Stone Age. This is how Fred talked all the time. Words like "Cro-Magnon man" and "Tyrannosaurus rex" would roll off his tongue as fast as my sister's insults.
"Look, over here," Fred called out. "Up there, the dinosaur painting!" Rounding the corner we saw it hanging on a wall in back of a display table of fossils. "I never saw anything like that painting before," Fred gasped, shaking his head.
Amy and I stood there gazing at the beautifully painted dinosaurs. They didn't look like anything that you would see in comic or library books. These dinosaurs appeared very real! Fred leaned over the fossils to get a better look, when a man came from behind the large table.
"Like the dinos do you?" he asked.
"Yeah, I sure do," Fred replied. "I never saw dinosaurs painted so realistically!"
"You'll never see another painting like this one," a woman said as she came around the table to join us.
"You know, my sister Mary used to know the artist," the man said. "They were sweethearts."
"Oh, hush," Mary said, frowning. "He was the best dinosaur artist that ever lived."
"What's he doing now?" Fred shrugged.
"He must be painting somewhere," Mary explained. "We haven't been in touch for years. His paintings were praised by scientists and museums around the world."
Mary then touched a handkerchief to the corner of her eye.
"You folks will have to excuse my sister," the man whispered, leaning closer. "She gets a little emotional when we talk about Arthur."
"I do no such thing," Mary snapped. "Arthur was a great artist! I just wish he would have written once in a while."
We studied the painting again, and Fred began to describe the different prehistoric beasts. The older man listened in fascination. "That's a Tyrannosaurus rex in the center of the painting," Fred explained. "Its head is raised to the sky in a cry of victory over the fallen Styracosaurus by its feet. Look, you can even see a herd of running Triceratops trying to escape the exploding volcano!"
"They look like they're heading for the protection of the forest," Amy added.
"You’re right!" Fred said. "From the types of dinosaurs and the changing environment, I'd say it's the Cretaceous period. This was when the Tyrannosaurus roamed the earth!" he said, turning wide-eyed to Amy.
I thought she was going to scream. Fortunately, she didn't.
"That's exactly how Arthur talked," Mary said. "Wait a minute. I want to talk to my brother for a moment."
"Did you find something interesting?" a familiar voice asked. I turned around to see Dad approaching. "We sure did!" Fred replied, pointing to the painting. "This is the most amazing thing I've ever seen."
"Looks pretty interesting all right," Dad declared as the four of us examined the painting.
"Hi, how are you?" the man said, shaking Dad's hand. "I'm John."
"Are these yours?" Mary asked, looking at us.
"Only Bill," Dad replied, putting his hand on my shoulder.
"My sister and I are going to be retiring from the flea market soon, and we really think you would take care of it," John said.
"What my brother is trying to say is that we want you to have the painting," Mary smiled. "You do want it?"
"Absolutely!" Dad exclaimed. "I know the exact wall where it will hang. You’re sure about this?"
"Oh, yes," Mary replied. "We know you'll give it a good home. Besides, we have a few more of Arthur's paintings."
I glanced at Fred and Amy, and their mouths were hanging open. "It's ours now," Fred gasped. "I can't believe it!"
Amy suddenly recovered from the shock. "I'm glad your dad has room for it at your place, Bill," she said. "I don't think our mom would let it in the house. She has a hard enough time putting up with Fred's bedroom full of dinosaurs."
"You keep it, Bill," Fred said. "We'll come over and visit it every day."
My dad helped John lift the painting off the wall and carefully set it on the floor.
"Are you sure you can manage it?" John asked.
"Oh, yes," Dad replied. "I have the team with me. They'll help me get it out of here."
"Thanks a lot—thanks!" we all said as Dad grabbed hold of the frame. "Make way, make way. Valuable dinosaur art coming through. —Follow me, patrol," Dad declared as we snaked our way through the curious crowd. Again our train engine Dad plowed a path to the exit. From the smile on his face, I could tell that Dad was happy with our new masterpiece. I'm glad, because I don't think he was able to find any of the car parts he was looking for.
We all piled into the front, and the painting took up the entire back seat. The car was packed! On our way home, I explained the story to Dad about the great dinosaur artist who painted our new treasure.
CHAPTER 3
As we pulled into the driveway, I could see my mom and April had returned from dance practice. April approached the parked car and saw everyone squashed into the front seat. Her eyes caught a glimpse of the dinosaur painting in the back. "What's that?" she asked.
"It's a great painting," Dad explained as he squeezed out of the car. April had a very disbelieving expression on her face.
Dad eased the painting out of the car and held it up for April to see clearly.
"You don't have to look like that!" Dad said, staring at April. "This is nothing to sneeze at!"
"Don't say that!" I gasped. "She'll start sneezing and blow out the volcano in the painting."
Amy and Fred laughed under their breath while we held the front door for Dad.
He took the painting into the kitchen, where Mom was unpacking groceries.
"What's that?" Mom exclaimed, tipping her head to the side. Dad was as calm and collected as I had ever seen him.
"It's our new masterpiece!" Dad explained. "It's a one-of-a-kind painting of prehistoric life. You know, we've been looking for something to put on the living room wall. This will be a wonderful new addition to our household. Plus, it was free."
"Free!" Mom said as she circled the painting Dad was holding. "If it's such a valuable work of art, why was it just given away?"
"I think the people at the flea market thought that we'd appreciate it,” Amy explained. Mom's eyes danced over the many finely painted dinosaurs. She folded her arms and stared at Dad.
"That's right," he said. "The brother and sister at the market just wanted to give the painting a good home."
"Well—there's a place in the little room," Mom said, shaking her head. She motioned for all of us to follow her. We marched to the last door in the hallway and entered the room.
Mom pointed to a large, blank wall. "Right here
