The Mystery of the Tomahawk Pipe

by Jeff Darnell

Overview

It is 1924, and the small town of Monticello, Indiana, offers little excitement to sixteen-year-old Emmett Trentham and fifteen-year-old Billy Mac Finch who usually have to create their own brand of entertainment. But when the teenagers stumble onto a decaying log cabin hidden deep in scrub, everything changes.

As Emmo and Mackie explore the inside of the cabin, they hurl bricks at the fireplace, creating a large hole that reveals a secret room. After they slip into the tiny dark crack to investigate further, they are surprised by Maddie Miller, the great-granddaughter of the cabin's owner, who has arrived after hearing the loud noises. As soon as the three friends discover an old Indian tomahawk pipe and a hand-drawn treasure map, they begin unraveling a perplexing mystery that includes the great Shawnee leader Tecumseh and a real-life legend of buried Indian treasure.

In this adventurous historical tale, Emmo, Mackie, and Maddie enter an unfamiliar world of ghosts, suspense, betrayal, and danger as they begin an unforgettable journey to help fulfill an ancient promise.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781475942200
Publisher:	iUniverse, Incorporated
Publication date:	08/13/2012
Pages:	172
Product dimensions:	5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.56(d)

Read an Excerpt

The Mystery of the Tomahawk Pipe

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By Jeff Darnell

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2012 Jeff Darnell
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-4218-7

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Chapter One

June 6, 1924 Monticello, Indiana

Emmett waited in the dark of the night and then finally whispered, "Mackie!" He waited a few moments more, peered around the corner of the shed, cupped his hands, and in a louder whisper called again. "Mackie! Come on." He pulled back around the corner, sat on the ground, and waited.

"I'm comin'," a voice answered from across the way. A few seconds later, a short, stout boy shuffled through the tall grass and plopped down next to Emmett behind the shed. Billy Mac was huffing and puffing, so Emmett let the younger boy catch his breath.

The ground was cool, and Emmett could feel the damp through his dungarees.

"We probably don't have to be so skittish," he said. "There's no moon. It's dark back here in the trees. He probably can't see us from inside the house."

"Don't hurt to be careful," Billy Mac mumbled.

Emmett bent forward, knee-walked to his corner of the shed, and looked at the house. It was all lit up and easy enough to see a man walk from room to room carrying boxes.

"What're you thinkin' of doing, Emmo?" Billy Mac asked. He sounded a little nervous.

"Don't know, Mackie. Maybe nothing. Just looking. You all right?"

"Look, Emmo," Billy Mac said, "I know you're sore at Skinner for what happened to Maddie."

"So?" Emmett countered without turning around.

"So he just didn't know nobody," Billy Mac argued. "He'd just got to town—barely made it to the new schoolhouse in time for the dedication and social. He was just tryin' to make polite conversation. I don't think he meant to embarrass her in front of everyone."

Emmett didn't answer. He studied Skinner's house, watching the new resident.

"Look," Billy Mac said, "he's gonna be the principal when the schoolhouse opens in the fall. I just don't think we should be stalkin' him! Besides, you ever seen Maddie when she couldn't take care of herself?"

Emmett didn't answer again but turned and looked at Billy Mac. Billy Mac sat there, a frown on his face, kicking at a pile of sawdust. Emmett grinned to himself.

The truth was, in his sixteen years, Emmett Trentham couldn't remember a time in his life when Billy Mac Finch had not been around. Neither had brothers or sisters, and they had simply gravitated toward each other at some young age. Emmett's natural love of books and curiosity made schooling easy for him, so through the years he had often helped the slightly younger boy, who struggled with his studies. He knew Billy Mac accepted him as the unspoken leader of the two. He often laughed and poked fun at Billy Mac's more solemn demeanor.

"He must've just had this shed built," Billy Mac mumbled, still kicking at a pile of sawdust.

Emmett shook his head, amused at Billy Mac's cautious nature, and then turned back to study the house.

"Hey, Emmo! This ain't a shed. It's an outhouse—look!"

Emmett turned around. "Huh? What?" he asked. He edged back over and sat down.

Billy Mac held up a piece of scrap wood he had picked out of the sawdust. He handed it to Emmett. It was shaped like a crescent moon.

Emmett looked at Billy Mac and moved his eyebrows up and down a few times. "It sure is," he said. "Well, what do you know? A new outhouse."

"What're you thinkin', Emmo?"

"Skinner moved to town a few days ago, right?" Emmett said. "He doesn't know the yard out here that well yet. Especially if he just had this baby built." He patted the wall of the outhouse. "It's not settled into the ground yet. Should be easy to move. We're going to just scoot it back a few feet," he said with a smile.

"We can't do that," Billy Mac said. "What if he falls in?"

"So what if he does?" Emmett replied. "It's a brand new pit. There's nothing down this hole that's going to hurt him. It's not been used enough—maybe not used at all yet." He scooted back to the corner and looked at the house. Skinner was still sorting boxes.

After a minute, Emmett went back and sat down. Billy Mac still had a frown on his face.

"Look, Mackie," he began, "remember last year when I was sick and missed so much school? I sat by that window in my bedroom and read everything Ms. Lee would send over from the library. Well, there was a new book about a fat little bear that ate honey all the time. He had this rabbit friend that lived in a tree. One day the bear is visiting the rabbit inside the tree and eats so much honey that when he goes to leave he gets stuck crawling through the hole to get out. Skinner's the same way. He's so fat that he won't fall into the privy pit. At worst, he'll just get stuck." He smiled to himself. "Wouldn't that be a sight!"

Billy Mac sighed. "I don't know."

"Come on, Mackie. We're not tearing anything up." Emmett continued. "We're just moving something. Skinner will blame the workers for not putting the privy over the hole when they finished."

"Okay, okay," Billy Mac said. "Wanna do it tonight or tomorrow night?"

"Well, where's your pa tonight, at home or down at the jailhouse?" Emmett asked.

"Jailhouse," Billy Mac answered. "Won't be home for a while since it's Friday night. He's got late rounds to make. Is your ma home?"

Emmett looked through the trees and across the street to the far corner. It was pitch black. "Doesn't look like it. She's still at the Strand. Some singing group's coming through. She heard them on that new tube radio she bought for the theater. Went down early to make sure everything is set up right. She'll stay until it's over with." He turned back to study the house. "They got a guy named Bing that's really supposed to be something. Why would you give a kid a name like that?"

"I don't know," Billy Mac mumbled. "Look, if we're gonna do this, let's do it. You get that corner, and I'll take this one. We'll try to pull it back."

Several minutes and twelve inches later, Emmett plopped back on the ground; Billy Mac did the same beside him.

"Dang thing's heavier than it looks," Emmett puffed between breaths. "Criminy!"

He stretched out on the ground. The cool earth felt good. The crickets were getting loud.

"Wonder why Skinner moved up here to start with?" Billy Mac asked. "Why didn't he just stay in Lafayette?"

Emmett sat up. "'To foster the broadening of young horizons and to ameliorate the milieu and curriculum allowing them to do so,' according to Mr. Bausman down at the Herald. He interviewed Skinner last week." He looked at Billy Mac and smiled.

Billy Mac shook his head at Emmett. "How do you know all this stuff, Emmo? You know more about everything than anybody I ever met."

"I read." Emmett shrugged.

He stood up and peeked at the house. "Okay, let's finish this. I don't see Skinner moving around in there anymore. Let's get around in front and see if we can push it easier than pulling it."

Crouching low, each took a front corner.

"Wait a minute," Billy Mac said. He took his cap off, threw it on the ground, and wiped his forehead. "Okay."

"I'll push my side first," Emmett whispered. "Then you do your side and we'll work it back and forth. Here we go—umph!"

"It's movin'. It's movin'," Billy Mac grunted.

"Keep going," Emmett said. "Just a little further ... a little more ... a little more ... keep going. That's it! Hold it right there. Wow! Would you look at that?!"

In the dark of night, the pit was just a two-foot-wide black spot on the ground. The door of the outhouse was a few long steps beyond.

"C'mon. Let's sit down for a minute," Emmett said, and he walked back behind the privy.

Billy Mac followed and sat next to him. He picked up the wooden moon. "Okay, so tell me this: Why do they cut holes shaped like moons in outhouses?"

"The short version," Emmett replied with a smile, "is that you have to have a hole for fresh air and light. In the old days when most people couldn't read, the holes for male privies were star-shaped and holes for female privies had moon shapes—so they could tell 'his' and 'hers' apart. I guess most men didn't bother making the trip to the john; they'd just go behind a tree. After a while they stopped making separate privies for men. So now they all just have a moon."

Billy Mac just shook his head.

Emmett smiled. "I read it in Popular Mechanics. Come on. Let's get out of here."

Emmett led the way as they walked through the trees, careful to stay in the shadows.

"Wait, I gotta get my hat," Billy Mac said behind him.

Emmett turned and saw the boy trot back to the outhouse. He followed, and as he slipped around the corner of the outhouse, he watched Bill Mac step into the dark circle of the pit and disappear with a cry.

"Aaarrrggghhh!"

"What the—oh, rats!" Emmett whispered as he ran up. "Be quiet. Be still." He crouched down next to the hole.

A dog barked in the distance. After a minute it quit and all Emmett could hear was crickets.

"Mackie, you okay?" Emmett whispered down into the hole.

"Yeah," Billy Mack whispered back. "Scraped up a bit. My nose is bleedin'. I'm gonna kill you when I get out, Emmo!"

"Rats!" Emmett cried. "I can't believe you fell in!" Then he added, "How deep is it? Hold your hands up."

Two hands stuck up out of the ground.

"Emmo, this pit is not completely unused," Billy Mac groaned. "Get me out of here! Now!"

"Okay, okay," Emmett replied. He straddled the hole, one foot on each side, and reached down to grab Billy Mac's hands. "He had all those workers in and out of the house for all those days. I guess it must have been them that used it. Okay, on three, you jump and I'll pull so you can get up on the edge and work your way out. One ... two ... three! Humph!" He grunted as he pulled Billy Mac up.

Billy Mac crawled out, rolled over, and lay on his back. He pinched his nose together.

"Still bleeding?" Emmett asked. He crouched down beside the younger boy. "How bad is it?"

"Gnot du mush, I tink," Billy Mac mumbled. "Lemme lay 'ere fur a mint."

Emmett sat quietly for a minute and then said, "You sure are scraped up. We've got to do something about your clothes and ... oh, rats! Where's your other shoe?!"

Billy Mac sat up and felt around on the ground. "I don't know. Gotta be here somewhere, or else—Emmo! I ain't going back down there!" he whispered.

"You have to, Mackie. You can't let Skinner find your shoe down there."

"I ain't going back down there, Emmo!"

"There's no other way to get it. We can't fish it out with a stick. You can't see the bottom from up here. You've got to."

"I ain't going back down there. I just ain't!"

A dog barked again in the distance. Finally, Emmett said, "Okay, Mackie, okay. The only thing we can do is push the privy back to where it was and then throw some leaves down there to cover it up. Then we'll go down to the creek and get you and your clothes cleaned up a little. You'll have to hide them someplace until they dry and you can sneak 'em into wash day." He stood up. "C'mon."

"I'm gonna kill you, Emmo," Billy Mac grow led as he dragged himself to his feet.

The boys walked home from the creek. They'd tossed the other shoe into the creek and scrubbed the muck off of Billy Mac. Emmett grinned as he watched the boy gingerly walk on the gravel in his bare feet. Billy Mac looked like an unhappy drowned rat.

They crept through the alley to Billy Mac's back porch. Billy Mac went up the steps, and just as he opened the screen door to go in, Emmett asked, "Mackie, you have your hat?"

"Yes, Emmo, I got my stupid hat. Just shut up."

Emmett paused and then asked, "Wonder what we can do to Skinner now to make up for Maddie?"

Billy Mac looked at him, waved him off, and turned to go in. "Leave it alone, Emmo. Just leave it be." He went in and quietly closed the door behind him.

Emmett stood there for a minute and then chuckled as he turned back to the alley. What a night!

Chapter Two

Billy Mac reached under the hen, slowly pulled out a brown egg, and put it in his bucket. Okay, just eight more. He took a few steps, bent over—winced—and reached under another hen. It hurt to stretch. His fall into the pit the night before had bruised him up. He thought about the night before. Wonder where Emmo is? He shoulda been 'round by now. He couldn't be in trouble with Skinner or else I'da been called out, too. I'll find him after I drop these eggs off.

Billy Mac finished gathering the eggs, picked up the first bucket he had already filled, and carried them both out of the hen house through the fence gate and across the yard. He walked into the house and put both buckets on the kitchen counter and then pumped water to fill each. He filled a third, empty bucket too. After the eggs soaked, he rubbed them one by one, cleaning the fluff and debris off them. Then he dipped each egg into the bucket of clean water to rinse them. He dried each with a wash rag and lit a candle. One by one he passed each egg across the front of the flame. The candlelight created a soft glow through the translucent shells. Billy Mac looked at each egg for hairline cracks. Finding none, he put them in twelve-count boxes. Perfect. With those from yesterday, that's twelve dozen eggs. Mr. Morris will be happy to have these.

He carried in some stove wood and corncobs, stacked them in the box, checked the kerosene levels in the lanterns, got the eggs from the day before out of the ice box, and checked to see if a new block of ice was needed. Billy Mac then went to the table, picked up his sketch pad, looked at the outhouse he had drawn on it, and shook his head. I'm gonna kill Emmo.

Billy Mac secretly wished he could be more like his friend—taller and thinner, well-kept instead of his own disheveled appearance. Emmett could talk properly, and people just naturally liked him. He was easygoing and quick to laugh. Billy Mac had only seen him angry a few times; Emmett's good nature could turn on a dime in the face of blatant injustice. A stray dog or cat that unwittingly wound up in the clutches of a prankster would find a resolute ally in Emmett.

Billy Mac closed the sketch pad, put it and his pencils into his backpack, slung it onto his back, and then picked up the eggs to take to Morris's Market.

He pushed the screen door out with his backside, let the spring pop it back—catching it with his foot so it didn't slam too hard—turned, walked down the porch steps, and then walked along the bluff towards town and Morris's. He looked down at the Tippecanoe River. No boats. Quiet down there today.

As he approached the new school building on his right, he stopped in the dirt road and glanced across the street at the Skinners' house. He looked to the backyard and then out into the trees at the back of the lot. The new outhouse was sitting pretty as could be with the crescent moon on the front door as if it were mocking him. Billy Mac shook his head and the thought of being in the pit riled him, again.

"Hey, Mackie!" The voice startled Billy Mac back to the present, and he almost dropped his twelve cartons of eggs. He looked around but didn't see anyone.

"Hey, Mackie! Up here!"

Billy Mac looked up and there was Emmett grinning and waving to him from Principal Skinner's second-floor window.

Oh, no! What's he done, now? "Emmo! What're you doin' up there?" Billy Mac shouted. "Jeezus! Did you do somethin' to—"

"No, no." Emmett smiled and waved his hands back and forth. "Everything's fine. Look, meet me at the front door."

Billy Mac walked up the steps. The door opened and there stood Emmett with a smile on his face. "C'mon in. No one's here."

"Emmo, you can't be goin' into Skinner's house when he's not—," Billy Mac started.

"It's okay. I'm supposed to be in here." Emmett cut him off. "C'mon. Come in so I can close the door." He ushered Billy Mac in.

"Wow! He's sure got a lot of stuff, don't he?" Billy Mac commented, looking around at all the boxes that hadn't been unpacked yet. He walked around and looked down the hall. "Man, look at all the plaster work. What a place! This has got to be one of the nicest places in town."

"Yeah," Emmett replied. "Ma volunteered me to help him; she said we should be making some extra money. Now that the first dam is done and we're finally going to get some electricity, she wants to buy some of those new gizmos I've read about. She wants one of those floor sweepers and an electric iron. And a radio like she has down at the Strand so she can listen at night from home. Ackerman's Music Shop has them now."

"I know," Billy Mac said. "Pa wants a 'lectric ice box. And some 'lectric lights so he can read better. Drives him nuts to have 'em down at the jailhouse and not at home." These lights they got in here sure are nice. He reached over and flicked a switch a few times.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from The Mystery of the Tomahawk Pipe by Jeff Darnell Copyright © 2012 by Jeff Darnell. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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