feet up on the oil stove,” Dad said. Dad sounded casual, but I knew from the look on his face that he was anxious. The sheriff never stopped by to visit the way other folks did. I thought maybe some other Japanese boys had been beaten up. “Best sit down, Mr. Watrous,” Dad said.
“This might not be something for Miss Evelina and the girl.” Mr. Watrous cocked his head at Granny and me.
“There’s nothing Granny hasn’t heard, and Rennie knows considerable about the world these days.”
I sat up a little straighter, trying to act worldlier, although I’d just been thinking how nice it was that my whole world that morning was the white winter farm. I was pleased, however, that Dad didn’t tell me to go into the other room, that he felt I was old enough to know what was going on outside our place.
The sheriff took a deep breath and laid his hat on the Hoosier cupboard. “Well, it’s like this, then.” He eyed Granny and me, but he didn’t say any more about us. “You know the little Reddick girl that lives on the other side of Tallgrass? Susan, her name is.”
Dad barely nodded. I glanced at Mom, who put her hand on my shoulder but didn’t look at me. I knew she was thinking about our visit to Helen Archuleta, Susan’s sister, not long before Christmas. I hadn’t heard anything about the baby being born and wondered if something bad had happened to Helen. I wondered if the sheriff had gotten the names mixed up and he meant Helen instead of Susan.
The sheriff glanced at Mom out or the corner of his eye, but he spoke to Dad. “They found little Susan out in the field this morning, tore up pretty bad and frozen in a haystack.”
“Lost in the storm?” Dad asked. He leaned forward and put his hands flat on the oilcloth of the table, waiting for the answer. I thought about Susan losing her crutches in the wind and crawling around on the cold ground, trying to make her way back to the house. She would have reached the haystack and known she’d gone in the wrong direction and crawled into the hay to keep warm. Susan wasn’t brave, and I shivered, knowing how terrified she must have been. Shoot, I’d have been terrified, and I could walk just fine.
“No, sir. I wished that was the cause of it.” He paused and chewed his bottom lip. “The little girl was murdered. And along with it, I’m sorry to say, the poor little thing had got ravished.”
4
“OH,” MOM SAID, GLANCING at Granny, and then at me as she sat down hard in her chair. Granny was sewing placidly, not paying attention to the sheriff. His words had made no impression on her. But they had on me. I stared at him, barely breathing, and I prayed Mom wouldn’t find some chore for me to do upstairs. I needed to stay. Susan was my friend. I had to know what had happened to her. Mom made a halfhearted waving motion at me to tell me to be still, but I hadn’t been about to say anything. I wasn’t absolutely sure what the word
ravished
meant, but I had a pretty good idea. I pulled my elbows into my sides and stared at the table.
Susan was a warm, sweet girl, like a bunny. How could anybody hurt her? I wondered. Just a few days before, I’d gone to her house, and we’d worked a thousand-piece puzzle she’d gotten for Christmas. The picture on it was of Cliff Palace at Mesa Verde, and Susan said it made her want to visit a cliff dwelling. She asked if Cliff Palace had an elevator, and we laughed. It was nice that Susan wasn’t self-conscious about her crutches. She had invited me back the next day, but I didn’t like puzzles much. Then Buddy came home, and I forgot about Susan. Maybe she stayed up late last night working on the puzzle, I thought, and somebody saw her through the window. If I’d finished the puzzle with her, she’d have been in bed, safe. I’m sorry, Susan, I said to myself. Although I was in the safest place I knew, the kitchen of our farm, with Buddy and Dad to protect me, I was scared. I’d never been so scared in
“This might not be something for Miss Evelina and the girl.” Mr. Watrous cocked his head at Granny and me.
“There’s nothing Granny hasn’t heard, and Rennie knows considerable about the world these days.”
I sat up a little straighter, trying to act worldlier, although I’d just been thinking how nice it was that my whole world that morning was the white winter farm. I was pleased, however, that Dad didn’t tell me to go into the other room, that he felt I was old enough to know what was going on outside our place.
The sheriff took a deep breath and laid his hat on the Hoosier cupboard. “Well, it’s like this, then.” He eyed Granny and me, but he didn’t say any more about us. “You know the little Reddick girl that lives on the other side of Tallgrass? Susan, her name is.”
Dad barely nodded. I glanced at Mom, who put her hand on my shoulder but didn’t look at me. I knew she was thinking about our visit to Helen Archuleta, Susan’s sister, not long before Christmas. I hadn’t heard anything about the baby being born and wondered if something bad had happened to Helen. I wondered if the sheriff had gotten the names mixed up and he meant Helen instead of Susan.
The sheriff glanced at Mom out or the corner of his eye, but he spoke to Dad. “They found little Susan out in the field this morning, tore up pretty bad and frozen in a haystack.”
“Lost in the storm?” Dad asked. He leaned forward and put his hands flat on the oilcloth of the table, waiting for the answer. I thought about Susan losing her crutches in the wind and crawling around on the cold ground, trying to make her way back to the house. She would have reached the haystack and known she’d gone in the wrong direction and crawled into the hay to keep warm. Susan wasn’t brave, and I shivered, knowing how terrified she must have been. Shoot, I’d have been terrified, and I could walk just fine.
“No, sir. I wished that was the cause of it.” He paused and chewed his bottom lip. “The little girl was murdered. And along with it, I’m sorry to say, the poor little thing had got ravished.”
4
“OH,” MOM SAID, GLANCING at Granny, and then at me as she sat down hard in her chair. Granny was sewing placidly, not paying attention to the sheriff. His words had made no impression on her. But they had on me. I stared at him, barely breathing, and I prayed Mom wouldn’t find some chore for me to do upstairs. I needed to stay. Susan was my friend. I had to know what had happened to her. Mom made a halfhearted waving motion at me to tell me to be still, but I hadn’t been about to say anything. I wasn’t absolutely sure what the word
ravished
meant, but I had a pretty good idea. I pulled my elbows into my sides and stared at the table.
Susan was a warm, sweet girl, like a bunny. How could anybody hurt her? I wondered. Just a few days before, I’d gone to her house, and we’d worked a thousand-piece puzzle she’d gotten for Christmas. The picture on it was of Cliff Palace at Mesa Verde, and Susan said it made her want to visit a cliff dwelling. She asked if Cliff Palace had an elevator, and we laughed. It was nice that Susan wasn’t self-conscious about her crutches. She had invited me back the next day, but I didn’t like puzzles much. Then Buddy came home, and I forgot about Susan. Maybe she stayed up late last night working on the puzzle, I thought, and somebody saw her through the window. If I’d finished the puzzle with her, she’d have been in bed, safe. I’m sorry, Susan, I said to myself. Although I was in the safest place I knew, the kitchen of our farm, with Buddy and Dad to protect me, I was scared. I’d never been so scared in
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