Rogue's Hollow by Jan Tilley Page B

see how hard the young man had worked on each one of them. Slowly removing his glasses, he laid them down on the small dining table and smiled at Travis. “No, they’re not okay. They’re nowhere near okay. They are exquisite.”
    “Yeah, right.”
    “One thing that I will never do is lie to you, Travis. You have my word on that. These are the finest specimens I’ve ever seen.” He took a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and handed it to him. “Thank you.”
    “That’s too much, Malachi. And really, I don’t want any money for them at all. I just really enjoyed doing it. Can I carve some more?”
    “Only if you’ll let me pay you for your hard work. You have quite a talent, Travis.”
    He rolled his eyes but looked intently at Malachi, trying to decide if he was for real or not. His inquiring stare turned into a satisfied grin when he saw that Malachi was very serious about his praise. Travis sat up straight in his chair and pain once again grabbed hold of his soul.
    “Take it easy, son. Do you feel sick to your stomach?”
    Travis shook his head.
    Malachi looked into each eye and questioned him about his vision, then stated, “I don’t think you have a concussion. Would you like to lie down and rest for a bit, and then I’ll drive you home?”
    Slowly, he nodded, like he’d been defeated in battle.
    “Come and lay down in the guest room. The bed’s all made up. You can rest here as long as you’d like.”
    Malachi led him to a small bedroom just off the kitchen. He pulled back the blankets and Travis sat down. Without hesitation, Malachi knelt on his knees and helped Travis take his shoes off.
    Gingerly, he lay back on the bed, groaning in pain with every move. When he was settled, Malachi pulled the covers up over him and asked, “Do you want me to call your mom?”
    Travis shook his head. “No, she’s working a double today. I’ll be fine. I just need to rest for a bit, if that’s okay?”
    Malachi turned off the light, and said, “That’s fine, son. I’m right out here if you need me.” He closed the door and left the young man to rest.

 
    Six
     
     
     
    W hile chicken noodle soup simmered on the stove, Malachi cleaned up the mess left behind. It looked like a make-shift operating room. When things were somewhat back to normal, he made himself a mug of hot tea and sat down at the kitchen table, emotionally exhausted. Carefully taking his glasses from his chest pocket, he inspected the amulets that Travis carved. They truly were magnificent. Each one was perfect and unique. The kid really was talented. Malachi put them on the windowsill, next to a small aloe vera plant that he used for minor burns. There was no way he could sell them to these ungrateful tourists. They meant too much and Travis had gone through so much to get them here.
    His mind was overwhelmed with thoughts about all that Travis was forced to endure, both at school and at home. It didn’t seem fair that such a young man should have to face all of these obstacles, and do it basically alone. Malachi wondered where his dad was. His heart broke for the kid and he racked his brain; there must be something that he could do to help him.
    It was almost midnight before Malachi finally went to bed. He’d checked on Travis several times, and he appeared to be resting comfortably. He hated to wake the kid up. Rest was the best thing for him. That’s when the body heals itself. Malachi was a firm believer in working with nature and not against it. Although he was worried and thought they should contact Travis’s mother, he felt it was best to let him sleep as long as possible. Malachi slept lightly, with his bedroom door open so he could hear if Travis got up or needed anything throughout the night.
    Malachi was up before sunrise, before Roberta’s yackity yack rooster woke him up like it usually did. It had been a restless night’s sleep. Not only was his conscious mind worried about Travis, but his dreams drifted there as