The Wishing Star by Marian Wells Page B

She ran as fast as she could. Every minute saved meant more time with the woman named Lucy Smith.
    Rounding a curve in the dim corridor of trees, Jenny caught her toe on a root and plunged headlong into the bushes. As she struck the ground, the bushes erupted with a flurry of movement. Gasping for breath, she stared upward at the unexpected flash of light. Heavy boots landed in front of her face. Shoving at the earth, she managed to push herself upright. She stopped, terror-stricken: a sheath of metal gleamed just inches from her nose.
    â€œYou’re Tom Timmons’ sister, ain’t you?” the man barked. Then settling back on his heels and putting the sword on the ground, he continued. “Why you nosin’ around?”
    Gasping for breath, she shook her head. The hard expression on his face softened. “Scared the livin’ daylights out o’ you, didn’t I?” Jenny examined her torn stocking and bleeding knee and didn’t dare answer. “I’m Hyrum Smith. Come on, I’ll have Ma fix up that knee. What you doin’ out in the middle of the woods, anyhow?” He grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet.
    Jenny tried moving her leg as she looked around. Just beyond Hyrum’s shoulder she saw freshly turned earth. Glancing at the sword he held, she asked, “Been diggin’?”
    He shook his head. “Them’s old diggin’s. Come along to the house.” He added, “There’s lots more diggin’s around here.”
    â€œDid you find any treasure in them?” He shook his head. Shoving the sword into the sheath strapped to his waist, he explained, “Since we first moved here, we’ve been diggin’ in the vicinity. The whole place is covered with holes.”
    When they reached the cabin and she was settled beside the table, she looked at the ring of curious eyes that surrounded her, and Jenny realized her problem was solved. Running through the woods, she had been wondering how she would explain her visit. It wasn’t necessary now.
    Lucy Smith talked constantly as she swabbed the blood from Jenny’s leg. By the time the soothing ointment was applied, Jenny felt she knew everything there was to know about the Smiths.
    The room was full of Joe Smith’s relations, his sisters and brothers. Beside the fire stood a tall, gaunt man watching her. Their eyes met, and Jenny realized she had seen him in South Bainbridge.
    The man with the sword was Joseph’s older brother. She eyed the sword, trying to hide her intrigue. Hyrum must have guessed her curiosity. He pulled up a chair and held out the sword for her to see. Jenny hugged herself with excitement as he began to explain the markings. It was just as the book had described. Soon Lucy Smith was adding her comments, telling Jenny about the markings on the sheath.
    â€œSee this?” she pointed. “It’s all to do with breakin’ the charms the spirits have placed. You really need the sword to drive away the demon spirits. There’s lots out there to be learned before a body can hope to be successful.”
    â€œSuccessful,” Jenny repeated slowly. “You mean gettin’ power?”
    Lucy turned to peer at Jenny. “Lands, child, you set me back! I didn’t expect such a young one with the knowledge. Yes, power. There’s lots of hard work involved in gettin’ it. Right now we’re feelin’ the lack and wonderin’ if it’s worth our time to study out Masonry to get the faculty of Abrac.”
    Lucy Smith leaned close to Jenny. “We’re not wantin’ anyone to think we spend all our time at this. But ’tis hard work to get everything to come out right. I keep tellin’ them they gotta concentrate on the faculty of Abrac.”
    Jenny leaned forward and whispered, “What’s that?”
    â€œAbrac is a magic word. Some folks call it a formula, a way to release power. Better and more powerful