seance ? Like a spirit, trying
to get through?”
“That’s right,
kind of. I just have the feeling that there’s pressure around, something’s
pressing in from all around us. I don’t know what the hell it is, but I can
feel it. It’s there all the time now, night and day.”
“Neil-” said
Susan, guardedly.
He turned away
from the window. “I know. It sounds nuts. Maybe it is nuts. But I feel just as
sane as I did last week. And if I’m nuts, then all these school children are
nuts, too, and I don’t believe they are.”
He picked up
one of the drawings, showing a fierce battle between men in big hats and men
with long black hair. There were green-and-gray mountains in the background, and the sky was forested with huge arrows. The arrows were
all tipped with black, carefully and deliberately drawn with black crayon.
“What would you
say this was?” asked Neil, showing it to Susan.
She looked at
it carefully. “It seems pretty obvious, A fight between cowboys and Indians.”
“Who’s
winning?”
“The cowboys?”
“Why do you say
that?”
Susan looked
again. “Well, there’s one cowboy in the middle there and he seems to be
standing up shooting his pistol and looking very happy about it.”
“That’s true,”
said Neil, “but look at the other cowboys. Most of them seem pretty upset. And
a whole lot of them are lying there with arrows sticking out of them. It’s the
same in this next picture, and this one. It seems like the Indians are
definitely getting the best of this fight.”
Susan skimmed
through nine or ten more drawings, and then nodded. “I think you’re right,” she
said. “But what does it mean?”
“I don’t know.
Maybe it just means that all the kids in the class read about the same battle,
or went to see the same movie. Can you remember a movie that Toby might have
seen on television or something, with this kind of a battle in it?”
She ran her
hand through her loosely tied blond hair.
“They had a
movie about Custer about a month ago.”
“Then maybe
that is what this is all about,” said Neil.
“This grinning
cowboy standing here could be General Custer, and maybe this is the Little Big
Horn.”
“There’s no
river, though, is there?” Susan pointed out. “The Little Big Horn didn’t take
place up in the mountains, and all these drawings have mountains. I’d say this
looks like someplace up in the Sonoma or the Vaca Mountains, wouldn’t you?”
“Could be,”
admitted Nell.
He took a last
shuffle through the drawings and was about to slide them back into their
envelope when something caught his attention. He peered closer at Ben Nichelini’s drawing, and right at the back of a crowd of
blood-splattered white men, he saw what looked distinctly like a childish
rendering of a man in a white duster coat, with a beard and a wide-brimmed hat.
There was a large arrow sticking out of the man’s back.
He went across
to the parlor window and opened it. He called: “Toby – c’mere a minute, will you?”
Susan asked,
“What is it? Have you seen something?”
“I’m just
guessing,” Neil told her. “Wait and see what Toby says.”
Toby came
running in through the kitchen, still clutching his bulldozer. “What is it,
sir?”
Neil held up
the drawings. “You know what these are, Toby?”
“Sure do. They
were all the dreams you asked us to draw. That’s Ben Nichelini’s ,
isn’t it?”
“That’s right.
Did you look at it before?”
“No, sir. Mrs. Novato said we weren’t to. She said we had to
draw the pictures all by ourselves, without copying or anything.” Neil handed
the drawing over. Very softly, he said, “I want you to look at that picture
really closely, Toby, and I want you to tell me if you see anything that you’re
familiar with. Is there anything there that reminds you of someone or something
you’ve seen before?”
Toby scrutinized
the drawing with an intent frown. While he did so, Neil glanced across at
Susan, and
to get through?”
“That’s right,
kind of. I just have the feeling that there’s pressure around, something’s
pressing in from all around us. I don’t know what the hell it is, but I can
feel it. It’s there all the time now, night and day.”
“Neil-” said
Susan, guardedly.
He turned away
from the window. “I know. It sounds nuts. Maybe it is nuts. But I feel just as
sane as I did last week. And if I’m nuts, then all these school children are
nuts, too, and I don’t believe they are.”
He picked up
one of the drawings, showing a fierce battle between men in big hats and men
with long black hair. There were green-and-gray mountains in the background, and the sky was forested with huge arrows. The arrows were
all tipped with black, carefully and deliberately drawn with black crayon.
“What would you
say this was?” asked Neil, showing it to Susan.
She looked at
it carefully. “It seems pretty obvious, A fight between cowboys and Indians.”
“Who’s
winning?”
“The cowboys?”
“Why do you say
that?”
Susan looked
again. “Well, there’s one cowboy in the middle there and he seems to be
standing up shooting his pistol and looking very happy about it.”
“That’s true,”
said Neil, “but look at the other cowboys. Most of them seem pretty upset. And
a whole lot of them are lying there with arrows sticking out of them. It’s the
same in this next picture, and this one. It seems like the Indians are
definitely getting the best of this fight.”
Susan skimmed
through nine or ten more drawings, and then nodded. “I think you’re right,” she
said. “But what does it mean?”
“I don’t know.
Maybe it just means that all the kids in the class read about the same battle,
or went to see the same movie. Can you remember a movie that Toby might have
seen on television or something, with this kind of a battle in it?”
She ran her
hand through her loosely tied blond hair.
“They had a
movie about Custer about a month ago.”
“Then maybe
that is what this is all about,” said Neil.
“This grinning
cowboy standing here could be General Custer, and maybe this is the Little Big
Horn.”
“There’s no
river, though, is there?” Susan pointed out. “The Little Big Horn didn’t take
place up in the mountains, and all these drawings have mountains. I’d say this
looks like someplace up in the Sonoma or the Vaca Mountains, wouldn’t you?”
“Could be,”
admitted Nell.
He took a last
shuffle through the drawings and was about to slide them back into their
envelope when something caught his attention. He peered closer at Ben Nichelini’s drawing, and right at the back of a crowd of
blood-splattered white men, he saw what looked distinctly like a childish
rendering of a man in a white duster coat, with a beard and a wide-brimmed hat.
There was a large arrow sticking out of the man’s back.
He went across
to the parlor window and opened it. He called: “Toby – c’mere a minute, will you?”
Susan asked,
“What is it? Have you seen something?”
“I’m just
guessing,” Neil told her. “Wait and see what Toby says.”
Toby came
running in through the kitchen, still clutching his bulldozer. “What is it,
sir?”
Neil held up
the drawings. “You know what these are, Toby?”
“Sure do. They
were all the dreams you asked us to draw. That’s Ben Nichelini’s ,
isn’t it?”
“That’s right.
Did you look at it before?”
“No, sir. Mrs. Novato said we weren’t to. She said we had to
draw the pictures all by ourselves, without copying or anything.” Neil handed
the drawing over. Very softly, he said, “I want you to look at that picture
really closely, Toby, and I want you to tell me if you see anything that you’re
familiar with. Is there anything there that reminds you of someone or something
you’ve seen before?”
Toby scrutinized
the drawing with an intent frown. While he did so, Neil glanced across at
Susan, and
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