When we got near the Crescent Grange, Hurk put some flour sacks over our heads and led us down a cellar stairway and through an underground corridor. I don’t know where the stairway entrance was actually located. But judging by how far we twisted and turned through the corridor, it must have been a hundred yards away, at least.
“Watch yer step!” Hurk said. He carefully steered us into the stairway and only let go when he could tell that we had our footing. Even though we were being kidnapped, Hurk was still looking out for us.
He made us sit down back-to-back on wooden chairs. We were on some kind of platform about a foot off the ground. Before taking the sacks off of our heads, Hurk tied us up by attaching a long rope to the back of one of the chairs and then circling us about six times to wrap the rope around us.
“That’s not too tight, is it?” He asked a couple times.
If anything, the rope was too loose. And with the hoods removed, we could see that it was more of a velvet braid than a real rope. Stumpy and I could’ve gotten out of there just about anytime we wanted. But I was curious to learn more about this Benevolent Order of the Broomsquatch that Hurk had mentioned. Plus, he had promised that we’d be home by dinnertime, so I guess we could play along. And who knew that the Crescent Grange had a basement? This was turning into an adventure of the first order!
When Hurk finally pulled the four sacks from our heads, I couldn’t believe my eyes. We were in a windowless room about the same size as the Crescent Grange. Quilts hung from the walls showing scenes of townsfolk, farms, horses and sometimes an ape-like creature! Each one looked like some kind of a story. Sometimes the townsfolk were fighting the ape-man, who I took to be the Broomsquatch. But other scenes showed him defending the people by fighting off bears and black-hatted villains. In some frames, the Broomsquatch was shown riding a giant black horse. Other scenes showed him digging deep under ground.
“His Eminence and the Wardens of the Broomsquatch will see you now,” Hurk said. He was wearing a brown robe and a mask over his eyes that kind of made him look like an owl. He walked over towards one of the walls, picked up a small gong from a table, and struck it three times, gong-gong-gong. Then he picked up a kind of bishop’s staff carved out of a single piece of wood. There was an ape’s head carved at the top.
From behind one of the quilts stepped Hurk’s brother, Kirk McHurk, and four or five other folks. They were all wearing masks and robes similar to Hurk’s. Kirk wore a headpiece topped with small, three-point deer antlers. I guess Kirk was “His Eminence,” which kind of made sense. Instead of being raised by bears, the rumor was the Kirk was raised by lawyers. Some said they were patent lawyers, while others said they were criminal defense lawyers, and well... you get the idea.
Kirk sat on a worn wooden throne, and the Wardens of the Broomsquatch sat on two benches placed on either side of him. Everyone stared straight ahead, directly at the two boys.
“Awww. Did you have to tie them up, Hurk?” Kirk complained.
“No names when we’re in the Grand Lodge! I am the Outer Guard, your Eminence,” Hurk snapped back at his brother.
“Did you have to tie them up, Outer Guard?” Kirk pronounced it sarcastically.
“The bylaws stipulate that all apprentices must…”
“I know. I know,” Kirk replied. Then he turned to us and asked, “Are you boys alright?”
“Yes, Mr. McHurk,” we both replied.
“You know that you can leave at any time, right?” he smiled and gestured toward a tapestry that was probably covering the way we came into the room, er…, the Grand Lodge.
“We want to stay,” Stumpy yelled. “We want to learn more about the Broomsquatch. I think he saved me. I think he fixed my leg.”
“We want to hear all about that, too, Stumpy,” Kirk said. “But first we need to take care of some business. Hurk tells me that you boys want to become BOBs.”
“Bobs?” both Stumpy and I questioned at the same time.
“BOBs. Bee Oh Bees. That’s what we call the apprentices in the Benevolent Order of the Broomsquatch. BOBs. Get it?” Kirk smiled.
Stumpy spoke up. “Mr. McHurk, well the OTHER Mr. McHurk, the, uh…, Outer Guard,” Stumpy gestured to Hurk, “he grabbed us off of the Community Ditch trail, stuck flour sacks on our heads, dragged us here, and tied us to these chairs!”
“Jeez, Hurk!” Kirk yelled, “You could get in real trouble for that!” There was some murmuring among the Wardens of the Broomsquatch.
“It’s OUTER GUARD!” Hurk yelled, and he pounded his staff into the floor.
“It’s OK!” I said, “We know that Hurk, er… Outer Guard, was just foolin’. So we’re just playing along, too. Ain’t we, Stumpy?”
“Yep. We want to be BOBs!” Stumpy hollered. “We know we can leave. Look!” And at that, Stumpy pushed the velvet braids up over our heads and shoved them to the floor. “What do we got to do to become part of your club?” Stumpy asked.
“Well, it’s a simple ceremony, really,” his Eminence said. “You answer three questions. You put your hand on the Red Book and swear a blood oath. Then I read to you the history of the Broomsquatch from the Red Book.”
“What’s the Red Book?” Stumpy asked.
Kirk became quite serious as he gestured to the warden on his right, who was now holding a large, ornate, red leather-bound book. It looked like it was a thousand years old. The cover had no words. Instead there was an image in gold of an ape-man etched deep into the red leather.
“The Red Book is the most most important relic of the Benevolent Order of the Broomsquatch,” Kirk said.
“The Red Book,” he continued, “has been the repository of stories of the Broomsquatch for generations. This is what you swear your oaths upon. And, Stumpy, this is where you will add the story of your own encounters with the Broomsquatch.”
“Swear me in!” Stumpy hollered. “I want to learn all about the guy who saved my life!”
# # #
At the same time that the boys were in the basement of the Crescent Grange becoming BOBs, two bandits were meeting up in the shade under a large tree behind the pickle factory.
“You got the rags?” the first bandit asked, looking around to make sure that no one had followed them to the meeting spot.
“I got ‘em. You got enough kerosene?” the second bandit responded.
“Ha! Yeah,” the first bandit responded. “I have enough kerosene to burn down a mountain...or a grain silo.” And they both laughed. The first bandit stuck a cigarette in his mouth and struck a match alight on the side of his boot.
At that exact moment a giant black horse, nearly twice the size of any horse they’d ever seen, reared up from out of nowhere. Its neigh was a scream of anger from the depths of hell itself. Before they knew what hit them, the rider lassoed a rope around the bandits and began to ride in circles lashing them to the tree. Tighter and tighter the rope clenched them until the rider stopped directly in front of them. They couldn’t make out his features because he was silhouetted by the setting sun. But he was nearly twice the size of an ordinary man, and quite hairy. There was a smell, too, that overpowered their senses.
The first bandit’s match fell from his hand and into the dry grass near his feet.
To be continued…