Magic Ball: the Billionaire in Ranch

94 An Overflowing Pail of Water

“Where do you think Noah went?” Nancy said as she hoisted the bucket of water and had the dogs drink from there. The sheep were already assembled inside the pen, and they are happily settling to go through with the cold flurry at night.

Thomas was quietly listening to her as she probed a sleepy Wynn for questions all of them wanted to be answered. He sat on a damaged log and had the ear of dried wheat between his lips. Noah always made sure that he tells Thomas where he was headed or plans to run an errand related or not to the Stream Ranch. He would mention all the places he had with Noah telling him where he would go. The Italian man had these particular occurrences wherein Thomas felt as if he was speaking a white lie. He couldn’t put his finger on how he figured it out. But Noah felt and looked different when he would inform him about that circumstantial errand. No matter how good he lies, Thomas consistently pinpoints half a lie and the whole truth.

“He has other duties besides the ranch,” Wynn said in his matter-of-fact tone, “and I don’t want to know what they are.” Thomas kept quiet as he listened to the youngster’s conversation.

Nancy circled her eyes, her arms converged over her breasts, “You mean you’re not the least bit curious why he looked so spooked-out earlier?”

Thomas thought hard about his engagement with Noah at the plains alongside the farmhouse. The Italian man was acting out of character. He was usually calm and collected most of the time. But then again, Thomas knew it was about that too. He just didn’t know what that meant.

“He’s pretty normal to me,” Wynn replied, “what’s not normal is that Snowflake’s been eating less and less by the day.” Wynn inclined his hands-on Snowflake’s cubicle, his eyes directed on the mare laying on the stack of hay they have replaced for her.

None of them knew the reason why the mare was acting this way. However, Thomas had always bothered Noah about it for the past weeks. But he would always counter him that the mare was just tired and needed rest. Thomas knew Snowflake was getting all the rest she needs. In fact, it was already too much.

Nancy tied her hair into a ponytail, her eyes never leaving Snowflake’s lonely figure. “I’m sure she’s missing Di,” she looked at Wynn for confirmation, “Don’t you think so too?”

Wynn nodded slowly as he pulled down his straw hat, “She is. But Di won't visit her.”

Cocking her head to the side, a line appeared between Nancy’s eyebrows, “Did something happen between her and Noah?”

With his broad shoulders, Wynn shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t want to meddle with something like that. It’s too personal.”

Thomas thinks it’s a bit of a drag. The horse was even involved in whatever argument his boss and Diana had going on. He didn’t want to ask Noah about it. He knew the man would feel lonely if he does so. Thomas knew—he noticed. The two of them had something going on. It was a mutual feeling, but both of them went toward the wrong path. He just hopes that Diana gets over his boss quickly to visit the poor mare anytime soon. Of course, Noah should also do his part in convincing her to come to the Stream Ranch. Thomas wants them to bury everything they have in the past.

* * *

Noah steadied his hand on the wine glass. In front of him, the man who still didn’t want to introduce his name was silent. His eyes were cast down on the table, and an aura of awkwardness was beginning to surmount on the both of them.

Like a pail filled with water, Noah’s curiosity was gnawing out—it was overflowing. But now that the key was inserted in the lock, Noah was hesitant in turning it. He looked at the man back and forth, sometimes interchanging it with drinking the century-old wine Jennifer, and he always procured whenever they dined inside.

Without any warning, the man took out an ancient book. Noah stared intently. It was as if his eyeballs would fall out from his sockets. The intricate details on the leather cover were engraved leaves. Its color is the same rust as the books Noah placed on top of the table.  He was itching to know what it could be. The identical copy of his book? Or another edition that the author came up with?

“I found this when I was traveling through Europe,” the man began as he relaxed his back on the chair’s headboard. “It was displayed in an antique house, and I was an avid collector of a book looking like these,” he said with a smile as he gestured on the book before him.

Noah’s heartbeat quickened as he inched closer. “How was it? Were the contents the same as these?” he pointed to the books on the side of his table. Noah knew they couldn’t have been only just one copy. The author should have duplicated it one way or another.

Upon hearing his sentiments, the man smiled, “They are not the same,” he said, “but this one,” he placed his hand on the leather cover of the smaller book, “is the key to knowing the contents of the books you have.”

His eyebrows perked. So, he was holding the right lock all along. He beheld the man’s face and thought for a second that he might have been spouting lies for all he knows.

“How can you be so sure about that?” Noah leaned his arms on the table, “is there any proof that could debunk the lies?”

The only response Noah had was the man’s bowed head. Then, he began flipping through the pages. He gestured toward one of Noah’s books, “May I?” Noah reached him what he desired. He had the books placed side-by-side. He did the same on Noah’s book, flipping it to a particular page and comparing it with the book he possessed.  He pushed both of them on Noah’s side.

“Take a look,” he pointed one finger on a symbol. Beside it was an explanation written in English.

Noah’s jaw dropped. He gasped for air as his chest constricted—from excitement and fear. “The words in your book…” he trailed off, at lost for what to say next.

The man smiled again, “They have been transcribed in English. In each symbolism, there’s an equivalent meaning of it. You would just have to piece them together. That would take a lot of work.”

Noah nodded his head earnestly, “Indeed, it would.” The amount of effort he has to place in translating it would take time, perhaps months even.

“I ain’t calling my blog Literary Fanatic for nothing,” the man said proudly as he placed one palm over his chest. “Take it,” he said while looking straight at Noah’s eyes.

Noah couldn’t believe what the man was saying. “Oh, I don’t know how I would be able to pay you.”

“You would pay me through sending me updates about the book,” the man smiled, “I have been too curious myself.”

They were the same overflowing pail. Yet, Noah was reluctant to share the secrets that lay in the success of his ranch. What if people knew that it wasn’t excellent skills that made the peak of the ranch’s victory? What if greed would occupy their chests. Would they steal from what was given as free? Noah was beginning to doubt the man. He couldn’t simply just hand that ancient dictionary and have Noah think it was because of his fondness for literature. He knew there must have been an underlying motive behind it.

“The translation,” Noah began, “you would like to see it?” he tapped his fingers on the table. The man stared at the movement of his hands.

Every land of Noah’s fingers on the glass felt heavy. He was scared of the man across him. He hopes for the better, but it seems the man wanted more—a worthwhile cause for him.

The man then nodded his head slowly, “Who wouldn’t want to?” he asked in a casual tone, “aren’t you?”

* * *

That night, Noah didn’t adhere to the promise the human-made he says. He said he would borrow the ancient dictionary and have it returned to him after two months. He spent his entire day typing away at the meanings of every symbol every page depicted. His eyes remained on the monitor for hours. He was going back and forth, left and write, and type.

His body was exhausted, but Noah knew he couldn’t quickly extinguish the fire that burned in his chest. He wants to learn more and more every day. And once he reached the end, the sigh of relief blew out of his mind.

Noah gazed at the monitor. He examined the words faster than he did when he was still a student reading his textbooks. All the while, he hadn’t noticed that the sun was already peeking between the mountains, its orange and yellow hues spreading on the soil. It was painting the objects inside the room while Noah continued his transcribing.

“Ah!” he screamed and stood upright. His hands trembled violently when he learned the contents of every page he had typed on his monitor. The first page unquestionably stated that the Magic Ball and books were left behind by a man named Zeus.

Or was he?