Where Crusades Begin: A Sequel to The Coming of the Stonewalls

By Bernadette Richards

All was silent for several moments. Hank glanced up and saw that all the others were now gathered close by in excited fright, holding candles or standing in their encircling light. He took a deep breath and found that the smoke was already vanishing upon the chill air, making it clean and moist to breathe once again. The grass beneath him was wet and clammy, and he felt it seeping into the knees of his blue jeans as he knelt upon it. He glanced down and saw Mick lying flat on his back, gazing up into the dark sky with eyes that saw nothing but the memory of a blinding flash. Angus was beside him, resting a moment on hands and knees, to catch his trembling breath.

"Well, that was something," muttered Hank softly.

The story of the Stonewalls continues. Stonewall One's three cousins from Wisconsin are now to move in with the Brennans: CaseyJane, Angus, and Rusty Finn. It seems the glory of Stonewall life will only increase. Yet trouble already looms upon the horizon. The land of Isle Bri has not forgotten the Stonewalls, and they are not slow to begin a new attack. Angus, the middle of the three cousins, harbors a secret which none can explain. Rumor has it that Prince Liveyreveno has been discovered alive. Stonewall One shall find herself entering the mighty fortress of Sliaolc for the first time, in an attempt to rescue the youngest of her cousins from the scheming lieutenant Flint. Prince Liveyreveno's third officer, the sharpshooting Darowolf is soon to make his first acquaintance with the Stonewalls. But worse than even the outside troubles, there is a growing tension rearing its head among the Stonewall ranks, and none save a valiant few desire to have anything to do with the adventurous title of Stonewall, no matter where they are taken or sent.

And upon the doorstep, they have found a mysterious note from an old friend.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9781638441755

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Where Crusades Begin

A Sequel to The Coming of the Stonewalls

Bernadette Richards

Copyright © 2022 by Bernadette Richards

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

A Token of Rank

A Note and a Story

Travel Well

Enemy Territory

Disguises

In the Fortress

Trapped

In the Tunnels

Where Paths Cross

Daylight

Escapes

Sickness

Isle Bri

Going to War

The Stonewall Ranks

The Families of the Stonewalls

The Brennan Family

Nieve

Rose

The Hogan Family

Jim

Hank

Mick

Bridey

The Mitchell Family

Carrie

Tom

Kate

The Pearce Family

Luke

Keith

Jennie

Clump

Chapter 1

By Way of Introducin’

With a thrill of clatter and a screech of brakes, the mighty train rolled into the station. The soft dusk of early morning, unbroken by even the first light of dawn, hung over the little platform in shades of blue and waking violet. A spurt of noisy steam shot forth from the engine of the locomotive; a porter gave a loud shout with the name of their stop, and from one of the crowded coach cars, a sudden bustle and flurry gave evidence that a new day was already beginning.

For a moment, the train edged and swayed to its final halt, and then the door of this first passenger car was rolled aside. A deluge of hurried, harried folk streamed forth upon the quiet station, in a manner not unlike the opening of a sheep-gate. The passengers scattered to the four winds, and the car they left behind grew calm and stilled once again. Inside this car, there remained only about half a dozen passengers, scattered here and there among the well-ordered foursomes of facing seats. One of these passengers now turned and gazed out upon the softly dawning world, a thoughtful appreciation adding to the charm of his handsome features.

He was a man well advanced in years, his hair a peppered gray and his keen eyes ringed by the crease of many a wise wrinkle. Seventy years or more could easily have lain behind him, but one glance would be enough to see that he was hale and undoubtedly strong for his age. A shrewd, alert purpose in expression showed that he had a mind that moved much quicker than most younger men could guess. For the present, that intent gaze was turned outside, to survey the station’s platform, almost with the air of someone who is waiting for one certain to appear.

A few seats away, opposite the handsome old man, sat another. He watched the old man with a morose, yet expectant air of anticipation. This second fellow was middle-aged, stocky, brutish, and coarse in every detail of his attitude. He was slouched forward in his seat, giving yet a more ungainly look to a suit, which already seemed an ill-fit, and the unpleasant air of his tactless manners showed how different he was from the one whom he watched so closely.

One other passenger seemed worthy of second notice (only because she made a spectacle of herself), and this was a young woman seated in the very rear of the car, juggling a newspaper in one hand, a compact mirror in the other, and apparently, trying to give both an equal amount of her undivided attention.

No one spoke. Yet before the quiet minutes of waiting had passed, one silent communication was made. The old man turned his gaze and looked back at the slouching figure across the aisle, as though he could feel he was being watched. No one could have seen it unless they were watching very closely, but the light of command suddenly glinted in the old man’s eye, and he shook his head just the slightest bit. The brutish fellow straightened himself in his seat at once and turned to look out his window at a world which seemed to hold no interest for him.

The moment of quiet waiting was short-lived. As soon as the herd of departing travelers had vanished, they were replaced by an incoming tide of new arrivals. The train wasn’t going to tarry long at its present stop, and the passengers were ushered aboard in hurried nervousness. The car began to fill rapidly with new faces and fresh commotion.

Find your seat anywhere, but find it quick! called the porter from the door. We shove off in five minutes!

The passengers who had waited through the stop were now obliged to accommodate the newcomers or be trampled in the scuffle, as seats were claimed, bags were heaved and thrown into the upper compartments, coats were removed, and crowded aisles were cleared before a passing railroad official, who only added to the frenzy by ordering everyone to find a seat and sit in it. The handsome old stranger near the window was presently joined by an ordinary looking gentleman, who settled in the seat beside him. For the present, the two seats opposite them remained empty.

Rusty, stop bouncing and hold your bag! cried a sudden youthful voice at the door of the car.

Oh! Angus, look at all ’em seats! They’s all filled up wif folks! Will we fit? Is ye sure we’s on the right train?

You didn’t lose your ticket, did you?

The man in the train-suit took it a’ready, don’ ye remember?

D’you need a hand, little lady? asked the porter at this juncture, as all eyes in the train were now turning upon the noisy trio that had appeared at the door.

Oh yes, thank you, answered the object of this question, smiling somewhat shyly as she became aware of the notice they were attracting.

They were three children, siblings, as anyone could tell, who had caught the interest of the passengers, and that interest was destined to be held. The eldest was a freckled blue-eyed girl of about fourteen, her expression alternating between cheerfulness and flurried responsibility. It seemed as if she would have liked to make friends with every person in the crowded car but didn’t have the time to spare.

Beside her stood a boy, slightly younger, his auburn hair and blue eyes the exact color of his sister’s, and his expression her exact opposite. With every nervous glance, he made it plainer he had the mind of a very shy boy, painfully embarrassed at being the object of attention and quite helpless to remedy the situation. If anyone did notice him, however, it would have only been for a moment, as the third member of the trio inevitably drew all eyes to himself and there held them captive. This third party was a very small boy, with dancing chestnut eyes and curly chestnut hair. He couldn’t have been more than six or seven years old, but it seemed he was trying to fit a year’s activity into each moment as it passed.

Good mornin’, folks! he cried suddenly as he turned and saw the passengers glancing their way. We’re the Finns! Who are you?

Rusty! whispered the girl feverishly, putting a quick hand over her little brother’s mouth, though even she looked as if she might laugh. Her other brother in his turn blushed scarlet and looked as if he might cry.

Find your seats, kids, said the porter. We’re leaving in just a few minutes.

Yes, sir, thank you, said the girl, and she hurried forward down the aisle, her hand still quite matter-of-factly anchored over the mouth of her lively charge as she pulled him, wiggling, along.

As they came down the length of the aisle, it began to seem clear that there were no longer three seats together left open. At the sight of this, the girl’s sunny expression grew worried.

Angus, we might have to split up, she said softly, turning to her quiet brother with a wrinkled brow. You and Rusty can go together, and I’ll—

No, you don’t, interrupted Angus chivalrously, speaking even more softly. I’ll go to that single place over there.

You? With a stranger? protested his sister. Oh, you’d faint.

There came a muffled observance from the small boy at this juncture as he endeavored to put forth his opinion, but the guarding hand of his sister stifled all but the single word: baloney!

If only— she began faintly.

Pardon me, broke in a new voice, and the three children turned.

The handsome old man had risen as the young travelers neared his seat, and now he came forward and placed a guiding hand on Angus’s shoulder.

The two seats across from my place are vacant, he said, and even his tone left a charming expression of relief on the children’s faces, and if you will trade that single spot with me, that will make three together.

Oh, thank you very much! breathed the girl gratefully, extending a cordial hand and giving the hand of their benefactor a vigorous shake.

Thank ye, nice sir! echoed little Rusty loudly as the constricting hand was removed from his mouth.

The handsome man nodded with a smile and turned to take his new seat. As it happened, the only vacant place close at hand was beside the large man who had watched him so intently. Now as he stepped in to take the seat, the brutish man looked very eager and seemed to be trying very hard to be helpful and show his respect. His behavior was strange, as it seemed he was a total stranger. But nobody noticed him, for the children were getting settled and were still making a commotion.

The ordinary-looking gentleman who had been sitting with the handsome old stranger now found himself the sole outsider in the midst of a family company. Angus hurriedly began placing their luggage in the compartment overhead, and his sister arranged their seating.

Let’ see, she muttered, Angus, you go next to the stranger—no, Rusty’s smaller… Rusty, you go there next to that nice man, but watch you don’t bump his elbows or step on his feet on the way over to the window seat!

I won’t, CaseyJane! said Rusty.

Then, with a sudden, unbelievable bound, the tiny boy leapt entirely over the lap of his startled companion and landed cleanly in the further seat with an ingenious grin.

See? he gurgled and then turned with confidential mirth to the gentleman beside him. I di’n’ step on your feet, did I, sir?

I… Why, no, answered the gentleman in surprise, but he smiled in the midst of his stammer.

Just then, a loud whistle of the train announced that departure was upon them.

Whoowoo! echoed Rusty loudly, recreating with surprising volume and accuracy the howl of the engine whistle.

"Rusty, didn’t I say something about that on the last few trains? asked his sister, stopping in her motion to hand her valise to Angus. Now what’d I say?"

Do it quieter, said Rusty with a repentant nod. Sorry, I fo’got.

CaseyJane smiled and slipped into her seat, and Angus did the same, as with a jolt and a slow-rolling crawl at first, soon to pick up its clattering speed, the train started off on its way once again.

Providentially for the Finn family, the ordinary-looking gentleman liked children and felt that they could make a boring train ride much more interesting if he let them. He began the conversation, therefore, for he figured it would be inevitable, and he might as well enjoy it.

So you’re Rusty Finn? he asked kindly, turning to the youth curled up in the seat beside him.

The child glanced up with a bright smile. "Yup. Rusty Finn, although that ain’t completely my real name. I’m really Michael Russell Finn, but nobody never calls me that, and I’ve got rust-colored hair, or that’s what my aunt says, though it doesn’t have real rust in it too often, but sometimes truly does, and I’ve got a penny in my pocket that was smashed by the last train…the penny, not the pocket…that’d’ve been bad cause I’d have been in it, the pocket, I mean. And I’m eight, when this month gets to the sixth of it. So’s ye can call me Rusty. Who are you, sir?"

Stewart. Mr. Arthur Stewart, said his companion, somewhat dazedly. And that’s my given name. I have a peppermint in my pocket. Would you like it?

This last question was by way of sudden inspiration (as the subject of pockets had been brought up), and the offer was eagerly accepted.

Thank ye ver’ much, Misser Stewart, said Rusty, as he crinkled away the wrapper and popped the candy into his mouth. CaseyJane said not to take candy from strangers, so I’d better introduce you. You’re not a stranger ’cause I know you now, and they’re my family, so ’course I know them, but now I’d best get you to know each other, by way of introducin’! And he raised a forefinger and pointed impressively at his sister. That one, he spluttered, his speech slurred by the candy in his mouth, is CaseyJane. The other one is Angus. And we’s all the Finn kids there is.

"Are, Rusty, all the Finn kids there are, offered CaseyJane and then turned to the gentleman with a dancing smile. How do you do, Mr. Stewart? We’re very pleased to meet you."

Thank you, and the same to you, Miss… The man hesitated, wondering if the unusual name he had heard from the indistinct mouth of her brother could be depended upon.

CaseyJane, she supplied with an understanding nod, as though she surmised his doubt.

It’s a funny name, said Rusty, agreeing with an observation that had not been made. "But you see, O’Casey was Ma’s first name before Finn…not her first name, you know, but her first last name, or what’s that picture-book word for lady, which means the name was hers afore she was married?"

Maiden, answered CaseyJane, supplying an answer even before their confused companion had found the wits to understand the question.

"That’s it, maiden name. Ma’s maiden name was Jane Frances O’Casey, and Pa loved it so much for its Ireeshness, and just ’cause it was Ma’s, that when CaseyJane was born, he insisted she be named after Ma in both names, first and last, and that’s where they got the funny name."

I… I think it is a nice name, faltered Mr. Stewart, afraid that these last words, which he had managed to glean from Rusty’s soliloquy, might hurt the cheery girl’s feelings.

So do I, said CaseyJane, once again seeing his intention and rewarding it with a second smile. And I know it’s funny too. I’m glad it’s funny, because then it isn’t ordinary.

Oh, she’s always glad, said Rusty. "That’s why I know I can say her name is funny without her getting sore. She hardly ever gets mad. Not like ole’ grumble bear sometimes does."

And he concluded this remark with a very pointed look at Angus. Mr. Stewart turned his attention for the first time to the silent member of the family, and under his glance and Rusty’s words, Angus turned suddenly scarlet.

Now, Rusty, take that back, said CaseyJane, and she turned quickly to Mr. Stewart. "Angus isn’t grouchy, sir, unless given very good reason, like when somebody sneaks up behind him and hollers, ‘Watch it, Angus! There’s a gorilla behind you!’"

And she returned with a look upon Rusty. At this, Angus grew even more uncomfortable, and CaseyJane came to the general rescue by changing the subject.

Now, Rusty, if you’re continuing your job, ‘by way of introducin’, she said, you’re order is a little mixed. Here Mr. Stewart already knows Ma’s maiden name while he doesn’t know anything about Pa or the cousins or what we’re doing here in California at all!

That’s a fact! cried Rusty. Ain’t I out o’ order! I’d better explain. Well, you know Ma’s name, but that ain’t all. You see, right now, Ma’s gone up to heaven.

Oh! said Mr. Stewart in surprise and sympathy, for he saw true and deep sorrow cloud the merry expression in the small boy’s eyes. Oh, I’m so sorry.

Thank ye, said Rusty, somewhat gently. But she’s watching out for us just the same, ain’t she, Casey?

She is, said CaseyJane stoutly, her own eyes a little misty. That’s why we’ve got to be extra good, to make her proud of us up there now and to get up there ourselves someday.

It sounded like she was repeating something, which she often had to remind her little brother, but her words were sincere in their simplicity. Mr. Stewart was touched.

That’s it! cried Rusty, his smile returning in hopeful force. And won’t that be just wonderful? Up there in the country in the sky, to fly like an angel, and see all the good folks and even God Himself?

His high-pitched exclamation made a few people glance their way, including the handsome man of mystery across the aisle. His keen eye rested a moment on what he could see of the curly copper hair and an equally mysterious smile played upon his lips.

"It will be grand, said CaseyJane, but we’ve got to do our best with the wait while we’ve got it. And that won’t be too hard, what with Aunt Mom and the cousins to live with!"

Who is Aunt Mom? interpolated Mr. Stewart curiously.

Whoopla! cried Rusty, diverted from sad memories by a tactful sister and the opportunities of such a question. He turned with fresh enthusiasm to Mr. Stewart and settled himself for a long-winded explanation.

So you see, he said, "our Pa is Doyle Finn, though the cousins call him Uncle Doyle, and we call their Ma, Aunt Mom. We used to call her Aunt Mary ’cause her name is Mary-Michael, just like mine in the second-half, ’fact, that’s why it’s mine. But the cousins, and almost all o’ their gang of friends calls her by her nickname, Mom, and she and Pa wanted us to call her that too, only with the aunt part tacked on to show that we’s blood relations, not like the Hogans an’ all. And she’s the greatest lady in this state, I’m sure of it! I’m surprised you live here and don’t know her, because you’d end up with lots more stories and cookies and roller skate rides if you did!

"Well, anyway, when our Ma went up to heaven, Pa decided that it was time to come live out here in Californy. We’ve lived in Wisconsin until now, where Pa worked and some of our Ma’s family lived, but every year all our lives we’ve spent a whole summer to come visit our cousins. They’re named the Brennans, and there are two of ’em, Nieve and Rose. They’ve come out to visit us in Fox’s Point sometimes too, so we feel like they’re not even as far apart as being cousins! But we haven’t visited each other at all for ’bout the past year or maybe even two. I lost count because Ma started ailing, and we stayed at home with her, and they only come out for sad visits all that time, and the last visit was just for the funeral, which wasn’t any fun at all, at all.

"That was almost a year ago now, and ever since, Aunt Mom’s been writing to Pa and calling him on the phone to talk him into moving us out here because they’ve got a huge old house on a hill, and nobody lives there ’cept the three of ’em, since their pa went to heaven a long time ago, before even Angus was born, so he was up there even afore our Ma. But now Pa—our Pa ye know—has arranged all his job. He’s a silversmith, best in the whole world, but he can also be a handy man. Aunt Mom got him to be her partner in her arkitecture business now too, and he can set up his silver smithy work in a big old red barn that they have, which nobody uses, ’cept in the ole’ Cops and Robbers games.

"Of course Pa would’ve come with us on this trip, but he had to stay behind a little longer to finish up things back home since we was movin’ away, and after he sold the house, there was nowheres for us to sleep ’cept the room he got with the widow Hennessy, and she can’t fit us all in her tiny house, so he sent us on ahead, and he’s a-comin’ out here two months from now to live wif all of us…but we’ve come this far on our own by train, though we call him on the phone at every stop to make sure I haven’t wrecked a train or tripped any important people up, least that’s what he says, and now we’re only a little ways away from the station where Aunt Mom and the cousins are going to meet us an’ take us home!"

Rusty, take a breath, laughed CaseyJane. Or at least stop and swallow your candy, or it won’t be worth the fun. And look, the sun is waking up!

Rusty paused for a moment to obey his sister, and he seemed to be savoring the very last of the candy as sincerely as he was able.

In the moment of sudden silence, they gazed out at the view of open land, as dew drops on every blade of grass turned to sudden glistening glory by the final appearance of the early morning sunrise. The brilliant rays pierced the window, casting a glow upon them, and CaseyJane closed her eyes with a smile and took a deep breath of content, as though breathing in the very joy of morning. It seemed she knew how to appreciate it.

Mr. Stewart glanced at her with a slight smile. He had noticed with admiration that the little miss accomplished all the duties of a nagging, responsible older sister, but she did it in a style quite her own. She didn’t consider herself better than her brothers, but she was their elder, and her guidance and corrections were always by way of suggestion or enthusiastic inspiration, which they in turn acted upon with utter faith.

Ulhump! Hic! gulped Rusty suddenly, breaking in upon his thoughts with a triumphant swallow. I finished it! Thank ye again. It was dandy to the last second. We don’t eat candy often, but we know how to apperschiate it when it comes. CaseyJane says most people miss all the fun in life just ’cause they don’t bother to apperschiate it!

That’s a very wise observation, said Mr. Stewart.

She has a lot of ’em, nodded Rusty complacently. "An’ good morning, Sun! CaseyJane is terrific. When Ma was sick, it was CaseyJane did all the work, even watching out for me, and I can get into lots of things and under things too on accident, like sheds or boats or couches that the moving men pick up. She doesn’t get sore like grownups do, and she makes us laugh even when you feel ’bout to bawl. We calls her our ver’ own Pollyanna. You ever read that book, Misser Stewart?"

"Pollyanna? asked Mr. Stewart. Yes, I have, though it was some years ago. And yes, you’re quite right about the similarity of your sister to that immortal character."

Yup, she’s mighty ’mortal all right, nodded Rusty approvingly.

Aw, thank you, smiled CaseyJane. "Pa’s the one who started calling me that. He read it to us when we were small, and we three read it again just ourselves a little while ago. I love Pollyanna’s Glad Game, you know, her way of always coming up with something happy in every situation, and it does work! We play that game ourselves, although we call it Thanks for Our Blessings. It gets real fun to try and find the bright side all the time, to ‘rejoice and be glad,’ as the Good Book says, because, well, haven’t you noticed that people are happier that way?"

Mr. Stewart nodded again, touched for the second time by the depth of this cheery little family as he mused under what sad circumstances these little ones must have tried so valiantly to find a bright side and be glad.

So she’s Pollyanna, repeated Rusty, and Angus, he’s Robin Hood!

At the sound of his name, Angus gave a little start. He had been lost in thought during his brother’s staggering soliloquies, gazing out the window at the scenery flying past. Only when Rusty’s conversation had turned at last upon CaseyJane had he showed some enthusiasm by seconding the little boy’s praise with a soft smile of fraternal love as he glanced at his sister. Now, Rusty’s frank character-studying had turned ruthlessly upon him, and he shifted somewhat uncomfortably, though his smile remained, turning to one of amused curiosity as he seemed to wonder what his ingenious brother would devise for him.

Do you know, began Rusty, in a confrontational manner as he turned to his listener, that Angus could likely run faster than this here train, just on his own legs?

Angus’s smile suddenly vanished.

Only trouble is, he don’t, continued Rusty. "He hides it in. When we were real small and we’d spend the summer with the cousins, we used to play Cops and Robbers with ’em, and boy, wouldn’t Angus run then! He wasn’t full growed then, so he couldn’t run as fast as he could now—if he would—but even then, he beat anything anybody else’d ever seen! Pa says it’s because his feet face in, instead of out like a duck. He used to run when we was back home too until he won a race one time, and then he didn’t like it no more or somethin’. He doesn’t even like us to brag on him anymore, even about that race, and it was a big race, heard about all over the county. That’s why he’s like Robin Hood. Now that’s a book we read ourselves though Pa helped sometimes ’cause they don’t talk reg’lar back then in England, with all their ‘aye, merry withal’s’ and ‘quothes,’ you know. But it was a swell story, and we played it outside af’erward, and Angus made us bows and arrows out of sticks and strings, and Casey hadabe’ Will Stutely, Prince John and all a maids at the same time. ’Twas a’most as much fun as Cops and Robbers, and ’at means just dandy!"

I can imagine, said Mr. Stewart, with a smile born of his own childhood memories.

"But Robin Hood, he was a t’ri’fic shot, you know, and he never let anybody know it. That’s why he was so great, ’cause he didn’t let it on that he was until he hadda show it, and then everybody got so bottled up with surprise. That’s like Angus. He’s a whiz at runnin’, but nobody’d ever know it unless they watched him get chased by an elephant or somethin.’ Would ye believe I’ve even seen him run slow, a’purpose, so he’d lose a race, though nobody could tell, only us and Pa. If we ask him why, he says he don’t feel like runnin,’ but that’s silly ’cause he always feels like runnin.’ I know it, and sometimes he gets so jittery that we want to find him an open field and let him cut loose just so he’d feel better.

"I hope you’ll run ’round at the cousins’ house, Angus. They’ve lots of open space, you see. Angus used to be so happy when he’d run, faster each time, and now he gets awful down in the chops sometimes and mopes around like a broken mop, thinking things inside his head all the time. But don’t be thinking he’s bad or anything, ’cause he still plays wif me and always makes other folks look better ’an him. It’s just that, if sometimes Robin Hood had showed he was good wif a bow, it might a been more fun."

Rusty, please, said Angus suddenly, his tone almost pitiable in its pleading.

During Rusty’s declaration, his brother’s face, quite naturally handsome, had undergone several violent and unpleasant color changes, from a blushing scarlet to ashen pale and back again, while he moved restlessly in his seat, his eyes casting about desperately as though seeking an escape.

There, he’s humbilized again, said Rusty. "And he don’t want me bragging on him. What’s the matter wif ye Angus? I love to have folks brag on me!"

Well then, maybe we should try it, interrupted Mr. Stewart, coming to Angus’s rescue. It seems here I sit, very privileged indeed in the company of Pollyanna and Robin Hood who are somehow seated together on the same train. But what about you, my little man. Who are you?

A trapdoor, said CaseyJane, with a broken latch.

Angus’s smile almost returned. Mr. Stewart laughed, and Rusty joined him in honest merriment.

I talk too much, said Rusty complacently. And I oughtn’t a’ do v’at if I wants to be grown-up.

Want to be grown-up! exclaimed Mr. Stewart. Someone like you? My boy, why ever would you spoil yourself by aspiring to grow older before your time?

There! Thank you, Mr. Stewart, said CaseyJane. That’s just what we tell him. But he’s got it into his head that he wants to be considered an adult and act like one as much as possible. She dimpled into a grin. Of course, it isn’t so bad, as he generally forgets in about twenty to thirty seconds.

I do not! objected Rusty, drawing himself up and unconsciously pulling his curled up feet out from under himself and allowing them to dangle down toward the floor in a dignified pose. And just so long as I don’t get too ’cited, or talk too much, or do anything silly, like cry, I will be just like a real grown-up!

I pray that you never are, said Mr. Stewart dryly, or the world would lose quite an elocutionist and a much-needed laugh. Don’t worry, Rusty. You’ll grow up all too quickly no matter what you do, but if you take my advice, don’t try to rush the process by hiding your true colors.

Rusty nodded respectfully to his elder companion, but both his siblings could see behind his courtesy that he was, as yet, unconvinced. Then, suddenly, Rusty leaned forward in his seat, pulled CaseyJane toward him with a motioning finger, and whispered something inaudible into the ginger-colored wisps of hair, which had escaped her braids.

Ah, yes, said CaseyJane, and she stood up, taking Rusty by the hand. Will you excuse us for a moment, please?

Angus and Mr. Stewart allowed them to slip between them out into the main aisle. CaseyJane glanced about for a moment. Then she spotted a lavatory sign, directing them to the next car.

We’ll be right back, she said as with a merry smile from each, they made their way down the swaying aisle toward the door.

As they passed the young lady with the newspaper and the mirror, the train lurched suddenly, and Rusty lurched with it. He fell to one side, missing the lap of the woman only by a quick movement on her part, which quite dislodged her hat while he righted himself by sitting down with some force upon both her feet.

Ach! exclaimed the woman, her voice husky and low for one of her slight build. Wretch—I—boy, steady thyself!

Her voice sounded strange. At her choice of words, CaseyJane wondered if she didn’t speak English very well.

I’m sorry, said CaseyJane quickly, taking the outstretched hand that Rusty offered her and pulling him to his feet.

Me too, said Rusty soberly. Excuse me, ma’am.

The woman looked rather frightened, staring the two children in the face, and her own face looked a little disheveled. Then she suddenly gave a little grunt in answer and dove behind the refuge of her newspaper, not bothering to even replace her fallen hat.

Come along, Rusty, said CaseyJane, directing her brother by both shoulders, as her own balance was remarkably steady. She gave him a loving little squeeze as they went through the doors. Don’t mind that lady. You did a fine job saying sorry.

"I didn’t land quite on her, murmured Rusty somewhat defensively. And d’you know what? I think her yellow hair comes out of a bottle and not outa her head."

Oh, hush, said CaseyJane, though the quick grin which passed between brother and sister showed that his jest was not wasted.

Back at the seats, Angus took a deep breath in the silence which followed his siblings’ departure, and he turned to the window once again.

Well, Robin Hood, smiled Mr. Stewart, a penny for your thoughts? You seem to have quite a few of them. They keep you so quiet.

Angus turned quickly and smiled bashfully. I’m sorry, sir, he said. I hope I haven’t been any bother to you this trip.

"You? said Mr. Stewart genially. Why, Rusty was right in saying that you make others look better than yourself, but he forgot to mention that you take the blame for others just as well. Do you really suppose I am getting tired of your chatter?"

Angus dropped his eyes with a fond smile. Well, Rusty does talk, he admitted. But he means well, and some folks might be surprised by him. He can take almost anything and come up smiling. His brow clouded, and he spoke quietly. There’ve been times when his talking helped.

"I think he’s just dandy, grinned Mr. Stewart sincerely, coining one of Rusty’s own expressions. And it seems he thinks the same of you."

Oh, he’s just loyal, muttered Angus, trying to make the best of a bad thing.

I’d say he has a healthy younger brother’s way of seeing you as a hero. And I certainly don’t know anything about you to think otherwise.

Thank you, sir. But I don’t know, Angus said, smiling wryly. Robin Hood? Don’t let him fool you with his yabbering about, well, hidden skills.

Well, Rusty didn’t quite compare you exactly, observed Mr. Stewart. "Robin Hood hides his skill, and that is humble, but remember that Robin Hood was forced to be a man with something to hide. He was an outlaw."

As he made this casual observance, Mr. Stewart turned his gaze to the window, for they were just passing over a tall bridge, and it was a lovely view. He did not see the light of sudden terror, which appeared for a moment in the eyes of the boy across from him. Angus swallowed and glanced hard at the older man, searching his face for any sign that his remark had held any underlying meaning. Yet when Mr. Stewart returned his gaze to their conversation, it was only filled with cordial friendliness.

So, Angus, are you glad to be moving out here to California? he asked, feeling certain that this boy’s opinion had likely never been offered or asked for.

Ye-yes, said Angus somewhat hesitantly, his attitude still ill at ease as he hastened to cover his moment’s fright. At least, I know I’m glad to get out of Fox’s Point… As he suddenly seemed to realize the peculiarity of this remark, he glanced at Mr. Stewart nervously. I… I mean, he stammered. It was only sad memories, there at the end, and other things.

He seemed to be trying desperately to rally his sociable airs and continued, And I wouldn’t rather come anywhere else. I love our cousins and Aunt Mom. And the best friend I’ve ever had in my life lives here too. His name is Mick Hogan.

Angus spoke the name a little louder than his usually subdued tone. Perhaps he was speaking clearly to be polite, or perhaps the thought of his friend had cheered him up. Whichever the case, the brutish fellow a few seats away suddenly gave a violent start and whispered noisily into the ear of the handsome old man beside him, raising a large hand to cover his mouth. The other nodded quickly, as if to say he already knew what his companion was trying to say, and wished him to quiet down. His hint was taken by the brute, for he immediately drew back, crossed his arms as if he were trying to act casual and stared stolidly ahead.

Well, here we are, said CaseyJane as she and Rusty returned and slid back into their seats, and we didn’t get into any trouble on the way back, except for stopping to swing from the empty luggage racks in the next car.

"Ah, Casey, you didn’t do any swingin’, protested Rusty. But I bet you, Misser Stewart, she could do it as well as me."

You’re quite the little acrobat, aren’t you? asked the other, ignoring his observation.

Well, I do like to jump and swing and tie myself ’round things, if that’s what it means to be a akri-bat.

And he sits still only long enough to eat or ride the train, added CaseyJane.

Mr. Stewart laughed. Indeed. I was just asking your brother if he was happy to be moving out here, and now I can ask the two of you as well. Are you glad to move out here?

I am, nodded Rusty, just dandy glad!

So am I, said CaseyJane, her eyes dancing. "I’m so glad, even without trying to be glad. And if you only knew our cousins, you’d know why."

I’m sure they’re remarkable, if family traits mean anything, said Mr. Stewart. You said there were two of them? Both girls?

Yes, said CaseyJane, only we sometimes find ourselves thinking of the whole gang, them and their friends, you see, as being our cousins. They all live close to each other in the most beautiful ridge of land you’ve ever seen, and our cousins live in the house on the highest ridge.

And do all these friends know that you are moving out here?

I’m certain they do, said CaseyJane. Because Nieve and Rosy couldn’t live their lives without having to tell them about it. Of course, we haven’t written to any of them very lately, what with traveling, and our address changing and all. Only my chum Kate Mitchell has written once just before we broke up house. Her letter was a little strange too. She talked as if she wasn’t too happy…and about a club that Rose started years ago…and she said we might find some changes when we came… Oh, I don’t know.

She shrugged with an apologetic laugh. Don’t let me think out loud, she smiled. We didn’t know what to make of it then, and we still don’t now, but that doesn’t matter. We figure if Rose has gotten it started again, then we’ll be proud to be Stonewalls!

The unshaven man rose suddenly from his seat, stifling a loud exclamation. He was quickly silenced as his handsome partner whispered something sharp, which almost sounded like a command. The large fellow sat down, with a very excited glance of protest. Their disturbance was hardly noticed as the young woman in the back happened to drop her hand-mirror with a clang at the same moment and dove after it with a sound not unlike a growl.

Stone walls? asked Mr. Stewart in surprise. Why ever would your cousin want you to act like stone walls?

Rusty laughed. Not regl’ar stone walls, he gurgled. "That’d get as boring as that book Pride and What’d ya call it by Jane Houston, which we started but gave away once we were bored enough to eat it, cause then, it would have had more point at least. No, she means Stonewalls. They’re heroes who jump out at cops, so that a robber bigger ’an you can get away. We came out the summer just after Rose ’vented it, and they was all fired up about it. Course, I don’t remember that ’xactly, on account of I was only half, half of one, I mean. CaseyJane remembers it though, and she tells it so that I feels like I ’member it too."

I do remember it, said CaseyJane, but Rusty now, we don’t want to make ourselves nuisances, if we get started in on the Stonewalls and all that. Please, Mr. Stewart, if ever you would like us to stop talking, just tell us so.

Mr. Stewart smiled and glanced at Angus. "I’d sooner ride this stretch of train bound and gagged than have you stop. But now you must explain, what does it mean to be a stone wall?"

Well, said CaseyJane, with a grateful smile, I was only seven myself at the time, and Angus almost six, but we always used to play Cops and Robbers with the gang. That one year, our cousin Rose came up with a strategy for robbers to win more games, and it seems that they named it by calling themselves ‘the Stonewalls.’ Then, every year when we visited later on, the Stonewalls was always a great part of the fun, so much that even Rusty remembers the games we’d play and the songs we’d sing about it. Rose made it into a code of morals even more than a robber-strategy after a while because we stopped playing Cops and Robbers. We’d use the notion of it in lots of games. Even we three Finns back home used to play Stonewalls and fight off evil villains for the side of goodness, and we’d whomp them every time!

She hesitated a moment. The young woman in the back suddenly sprang to her feet and hurriedly exited into the next car, her hat still off-kilter.

But then as we all got bigger, resumed CaseyJane, it stopped seeming so important, especially to all of them out here. That’s why I’m surprised that Kate should mention it in a letter. But we do hope that they’ve started it all up again somehow. Those dreaming ideals were always a part of Rose, and I just loved ’em. We three were talking on the way out here, and we traced it back to remember that we never actually did get dubbed official Stonewalls, ain’t it so, boys?

Rusty nodded.

Rose wanted to wait till she got the toy sword for her birthday, said Angus. But the next visit was when we all caught colds together, and it somehow doesn’t seem right to be dubbed in bed.

Well, one thing and then another, laughed CaseyJane, and we never did get dubbed until it faded out of everybody’s minds, except Rose, of course. Only…she did change too, I guess…

Really? How so? asked Mr. Stewart, seeing the rather sorrowful expression that came upon CaseyJane at this vague comment, and noticing too that it was mirrored by both her brothers.

Oh, sighed CaseyJane, we don’t really know when or why, but our cousin Rose stopped being so wild and dreamy, I guess. I think she was trying to grow up or fit in with the real world or something. But we didn’t like it at all. And she got, well, a little timid too…of most everything.

She turned chicken, said Rusty flatly, though his tone was deeply regretful.

Mr. Stewart felt tempted to smile but resisted it, as this seemed a very somber topic for his young companions.

She used to be so grand, murmured CaseyJane, until she took things seriously and stopped hoping in adventures and honor and miracles.

Having a loved one grow cynical is not easy, said Mr. Stewart, with some understanding, nor is seeing them lose their nerve.

And you never know what makes a person turn scared.

This quiet observation came from Angus, and his expression was so thoughtful that it was likely he did not realize he had spoken aloud.

But if we were to find the brighter side, it’d be even better that she was changed before, said CaseyJane, returning to the present again with fresh hope. "So she could change back now! Kate’s letter did say that she was firing up the Stonewalls again or something. I don’t know what she could do to give it a real purpose again, but I’ve been praying that something would happen to help, and maybe it has!"

And maybe now we’s fin’lly gonna be dubbed Stonewalls! cheered Rusty with finality, bringing the subject to a triumphant close.

Aron Alistar! hissed a pleading whisper in the ear of the handsome man, across the aisle, but it was not answered.

Chapter 2

A Token of Rank

C ollect your things! We’re two minutes from the station! roared the porter as he strode down the swaying aisles with practiced balance.

He bellowed his order just as he came behind Angus Finn’s seat, and the youth jumped so violently at the sudden official voice behind him that Mr. Stewart felt prompted to reassure him and didn’t only because he had seen how embarrassed Angus was if anyone noticed his unsteady nerves.

Whoopla! We’re almost there, everybody! cried Rusty, turning and plastering his little face to the window. Quick! Apur-sheate all the pretty views there’s left!

Oh, what a lovely station it is. I’d forgotten, breathed CaseyJane, as the large mission-style structure swept into view before them.

It seemed she remembered her duties as the train eased to a crawl, for she gave Rusty a hopeful glance of suggestion.

Misser Stewart, said Rusty, turning from the window and squarely facing their traveling companion, I’d like to thank you for a very nice ride and for letting me talk both of your ears off.

You’re welcome, laughed Mr. Stewart. I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed a trip more. And I wish you all three the best of everything in your new home.

The train gave a final spurt of noise and steam while the brakes whined and groaned to their halt, and the three Finns chorused their thanks and assurances that the road before them would be lined with joy and gladness.

Then the doors to the chilly morning were opened wide, and the bustle of departing travelers was suddenly renewed. Mr. Stewart felt rather honored to now be almost a part of the little trio, which again attracted attention as they gathered their belongings and waited to disembark.

D’you see any of ’em yet? asked Rusty, turning to the window again as they were forced to wait for those ahead of them.

Not yet, said Angus as he watched the many passengers around them with a glance, which was almost furtive in its shyness.

There was a moment’s delay among the exiting passengers as the mysterious handsome man stood up and began to leave. His companion suddenly reached up and grabbed him with a detaining hand and then spoke very quickly and earnestly in hushed tones. The elderly man nodded several times, disengaged himself from the ruffian’s grip at last, and then hurried to depart, apologizing to those behind him for the delay. His rude partner remained in his seat, ill at ease, but not moving to follow. No one save the porter at the door gave any thought to the peculiarity that neither of these two seemed to have any luggage.

After another moment, in which Rusty began to hop to and fro where he stood, the Finns were allowed their turn and hurried down the aisle to the door.

Rusty bounded out the door of the car but came springing back like a rubber band, as the bag he was holding had caught on the latch of the door and arrested his leap in midflight. After some difficulty and confusion, they piled out and stood beside the train, gazing about at the crowd, which milled busily about them on all sides.

Well, I believe this is where I must leave you, said Mr. Stewart, coming up beside the trio. I am to continue on by this same train in a few moments to Transit Station some fifteen minutes up ahead, and I’d best hurry if I intend to stop in at this station’s cafe.

Goodbye, sir, said CaseyJane, shaking his hand warmly. It was so nice to meet you.

Goodbye, said Angus with his quiet smile.

But—don’t ye want to see Aunt Mom and all? asked Rusty in surprise.

If I had the time, I’d dearly like to see you all the way home, answered Mr. Stewart. But you’ll simply have to take my message of greeting to them all, Rusty.

All right, said Rusty, somewhat reluctantly. What ye want to say?

Tell them I said hello, and that I hope they enjoy having you as much as they should. Goodbye, children!

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye! hollered Rusty, repeating his farewell several times after Mr. Stewart disappeared into the crowds. "That was fun. I like to say goodbye. But I think I like to say hullo even better. Where are they, you two?"

His siblings answered by scanning the people with renewed interest. Keep a sharp eye out, Angus, said CaseyJane. And, Rusty, you look for red hair. Then you’ll find Nieve or Aunt Mom.

I see some! said Rusty.

CaseyJane turned at his word and found him staring up at her own braids ingeniously.

I can’t see mine ’cause I’m under it, he added, raising his large eyes in the direction of his forehead, "and it’s more browny anyway."

Aw, Rusty, pay attention, grinned CaseyJane, or we won’t see them in time, and we’ll be left to be hobos and have to ride away underneath the train.

Really? cried Rusty, and for a moment, it seemed he was torn between his desire to see his loved ones and the idea of avoiding them for this latter bit of romance.

No, not really, said CaseyJane, and then she suddenly caught her other brother by the arm. Oh! Angus, stand on tiptoe. Did you see that person inside the station there just coming through the far doors? Could that be Aunt Mom?

Angus raised himself to his