The Summer of the Falcon Read Online Free Page A

the dead snakes ending up in a box in her mother’s living room marked “To Elizabeth, Flowers from the men-folks.” When Mrs. Pritchard had said joyfully, “Oh, how lovely! Flowers for me!” and opened the box—they all had laughed, including Elizabeth. June, whenever she remembered her mother’s laughter, was filled with admiration, and hoped that she would always be able to laugh at jokes played on her. Now, when teased, she could only cry or get angry.
    As she listened to the men she wondered what would come of the game this year—laughter or tears. Will Bunker was saying, “And that cave is changing. Have you been in it this year, Paul?”
    “No,” her uncle answered. He ran his hand through his sparse blond hair and touched his toes together. He was easy and natural with children and adults. But boys were his joy, and to them he usually addressed his adventurous ideas, leaving June to needles and pots. He repeated, “No,” then added, “but it’s time to explore it again, I’m sure. I’ve loved that old cave ever since I was a boy.”
    “Well,” said Will, “since the highway went over it, some of the boulders have sagged, and in one place they’ve dropped clean out of sight and opened a new passage. It goes down. I went in last week, and could see a huge new cavern with my flash. It looks like fun.”
    “Well, gee, let’s go see it!” the twins said in one voice. “A new cavern in Bear Cave!”
    Bear Cave was up the creek at the second bend. Once a year the Pritchard children, carrying picnic baskets, wedged themselves into it and explored its darkness. To June these were good, spooky adventures, for the old cave was cold and bat-filled and voices echoed back and forth. But the plans to go into a new and deeper room were leaving her out. And she wanted to go. She sat very close to Uncle Paul, hoping he would notice her. Nothing was said. She was a girl. Jim was not invited either. He was too young.
    Rod was invited, because, as his father explained, “he’s good on a rope.” Wide-eyed, he accepted, though not because he loved Bear Cave—he didn’t!—but because the big boys and tall men had invited him.
    They departed that afternoon in the red canoe, with sandwiches, hot chocolate and root beer, a rope, flashlights and extra batteries. They took matches to test the air in the cave, and boots, in case of water.
    June watched them go, standing on the creek bank holding her falcon on her fist. Don had just told her to “carry him until he stops fighting the jesses and leash,” so she had picked him up as she walked toward the creek. The bird was comforting as she watched the canoe pull out, Will Bunker in the stern and Uncle Paul in the bow. The three boys sat on the bottom. As they swished off she lifted the leafy-smelling bird to her face, held his wings so he would not beat them, and whispered, “I’m good on a rope, too.”
    She jumped one-handed on the rope that swung out over the creek and looked up its length. Last year she had been able to climb to the top of the rope, much to her brothers’ pride and pleasure. Now, she could only get halfway. Her arms weren’t strong enough. Her legs and hips were too round. Growing up was filled with lonely changes.
    The falcon on her wrist flapped in fright as he was carried out over the creek. The rope swung back over the land and June jumped off, holding Zander high. “You are tethered, pretty fellow, and so am I,” she said to him. “I used to tag along behind when there were dangerous things to see. Now I’m not asked. I’m a girl, I must stay at home.” Her soft whispering soothed him. Instead of sitting tense and skinny on her fist, Zander lifted his feathers. He was content.
    June walked carefully to the edge of the landing, sat down and dangled her feet in the water. She whispered over and over to the bird on her wrist, “Please don’t fight me. Please be happy, please, please.”
    Zander sat still. June touched her forehead