Dinosaur Hideout (13 page)

The further they walked, the harder Daniel gasped for breath in the freezing air. Stabs of pain jabbed at his chest. He could hear the old man’s hacking coughs up ahead.

How much further? Better get to the cabin soon. His legs felt like wood. Blasts of snow blinded him.

Suddenly, he stumbled against Pederson, who had stopped and swung open a door. A second later, warmth and brightness as Daniel fell headlong into the room and sank to the floor. The smell of stew wafted over him. Dactyl crept in and crouched beside him, whining and licking his face. Daniel just wanted to lie there soaking up the heat, but Pederson bellowed at him.

“Were you born in a barn, lad? There’s enough winter outside without having to bring any in here! Get up and close the door!” The old man coughed and sputtered as he reeled over to a unlit corner of the room and collapsed on an old wooden chair.

Daniel rushed to obey, even though there didn’t seem to be any feeling in his feet or hands. Using his whole body, he strained to push the door shut.

Pederson, perched on the edge of the chair, was struck with another explosive fit of coughing. He held a ragged handkerchief to his mouth trying to gain control. The phlegmy choking sounds scared Daniel. What if the old man died? He scanned the room for the bottle of pills, and saw them on top of a makeshift bookshelf.

“Coffee,” Pederson croaked, pointing to a tall coffee pot sitting on top of the wood stove beside a simmering pot of stew.

Daniel rushed to grab a cup off a shelf nearby and carefully poured the steaming coffee. Halfway back across the room, he stumbled and sloshed out most of it. Bear snarled menacingly as he approached Pederson with what remained. A quick tap on the head from his master silenced the dog.

The coffee delivered, Daniel backed away across the room, leaned against the door and laid a reassuring hand on Dactyl’s back, not sure if Bear would keep his distance. Pederson’s dog occasionally growled low in the back of his throat. He seemed to have forgotten Daniel’s earlier visits, or maybe Dactyl’s presence upset him. Pederson sipped at the soothing drink, then closed his eyes and leaned against the wall.

The aroma of the stew wafted Daniel’s way and made his stomach rumble. An old china bowl with a matching mug sat ready and waiting next to a closed hard-covered book on a small table at Pederson’s elbow. Daniel wondered if the old guy would offer him anything; he was still sagged against the wall with his eyes shut. The snow caking his outer garments was beginning to melt and water trickled onto the floor.

He still hadn’t invited Daniel in any farther than the door, either, but there didn’t seem to be anything else Daniel could do, except stay. He sure didn’t want to go back into the storm. Besides, he’d been welcomed before. And taken into Pederson’s confidence. Uncertain, he stared at the old man, who sat with his eyes closed, struggling for breath.

Suddenly, the pungent smell of dampness and mould tickled Daniel’s nostrils. He sneezed. Startled, Pederson looked up.

“What are you still standing at the door for, young man? Take those wet clothes off and get near the fire,” he wheezed.

Finally! Daniel relaxed. Then he inched closer to the stove and removed his toque and mitts, and slowly unzipped his parka. As he held his hands over the searing heat, Pederson grunted and removed his own outer clothing. He was breathing heavily.

Bear and Dactyl eyed each other across the floor and growled. Dactyl began to slink over to Daniel on his belly. The steam rose off his damp fur as he settled himself at the boy’s feet and closed his eyes.

“Are you hungry, young man?” Pederson asked, rising slowly and shuffling over. He lifted the lid off the pot to reveal the bubbling stew.

“Yes, sir,” Daniel croaked out.

Pederson dished out two servings and indicated a place at the table for Daniel. He shoved over a chair that was missing a few rungs. Silently, they ate hot chunks of venison mixed with vegetables. The meat was tender and well-seasoned. They soaked up the gravy with slabs of thick bread.

Daniel gazed around as they ate. Most of the room was in sharp shadows, being lit only by bare light bulbs. He got a better look now at the shelves nailed along most of the walls, filled with archaeology tools, books, and jars. He had a clear view, too, of the long plank table that held the dinosaur bones. He smiled to himself when he thought about Brett and Wade’s stories about Pederson cutting up people. If they only knew!

When they were done eating, Pederson fed both dogs the leftovers, then sat on his chair and reached to a low cupboard beside him for his pipe and tobacco. While he was searching for matches, he had another coughing fit and set aside the smoking gear with disgust.

“What’s your name?”

“Daniel, Daniel Bringham,” he replied, shifting on the hard crate.

“Yes, but do you have any middle names?”

“Well, yes. My whole name is Daniel Ezekiel Alexander Bringham,” Daniel answered.

“That’s quite a mouthful, young fella.” Pederson said, gathering the dishes from the table and placing them into a tin basin.

“I was named for both my grandfathers,” Daniel added, feeling his face turn red.

“Well, now then, ah Daniel, tell me what you were doing out in that blizzard?”

“I was trying to think of a way to save our farm, and going to my secret hideout. You know the place where I met you a couple of days ago – and I couldn’t find Dactyl and the storm came up and all of a sudden I was lost and, and...” The words came out in a rush.

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down some,” Pederson said, as he started to cough again. “What’s this about you trying to save your farm?”

“Well, remember the other day when I mentioned the oil company that wanted to lease the land?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Well, it’s gotten worse. My dad went to the bank and they said that wouldn’t help any. They’ll probably have to
sell.
And we’ll have to move!” Daniel explained the whole problem as best he could, being careful to leave out the bit about Dad coming to ask Pederson if he could rent his pasture land. He didn’t want to make him angry. He might send Daniel back into the storm.

When he finished, he thought the old man had fallen asleep, as he sat with his head down and his eyes closed.

“Sir?” Daniel asked, making a grating noise with his foot on the floor to get his attention.

“Humph,” Pederson grunted. “I heard you. That’s quite a problem you have, better sleep on it. There’s a sleeping bag in that cupboard. You can put the two chairs we’re sitting on together for a bed.”

“Sir?”

“What?”

“My parents must be out looking for me! Shouldn’t we phone them or something?” By now Mom and Dad would be in a panic.

“Got no phone. No one will be out in this blizzard anyway. I’ll see you get home in the morning. Now, it’s time to get some sleep.”

Daniel stared at him. Surely there must be some way to get word to his family. But he couldn’t think of anything. Not without a phone. He listened to the howling of the wind outside and knew he’d never make it if he tried to head for home now.

“Ah, Sir?”

“What now?” Pederson headed to the wood box and grabbed an armload.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Over there,” Pederson nodded, indicating a jerry can in the corner by the door to the passageway. “That’ll have to do for tonight.” He stoked up the fire, loading it with wood, then climbed onto his cot.

When Daniel was finally ready for sleep, he positioned the chairs together for his bed. He found an old sleeping bag in the bottom of the cupboard and balled up his parka for a pillow just as the light was extinguished.

“Darn power’s out,” Pederson complained from across the darkened room.

Daniel shuddered, and swallowed hard. A power failure. He’d thought Pederson had turned off the light. The thought of being in near-total darkness with the strange old man and his unpredictable dog made him shiver. Then as his eyes adjusted, he saw there was a tiny glow from the cracks in the wood stove. Dactyl curled on the floor beside him. Daniel reached out an arm and curled his fingers into his fur. That was better. But he sure hoped his parents weren’t out looking for him. Anything could happen in that blizzard.

His primitive bed was hard and uncomfortable, but although he tried to stay awake in case someone was out looking for him, he was too exhausted. The warmth from the fire, and the roar of the wind circling the little cabin soon lulled him to sleep.

Chapter Ten

A
wild nattering and screeching woke Daniel
several hours later. He lay gasping in the murky darkness, trying to figure out where he was and whether he was having a nightmare or was actually awake. In moments, he realized he was in Pederson’s cabin. The horrible sounds were coming from the old man. He was thrashing around on his cot as he coughed and muttered in his sleep.

Daniel tiptoed over and shook him, but he kept tossing and shaking. Bear whimpered at the foot of the bed. “Mr. Pederson, Mr. Pederson, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

By the glow of the fire coming from the vent in the stove, Daniel could see Pederson’s face. Streams of sweat ran down his flushed forehead, mingling with tears. His pillow was damp. He was in some kind of feverish shaking fit! What should Daniel do? It was his fault entirely. Pederson must have gotten worse, being out in the storm to rescue him. What if he died? Daniel had to do something.

Dactyl stirred and padded over, nuzzling his head under Daniel’s hand for a pet. Daniel absentmindedly scratched his head while his thoughts whirred.

Tea, that was it. Camomile tea, or mint tea, or what? He remembered stories Mom had told him of his great-grandparents in the pioneering days, how they brewed up teas made from local plants. Surely he could find something in all those containers on the shelves.

Dactyl whined.

“Go lie down boy,” Daniel pointed to his spot by the makeshift bed. “I have work to do.” Dactyl gave Daniel a concerned look, then obeyed. He skirted Bear and settled back down on the floor.

Daniel opened up the vent on the stove so that a shaft of light angled across the floor and to the top of the shelves. He scanned the row of jars. He’d try camomile tea. His grandmother had pointed out the wild plants growing all over the farmyard so he knew they were a yellowish colour. Ah, that looked like it. But wait – what if this wasn’t really camomile and he killed the old man by mistake?

He suddenly remembered the other day when Brett and Craig had teased him on the bus. He had been scared Pederson planned to poison him, and now he might be poisoning the old guy instead! Pederson might be gruff around the edges, but the poor man wouldn’t poison anyone! All that these jars contained were herbs and the makings for tea. Even so, Daniel knew from something Mom had said that they could be dangerous if he used too much or the wrong thing. Should he give it a try anyway?

Convulsive coughs and more wailings from the bed convinced him. At the rate things were going, it didn’t matter if he gave Pederson the wrong tea or not. By the sounds coming from him, he wasn’t doing too well.

Daniel fumbled around in the cupboard for a pan and filled it from the pail by the door. Then he set it on the stove and threw some more sticks on the fire. As he waited for the water to boil, he found himself quaking a little at his predicament. Here he was in a strange place in the middle of a blizzard with a sick and ranting man. But things could be worse, he realized with a start. At least he was in out of the storm, and he might actually be able to help Pederson. Dactyl slunk back over and lay at his feet.

Splashes of water sizzling on the surface of the stove alerted Daniel that the water was ready. He opened the jar and sniffed. How many of these dried flowers should he use? Might as well make it good and strong. He dumped half the jarful into the boiling water, then went in search of a cup.

By the time the tea was steeped, he had found some candles and matches and lit them. Pederson’s rantings had become louder. Bear seemed uneasy at Daniel’s approach to his master, but at a sharp “lie still,” he settled back down with a whimper. Dactyl padded to his sleeping spot.

Daniel struggled to raise Pederson’s head and pour tea into his mouth. At first most of the warm liquid dribbled down his chin, but eventually he managed to get him to swallow some. It helped the coughing subside and as he mopped the old man’s brow with a damp cloth, Pederson seemed to calm down. Every once in a while, he mumbled about “his sweet Marianna,” and coughed intermittently.