Abe Lincoln at Last!: A Merlin Mission

blackness,
               into a world of daylight.

CHAPTER SIX
Trust the Magic
    C louds hid the sun. Jack and Annie sat in a clump of dead weeds beside a dirt road in the countryside. A chilly wind blew the creaky limbs of bare trees.
    “You okay?” asked Annie.
    “I think so,” said Jack. “Where are we?”
    “Looks like we’re somewhere in the country,” said Annie.
    “No kidding, but where? Why?” said Jack.
    “Wait, wait,” said Annie. “Mr. Nicolay said if the president had a free moment, he’d take a ridein the country. I’ll bet we’ve come to a spot where we can catch Abraham Lincoln on his ride! Alone!”
    “Oh, wow … cool,” said Jack.
    “Look!” said Annie. “Someone’s coming this way now! On a horse!”
    A slim figure on a horse was coming down the dirt road. Jack and Annie jumped to their feet. When the rider on the bony white horse got closer, Jack sighed. “It’s not the president,” he said. “It’s just some kid on an old horse.”
    “Maybe this kid is supposed to help us somehow,” said Annie. “Remember,
trust the magic.
”
    Jack nodded, but he couldn’t imagine the boy would be much help. He looked to be ten or maybe eleven years old. His matted black hair stuck out from under a coonskin cap. His thin face was dirty, and his buckskin pants and moccasins were stained and torn. A frayed burlap sack hung from his shoulder.
    Annie stepped into the road and waved. “Hello!” she called.
    The boy pulled the old horse to a halt. He took off his cap and bowed his head. Then he put his cap back on and looked at them with tired gray eyes. “How do?” he said without a smile.

    “We do good,” said Annie. “We’re wondering if you can help us. We’re looking for Abraham Lincoln. Does he ride his horse around here? Have you ever seen him?”
    The boy’s eyes brightened. “You’re looking for Abraham Lincoln?” he asked.
    “Yes, we are,” said Jack.
    “Why?” the boy asked.
    “Um … well, we just want to say hi to him,” said Jack. “Do you know if he goes riding in this area?”
    The boy nodded. “He does,” he said. “In fact, he is in this area as we speak.”
    “Really?” said Annie. She smiled at Jack, as if to say,
See! The magic’s working!
    Jack couldn’t help smiling back. “So, can you tell us where we can find him?” he asked the boy.
    “Yes,” said the boy, nodding. “But I think it’s better if I take you to him myself. I just have to grind some corn at the mill first.”
    How long will that take?
Jack wondered.
Howlong will the president be riding in the countryside?
    “Maybe you could just tell us where we could find him,” said Jack. “We don’t have much time.”
    “Wait,” said Annie. She whispered to Jack, “We have to trust the magic.”
    Jack sighed. He looked back at the boy. “Okay, we’ll go to the mill with you,” he said, “but it would be good if we could hurry, so we don’t miss finding Abraham Lincoln.”
    “You won’t miss him. I give you my word,” said the boy. “Come along. The grinder’s around the bend. Giddyup, girl.” He shook his reins, and the old horse started plodding down the road again.
    Jack and Annie walked after the slow-moving horse. “Our names are Jack and Annie,” Annie called. “What’s yours?”
    “You can call me Sam,” the boy said over his shoulder.
    “Okay, Sam,” said Annie. “Thanks for helping us.”
    A gust of wind stirred the branches of the trees. The old horse neighed and stopped. “Keep going, girl,” said Sam.
    But the horse wouldn’t budge.
    “She doesn’t hear well. She gets spooked by the wind,” Sam explained to Jack and Annie.
    The lonely sound of the wind spooked Jack, too. Something felt wrong. This weather was different from the weather at the White House.
    “Giddyup, girl!” said Sam.
    The horse started plodding down the road again. When they rounded the bend, Jack saw a strange-looking machine in a clearing. It had a barrel-like container with a wooden beam attached to it. Metal rods hung from the end of the beam.
    “What’s that?” said Jack.
    “The grinder,” said Sam. “You ain’t never seen one before?”
    “Sure, we have,” said Annie.
    No one was tending the grinder or waiting to use it. Sam dropped his sack to the ground and dismounted. He was tall and skinny. Hisbuckskin pants were too short for him.
    “What’s in your bag?” asked Annie.
    “Twenty pounds of corn,” Sam said. “Shelled it