Fortune's Magic Farm by Suzanne Selfors (rainbow fish read aloud .txt) 📕

the oxen toward the caravan, stopped and craned his neck. “Where?” he called out.

The raven replied, circling frantically.

Sage grabbed the oxen by their collars. “We must leave immediately,” he cried. “Did you hear me, Walnut? Right now.”

Walnut removed his glasses and slid them back into his jacket pocket. “Dear boy, why are you in such a hurry? This is a family reunion. Surely we have time for a cup of tea?”

“No, we don’t. According to Rolo, we’ve got trouble.”

Trouble? What kind of trouble?” Isabelle asked. But neither Walnut nor Sage answered, for a flurry of activity had erupted. Sage hitched the oxen while Great-Uncle Walnut ran around the caravan, gathering up personal belongings. He threw Sage’s satchel and the saddle into the back, patted Eve on the head, then bolted the door. Then he hoisted himself onto the driver’s bench.

“Come on, Isabelle,” he called, holding out a hand.

Isabelle grabbed the marmot and climbed onto the cushioned bench. Walnut flicked the reins and the oxen began to pull the caravan from the meadow. “Where’s Sage?” Isabelle asked.

“Don’t worry about him,” Walnut said. “He ran ahead to look for danger. It’s his job to protect the tenders.” He flicked the reins again but the oxen appeared to have only one speed—lumbering.

“Protect us from what?”

“I don’t wish to worry you, dear, but we must keep our voices quiet. There are people who would like to get rid of us tenders.”

Isabelle shivered. “Get rid of?”

“Kill us, to put it bluntly.”

“Kill?” Isabelle nearly shrieked the word.

“There are others who would like to kidnap us and imprison us. Some would torture us for our secrets, even enslave us. That’s why we must always keep the location of our farm a secret. But I do not wish to worry you.” Not a twinkle to be found in his eyes, nor a smile hidden at the corners of his mouth. He was dead serious.

Why would Sage want to be a tender if it meant getting kidnapped, tortured, or killed? After all her waiting, being killed would be far worse than being disappointed. At least no one in Runny Cove wanted to kill her!

“But why would someone want to kill me?” The marmot squeezed onto the bench, curling into a nap between the two tenders. “Is it because I grew things inside? Mama Lu said I wasn’t supposed to grow things inside her house. She got really mad. But I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Ah, I see that Sage hasn’t told you much.” Walnut kept his voice low. “I asked him not to. Thought it best to come from a family member.” He leaned in close. “What we tenders do is grow magic.”

“Magic? But magic’s not real.”

“ ’Course it’s real. As real as this sapling.” The back of the driver’s bench, against which Walnut leaned, had sprouted. He pulled out the sapling and tossed it onto the trail. “You do know what magic is, don’t you?”

“Magic’s when you close your eyes, make a wish, and it comes true.”

“No, that’s coincidence.”

“Magic’s when a princess kisses a frog and it turns into a prince.”

“No, that’s evolution.”

Isabelle scratched her neck. “Well, then, what is magic?”

“A gift, dear Isabelle. A gift from long, long ago.” He flicked the reins again. The oxen snorted. “Tenders are the only people in the entire world who can grow magical ingredients.”

“What do you mean, exactly, by magical ingredients?”

Walnut peered around the edge of the caravan, then leaned in close. “If someone wants to cast a magical spell, that person needs certain ingredients. Do you see? Only a tender can grow those ingredients.”

“Like Love Apples?”

“Exactly. Now, we must be quiet. Keep your eyes peeled for Rolo. He will warn us if danger lies in wait.”

Isabelle tried to be quiet but a sneeze forced its way out.

“Pneumonia Stubbornia, which is Latin for a cold that won’t go away,” Walnut said, shaking his head. “Poor Isabelle. I’ll give you some medicine for that as soon as we get to the farm.” Then he asked, a bit shyly, “This Mama Lu you mentioned. Is she married?”

“She used to be.”

“I’ve been searching for a wife for some time. Do you think…”

“No!” Isabelle stuck out her tongue. “She’s horrid and rotten and mean.”

Walnut sighed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Late afternoon turned to dusk, as it typically does. The trail followed alongside a river, climbing steadily into the mountains. In places the river flowed deep and smooth. In other places it rushed by, churning around rocks and stumps. Beyond the river stood a forest with trees taller than the boarding houses that lined Boggy Lane. They grew in clusters, reaching out to one another with arched branches like friends holding hands.

Who were these horrible people who wanted to hurt tenders? Isabelle scanned the sky for signs of the raven. She watched for Sage at each bend in the trail, hoping he would be waiting to say that all was well. The sky darkened and for a moment, she lost sight of the trail. Her heart began to beat wildly as the oxen slowed even more. Then, she nearly fell off the bench. “What’s that?”

“What?” Walnut, who had nodded off, sat up straight.

“That!”

He cleared some soil from his ear. “Bat? Did you say bat? Which species? Vampiria or Fruitola?”

“No. I said, What’s that?” Isabelle pointed at the ridge of light above the trees.

“That is a moonrise, of course.” Walnut took a knit hat from his coat pocket and pulled it over his bald spot.

The moon peeked over the trees, quickly gliding into full view. Hanging alone in the sky, it reminded Isabelle of the lightbulb in her bedroom, only the moon didn’t have to abide by Mama Lu’s eight o’clock shutoff rule. And it was much, much bigger. “How does it do that?” she asked. “How does it make so much light?”

Uncle Walnut cleared his throat. “Yes, well, er… You see…” He cleared his throat again. “A very complicated system of circuits and wiring but the details have escaped me