Colonial Madness by Jo Whittemore Page A

anything I can help you with, just name it.”
    She leaned closer. “Let’s just make sure Dylan doesn’t win the whole thing.”
    We both turned to look at our cousin, who had a roaring fire going and had barbecued something over it. He cackled evilly and waved it at us.
    â€œI guess this rabbit didn’t have any lucky feet!” he said.
    Angel gasped and shielded her eyes.
    â€œIt’s probably not a real rabbit,” I assured her. “We would’ve smelled burning fur . . . .” I trailed off at the horrified expression on her face.
    â€œI have to go inside,” she whispered, nearly colliding with Mom as she made her escape.
    â€œAngel, honey, you okay?” Mom called after her. She turned to me with a frown. “What’s up with her? And Dylan, why are you cooking your socks?”
    For the first time, I noticed his bare feet and rolled my eyes. “I told her it wasn’t rabbit.”
    Dylan cackled again and turned away.
    â€œHuh?” Mom’s forehead wrinkled but quickly ironed out when she spotted our fire.
    â€œYou did it!” She hugged me.
    â€œWell, Angel helped,” I said, placing a couple of random twigs on the fire. “But I think I can manage from now on. What did you learn on your little scouting mission?”
    Mom sat beside me. “Well, apparently Great-Cousin Meg and her husband have a nanny who steals from them, and Half-Cousin Jeff has a liiittle bit of a gambling problem, which—”
    I put a hand on her arm. “What did you learn about their competitive skills?” I amended.
    â€œOh!” Mom tilted her hand from side to side. “Right now, I’d say we have a pretty good chance against almost everyone. Step-Niece Tamara can get a fire going quick, but since she’s afraid of them, she immediately screams and puts it out.”
    â€œShe’s afraid of fire?” I repeated. “What is she, a scarecrow?”
    â€œShe’s also afraid of heights and pushy salespeople,” said Mom.
    â€œHmm.” I poked at the fire. “Maybe we can use that to our advantage.”
    Mom stared at me. “How, darling? Take her to the roof and try to sell her a car?”
    â€œYou said we have a pretty good chance against almost everyone,” I said. “I’m guessing Angel’s family and Dylan and Uncle Max are the real competition.”
    â€œBingo.” Mom fired a finger gun at me. “Dylan doesn’t act very bright, but he has moments that make me wonder if that’s all it is—just an act.”
    I looked past Mom to where Dylan and Max’s fire station had been. All that remained was a smoldering pile of ash and a stick holding two barbecued socks.
    â€œYou should put out that fire,” said Mom, nudging me. “We have some more tasks to learn before supper.”
    Since it was a small fire, I grabbed a cup of water sitting on the ground and splashed it onto the flames. They shot up higher, and I squealed. Mom yanked me back and kicked dirt at the base, smothering the flames.
    â€œWhat was that ?” she demanded.
    I lifted the cup and sniffed. A strong odor of kerosene made me cough and gag. “Gas!”
    â€œHow can that be?” she asked.
    â€œI’ll give you one guess,” I said.
    I went in search of a faucet for some actual water to wash my hands. Instead, I found Caleb.
    â€œHey, I saw that fire you had going!” he told me. “Nice job!”
    â€œThanks,” I said, smiling. I decided not to mention just how big it got. “Filing off some of the flint helped.”
    He nodded. “I didn’t want to suggest it, since you only get once piece to last the whole time you’re here, but that’s a quick way to do it.” He eyed my hands. “If you’re trying to clean up, we have a pump by the servants’ quarters.”
    I followed him, and he rolled up his sleeves to get the pump