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Dan Carter and the Money Box by Mildred A. Wirt
Dan Carter and the Money Box by Mildred A. Wirt
The Stranger in the Storm
Burrowing deep into the hoods of their slickers, the two Cub Scouts hastened along the darkening street.
Stinging gusts of rain pelted their faces. The strong wind fairly bowled them off their feet.
"Say Brad, this is awful!"
"It's sure coming down-and how!" agreed the older boy.
Brad Wilber, dark-haired and serious, was a Boy Scout and a leader among the younger boys. An outstanding athlete and nearly ready for high school, he served as Den Chief of the Webster City Cubs.
His companion, the blue-eyed, sandy-haired Dan Carter, had just turned ten.
Firm of muscle and old for his years, the younger boy grew so fast it was hard to keep him in Cub uniforms.
He and Brad had been good friends ever since Sam Hatfield had organized Den 2. On this particular evening, they had been overtaken by the storm on their way to a Cub meeting at the church.
"Say, let's hold up a second!" Dan gasped as a heavy curtain of rain veiled the sidewalk ahead.
The pair halted a moment under a store awning, there to catch their breath.
"This may turn to ice or sleet before the night's over," Brad said anxiously. "Then watch the cars pile up!"
"It's almost cold enough for sleet," Dan agreed with a shiver. "The storm certainly rolled in fast. Maybe Sam Hatfield decided to call off the Cub meeting."
Brad moved back against the building wall to escape the awning drip. "Not Sam," he said cheerfully. "He knows the Cubs are tough. Anyway, we're a little late. The others are probably at the church now, waiting for us."
From their shelter the two boys could see the church building a half block ahead, on the opposite side of the street.
The windows on the lower floor shone dimly through the wall of rain.
"The place is lighted, so Sam must be there at least," Brad commented. "Shall we go on now? We don't want to be late and hold up the meeting."
"Okay," Dan agreed, buttoning his slicker which had pulled apart.
Heads low, they bored directly into the wind. The rain scarcely had slackened. Droplets dashed into their eyes, completely blinding them.
The boys were nearly opposite the church when Brad, who was ahead, ran full tilt into a man huddling against a building wall.
"I'm sorry," the boy apologized. "I didn't see you standing there."
"Watch where you're going next time!" the other growled.
Because the man spoke in such a surly tone, Brad looked him over carefully.
The fellow was no one he ever had seen before. His face, beneath a snap-brim hat which dripped rain, appeared shadowy and unfriendly. He might have been thirty years of age, maybe older. A day-old beard made it difficult to judge.
"Sorry," Brad apologized again.
He and Dan started on, only to be stopped in their tracks by a question.
"Hey, kids," the stranger addressed them, "what's going on over there?"
"Over where?" demanded Dan.
"In that church. It's lighted up like a Christmas tree."
"Oh, just a Cub meeting," Dan explained briefly.
Again he and Brad tried to move away, but the stranger more or less blocked the street.
"A Cub meeting?" the man echoed. "What's that?"
Brad had a feeling that the stranger in asking such a stupid question was stalling for time. He seemed to be looking over the two boys, studying them.
"It's the younger boy program of the Boy Scouts of America," Brad explained briefly. "We have a whale of a lot of fun."
"But what's the church doing all lighted up?"
"Dan told you," Brad said patiently. "The Cubs are having their monthly meeting."
His answer still did not satisfy the stranger. "But the church has been closed, hasn't it?" he mumbled.
"That's right." Brad began to edge away for he resented the delay.
"The church was closed nearly a month while repairs were made on the heating system," Dan added. "Now the work is finished, so services will be held again."
Muttering something, the stranger turned and slouched off in the rain.
"Queer duck," Brad commented as he and Dan started to cross the flooded street. "What did he mumble?"
"I'm not sure I caught it right. I thought he said: 'A fine thing!'"
"Must be a screwball, Dan. Somehow I didn't like his appearance."
"Same here. His eyes were so intent they gave me the creeps. Wonder why he was interested in the church anyhow?"
"Oh, idle curiosity, I suppose. You didn't know him?"
"Never clapped eyes on him before," Dan replied, leaping over a river of gutter flow. "He must be new in Webster City."
The boys had reached the vestibule of the church.
Brad pulled open the heavy double doors and they went in out of the rain. Shaking out their slickers, they hung them up before entering the main part of the church.
The room smelled of fresh paint and seemed rather cold. Lights were on, however.
Hearing voices, Brad and Dan tramped on back to a small meeting chamber in the rear of the building.
All of the Cubs had gathered there-Chips Davis, Midge Holloway, Red Suell, Fred Hatfield, and Babe Bunning, the youngest addition to the Den.
Babe, whose real name was Clarence, barely had passed his eighth birthday.
Because he was the youngest Cub in the Den the fellows made it a little tough for him, calling him Babe Bunning instead of his real name.
Babe didn't like to be kidded, but he was game-all the Cubs admitted that.
"Say, we thought you guys weren't coming," Chips greeted Brad and Dan. "How'd you get here anyhow?"
"On a raft," Dan bantered. "Hit a lamppost on Main Street and had to swim the rest of the way."
"Oh, go on!" Chips laughed. "I guess the storm's let up."
"Like fun it has," Dan corrected. "Look at the rain sluicing down those windows."
Sam Hatfield, the assistant Cub leader, seemed unconcerned about the storm. He told the boys he had his car parked at the rear of the church. If the rain failed to let up before the meeting ended, he planned to take everyone home.
"And now let's forget the storm and get down to business," he said, calling the meeting to order. "We have some important matters to take up tonight."
To stir their blood and start the session off, the boys gave the Cub yell.
Like healthy young wolves, they howled in unison: "A-h-h-kay Iaa! W-e-e-l d-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-r Best!"
"And that's exactly what I hope we'll do in the job that's ahead of us-our best," Mr. Hatfield emphasized as the room became quiet again. "You fellows know why I called you here tonight?"
"It's something about the church building fund, isn't it?" Midge Holloway recalled. He had heard his father, one of the Den "Dads" mention the matter at home.
"That's right," Mr. Hatfield agreed. "As everyone knows, we need a new church or, at the very least, another wing. Now that temporary repairs have been made, the building can be kept open another year or so. Our crying need, though, is for a new building."
"A campaign is under way to raise funds, isn't it?" Brad remarked, for Mr. Hatfield had discussed the matter with him.
"Yes, Brad. The church trustees have asked the Cub Scouts to pitch in and help. What do you say, fellows?"
"How much will we have to raise?" Chips asked, running a hand through his short-cropped hair.
"No definite sum has been set. We'll be given a list of prospects to see. Whatever we raise will be that much to the good."
"I vote we do it," said Brad.
"Same here," agreed Dan heartily. "We've used the church meeting room, so it's only fair we help 'em a little."
Midge, Red, Babe and Fred said they were willing to go along with the idea, even though it meant hard work.
Chips gave consent by silence. Never as enthusiastic a worker as the other Cubs, he wasn't too keen over the thought of ringing doorbells.
Mr. Hatfield gave the boys instructions and handed out pledge cards.
"Our program this month isn't entirely one of hard work," the Cub leader then said cheerfully. "How many of you have read the story of King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table?"
Three hands waved in the breeze, and all faces brightened.
"We're using the King Arthur theme to dramatize important points in a Cub crusade to "Strengthen the Arm of Liberty," Mr. Hatfield went on. "We'll make our own Round Table, armor, spears and maybe horses for the knights to ride. How does the idea strike you fellows?"
"Swell!" shouted three of the Cubs.
The other boys were equally excited. Eagerly they plied the Cub Scout leader with questions. How would the Round Table be made? What would they use for armor?
"One question at a time," laughed Mr. Hatfield. "It would be great if we could build a huge oak table such as King Arthur and his knights used in the old days. I'm afraid it would be an ambitious attempt."
"Can't we use an old dining-room table-one that's circular?" Brad suggested.
"That's what I had in mind. By the way, who knows why King Arthur used a round table?"
Dan, who had read the book, had an answer. "Wasn't it so he could provide a place of equal importance for every knight?"
"That's right, Dan. A round table has no foot or head. Each knight was the equal of every other knight. It's the same way here in America. One person has the same rights as another."
"When will we start making armor and spears?" asked Midge impatiently.
"We'll gather together the articles we need and maybe start in at our meeting next week. Mrs. Holloway, the Den Mother, has promised to help." Mr. Hatfield told the Cubs they would need cardboard, silver or gold paint, burlap and several other items.
"We'll make banners and turn this room into a regular King Arthur's Court," he declared. "The place right now is as cold as an ancient castle! Wonder what happened to that fire I built?"
Mr. Hatfield had noticed that despite jackets, several of the Cubs were shivering.
A little heat was rising from the registers. But not much.
"Want me to take a look at the furnace?" Brad offered.
"It might be a good idea," agreed the Cub leader. "Toss in three or four shovels of coal."
"I'll go with you, Brad," Dan offered.
The two boys descended a narrow, dimly lighted stairway to the church basement.
Walls were damp to the touch. In several places water oozed in through cracks in the decaying masonry.
Cobwebs hung from the overhead beams. In the semi-darkness, Dan ran into one, cringing as it wrapped silken threads about his throat.
"Glug, glug," he entoned, making a strangling sound. "I'm being choked to death!"
"Cut it out!" Brad ordered. He reached for a switch and the basement room became flooded with light. "What you trying to do? Work up a case of nerves?"
Dan laughed and opened the iron door of the cavernous furnace.
Mr. Hatfield had built his fire well, but it needed more fuel.
"I'll heave some in," he offered.
While Brad poked at the coals, Dan went to the bin.
The shovel had disappeared. But after hunting a while, he found it behind the bin door.
Selecting smaller lumps, Dan fed the furnace two large shovelfuls. The coals leaped into fiery flame.
"Better give 'er a couple more for good measure," Brad advised.
Dan trotted back to the bin. As his shovel bit deep into the coal pile, it struck an object which gave off a metallic sound.
Curious as to what it might be, the boy dug deeper. His shovel brought to view a square metal box approximately a foot square.
"Jeepers creepers!" he whispered in awe. "How'd this get here?"
Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.
Brenna lived with her adoptive parents for twenty years, enduring their exploitation. When their real daughter appeared, they sent Brenna back to her true parents, thinking they were broke. In reality, her birth parents belonged to a top circle that her adoptive family could never reach. Hoping Brenna would fail, they gasped at her status: a global finance expert, a gifted engineer, the fastest racer... Was there any end to the identities she kept hidden? After her fiancé ended their engagement, Brenna met his twin brother. Unexpectedly, her ex-fiancé showed up, confessing his love...
She spent ten years chasing after the right brother, only to fall for the wrong one in one weekend. ~~~ Sloane Mercer has been hopelessly in love with her best friend, Finn Hartley, since college. For ten long years, she's stood by him, stitching him back together every time Delilah Crestfield-his toxic on-and-off girlfriend-shattered his heart. But when Delilah gets engaged to another man, Sloane thinks this might finally be her chance to have Finn for herself. She couldn't be more wrong. Heartbroken and desperate, Finn decides to crash Delilah's wedding and fight for her one last time. And he wants Sloane by his side. Reluctantly, Sloane follows him to Asheville, hoping that being close to Finn will somehow make him see her the way she's always seen him. Everything changes when she meets Knox Hartley, Finn's older brother-a man who couldn't be more different from Finn. He's dangerously magnetic. Knox sees right through Sloane and makes it his mission to pull her into his world. What starts as a game-a twisted bet between them-soon turns into something deeper. Sloane is trapped between two brothers: one who's always broken her heart and another who seems hell-bent on claiming it... no matter the cost. CONTENT WARNING: This story is strongly 18+. It delves into dark romance themes such as obsession and lust with morally complex characters. While this is a love story, reader discretion is advised.
There was only one man in Raegan's heart, and it was Mitchel. In the second year of her marriage to him, she got pregnant. Raegan's joy knew no bounds. But before she could break the news to her husband, he served her divorce papers because he wanted to marry his first love. After an accident, Raegan lay in the pool of her own blood and called out to Mitchel for help. Unfortunately, he left with his first love in his arms. Raegan escaped death by the whiskers. Afterward, she decided to get her life back on track. Her name was everywhere years later. Mitchel became very uncomfortable. For some reason, he began to miss her. His heart ached when he saw her all smiles with another man. He crashed her wedding and fell to his knees while she was at the altar. With bloodshot eyes, he queried, "I thought you said your love for me is unbreakable? How come you are getting married to someone else? Come back to me!"
"I heard you're going to marry Marcelo. Is this perhaps your revenge against me? It's very laughable, Renee. That man can barely function." Her foster family, her cheating ex, everyone thought Renee was going to live in pure hell after getting married to a disabled and cruel man. She didn't know if anything good would ever come out of it after all, she had always thought it would be hard for anyone to love her but this cruel man with dark secrets is never going to grant her a divorce because she makes him forget how to breathe.
After two years of marriage, Sadie was finally pregnant. Filled with hope and joy, she was blindsided when Noah asked for a divorce. During a failed attempt on her life, Sadie found herself lying in a pool of blood, desperately calling Noah to ask him to save her and the baby. But her calls went unanswered. Shattered by his betrayal, she left the country. Time passed, and Sadie was about to be wed for a second time. Noah appeared in a frenzy and fell to his knees. "How dare you marry someone else after bearing my child?"
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