The Wishing Star by Marian Wells Read Free Book Online

she saw the men. Tom and Joe were the only ones she recognized, but the rest were very ordinary. They looked like farmers from the area.
    Jen, you got your hopes up, didn’t ya? she thought in disgust, even as common sense reminded her that the vision of satin capes and plumed velvet hats didn’t have a place in this snowy forest. They were found only in books—and in Jenny’s dreams. But she couldn’t help her disappointed sigh.
    For just a moment she dared to hope all those secret and glorious things in her father’s book were about to take place before her very eyes. Then pictures of demons, especially of the one with a head like a goat, rose in her mind, and she shuddered involuntarily. If the book weren’t evil, as Pa had said, why did she become fearful thinking about the mysterious dark words?
    But fascination overcame her fear. Almost immediately Jenny heard the bleat of a lamb. Then a voice, “All right, Smith, here ’tis.” Surely that voice belonged to Mr. Stowell.
    She parted the bushes and eased herself forward just far enough to see the clearing. The group worked in silence. Several of the men shoveled debris, while others chopped dead branches out of the way.
    Joe was showing Tom how to cut long stakes. Someone handed Joe a shiny sword, which he used to mark a wide circle around the diggings. Jenny’s breath came faster as he marked a second circle. It was just like Pa’s book!
    â€œWhy ya doin’ two of ’em?” asked the man beside him.
    â€œInstructions,” Joe said tersely. “Now, lemme have the stakes. They’re to keep off the evil spirits while we do the digging. See, we weren’t careful enough last time. The enchantment is more powerful than we thought. Must mean there’s more money down there than we’d guessed.” Jenny felt the excitement run through the group.
    Joe stood back to watch the last stake being placed, then he turned and disappeared. While Jenny stirred restlessly on the canvas bags, she again heard the bleat of the lamb. Suddenly there was an anguished squeal, and Joe appeared carrying the lamb. She watched with mingled pity and horror as he moved into the inner circle and marched slowly around carrying the struggling, bleeding lamb.
    The men were waiting silently. The only sound was the low murmuring Joe was doing as he finished marching around, dripping the blood. When the lamb was quiet and limp, he nodded his head.
    Now the men jumped for their tools and moved to the center of the circle. The group was still silent; only the sound of shovels against the earth broke the quiet of the night. When one grated against stone, Jenny rubbed her face and licked her lips. Edging nearer, she leaned breathlessly over the incline.
    A shovel clunked woodenly, and a voice cried, “There’s somethin’ there!”
    â€œOh!” Jenny’s cry of alarm rose to a scream as the branch she had grabbed snapped and she flew down the slope.
    Sliding to a stop, she cautiously opened her eyes. A ring of muddy boots surrounded her. A man loomed above her, arm uplifted. Jenny gasped. The sword! She stared in horror, not daring to move, but deep inside she knew Pa’s book was coming alive before her eyes.
    The group about her was silent, motionless. Now she heard a sigh of resignation close to her ear and felt Tom’s arms lifting her. “You all right, Jen?” She nodded mutely, looking from Tom’s sober face to Joe’s scowling one.
    â€œWell, I guess that just about fixed it but good; we’ll never be able to get the thing now.” He looked around the group. “Fellas, let’s go home,” he said shortly.
    From the shelter of Tom’s arms, Jenny watched the silent group gather their tools in disgust and disappear behind the curtain of falling snow. It seemed like a dream. Nearly. At that moment she caught another glimpse of the crumpled, blood-smeared lamb beside the