Dragon Frontier Read online

  Eliza scooted out of the house with a book under her arm before her mother could even scold her about wearing a dress, and Jake and the twins did not see her on the road to school. Jake had loved Emmie and missed her terribly, and girls had always liked him well enough, so he was surprised that Eliza avoided him whenever she could.

  The schoolhouse stood on its own piece of land a quarter of a mile to the east of the town. The building had been paid for by Nathan McKenzie and raised by the community, and Miss Ballantine, the first teacher, had arrived six or seven months ago from back east.

  The schoolhouse had one large room with big windows on both sides and a high veranda, so that Miss Ballantine could watch the children at play during recess. There was a long flight of steps down to the dirt road, and, even several hundred yards away, Jake could see a pretty woman standing on the top step ringing a handbell. The peal of the bell brought children running from all directions, and Michael and David urged Jake to hurry so as not to be late.

  Jake stumbled while he found his feet, but enjoyed the little burst of speed up to the school and the dash up the steps. Then someone swung a heavy book from a strap, thumping it into the back of Jake’s legs, as if trying to trip him up on purpose. If David hadn’t caught the book, Jake might have fallen down the steps.

  Once inside, the teacher and the new student stood at the front of the classroom with long benches and desks spread out in front of them. The youngest children sat at the front, and the oldest at the back, boys on the right, girls on the left. Jake noticed a large lumpen boy sitting on the last seat on the right, and realized that he was the one who’d knocked into him with his book. The boy was dressed in Sunday-best clothes, and he looked uncomfortable, and too big for school. He even seemed to have the beginnings of a moustache on his top lip.

  ‘This is our new student, Jacob Polson, from St Louis,’ said Miss Ballantine, patting Jake lightly on the shoulder. ‘I hope you’ll make him very welcome as he’s all alone in McKenzie’s Prospect.’

  David, who was sitting in the third row, thrust his hand into the air.

  ‘Yes?’ asked Miss Ballantine.

  ‘He’s not alone,’ said David.

  ‘He’s got us,’ said Michael.

  ‘Very well,’ said Miss Ballantine, still smiling. ‘Just for today, Jacob may sit with you, but tomorrow he’ll have to sit with the older boys, where he belongs.’

  The morning passed in a flurry of copying sums and calculating the answers. Most of the children had slates with chalk and rags, but some of the older ones used paper and pencils. Then came handwriting. The younger children were given pencils from a beaker on Miss Ballantine’s desk. The oldest used penknives to cut feathers into writing tools, and the last two rows of desks even had inkwells for dipping the pens into.

  Jake enjoyed the maths, and he was happy enough to do a writing exercise with a pencil. He was even amused by David’s tongue darting out between his lips as he concentrated on writing with his right hand. He switched the pencil to his left hand when he thought that Miss Ballantine wasn’t looking.

  Jake sat on the classroom steps during recess. He was not allowed to run around because of his recent illness, and his hand and arm were still bandaged. Besides, recess gave him time to think about his plan for finding the dragons. While he was thinking, Jake kept an eye on the big lumpen boy with the starched collar and moustache. He soon realized that the boy was a bully with a little clutch of cronies, and he was surprised to see Eliza speaking to him. In fact, she spent at least five minutes apparently deep in conversation with the boy.

  Miss Ballantine rang the bell for the end of recess, and Jake waited for David and Michael.

  ‘Who’s that big boy?’ he asked as they climbed the steps.

  ‘Ugly, isn’t he?’ asked David, whispering behind his hand.

  ‘That’s Horace McKenzie,’ said Michael. ‘He’s almost as mean as his dad.’

  ‘And twice as ugly,’ said David and Michael together.

  ‘Quiet, please,’ said Miss Ballantine. ‘In honour of our new student, we’re going to have a spelling bee. So thinking caps on, and everybody stand up.’

  There was a rustle and shoving as everyone stood up.

  ‘Would someone like to tell Jacob the rules, please?’

  A dozen children put their hands up, but Miss Ballantine didn’t pick any of them.

  ‘Horace McKenzie,’ she said, ‘as the winner of our last spelling bee, please recite the rules of the competition.’

  Horace McKenzie huffed a huge sigh and then began to recite, in a surprisingly high, squeaky voice.

  ‘Every child will be asked to spell a word,’ he said. ‘If he spells it correctly, he remains standing. If he misspells it, he sits down and the next child is asked to spell the same word. The last child standing wins.’

  ‘That is correct, Horace, thank you,’ said Miss Ballantine. She looked at the first child on the left-hand side and said, ‘Louisa-May, your word is “small”, as in, “My kitten is very small.” Please spell “small”.’

  Half an hour later, only three children were still standing. Jake felt rather foolish standing in the third row, surrounded by smaller children. He didn’t like to turn around, but he knew the two other people still in the competition were Eliza Garret and Horace McKenzie. Neither of them seemed to like him very much.

  ‘Eliza Garret, your word is “bronchitis”, as in, “The doctor diagnosed Billy-Bob’s cough as bronchitis.” Please spell “bronchitis”.’

  ‘B-R-O-N–’ Eliza began. She counted the letters off on her fingers and then continued. ‘C-H-I-T-U-S, bronchitis.’

  ‘That is incorrect, Eliza,’ said Miss Ballantine. ‘Please sit down.’

  Jake didn’t dare turn around, especially when he heard Eliza huffing and the creak of her bench as she sat down too hard, clearly annoyed.

  ‘Jake, your word is “bronchitis”,’ said Miss Ballantine.

  ‘B-R-O-N-C-H-I-T-I-S, bronchitis,’ said Jake.

  ‘That is correct,’ said Miss Ballantine. ‘Horace, your word is “pneumonia”, as in, “Billy-Bob’s bronchitis turned into pneumonia.” Please spell “pneumonia”.’

  Horace began to spell. ‘P-N-U-M–’ Then he hesitated before beginning again. ‘P-N-U-M-O-N-I-A, pneumonia,’ said Horace.

  ‘That is incorrect, Horace,’ said Miss Ballantine. ‘Please sit down.’

  ‘But …’ Horace began.

  ‘Sit down, Horace,’ said Miss Ballantine in a firm voice that Jake hadn’t heard before.

  Jake was the only person still standing in the classroom. He desperately wanted to turn around to see the look on Horace’s face, but he didn’t like his chances if he did.

  ‘Jacob,’ said Miss Ballantine, ‘if you spell your next word correctly, you have won this morning’s spelling bee. Good luck. Jacob, your word is “pneumonia”.’

  Jake took a deep breath and concentrated hard. He could see every letter in his head, and he let out his breath and spelled the word.

  ‘P-N-E-U-M-O-N-I-A, pneumonia,’ he said.

  ‘That is correct,’ said Miss Ballantine. ‘Well done, Jacob. Let’s all give Jacob a big clap.’

  Jake felt rather foolish and began to blush as the other children applauded politely, all except for David and Michael, who clapped as hard as they could.

  Miss Ballantine dismissed the class, and they filed out, one row at a time, beginning at the back. Jake watched as Eliza stomped past his seat, head down, arms around her book, looking cross. Then Horace scuffled past, wrestling his two thuggish cronies.

  ‘Beaten by a baby,’ he heard one of them say, punching
Horace in the arm.

  ‘Don’t you worry,’ replied Horace, ‘I’ll soon show him how to get beat.’

  ‘Quietly, boys,’ said Miss Ballantine.

  When it came time to dismiss his row, Miss Ballantine asked Jake to stay behind.

  ‘You can wait for Jacob outside,’ she said to David and Michael. ‘You had a good first day,’ she said when the classroom was empty.

  ‘I was just lucky,’ said Jake.

  ‘You’re a bright boy,’ said Miss Ballantine. ‘Don’t let them pick on you. You’re new, and it isn’t always easy –’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Jake, interrupting Miss Ballantine, even though he didn’t like to. He’d been taught that it was impolite to interrupt, and he liked Miss Ballantine and didn’t want to seem rude. He knew, though, that she was treating him differently because he’d lost his family, and he didn’t want her pity. Besides, he hadn’t worked out what had happened to them yet, and he still hadn’t found out about the dragons.

  Jake looked around for something to distract Miss Ballantine and noticed the book on her desk. He thought he recognized the cover, so he picked it up.

  ‘That’s not for school,’ said Miss Ballantine, holding her hand out for the book.

  It was covered in red linen bookcloth, and Jake was strongly reminded of another book. He turned the spine towards him so that he could read what was written there in gold:

  THE FROZEN TUNDRA OF KORATH

  BY

  H. N. MATCHSTRUCK

  ‘I love this book,’ said Jake. ‘Matchstruck is my favourite author. I prefer Fire Beyond the Clouds, though, because the villain’s more interesting and the ending is stronger.’

  ‘Don’t give away the plot,’ said Miss Ballantine. ‘I haven’t read it yet.’

  ‘Sorry, Miss,’ said Jake, blushing and handing her the book.

  ‘That’s all right,’ she said. ‘It’s good to find someone else who loves Matchstruck as much as I do. Have you read Flame Trees of the Antipodes?’

  ‘I’ve read them all,’ said Jake, ‘at least twice. I hope he’ll write another.’

  ‘I’m sure he will, and, in the meantime, you can reread your favourites.’

  Jake remembered losing his book in the river. Then he remembered Emmie and his ma and pa, and he felt ashamed for thinking about the book. His face flushed and he dropped his head.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Miss Ballantine. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘We left a lot of books in St Louis,’ said Jake, ‘and I lost my copy of Fire Beyond the Clouds in the river. That was before …’

  ‘It’s a terrible thing to lose your family,’ said Miss Ballantine.

  ‘It’s worse knowing that the last words you said to them were hateful,’ said Jake, sagging down on to the nearest bench.

  Miss Ballantine produced a clean handkerchief from her dress pocket and handed it to Jake.

  ‘You shouldn’t think about the bad times,’ she said. ‘There must be lots of good times to remember. Your parents loved you, and your sister too.’

  ‘I just feel so dumb thinking about losing that stupid book,’ said Jake. He folded Miss Ballantine’s handkerchief defiantly into a little square. He’d cry when he knew for sure that his family was dead and not before.

  ‘Don’t feel that way. A good book or a cup of hot milk keeps us all going when we’re sad,’ said the teacher. ‘In fact …’

  Miss Ballantine stepped over to the bookcase behind her desk with its dictionary and encyclopedia and primers, and bent down to the row of clothbound books on the bottom shelf. She ran a finger along the titles until she found the book she was looking for and pulled it out.

  ‘Here you are,’ she said, handing Jake a copy of Fire Beyond the Clouds. ‘This should help to cheer you up.’

  ‘I couldn’t,’ said Jake.

  ‘Yes, you can,’ said Miss Ballantine, ‘and, when you’ve finished reading it, bring it back and I’ll lend you another. We’ll call it the library, you and I.’

  Jake finally left school twenty minutes after everyone else, so he wasn’t surprised that the twins had gone, and the patch of ground in front of the schoolhouse was empty. It didn’t matter. He knew his way back to the forge, and the walk would give him time to think about Ma and Pa and Emmie and what had happened to them, and about the dragons too. The Garrets didn’t like him talking about the dragons, but he had to know if they were real, and he had to find out whether they had something to do with the wagon-train fire.

  Jake tucked the book into his jacket pocket. The jacket had belonged to Daniel Garret and was a little short in the sleeves. Then he bound down the schoolhouse steps and began to walk to the forge, his head still full of unanswered questions.

  Ten minutes later, Jake was halfway home when he was suddenly knocked sideways by a blow to the head. He managed to stay upright after staggering for a moment or two, and then he put his hand up to his head where a clod of wet mud had stuck to his hair. He started trying to clean himself up.

  ‘Hahahaha-hehehehe!’ The laugh was high-pitched, almost like a shriek. Jake wondered whether a girl had thrown the mud, and Eliza immediately popped into his head.

  ‘Hehehehe!’ The laugh suddenly sounded very familiar.

  ‘Who’s there?’ shouted Jake. ‘Is that you, Horace McKenzie?’

  Three boys came out from behind a clump of rhododendron bushes, roaring with laughter, and started taunting Jake.

  ‘Ooh, listen to me spelling all the big words,’ said Will Hunt.

  ‘Aren’t I the teacher’s pet?’ mocked John Waldo. ‘Aren’t I a little bookworm?’

  ‘I’ve got all the best stories,’ said Horace in his squeak, as the boys surrounded Jake. ‘No, wait, they’re not stories. They’re real!’

  ‘Nasty, horrid dragons,’ said John.

  ‘Boohoo! The nasty dragons killed my mommy and daddy!’ said Horace, pretending to cry.

  ‘The fire-breathing dragons killed my family and the Natives let them … Boohoo!’ said Will.

  Jake was not going to let a bully like Horace McKenzie get the better of him, even if he was outnumbered. He did the only thing he could do. He turned to face Horace and stared him right in the face for several seconds. Then he launched himself at the big boy’s body as fast as he could, running the few paces between them, head down.

  Jake’s head ploughed into Horace’s belly. He wrapped his arms around the bully’s thick waist, and the two boys fell over in a tangle of arms and legs.

  David and Michael Garret planned to wait for Jake, after Miss Ballantine kept him behind. They hadn’t reckoned on their bossy sister.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Eliza as David sat down on the schoolhouse steps.

  ‘Waiting for Jake,’ said Michael. ‘Miss Ballantine kept him behind.’

  ‘We’re walking home with him,’ said David.

  ‘No, you’re not,’ said Eliza. ‘You’re walking home with me, right now. Mama’s waiting for us.’

  ‘She’s waiting for Jake too,’ said David.

  ‘We’ll tell her he’s been kept behind,’ said Eliza.

  Her voice sounded urgent, so the twins did as their sister told them. They’d been home for five minutes when Mrs Garret began to fret.

  ‘I wonder where Jake’s got to?’ she asked no one in particular.

  ‘We’ll go see,’ said Michael, jumping up from the table with David following suit.

  ‘Go with them, Eliza,’ said Mrs Garret. ‘Lunch can wait a few minutes.’

  Eliza and the twins went back the way they’d come until they reached a fork in the road.

  ‘You go that
way,’ said Eliza, pointing to the left, ‘and I’ll go this way, and we’ll soon find him.’

  The twins shrugged, and they went their separate ways to look for Jake.

  Jake’s fists landed in the soft fat of Horace’s body twice, three times, but the blows seemed to have little effect. Then Horace grabbed hold of Jake, pinning his arms to his sides so that he couldn’t punch the bigger boy. Jake wriggled and kicked, and Horace’s grip loosened. Horace hit back with two hard slaps to Jake’s chest. They stung, but there was no real strength behind them.

  Horace wasn’t tough; he was just bigger than most of the other kids, and that was why so many of them were scared of him. He was a bully.

  Jake grabbed Horace low around his middle and pushed him over, at the edge of the muddy road, while Will and John cheered Horace on. Jake was determined to get the better of Horace, and he was sitting on the boy’s chest when he thought he heard someone in the bushes at the side of the road. Jake looked up and saw Eliza’s face peering at him.

  Jake thought about shouting out, but Horace was fighting hard to turn him over. As he battled to keep the upper hand, Jake caught Eliza’s eye. She looked right at him for a moment, and Jake thought she might try to help him, but her expression didn’t change. Then she simply turned and walked away. She wasn’t going to come to his rescue, after all.

  Fine! I don’t need rescuing! Jake thought. He didn’t need rescuing because Horace was a bully, or because his stories about dragons had made him a laughing stock, and he didn’t even need rescuing because he had lost his family and he didn’t know if he’d ever see them again. Jacob Polson could look after himself.

  Eliza hurried back to the fork in the road and called her brothers. They came running back to her and stood panting as she explained what had happened.

  ‘I’ve seen him,’ she said. ‘He’s walking home with Horace McKenzie. He’s made a new friend, and he doesn’t care about you any more, so we’d better just go home.’