. “If you’re correct, we’ll have the Chief here stat. You kids take one of my walkie talkies and stay close by.”
Sheriff Dodge then jumped into his cruiser and roared out of the driveway, leaving a cloud of dust behind him. Bee, Claire, and Wil stood in shock until Wil’s grumbling stomach broke the silence.
“Say no more,” Bee said. “I've got a bag of pizza goldfish in the cabin for emergencies like this.”
“I’ve found it’s mathematically impossible to solve a maple mystery on an empty stomach,” Wil replied.
Bee and Claire smiled as they walked back to their cabins.
“I’m not sure who we can trust around here.” Bee said. “Let's grab the grub and keep moving.”
“Maybe ski a lap on the Northern trail?” Claire proposed.
“Sounds fine,” Wil replied. “I don’t eat grubs though.”
Chapter 11
THE RAVINE
Bee, Claire, and Wil filled their pockets with snacks and quickly laced up their ski boots. They glided over the hilly terrain skiing toward the Northern cliff. They glided past rock cairns, ducking under blue plastic tubing and branches. The leafless maple trees were all connected with lines running away from them downhill toward the back of the icehouse.
Wil, leading the way, suddenly stopped, frozen in his tracks.
“Leg cramp?” Claire asked.
Wil put his hand in the air. There was silence. Bee and Claire now saw what Wil saw. Ahead, in the middle of the trail was a pack of six coyotes pulling on a blood-stained rabbit. The hungry animals growled as they fought over the food. Ears back and teeth showing, the coyotes noticed the kids and turned toward them, ignoring their meal. Suddenly, the coyotes launched themselves toward the kids, sprinting.
“Follow me! Quick!” Wil shouted, pushing his poles into the snow and jumping the bank bordering the trail. He barrelled into the abyss that was the Eastern ravine. Claire and Bee moved swiftly to follow him. They could hear him sneezing as he twisted down the slope. As Bee and Claire moved to escape the coyotes, Claire’s leather camera case snagged a honeysuckle branch, stopping her. Bee instantly realized that Claire was stuck with the coyotes closing in. Bee stretched as far as she could and unclipped Claire’s metal buckle, leaving her photo album and camera in the snow. Now free, the girls pushed themselves down the hill, accelerating faster and faster, slaloming through the thin birch trees. They could hear the snapping teeth of the wild dogs behind them. Bee yelled “More speed, please!” as they caught up to Wil.
“On it!” Wil yelled as he tucked lower and led them down a deer highway through thick brush and vines. Behind them, a flash of gray-red feathers crashed into the nose of the lead dog. The coyote yelped.
“We’re losing ‘em!” Bee called out.
“Big stream ahead! Any non-food related suggestions for stopping?” Wil asked.
“Take the tips of your skis and put them together so they look like a pizz...like a TRIANGLE!” Claire yelled into the wind while carving around rocks.
Wil’s ski tips came together, stopping him inches from a row of cedar trees. The trees lined the edge of a cold mountain stream. Deer hooves had packed the snow under the tree boughs. Claire and Bee came to a sliding, sideways stop, spraying Wil. The three kids looked up the hill behind them. The coyotes were nowhere to be seen.
“Wil! You actually stopped!” Bee said, catching her breath.
“It’s much easier when I’m not attempting to bake a pizza,” Wil replied. “Where’d your photos go Claire?”
“They’re up the hill with my camera. Can you help me get them?” Claire asked as she turned back. Suddenly they heard a familiar ‘POP!’, ‘POP!’ sound.
“Claire. Wait! Thor’s Jeep!” Wil exclaimed. “It’s gotta be!”
Bee nodded and looked Claire and Wil directly in their eyes. “Whadda ya think? Cuddle with those coyotes or walk straight into Boar’s den?”
“Red-wing blackbirds…unite.” Wil said.
“Let's chase this crow across the sky!” Claire exclaimed.
“Dun. Dun. Duuuuuuun,” Wil added.
Bee turned and led the trio toward the sound of Boar’s Jeep. They scrambled across the babbling stream, soaking their feet. They saw an asphalt driveway beyond a second row of trees. There was a white car parked near a large Victorian house. Painted on the car door was an Evergreen Realty logo. In the distance they heard a low rumble and another ‘POP’, ‘POP!’ from Thor’s engine as his vehicle blasted up the long driveway toward the house. The kids immediately recognized Thor through the windshield. The vehicle pulled an orange utility trailer that looked like a small food truck. Protruding out of the roof of the enclosed trailer was a large freezer unit.
“Looks like the perfect place to keep something cold,” Claire said, grabbing Bee’s arm excitedly.
“The sculpture could be in there!” Bee exclaimed.
“Probably ice cream sandwiches, too,” Wil joked.
As Thor’s Jeep came to a stop, the kids laid flat on the ground, shoulder to shoulder, behind a large, twisted tree. They heard his Jeep door open then slam shut. Next, they heard the porch stairs creak as someone came to greet Thor.
“Where ya been?” They heard Alice Evergreen ask.
“Stay cool, Alice,” Thor responded. “The reporters at your new campground couldn't get enough of me. Lennie’s finally toast. Ya got my cash?"
"Hush you big oaf, I'm not paying you in broad daylight. Get in the house,” Alice said as she carried a tall roll of building plans under her right arm.
Claire was on her belly, thinking of the photos she could be taking and cursing the coyotes. Once Alice and Thor entered the house, the kids ran behind his mobile freezer and took turns pulling on the metal handle of the insulated rear door.
“Nobody messes with my family,” Bee said through gritted teeth as she pulled. “If that sculpture is still around, this could be our last chance to find it!”
"Bee, he's got a combo lock on here,” Wil said as he tugged at the metal lock. “It’s no use."
“What could the code to the lock be?" Claire asked, looking around for clues.
"If you were Thor, what whould you choose?" Bee asked.
“Something that proved how smart I was,” Claire said.
“I’m just questioning how smart we are, hanging out by his igloo,” Wil said. “It’s officially getting dangerous. I say we head back to the lodge ASAP.”
“Teammates!” Bee said. “Just think for a second. If we don't solve this, there might not be a lodge.”
As Bee said this, Claire scanned the area and noticed two bumper stickers on the back of the freezer door. The first bumper sticker said:
The second one said:
“I won three Tutu’s?” Claire said, tapping her forehead.
“Yeah, Loretta said he won a bunch of trophies at the Tutu Bay competition,” Wil said. “Sounds like a fashion show to me.”
“Thanks, now I’m picturing Thor in a tutu,” Bee said.
“Look at the logo closer, you tutus!” Claire interjected. “I think Thor left a clue in broad daylight.”
“The combo lock requires 5 numbers, not letters, Claire,” Wil said.
“Look closer. I could be the Roman numeral for 1,” Claire said.
“Won might be 1,” Bee said.
“Let me guess. Three is 3?” Wil said.
“Yes! and Tutu's is two 2’s! Twenty two!” Claire exclaimed.
“One. One. Three. Two. Two. Quick, let’s give it a try,” Claire said.
Wil put the 5-digit code into the combination lock, then pulled. It opened with a satisfying click.
“For the record, you two are geniususes or genie’s or geraniums or…well you're both very intelligent, okay?” Wil said.
“If we ever make it home, you’ll need to write that down,” Claire said.
Wil nodded and removed the freshly cracked lock. Together, the kids pulled on the handle and swung the door open.
“Oh. My. Gosh,” Bee whispered.
The fog of cold air swirled and cleared, revealing the magnificent sculpture. The frozen eagle appeared as if by magic. Bee, Claire, and Wil stood, stunned.
“Gotta radio Sheriff Dodge. That rascal Thor stole his own sculpture,” Bee said as they stepped into the trailer.
Claire grabbed the police walkie talkie and pushed the side button shakily. She said, “Sheriff Dodge, come in. Come in. Come in!” Static crackled on the line as they heard heavy footsteps outside the trailer.
“Sheriff Dodge, we're not goofin’,” Wil whispered, “We’re in danger...”
The transmission cut in and out, but through the static, they heard someone reply, “What’s…your… location?”
“Hold on a second,” Claire said, reaching for the photo album that was always at her hip. Her hand grabbed air as she realized that the album was still in the ravine. She wanted to see a photo that she’d taken the day before. The one of Bee and Wil posing in front of Loretta’s general store.
“Do you remember the photo I took of you on the patio at Loretta’s store?” Claire said.
“Claire, this isn’t the right time for reminiscing,” Wil whispered. “We need to tell Dodge where we are.”
Cold air from the refrigerated trailer transformed Wil’s breath into a white cloud. Claire held her hands up to her face and imagined the camera viewfinder in front of her right eye. She imagined the pressure of it against her eyebrow and nose. She took herself back to the bus stop and the geese honking in the sky and the poster from Evergreen Realty taped to the stained glass window. Alice’s address had been printed at the bottom of the top poster and Claire could nearly see it in her mind now. She picked up the walkie talkie.
“Sheriff Dodge! We’re at 37 Ravine Run Road. Come quickly!” There was a garbled crackle of words, followed by silence. The footsteps coming from outside the trailer were louder now. Bee spun the volume dial to zero, silencing the walking talkie.
Chapter 12
BOAR’S DEN
“Guys! Quick! Hide behind the eagle,” Claire whispered.
The kids dove behind the sculpture, shaking from the arctic air and the thought of Thor finding them. Wil still had the combination lock in his hand. As their hearts thumped, the doors swung wide open, blasting bright sunlight into the freezer. Thor’s wide shadow stretched into the trailer, ending at the foot of the frozen eagle. Wil grabbed his nose and closed his eyes. His face turned red. Claire and Bee took one look and realized what often came in the face of danger.
"aaaaAAAACHOOOO!" Wil sneezed powerfully, rocking the eagle back and forth. Thor flicked on the light and immediately saw the kids on the floor.
“You kids made a colossal mistake messing with my stuff,” Thor said.
Bee took a deep breath and stood up defiantly.
“I disagree.” Bee said, ”You made it look like Uncle Lennie and Loretta stole the eagle, didn't you?"
“Who cares now? The Frozen Fir is finished and Lennie’s going to jail,” Thor said.
“We care,” Bee declared as Claire and Wil stood up beside her. “You tried to ruin Uncle Lennie and Aunt Bazil’s business so they’d be forced to sell their land to Alice, didn't you?"
“You three are too curious for your own good. You won't feel so smart when you’re in a snowbank with nothing but a silly story and frostbite. Meanwhile, I'll be three thousand miles down the road.”
Just then, Wil heard the slightest whisper of a footstep outside and saw what appeared to be the shadow of a police officer behind Thor.
Wil stood a little taller and said, “Thor, you're right. We surrender. What's that in your pockets, though?”
Thor smiled and patted the thick envelopes spilling from both pockets and said, “Just a little spending cash from Alice.”
Suddenly the kid’s faces lit up in relief. With Thor’s hands down at his sides, Officer Dodge clicked well-worn handcuffs around his big wrists from behind.
“Goodness! Took ya long enough Sheriff!” Wil shouted as Thor struggled against the cold steel.
“Made it here as fast as I could, kids. Today’s been extra wonky, if I’m being honest,” Sheriff Dodge said before hauling Boar into the back seat of his police cruiser.
“You're in plenty of trouble, Mr. Svenson. Feel like hearing your rights?” Sheriff Dodge asked Thor as the kids took turns high fiving each other.
“This is all Alice's fault!” Boar shouted. “She paid me to do it! She even mailed the five grand to Lennie to set it up! How in the world did you find me here?”
Just as Thor said this, Wil saw Alice slinking out of the house toward her company car, attempting to sneak away.
“She's gettin' away!” Wil yelled.
Just as Alice opened her car door, another officer jumped from behind a tree and placed her in handcuffs, guiding her to another cruiser.
“We’ll need to have a chat with you too, Alice. The crime lab just called to inform us that the anonymous prize money was fake. I bet you can guess whose prints were all over the phony cash,” the second officer said.
“Thor’s?” Alice asked sheepishly.
“I’ll give ya a hint. I’m looking at her,” The officer said as she stared at Alice.
Bee, Claire, and Wil's mouths opened in amazement. They hopped in the third cruiser, tossing Loretta’s skis and poles in the trunk as the sirens blared and blue lights flashed.
“Don't forget to load the sculpture!” Bee shouted out his window to the others. “Uncle Lennie's not gonna believe this!”
________________
Back at the lodge, Bee, Claire, and Wil hopped out of the police car and immediately saw their parents running toward them. Aunt Bazil, worried about the unfolding events, had called the three families and they carpooled over as quickly as they could.
“You're okay!” Claire's mom said before wrapping her in a bear hug.
“What happened?” Bee's Dad asked.
“Simple,” Wil said. “Bee’s mom dropped us off at the bus station and then we made a little syrup.”
“We also met Kardy,” Claire added.
“Oh, yeah.” Wil added. “We met a bird hero.”
Loretta was smiling near the lodge after receiving 1st place for her polar bear sculpture. They all cheered as Uncle Lennie jogged up to the group, eyes twinkling after hearing that the kids were safe.
“Anyone feel like making a little more syrup?” Uncle Lennie asked.
“Absolutely!” the kids replied. They walked past the lodge, the lake, and tiny cabins to the gray icehouse. When Lennie opened the doors, clouds of steam tumbled out.
“Sheriff Dodge, would you do the honors?” Uncle Lennie asked.
“Sure thing,” Sheriff Dodge replied as he reached behind him. “I might need a little help lifting this slippery eagle. Can you kids give me a hand?”
The kids huddled together and lowered the frozen eagle into the boiling sap. Everyone watched as the sculpture shrunk and slowly evaporated into steam.
“You headed back to the station, Sheriff Dodge?” Bee asked once the eagle was gone.
“Yeah. There’s a camera and photo album that needs rescuing first, though. Why?” Sheriff Dodge replied.
“We owe Alice and Thor some syrup for their frozen sap donation here. Think you could bring ‘em a quart or two?” Bee said.
Sheriff Dodge picked up the two containers of syrup and saw that Bee had taped a note to one of the jugs. Lennie saw it too and read it aloud:
Lennie approached his niece with a concerned look on his face.
“You want Alice and Thor to come back here?” Lennie asked.
“Eventually,” Bee said.
“They’re despicable,” Lennie replied.
“I’ve never been great at holding grudges.” Bee said. “A knot tied too long forgets that it’s rope.”
Lennie took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment.
“Fire makes some things sweeter,” he replied.
Bee didn’t hear him, though. She was gone, buzzing through the meadow with her friends.