Amanda in Alberta: The Writing on the Stone by Darlene Foster Page B

rock had to be there. She really wanted to show it to Aunt Mary and find out why everyone was so interested in it. Just as she opened her mouth to bite into her hamburger, she saw the rodeo clown get into Gordon’s truck.
    She looked over to where Leah and Sarah chatted with some other cousins. Amanda put down her paper plate and ran over to the truck just as the clown started to back up and turn around. Realizing she couldn’t stop him, she grabbed the tailgate and swung onto the back as he drove out of the campground. She hid behind a bale of hay.
    It wasn’t long until the truck stopped. Amanda peeked around the bale. They were on the hill overlooking Red Rock Coulee.
    â€˜Well, at least I made it here,’ she thought.
    The driver got out of the cab. He took off his clown wig and hat revealing a head of red hair. He loped down the valley through the huge red boulders.
    â€˜Hank was the rodeo clown? Why did he steal Gordon’s truck? And what is he doing here?’ Amanda’s mind raced.
    She waited a few minutes. When Hank was no longer in sight, she climbed out of the back of the truck, brushing the hay off her clothes. In the dusk, the red rocks cast eerie shadows as she made her way down into the coulee. Amanda wondered if she would be able to find the house again. A rattling sound in the grass stopped her in her tracks.
    â€œI’m sorry I disturbed you, rattlesnake, wherever you are. Please let me pass without striking me.” Amanda’s voice trembled.
    With her eyes glued to the ground in front of her, she placed one foot in front of the other as if she were walking on broken glass. She rounded a corner and saw the lone bent and gnarled old tree. The dull grey, weather-beaten house behind it almost blended into the landscape. It appeared much more daunting than in the bright daylight. A shiver ran through Amanda. She wished she hadn’t come by herself. ‘What was I thinking? Perhaps Leah was right; it was after all, only a stone. And where had Hank gone?’
    Amanda shrugged. ‘Since I’m here, I’d better look for the stone.’
    Searching the ground leading up to the door, she found nothing. The crooked door screeched as she pushed it open and entered the house. Things looked the same as earlier in the day, but a faint smell of stale cigarette smoke mixed with the musty scent. Kneeling down in the dim light, she felt around the floor.
    â€œIt’s got to be here,” she whispered under her breath.
    A noise came from upstairs. The hair on her arms lifted. She heard it again. This time it sounded like footsteps coming down a ladder.
    Amanda slowly stood up. She turned to the half open door. Her legs refused to move. An arm reached around her and held her tight. She felt hot breath on her neck.
    â€œAre you looking fer something?”

Chapter 20
    â€œLet go of me, Hank!” Amanda squirmed and kicked. More angry than scared, she said, “You are the worst…person…ever. What are you doing here, anyway?”
    â€œI heard you tell your friend you dropped the rock here when you were snooping around earlier today. I’ve come to find it, and you’re not going to stop me.” Hank dragged Amanda to a ladder.
    â€œI’m not going up there.”
    â€œOh yes, you are. You can scream all you want, no one will hear you. There ain’t a soul for miles.”
    Hank pushed Amanda up the ladder into the dark attic and bound her wrists and feet with a rope.
    â€œI know I don’t need to do this, but just in case.” He tied a handkerchief around her mouth. Picking up a flashlight, he went back downstairs.
    Amanda looked around the gloomy attic. Through the dust and cobwebs, she made out a crumpled up sleeping bag in one corner. A package of cigarettes and a clown suit lay beside it. Squinting, she detected what looked like crosses in another corner. She could hear Hank moving things around downstairs.
    â€˜I hope he