Abe Lincoln at Last!: A Merlin Mission

the cabin and shed.
    That’s it?
Jack thought.
Sam’s family must be really poor
.

    The cabin and shed were in a scrubby clearing. The clearing was dotted with piles of stones and stumps where trees had been chopped down.
    Not much of a farm
, Jack thought. But at least they hadn’t wasted a lot of time getting Sam home.
    Jack led the horse toward Sam’s farm. The cabin not only had no windows—it didn’t even have a door! A black bearskin hung over the entrance. The horse stopped near the lean-to shed. The sound of a cow mooing came from inside.
    “I’ll help you, Sam,” Jack said, dropping the sack of cornmeal to the ground. “Careful, careful.”
    Sam lowered himself down from the horse. When his feet touched the ground, Jack grabbed him. “Lean on me,” he said. He put Sam’s arm around his shoulders.
    “Got him?” said Annie.
    “Yep,” said Jack.
    As Jack and Sam stumbled toward the cabin, Annie slid off the horse and tied her to a fence post beside the shed. Then Annie grabbed thesack of cornmeal. She ran to the cabin and pushed aside the bearskin, so Jack could help Sam inside.
    No one was home. The only light in the one-room cabin came from daylight streaming through big cracks between the logs of the walls. A low fire burned in a fireplace, but the air was cold and damp. The floor was made of dirt, and the crude furniture was made of planks of wood and tree stumps.
    “Thank—thank you, Jack,” Sam said, breathing heavily. “You can just leave me right here.” He took his arm from Jack’s shoulders and crumpled onto the dirt floor. He curled up and lay shivering on his side.
    This is not good
, thought Jack.
    “You can’t lie on the dirt, Sam,” said Annie. “Don’t you have a bed?”
    Sam pointed to a loft.
    “We’ll help you,” said Jack.
    Jack and Annie pulled Sam up from the floor. He put his arms around their shoulders, and theybrought him to a row of wooden pegs that led to the loft. Sam managed to pull himself up the row of pegs. When he reached the top, he disappeared.
    “Now what?” Jack whispered to Annie.
    Sam moaned from the loft above.
    “Poor kid,” Annie murmured to Jack. “There’s no one here to take care of him.”
    Jack didn’t know what to do. He wanted to help Sam, but they still had to find Abraham Lincoln in the countryside before he returned to the White House. And he wasn’t sure how long the magic would work.
    Another moan came from the loft.
    “We have to help Sam,” Annie said decisively. She climbed up the wooden pegs. Jack followed. As he crawled into the loft, he had to be careful not to bump his head on the ceiling.
    Light and cold air came through the cracks between the logs. Sam was lying on a bed of corn husks and dried leaves. His fingers were pressed against his head.
    “Does your head still hurt?” asked Annie.
    “Bad,” said Sam. He kept pressing his forehead, as if trying to push away the pain.
    “Where are your parents, Sam?” asked Jack.
    “Pa’s gone,” Sam said hoarsely. His eyes were squeezed shut. “Went to Kentucky last month.”
    “Where’s your mother?” asked Annie.
    Sam just shook his head.
    “Can you tell us where your mother is?” Annie asked.
    “Dead. She’s dead. She died last year,” said Sam. He covered his eyes with his arm.
    “Oh, no,” said Annie.
    “Is there anyone who can take care of you?” Jack asked. He couldn’t imagine being so alone.
    “My sister, Sarah,” Sam said in a muffled voice.
    “Where’s Sarah now?” asked Jack.
    “School,” said Sam.
    “When does she get home?” asked Jack.
    “After dark,” said Sam.
    “After dark?” said Annie.
    “Short days in December,” said Sam.
    December?
thought Jack. When they’d landed at the White House, it had been March. Maybe Sam’s head injury had confused him.
    “We’re not leaving you, Sam,” said Annie, “not until Sarah comes home.”
    “Don’t … have to stay,” said Sam, wincing with pain.
    “We know we don’t have to,” said Jack. “But we want to.”
    And he meant it.

CHAPTER EIGHT
Into the Rough
    J ack and Annie huddled in the loft near Sam. As the wind whistled between the logs, Jack could feel the boy’s sadness.
    “Thank you,” Sam said. “But I have to get up now—have to do chores—help Sarah.”
    “No, not now,” said Annie. “Maybe Sarah can take care of your chores when she gets home.”
    “She’ll be too tired,” said Sam. “She has to walk a long way home. With Pa gone, she