The Good, the Bad, and the Emus(79)

“Thor’s worried that Grandfather will get bored and go home before we find all the emus,” I added. “He figures if we have a list, Grandfather will have a harder time getting away with that.”

That worked as I hoped.

“The old rascal,” she said. “Yes, Cordelia had a list. I‘m sure I have it somewhere. I’ll look for it tonight.”

As I headed back to camp, I realized that I’d enjoyed talking to Annabel and was looking forward to coming back to see what thoughts she’d had. Our relationship was becoming less weighed down by all the baggage I knew I carried about Cordelia. It wasn’t Annabel’s fault her cousin had kept us at a distance. I found myself imagining that perhaps Annabel had tried to talk Cordelia into contacting us. “They’re your family, for heaven’s sake!” she might have said. “At least go and talk to them.”

Maybe I’d never know. Or maybe I was getting closer to finding out.

When I got back to the camp, the boys greeted me with delight.

“Mommy, the horses are going to fight the mo sickles!” Jamie exclaimed.

“No, they’re going to race the mo sickles,” Josh corrected.

Neither sounded very plausible, so I looked up at Michael, Caroline, and Natalie for enlightenment.

“Apparently the rivalry’s running high between the horseback wranglers and the motorcycle wranglers,” Caroline said. “One side has challenged the other to a friendly jousting match.”

“A friendly jousting match?” Natalie echoed. “Just how are they going to pull that off? Isn’t the whole point of jousting that the knights line up on the opposite sides of a field and then run at each other at top speed carrying long sharp pointy objects?”

“They’re probably doing it the same way they do at Renaissance Faires,” I said. “They aim the long sharp pointy objects at targets instead of each other. It’s a test of hand/eye coordination and horsemanship.”

“Or in this case, bikemanship,” Caroline added.

“Sounds like fun,” Michael said. “But you do realize that if we let the boys watch this, they will be jousting on their tricycles all summer, right?”

Natalie moaned slightly.

“We can make them padded armor,” I said. “And lances with a lot of padding on the end. And Dad says he’s very pleased with Gridwell.”

“Gridwell?” Michael looked puzzled. “What’s that?”

“The new ER doc,” I said.

“Ah,” Michael said. “Haven’t met him yet.”

“The summer is still young,” I replied. “Let’s go eat before the carnage starts.”





Chapter 20



The cookout was a big hit. Those parts of the field not already filled with our campground and the emu pen were now packed with the cars and trucks of the townspeople, and volunteers were circulating with platters of hot dogs, hamburgers, and mushroom burgers. I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that so few people were worried about being poisoned or terrified at how many more potential poisoners Grandfather had invited into camp.

Then I heard Caroline’s voice over the portable megaphone, ordering people to clear the roadway for the jousting. Michael and I grabbed the boys and climbed on to the roof of the Twinmobile, which was parked in a strategic location, right by the road and just outside camp—perfect for watching the joust. Caroline and Grandfather and the bodyguards were sitting in lawn chairs on the bed of a truck next door to us, and the entire length of the dirt road was lined with cars, trucks, vans, SUVs, and people, standing, sitting in lawn chairs, or reclining on blankets.

In the middle of the road were three gallowslike contraptions, each holding a ring at the end of a long string. The rings were about two inches in diameter and looked even tinier when suspended from the tall stands. Tiny and very hard to see—there was a reason that jousting was usually a daytime sport.

But tonight was an exception, because while the jousting crew were rigging the targets, the film crew had set up giant banks of lights to illuminate the course. Soon each of the rings swayed gently in its own pool of light, rendering them improbable rather than downright impossible targets.

Caroline, who had been watching the efforts of both crews, pulled out the portable battery-powered megaphone.

“Welcome, lords and ladies, to this contest. Sir Clarence of Rutledge, leader of the Knights of the Iron Horse, has challenged the Knights of the Silver Spear, led by Lady Joni of Langevoort, to a jousting competition.”

The half-dozen horse wranglers who were representing their team in the joust had dressed up themselves and their horses in medieval garb, with pennants on their lances. The six motorcycle wranglers would have looked rather bland in their modern gear if they hadn’t stolen the show by having their more utilitarian helmets decked with emu feathers. Presumably feathers they’d picked up while tracking the birds, since I couldn’t imagine Sir Clarence of Rutledge allowing the ones in his charge to be plucked naked for a mere joust.