Peter & Max - Bill Willingham [91]
“Why?”
“Because, I’m smaller than you are, silly man, and more limber. As big as this thing is, you’d never fit.”
“I meant why does one of us have to do it at all?”
“Really?” she said. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”
“What can I say?” he said. “I’m tired from too many days with too little sleep, and from the constant stress of being on the run. And, as you’ve so often pointed out — but always in a loving way — I can be dense at times.”
“It’s simple. With me hiding in here, and the plug pressed down just right, so the cut doesn’t show, you will then be a single man on his own, bringing his goods to market. They aren’t looking for a single man on his own. But, even if you could be the one to fit inside this grandfather of all gourds, a single woman bringing her goods to market, though she may not fit the description of the particular fugitives they may be seeking — well, a woman alone attracts a different kind of unwanted attention.”
“Yes, I confess, that is rather clever.”
“Now that we’ve only one last obstacle remaining between us and the ship that can carry us away to this new world of sanctuary, I don’t want to take any chances. So help me get down inside this pumpkin, Peter, my love, and then put the plug back in. And be sure to pile other vegetables all over the top, just to be safe.”
“Very well,” he said, “but cut yourself a small air hole down low in the thing, and be sure to call out if you get a cramp or become claustrophobic.”
“I don’t get claustrophobic, and why should I bother calling out?” she said, with a wicked grin. “You’d likely not recognize my voice anyway.”
“Are we going to discuss that again?” His smile matched hers. “I hadn’t seen you in ten years. It was dark. There was a bloody damned stone wall between us — an exceptionally thick one at that. You were whispering. And your mouth, along with your whole face, was swaddled in that long black scarf you like to wrap around your head as a mask.”
“I have white-blonde hair and perfect alabaster skin that shows up like a lit candle, in even the darkest room. I need a mask in order to skulk about in the night. But granting all of those fine excuses you constructed, you’d still think a man would know the voice of his own true love.”
“Please, oh eternal light of my life, get into the damned pumpkin. We really need to be on our way, before anyone else comes along.”
“Yes, dear. Thump once on the outside of it, when you need me to be completely silent inside, twice when we’re clear of the tower, and then thrice once it’s safe to come out.”
It turned out they needed to hollow out two of the largest pumpkins. One was required to conceal Bo, as planned, and the other to hide their remaining treasure, and all of their baggage that couldn’t be explained as belonging to a poor young farm boy. Working together, they accomplished this in little time. Then, throwing the wet, stringy pumpkin innards over the hedge, Peter took the donkey’s guide rope in hand and led the cart back on its interrupted way.
THE ROAD MEANDERED past fields and farms, then its winding character increased, as it began to turn more sharply back and forth on itself, beginning its ascent into the hills. Peter led the cart up gentle grades and steep ones. Sometimes the donkey resisted, digging all four of its surprisingly strong hooves into the dirt, and braying its protests loudly. Peter tugged on its rope, while he cursed and bargained and pleaded with it.
“Come on, Gertraud,” he’d complain. “Once we get to the top, it’s downhill all the rest of the way. I promise!”
When this happened, sooner or later, he’d find the right combination of applied force and spoken imprecations to get the stubborn beast started again, and they’d press on.
Still going uphill, they quickly left the fields behind and passed through scattered woods of maple, ash and hawthorn, their leaves already dressed for the fall. Gradually these gave way to holly and then scrub pine, that sometimes clung to the sheer sides of the granite cliffs with impossible daring and determination. In the late afternoon, after