The Mystery at Sag Bridge

Chapter 20

"We better be on the lookout for that den, or there will be a whole new batch of wolves to contend with come fall," one of them said, as they wandered out of earshot.

I opened my eyes and looked to see if I knew the men, but I didn't. Wolves haven't got any of our livestock, but I've heard them howling at night. I set back against the tree again.

Two women came by, struggling with baskets and huge jars of lemonade, and didn't notice me looking at them.

"Fourth of July picnics used to be so much more fun before they moved the river, don't you think? Remember when we used to go out on the island, an' swim an' fish? An' the children played in the sand? Now it's all swampy an' buggy, an' of course the islands are gone. This place is okay, but it's not like the good old days."

I grew up doing the things they talked about too. After the river was moved to a new channel to make way for the canal, the valley wasn't the same. Still, I wondered why people kept talking about the good old days, when so many new and exciting things were happening in these times.

Her companion shifted the items she was carrying before stating her opinion, which was more like my point of view.

"The railway may finish buildin' that new park soon, an' maybe next Fourth picnic we can take the train to it. Imagine-the train will stop right in the park! They're makin' a lagoon, an' an amusement park. We can rent boats an' row around, swim or fish, an' there'll be a big fancy pavilion where bands will come to an' play dance music. Wonder if our husbands have any romance left in 'em?" Both women laughed, and their voices faded as they walked away.

Uncle Denny arrived, carrying fixings for ice cream. "Hey Meg!" he greeted me cheerfully. "Let me get this stuff started, and I'll come set with ya a while. How ya doin'?"

"I'm just fine," I replied, watching as he unpacked the churn and supplies. He loaded the churn with salt and surrounded it with layers of newspapers to keep the cream and ice cold.

"What flavor are you makin'?" I asked.

"Chocolate," he replied.

" 'Tis neither here nor there, but I'm glad 'tis chocolate," I said. "Chocolate's my favorite!"

He sat down next to me, wiping sweat from his face with a handkerchief, despite the breeze. "I have a grand story to tell, if you haven't heard about McWeeney's will."

"I haven't, an' who would McWeeney be then?" I asked him. Uncle Denny heard a lot of things working on the railroad, and he was famous for telling outlandish tales.

"McWeeney was a big shot at the police department down in Chicago," he started, "but I s'pose you don't remember he used to live in Lemont, until he made so much money managing the drainage ditch he got too big for the likes of this little town."

"Ah, yes, that McWeeney," I said. "I wondered what happened to him an' all."