Music Makers Read Online Free PDF

promised herself that she would never go back.
    Huddled in bed, covered, even her head covered, in spite of herself that day surged into memory again.
    For years every summer, Ashley’s mother Maribeth packed up Ashley and suitcases into the car and drove from Pittsburg to her parents’ farm in Kentucky. Ashley’s Aunt Ella left Atlanta at the same time with her two sons to spend the same weeks on the farm where the sisters had grown up, where Grampa had grown up as well.
    It was a time of joyous freedom for the children when they could run in and out at will and play without the restrictions of a big city. Their companion in play was Grampa’s dog Skipper, a short-haired brown and white mutt, who, Grampa said, would kill any snake he came across and wouldn’t let a stranger on the farm without setting up a ruckus.
    Below the house, past the kitchen garden, through a small area of woods, was Rabbit Creek, no more than ten inches deep, where they could splash and play, hunt for crawdads, find miniature monsters lurking under rocks. Sometimes they populated the creek with crocodiles, or piranha, watched lions and tigers come to drink, or they spied submarines on secret missions. The woods on one side after a few hundred yards gave way to corn fields, and on the other the land rose in a low rocky hill, their Mt. Everest, or the magic mountain. Big Foot lived high on the mountain, or a dragon guarded its treasure, or bears prowled.
    But best of all was the cave. The entrance was narrow, one-person wide, with a massive boulder on one side, and a limestone outcropping on the other. The passage curved around the boulder, widened and descended in a shallow slope to a small chamber where the cave ended. No more than twenty feet in all, dry, dimly lighted from the outside, it was a hideout, a castle dungeon, a spaceship, submarine, whatever Nathan declared it to be.
    Nathan was eleven, their leader in all games, Ashley was nine that summer, both with hair turning darker, mud-colored, Ashley said. Joey was seven, still a towhead, a daredevil who was determined to do whatever his big brother did. Neither Ashley nor Joey disputed Nathan’s leadership.
    That day they were explorers in the dark African jungle, alert for headhunters who were roaming the area. “There’s a gold mine somewhere out here,” Nathan said. “We’ll find it. I’ll buy an airplane with my share.”
    Joey nodded. “Me, too. A jet fighter.”
    “I’ll buy a castle,” Ashley said. “With a moat.”
    Nathan consulted a scrap of paper. “Ten paces from the river, turn right, and find the big boulder. This way.” He led them to the boulder and cried out in astonishment, “Look! A mine entrance!”
    “The headhunters!” Joey yelled. “I saw one over there!”
    He pushed past Nathan and fled into the cave, with Ashley and Nathan close behind.
    “Skipper, stay. Guard,” Nathan ordered.
    There was no point in trying to get the dog to go inside. No amount of coaxing or cajoling, or bribery with a bone or dog biscuits had ever enticed him inside. He flopped down at the entrance, tongue lolling, and became a guard dog.
    The chamber was a foot or so higher than Nathan’s head, irregular in shape, and big enough for three to be comfortable without touching one another or the walls, although a step or two in any direction would put a wall within reach. Joey sat down cross-legged as Nathan unslung a small day pack, prepared to hand out provisions, cookies and a thermos of Kool Aid.
    “We’ll wait them--” Nathan started, and the light went out.
    Ashley reached for Nathan, but her hand felt nothing. “What happened?” she said. “What’s the matter?” Her voice rose as she called, “Nathan, where are you? What happened to the light? Nathan?” The black was intense, without a glimmer of light, and there was no sound except for her own voice, and then a strangled sound of her whisper. “Nathan! Answer me! Joey!”
    The silence was as intense as the