named…what?…Blackwolf…no, Fox, Blackfox…and Maythorn kept a notebook that she wrote stuff in…she wouldn’t ever let me see all of it, but I got one of my own and she showed me how she wrote up “reports”…we were so serious…stuff like “10:22 a.m.—WG takes truck to mailbox——12 noon——LG rings bell”…I wonder if that notebook of mine is still in our secret hidey-hole…if I could find it….
Rosemary rolled over and tugged her baseball cap low to shade her eyes. She stared out from under the brim up at the sky.
It’s really working…just being here…letting myself remember…but there’s so much…and I’m not sure
—
The roar of a big truck laboring up the hill shattered her reverie and she turned back over to see who it was. The vehicle had not yet come in sight, but her mother was emerging from the chicken yard, where the hens—red, white, brown, and speckled—were greedily pecking at the culled collard leaves. Rosemary watched her mother walk to the edge of the road, head cocked curiously. At last, around the bend came a large white pickup truck, its sides heavily spattered with mud. An even more mud-spattered four-wheeler rode in the pickup’s bed.
Elizabeth waited apprehensively as the big truck came to a stop beside her. She noted the four-wheeler in the back and the big, rough-looking man in the driver’s seat.
Oh, shit. I’ve got a real feeling this must be Calven’s mama’s boyfriend—the guy Phillip warned me about.
Trying to project an assurance she did not feel, as well as an ignorance of who the man was and what he wanted, she smiled as she walked around to the driver’s side.
“Can I help you?” She raised her voice and spoke at the closed window, keeping her expression and tone neutral. It was not unknown for strangers to come up the road. It happened several times a year. They came in search of lost hunting dogs; they came to take a look at the old Baker place where their Aunt Lulie had grown up; they came to offer a
Watchtower
and invite Elizabeth to do Bible study with them; they came by mistake, having turned too soon or too late; they came, openly curious about who lived up here. There had never been a bad experience with a stranger in all her years on the farm and she fervently hoped that her luck was not about to change.
The man at the wheel cut the engine and rolled his window down. “Well, now, maybe you can do that very thing. What it is, I’m lookin’ fer my boy. We was out huntin’ over yon.” His head jerked in the direction of the ridge that separated Full Circle Farm from Mullmore. “We was headin’ back to Bear Tree and he took off on his own. Reckon he could of got turned around and come down in yore holler.” His thin lips sketched a smile that revealed a mouth of snaggled, brown-stained teeth. One was missing and its mate seemed to have been half broken off. Dark stubble covered his gaunt cheeks and greasy black hair straggled from under a dirty orange hunting cap. The man’s gray eyes were close-set and seemed to miss nothing. Even as he spoke, they ranged over the chicken house, the barns, the house itself.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you.” Elizabeth smiled, hoping she looked both innocent and unintimidated. “No lost boys here. If he turns up, I could give you a call.
The operative word being
‘could.’
Not that I would.
Do you want to leave your phone number, Mr….?”
“Name’s Maitland. And I ain’t got no phone just now.” The smile was replaced by a glare of distrust. “You sure you ain’t seen him? I done tracked him along the top, and looked to me like he come down this way.” The penetrating gray eyes bored into her and she had to struggle to maintain her composure.
God, I hate lying. But I
can’t
say that I saw the boy. The best defense…
She assumed a look of interested concern. “So, do you think he’s lost, or was he running away for some reason? Maybe just playing around? I can see how you’d
Rosemary rolled over and tugged her baseball cap low to shade her eyes. She stared out from under the brim up at the sky.
It’s really working…just being here…letting myself remember…but there’s so much…and I’m not sure
—
The roar of a big truck laboring up the hill shattered her reverie and she turned back over to see who it was. The vehicle had not yet come in sight, but her mother was emerging from the chicken yard, where the hens—red, white, brown, and speckled—were greedily pecking at the culled collard leaves. Rosemary watched her mother walk to the edge of the road, head cocked curiously. At last, around the bend came a large white pickup truck, its sides heavily spattered with mud. An even more mud-spattered four-wheeler rode in the pickup’s bed.
Elizabeth waited apprehensively as the big truck came to a stop beside her. She noted the four-wheeler in the back and the big, rough-looking man in the driver’s seat.
Oh, shit. I’ve got a real feeling this must be Calven’s mama’s boyfriend—the guy Phillip warned me about.
Trying to project an assurance she did not feel, as well as an ignorance of who the man was and what he wanted, she smiled as she walked around to the driver’s side.
“Can I help you?” She raised her voice and spoke at the closed window, keeping her expression and tone neutral. It was not unknown for strangers to come up the road. It happened several times a year. They came in search of lost hunting dogs; they came to take a look at the old Baker place where their Aunt Lulie had grown up; they came to offer a
Watchtower
and invite Elizabeth to do Bible study with them; they came by mistake, having turned too soon or too late; they came, openly curious about who lived up here. There had never been a bad experience with a stranger in all her years on the farm and she fervently hoped that her luck was not about to change.
The man at the wheel cut the engine and rolled his window down. “Well, now, maybe you can do that very thing. What it is, I’m lookin’ fer my boy. We was out huntin’ over yon.” His head jerked in the direction of the ridge that separated Full Circle Farm from Mullmore. “We was headin’ back to Bear Tree and he took off on his own. Reckon he could of got turned around and come down in yore holler.” His thin lips sketched a smile that revealed a mouth of snaggled, brown-stained teeth. One was missing and its mate seemed to have been half broken off. Dark stubble covered his gaunt cheeks and greasy black hair straggled from under a dirty orange hunting cap. The man’s gray eyes were close-set and seemed to miss nothing. Even as he spoke, they ranged over the chicken house, the barns, the house itself.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you.” Elizabeth smiled, hoping she looked both innocent and unintimidated. “No lost boys here. If he turns up, I could give you a call.
The operative word being
‘could.’
Not that I would.
Do you want to leave your phone number, Mr….?”
“Name’s Maitland. And I ain’t got no phone just now.” The smile was replaced by a glare of distrust. “You sure you ain’t seen him? I done tracked him along the top, and looked to me like he come down this way.” The penetrating gray eyes bored into her and she had to struggle to maintain her composure.
God, I hate lying. But I
can’t
say that I saw the boy. The best defense…
She assumed a look of interested concern. “So, do you think he’s lost, or was he running away for some reason? Maybe just playing around? I can see how you’d
Similar Books
