Payne Township, Sedgwick County, Kansas
That night, ARJ pulled the quilt over his shoulder, surrounded on the pallet by his brother and his cousins. He envied them a little because they didn’t understand what was happening. If only he didn’t know about Dad’s worries, he’d be able to fall asleep, too. Instead, he closed his eyes and listened to his parents’ hushed voices as they stood talking with Uncle Albert and Aunt Rachel on the porch. He heard some of what they were saying above John William’s quiet snoring.
Whispered words and phrases drifted through the walls. ARJ wanted to hear, and at the same time, he wished he could fall asleep. “we’ll keep trusting God…” “the truth will win…” “Rachel… stay here… the children.” “…I promised ARJ…” Then Mum’s voice, slightly louder, “Arthur, you what? But what if you’re found guilty?”
ARJ opened his eyes, concentrating on the voices. He knew Mum wouldn’t want him to go. Dad knew it, too. The voices hushed again. He tried to hear more, but exhaustion from the day’s activities won out and he drifted off to sleep, wishing they could all be home again, on the island.
ARJ suddenly stood in the middle of a green field, lined with trees. It was early morning, and the neatly trimmed grass was wet with dew; soft blades tickled the soles of his bare feet. Ahead of him, the stone wall of a castle rose and touched the wispy clouds in the brightening sky. There were no castles in Kansas. He was home on the island.
Something scurried past him on the green. He looked and saw that it was a little red squirrel. It stopped and stared at him; a small acorn held tight in its teeth. ARJ took a step toward the little animal, but it didn’t move. It looked at ARJ, then the wall, then back at him; its tiny, pointed ears twitched. He stepped forward again and this time, the squirrel cocked his head, seemingly to beckon him to follow.
behind it along the wall. Bushes finally replaced the wall. He followed the little furry animal as it hopped down a steep hill and soon, he found himself sliding on the wet grass all the way to the bottom. The squirrel stopped for a second and stared at him. Suddenly, it darted to the right around the end of the bushes and disappeared. ARJ stopped to put his hands on his knees, catching his breath then craned his neck to look where he’d seen the squirrel disappear. In front of him was a stone step, the first of many leading to the top of the wall. Tiny wet footprints led the way up the stairs, but his new friend was nowhere in sight.
ARJ stepped onto the first stone slab. He felt the deep cold, that only stone can keep, on his feet. He slowly followed the red squirrel’s footprints higher and higher into the air, counting the steps as he went. Twenty… forty… sixty… He stopped. Looking back, he saw that his own feet had also left a print on each step. Ahead of him ten steps, stood a large wooden door. ARJ reached it and looked around for the squirrel on the dark landing under the stone arch. He was alone.
He picked up the iron doorknob that hung from the oak door and pulled. He was surprised when it creaked open wide, to reveal a large stone terrace. He walked through. A wall circled the terrace that was tall at some points and shorter at others. He walked to a shorter portion and looked out across the Isle of Wight. The morning fog was burning off and he could see rolling hills dotted with sheep or scored with crop rows from the top of the fortress. Small villages nestled in valleys, their church steeples reaching above thatched roofs and treetops. ARJ shaded his eyes with his hand and looked further until he could see the rise of the Solent far beyond. It nearly blended with the blue of the morning sky, but he knew it was there.
He opened each door he found, climbed staircases, and wandered through ancient rooms. Some were light and airy inviting him to stay; other rooms were moody, their gloom hiding something he couldn’t guess. ARJ opened the door to a room in a dark hall that seemed drearier than the others. He walked through and noticed high windows crossed with metal bars. The furniture was heavy and dark. Large chairs were arranged by a bookcase and a bed shrouded in heavy curtains overpowered the room. The fire from a torch crackled and flickered from its sconce on the far wall. A sudden breeze blew sharply through the room causing the flame to sway wildly. It made ARJ think of the mob yelling on a windy night. He jumped as he heard the sound of the door latching behind him. When he turned to look, he saw that it had become a prison door made of metal bars.
He ran to it, pulling and pushing with both hands. It clanged and rattled but wouldn’t open.
“No!” He yelled through the bars. “Let me out!”
The room went dark, and suddenly he was in Mum’s arms. “Shhhhh…” She hugged him close. “It’s only a dream.”
ARJ’s cheeks were wet with tears.
“Are you sure you want to go to the trial?”
He nodded 'yes' into her shoulder.
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