Thomas Tryon - The Night of the Moonbow

Now, several days after his return to general favor,. is the normal roster of Moonbow handicrafters pursued their usual projects during morning crafts session, Leo, seated across the worktable from Fritz, was hard at work on a miniature paddle wheeler for the model. Already, on a platform temporarily attached to a work stand in the Swoboda Wood-Carving Shop, the model’s substructure was on view: a tiny corner of the Danube Valley in miniature, with the river sculpted from plaster of Paris, and a mountain (crumpled chicken-wire mesh overlaid with papier-mache made from cut newspaper strips soaked in flour-and-water paste). On the peak of the mountain would be sited the castle that was to be the crowning feature of the village.

The paddle wheeler was by far the most complicated construction Leo had ever attempted, and he found the work both engaging and enormously satisfying; more satisfying even than collecting spiders, he decided, and for the moment he was content. When the sections of the tiny vessel lay pinned to a template, he straightened, kneading a fist in the small of his back. The muffled ringing of the bell startled him and he glanced out the barn door. Across the compound, at the west corner of the porch, Hank Ives was perched on a ladder, buffing up the bell’s bright chrome and keeping a watchful eye on Willa-Sue, who was sitting in the glider playing with her doll. Through the office window Leo could make out Ma’s green eyeshade as she sat in her swivel chair at her rolltop desk, cashing allowance chits for some of the campers and putting the cash into their envelopes. Just inside the door Honey Oliphant was speaking on the wall telephone, and he observed her through the rusty screen – she had on the white sharkskin shorts she liked to wear, and a pink halter – as she hung up, paid Ma for the use of the telephone, then came out onto the stoop to pet Harpo, sprawled on the warm brownstone.

After a moment she crossed the compound and came to stand in the barn doorway. Leo’s mouth went dry and his hand began to tremble.

“Gosh, haven’t you been busy?” she said, stepping to Fritz’s side. “May I look?”

“Look your fill, by all means,” said Fritz, showing off the meticulously executed details added to the model in the past few days: a riverside hotel with tiny flower-planted window boxes, a church with a gleaming gold ball atop the steeple; the weathervane (made from a common pin and bits of gilded paper) on the tiny cupola of the burgomaster’s hall; the sign on the outdoor cafe by the river, which you could actually read – Die zwei schwartzer Schvannen, The Two Black Swans – and Leo’s unfinished paddleboat.

“What’s the boat called,” Honey asked Leo.

Blushing furiously, he couldn’t answer.

“It’s called the Guldenbraut,” Fritz said, filling the awkward gap. “It means ‘Golden Bride.’ ”

Still Leo remained tongue-tied, and Fritz went on, describing how the summit of the mountain would be the site of the famous castle where the wicked Austrian Duke Philip had held Richard the Lionheart for ransom on his way back to England from the Crusades.

“I want Leo to tell me about the castle,” Honey said, dimpling with enthusiasm. “Please?”

She was teasing him, but he liked it, and somehow his shyness vanished. Hitching up his stool, he recounted the old tale, complete with “once upon a time”: how Richard waited in vain to be rescued by his treacherous brother, Prince John, who wanted the English throne for himself. “And then?” Honey asked, playing the game.

“Richard had a faithful servant, a troubadour called Blondel, and he went in quest of the king, his master. And everywhere he went, to let the king know he was looking for him, he played a song he’d written, a favorite of Richard’s.”

“Did Richard hear it?”

Leo nodded soberly. “And he called down from his prison room, ‘Blondel, Blondel, here am I, your king imprisoned. Come free me.’ So Blondel helped the king escape his chains, and together they returned to England, where Richard was greeted lovingly by all his faithful subjects and-”

“And lived happily ever after!” Honey’s gay laugh rang out and she clapped her hands like a child.

Leo smiled. “I guess maybe he did.”

She laughed her bubbly laugh again, but Leo now was staring down at the barn floor, where the sun had suddenly cast a long shadow. Reece Hartsig sauntered into the Swoboda corner. “What are you doing around here?” he said, eyeing Honey.

“I stopped by to see how the work was going. See the pretty steamboat Leo is making? And the flags?”

Reece tossed a glance at the table but made no comment.

“You never did tell us what happened to your eye,” she said teasingly.

He put his hand up to the fading bruise. “It’s nothing. I walked into a door,” he growled, staring hard at Leo, then abruptly ducked his head and disappeared up the steps, his heavy tread shaking the whole loft as he joined the radio-builders around the transmitter.

“Honestly,” said the exasperated Honey, “he can be such a spoilsport sometimes. If you ask me, he’s jealous.” Her laugh lingered behind as she left the barn and took her bike from the rack near the office door. Leo watched her pedal away, then sat down on his stool again.

“Come on, don’t look like that,” Fritz said, noting Leo’s downcast expression. “He’s just acting that way to make you feel bad. Honey’s right, he’s jealous, I’m sure of it.” 'He washed his brush in his jelly jar – he’d been adding some highlights to the foliage – then took the crosscut saw from the tool rack and went over to the dining hall to even-up the legs of Pa Starbuck’s chair.

Preoccupied with fitting the paddle wheel to the boat hull, Leo was only vaguely aware of the sound of idle humming outside the barn until, glancing through the window, he noticed Willa-Sue sitting in the front seat of the Green Hornet. She was playing around with Reece’s radio.

“Willa-Sue,” he said, keeping his voice down. “You better scram out of there.” But she just stood up on the seat and stuck her tongue out at him. He shook his head. “Naughty, naughty,” he chided her, and pointed up to where Reece was working. Reluctantly she obeyed him. The next time he looked she was happily ensconced in the glider again, blowing up a balloon. Leo watched as it grew larger and larger, a white balloon of an elongate shape. He hoped it wouldn’t pop in her face and set her to hollering. When she was done, she tied it and it sailed into the breeze – not strong enough to carry it aloft – and as it bobbed its way across the compound, she started blowing up another.

Suddenly it dawned on him what the “balloons” really were, and, jumping up, he dashed for the door. As he raced across the compound, scooping up the inflated prophylactic, he heard Ma calling for Pa (“Oh Lord, just see what the child’s up to now!”), and by the time Leo reached Willa-Sue, the Reverend was also on the scene. But it was too late to stop the launch of the second balloon; as Willa-Sue squealed with delight, the thing spurted into the air in a gust of wind to catch on the utility wires strung from barn to house, where it hung in full view of the loft window, now crowded with the faces of boys – and, for a moment, that of Reece Hartsig.

“Where did she get these nasty things?” Pa demanded of Leo. “Did you give them to her?” Leo flushed and stammered a denial. But how could he explain that the “balloons” had come from the glove compartment of the Green Hornet? “Well, get the dadblamed thing down!” Pa sputtered. Shaking his head, he retreated to the office, washing his hands of the whole business, as Reece stormed out of the barn and advanced across the compound toward