Rogue's Hollow by Jan Tilley Read Free Book Online Page A

“I’m kidding. I was just messing with you. I don’t have my nipples pierced, but have you ever heard of a Prince Albert?”
    Malachi placed his reading glasses on the bridge of his nose and replied, “Actually, I have. He’s the Prince of Monaco, I believe. That’s the only Prince Albert that I wish to know about. Now, back to work!”
    Travis smiled, and then hesitantly said, “Hey, Malachi, can I ask you something?”
    Malachi nodded. “Sure. Ask me anything.”
    “What happened to your finger?”
    Looking down, Malachi rubbed the stump of his index finger on his right hand. “Ah, potato picker. Sliced it clean off at the knuckle when I was ten years old.”
    “Did it hurt real bad?”
    “Honestly, I don’t even remember it. Maybe I blacked out like you did. Never did find the finger, either. I would love to have had it in a jar to show off to my friends when I was a kid. Most of them called me stumpy after that. I got used to it. They all moved on with their lives and the nickname was long forgotten. To be honest, I kinda miss it.”
    Picking up a couple of the pieces of wood from the ground, Malachi wiped them off on his flannel shirt. He looked at Travis over the top rim of his glasses. “Ever done any whittling?”
    “Nope, never. But, I’d like to try it.”
    Malachi took two carving knives from his tool box and handed one to Travis. “Be careful with this now, these are razor sharp. It gets hard working with small pieces like this. I’ve taken some pretty good chunks out of my fingers when the knife slips. Not that you would probably even notice, with your high pain tolerance and all.” He grinned at Travis.
    He looked over at Malachi and felt surprisingly proud of himself. “What do I carve?”
    “Whatever strikes your fancy. But, try to carve away from your body.” Malachi shared his insights with Travis. “Whittlers believe that the wood will speak to you. The design already exists, trapped deep within the grain. It is the whittler's mission to let it out. Sometimes I carve a design, or some sort of pattern. If I’m real lazy and uninspired, I just carve a cross on it. Folks seem to love the religious stuff, makes them feel extra protected out here at night.”
    Travis went straight to work carving his amulet. He studied it with intensity, and then slowly slid the knife over the wood with great caution.
    Malachi couldn’t help but smile as he watched the focus on the young man’s face as he accepted this task with great honor.
    Travis began his carving adventure with his annoying, twitching leg. But soon, he realized that it was not possible to carve accurately with the constant jittering. Unconsciously, his leg calmed and eventually stopped shaking all together.
    Malachi watched patiently as the nervous young man eagerly transformed into a confident carver. He gave Travis tips and hints on carving and he lapped them up like a thirsty hound dog on a hot July day.
    The smell of fresh cut wood filled the air as Travis worked that slice down to a nub. He carved an interesting woven, crisscross design that was quite unique.
    Malachi inspected the finished piece and praised him, “Excellent job, Travis. I couldn’t have done better myself.”
    The young man brushed straggling bangs from his face and smiled. “Really? Do you think it’s any good?”
    “No, it’s not good, Travis. It’s great! A real work of art, son. Good job.” Malachi patted him on the back and handed it to him. “You keep this. This is your amulet. Your good luck charm and protector.”
    Travis took the piece in his hand and rubbed it, as though he were making a wish. His face lit up as he looked at Malachi and said, “Thanks. It’s really cool.”
    As Malachi turned to grab a can of linseed oil, he couldn’t help but smile at how excited Travis was about the amulet. He picked up a rag and showed his young friend how to rub the oil on the wood to protect it. The grain darkened and the details emerged in the