The Ninja Librarian

The Ninja Librarian

by Rebecca M. Douglass

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Rebecca M. Douglass

Cover art by Danielle English http://www.kanizo.co.uk

Cover design by Steven Tse

Interior illustrations copyright Walter Merchant

All rights reserved.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Additional children’s books by Rebecca M. Douglass:

The Ninja Librarian Series:

Return to Skunk Corners

The Problem With Peggy

Other works for children:

Halitor the Hero

A is for Alpine: An Alphabet Book for Little Hikers

BookElves Anthology Volume 1

BookElves Anthology Volume 2

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1: The Ninja Librarian

Chapter 2: The Ninja Librarian vs. the Story Time Toddlers

Chapter 3: The Ninja Librarian and the Scholars of Skunk Corners School

Chapter 4: The Ninja Librarian and the Widows

Chapter 5: The Ninja Librarian and the Glorious Fourth

Chapter 6: The Ninja Librarian and the Glorious Fourth, Part II

Chapter 7: The Ninja Librarian at Summer's End

Chapter 8: The Ninja Librarian Meets His Match

Chapter 9: The Ninja Librarian and the Headless Horseman

Chapter 10: The Ninja Librarian and the Missing Books

Chapter 11: The Ninja Librarian Blows Up

Chapter 12: The Ninja Librarian Gets Cold Feet

Chapter 13: The Ninja Librarian Gets the Wind Up

Chapter 14: The Ninja Librarian and the Courtin' Fool

Chapter 15: The Ninja Librarian and the Misled Miners

Chapter 16: The Ninja Librarian Takes on a Baby

Chapter 17: The Ninja Librarian and the Out-of-Town Toughs

Epilogue

About the Author

Sneak Preview of Return to Skunk Corners

Dedication

To Laurie, who kept asking for more stories until I found myself with a book, and who has given valuable input every step of the way. And, of course, to Tom, the original Ninja Librarian, who gave me the idea in the first place.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to Lisa Frieden, whose editing saved me from many errors (those which remain are purely my responsibility). Thanks also go always to my husband Dave, who has supported me in every way through all my writing. Special appreciation goes to Danielle English for the cover art, to Steven Tse for cover design, and to Walter Merchant for the interior illustrations.

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The Ninja Librarian

Skunk Corners is hard on librarians. Murderously hard on them, if you believe what Wild Harry Colson and Crazy Jake say. Even if they’re stretching the truth a mite, it’s true we haven’t had a librarian stick it out here for more than a few weeks since the tough element took over some while back.

So when Tom—that was all the name he gave when he got off the train and saw us all staring—came to take over the Skunk Corners library, betting in town ran about fifty to one against him lasting two days. Hadn’t the last librarian been more’n six feet tall, weighed 200 pounds, and still only made it ten days? This Tom character was not so tall, not so big, and edging on towards old. His only really impressive feature was his full head of white hair.

There was something about that hair, and the intensely blue eyes that met mine when I got closer, that struck me. That’s why I matched those fifty bets. Everyone in town thought I was a chump for taking the bets, though no one said so, because no one here is dumb enough to call Big Al a fool. Of course, Tom only had to last forty-nine hours for me to collect on the bets, but once the bets were made, there were fifty men, women, and children in town bent on making sure they collected, so he faced more than the usual hostility. Since I didn’t have the cash to pay up, I was equally bent on making him stay.

Tom hit Skunk Corners on the afternoon train, and disappeared straightaway into the library, the only brick building on Main Street. Which, Main being pretty much the only street in the Corners, made it the only brick building in town, period.

The library and the school occupied the far end of the street from the depot, so to get there he had to walk right past pretty much everyone in town. He glanced at the Mercantile, raised an eyebrow at the tavern and the bank sitting cheek-by-jowl, and nodded just a bit as he took in the imposing false front of our City Hall, which forms one side of our town square, a big name for a little patch of dirt. Then the librarian unlocked the door of the library and disappeared inside.

I watched him go, and then went back to work. But I made a point of sticking around the schoolhouse, casual-like, when the young ’uns got out, and eavesdropped on them bragging and boasting about how they’d run the new bookworm off. Funny, how they take against librarians, but mostly let their teacher alone. Not that they put much effort into their schooling, mind, but they don’t run Teacher off, either. At least, no one’s tried since I came to town.

When the kids had all scattered, I wandered down to Two-Timin’ Tess’s tavern for a while and listened to the guys making their boasts about how they’d clobber the fellow and dump him on the noon train. I had to give the youngsters credit for having more imagination than their elders. Finally I headed on down to Johnson’s Mercantile, where the women were making their plans. Skunk Corners had it in for librarians, no question, and this Tom character had his work cut out for him, and that was just for surviving, let alone running a library.

I prowled around until dark, picking up a hint here and a notion there. Mostly folks seemed to figure on making a move when the library opened in the morning, so it occurred to me that if Tom just didn’t open up, he’d be okay. It was with the intention of suggesting that he just lie low a while that I snuck in at the back door of the library.

I didn’t knock, of course, just slipped my knife blade in at the bolt and popped it open, the way I’ve always done when I want a book. I couldn’t go in the front door and let the whole town see Big Al checking out a book like just anyone. Not that much of anyone did check books out. A few took what they wanted, and brought them back if they felt like it, but most just went in to gawp at all the books they wouldn’t know how to read, even if they wanted to. And they went in to make life miserable for the librarians, of course.

I stepped into the dark building—Tom hadn’t seemed to feel the need for a light, or maybe he was too scared to show one—and stopped short. There he was, right in front of me. I mean, I never saw or heard him coming; he was just there.

For one moment, I felt a little scared, but then I had to laugh at myself. Me, Big Al, scared of little white-haired Tom-the-Librarian? It was just the surprise of seeing him there. If any of the previous librarians ever knew I’d snuck in, they’d hidden somewhere far from my path, because I never saw them. This one just stood still in front of me, moonlight through the windows lighting up the black silk handkerchief folded just so in his breast pocket.

May I help you?

Crazy as it sounds, that mild inquiry convinced me I’d made the right bet. I mean, if he was so eager to please, surely he’d listen to reason and just hole up here for a while. Maybe I could convince him the town’s grudge would wear off if they didn’t see him for two or three days. Just long enough for me to win my bet.

I laid it all out for him, not the bets, but the plans. The primer kids’ plans to bring in a skunk. The ladies’ ipecac casseroles. And the toughs at the tavern who’d most likely just pick a fight and flatten him. He listened in silence. Then he said, still in that polite, mild voice,

Thank you. I do not anticipate any problems.

I goggled at him. Gaped. Stared, with my jaw down around my knees.

Didn’t you hear any a’ what I was sayin’, Mister? If the kids and the ladies don’ worry you—but they oughta—you gotta know Wild Harry Colson and Crazy Jake and them will just chew you up and spit you out. I know how to talk almost like an educated soul, but he surprised me right into talking like a local.

Then he said the strangest thing, the thing I thought was a joke, or bravado, or just plain lunacy. He said,

You need not worry about my safety. I am trained to kill.

About then, I decided to hightail it out of there. Craziness might be catching, and I didn’t want any of that.

Well, I cleared out, and next morning the library opened at Ten O’clock sharp, just the way the sign out front had always said, though mostly it didn’t. Open, I mean. Because there usually wasn’t a librarian, or he’d be in the back, packing to leave town. Sometimes he’d be hiding under the bed.

I came in the usual way and kept watch through the wide crack in the door leading back into the librarian’s quarters. I didn’t figure it would do me any good to be seen around there, and someone might get it into his head that there was more than one way to get out of paying off that bet with me. So I kept out of sight and watched.

Not much happened at first. A few youngsters filtered in, ones I recognized as trouble. Then a couple of the ladies came with their covered dishes, all warm and friendly and welcoming. I knew better, of course. If Tom ate that stuff, he’d spend the rest of the day in the outhouse out back, at least until the big kids came and tipped it over on him.

Tom greeted the boys and pointed them to the children’s books, a half dozen or so ragged volumes in one corner. I could have told him they couldn’t read.

I should know, being their teacher, but I wasn’t giving up my hiding place to share that old news.

When the ladies came, Tom accepted the hot dishes with thanks and put them on the windowsill, to be ready for lunch, he said. Then he sat down at the desk and began trying to make sense of the lender cards he’d found in some drawer or other. They must have made for bewildering reading,