Read Online Between the Roots by A. N. McDermott - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: A. N. McDermott
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railroad means to lose the town."
"Is the railroad that married to the Colony?" she asked.
"Old promises would be kept. This short line is more than a business arrangement." With that comment he rose from his chair, crossed to the door, opened it, and said, "Mrs. O'Doul, surely you know I can't say any more." She rose to leave.
She drove home: weary from the heavy conversation.
* * *
The fresh dump of February snow was perfect. Ending the weekend with a trip to the mountain was the winter tradition Sammy and his mother enjoyed most. The snow was perfect. As evening approached, Sammy traded skis for snowboarding while his mother retreated to the lodge. He knew she enjoyed watching him through the massive windows in the fire-lit hall overlooking the slopes.
To the side of the main run, several older teens were riding in powder, weaving through the trees. A young man in a ski mask headed toward Sammy. Sammy felt anxious. This was the same young man he had admired all last year, watching him carve turns and hit daring jumps along the tree line. He was still Sammy's hero. At times Sammy even pretended to be his partner, keeping the man's trim form in sight, trying to pick up pointers. Although he had never seen his face, Sammy could easily spot him by his unique performanceâhe was a real athlete.
When the young man approached the other snowboarders, a couple of them waved him to join them. "So who are they waving to?" the man asked Sammy.
Flustered, Sammy stammered a reply. "You, I guess."
"Shall we join them?" His hero walked past him toward the other snowboarders, motioning him to follow. To be included was a heady experience; Sammy couldn't resist. He grabbed his board and quickened his pace to reach the trio. The lead guys mounted their boards and flew over the first rise, turned abruptly and waited for the young man to take the lead with Sammy close behind. He felt exhilarated as he tried tricky turns and jumps. This was his rare chance to show off, so he took advantage of it.
When he ran the slope for the last time, the masked man slipped alongside him. "You're good, kid. I'll look for you again." And then he was gone.
Sammy reached the lodge, hoping he hadn't taxed his mother's patience. He knew he'd been out longer than usual. He carried his board and climbed the cement steps to the rustic lodge's main room. Always before they had met near the top of the stairs: she with her near-empty coffee mug and her book; he, with his dripping board. But she wasn't there. He waited. Another ten minutes passed. Sammy circled the fireplace and sat on the cold steps. He studied the other late skiers.
Facing the main entrance, he could see the adjoining hall that led to another wing of the lodge. About halfway down the hall, he saw his mother talking with someone. Sammy recognized the athletic build. The young man, his ski mask removed, had his back toward Sammy. His mother was shaking her head as she talked to the man. Sammy watched him pat his mother on the back, and then the man walked down the long hall away from her.
Gathering his board, Sammy hurried down the steps to join his mother. As she headed in his direction, he could tell she was upset.
"What's up, Mom? Do you know that guy?" Sammy asked.
"What do you mean?" she answered.
"That guy, the one you were just talking with. Do you know him?"
"Oh, he wanted directions, that's all." She wasn't very convincing. The ride home was long and silent. They both had things on their minds. Sammy's were nagging at him. What's going on? Why the secretive stuff?
They had made trips lots of times and always they ended well. He was tired of the intrigue, his mother's moodiness, and the constant tension in the air. What was happening to their world?
Chapter Nine: The Date
S AMMY WAS ON THE phone with John. "I just called Walt. He suspects we still don't trust him," he said, "and I think he'll talk. He's going to bring his granddaughter."
"So why bring along
"Is the railroad that married to the Colony?" she asked.
"Old promises would be kept. This short line is more than a business arrangement." With that comment he rose from his chair, crossed to the door, opened it, and said, "Mrs. O'Doul, surely you know I can't say any more." She rose to leave.
She drove home: weary from the heavy conversation.
* * *
The fresh dump of February snow was perfect. Ending the weekend with a trip to the mountain was the winter tradition Sammy and his mother enjoyed most. The snow was perfect. As evening approached, Sammy traded skis for snowboarding while his mother retreated to the lodge. He knew she enjoyed watching him through the massive windows in the fire-lit hall overlooking the slopes.
To the side of the main run, several older teens were riding in powder, weaving through the trees. A young man in a ski mask headed toward Sammy. Sammy felt anxious. This was the same young man he had admired all last year, watching him carve turns and hit daring jumps along the tree line. He was still Sammy's hero. At times Sammy even pretended to be his partner, keeping the man's trim form in sight, trying to pick up pointers. Although he had never seen his face, Sammy could easily spot him by his unique performanceâhe was a real athlete.
When the young man approached the other snowboarders, a couple of them waved him to join them. "So who are they waving to?" the man asked Sammy.
Flustered, Sammy stammered a reply. "You, I guess."
"Shall we join them?" His hero walked past him toward the other snowboarders, motioning him to follow. To be included was a heady experience; Sammy couldn't resist. He grabbed his board and quickened his pace to reach the trio. The lead guys mounted their boards and flew over the first rise, turned abruptly and waited for the young man to take the lead with Sammy close behind. He felt exhilarated as he tried tricky turns and jumps. This was his rare chance to show off, so he took advantage of it.
When he ran the slope for the last time, the masked man slipped alongside him. "You're good, kid. I'll look for you again." And then he was gone.
Sammy reached the lodge, hoping he hadn't taxed his mother's patience. He knew he'd been out longer than usual. He carried his board and climbed the cement steps to the rustic lodge's main room. Always before they had met near the top of the stairs: she with her near-empty coffee mug and her book; he, with his dripping board. But she wasn't there. He waited. Another ten minutes passed. Sammy circled the fireplace and sat on the cold steps. He studied the other late skiers.
Facing the main entrance, he could see the adjoining hall that led to another wing of the lodge. About halfway down the hall, he saw his mother talking with someone. Sammy recognized the athletic build. The young man, his ski mask removed, had his back toward Sammy. His mother was shaking her head as she talked to the man. Sammy watched him pat his mother on the back, and then the man walked down the long hall away from her.
Gathering his board, Sammy hurried down the steps to join his mother. As she headed in his direction, he could tell she was upset.
"What's up, Mom? Do you know that guy?" Sammy asked.
"What do you mean?" she answered.
"That guy, the one you were just talking with. Do you know him?"
"Oh, he wanted directions, that's all." She wasn't very convincing. The ride home was long and silent. They both had things on their minds. Sammy's were nagging at him. What's going on? Why the secretive stuff?
They had made trips lots of times and always they ended well. He was tired of the intrigue, his mother's moodiness, and the constant tension in the air. What was happening to their world?
Chapter Nine: The Date
S AMMY WAS ON THE phone with John. "I just called Walt. He suspects we still don't trust him," he said, "and I think he'll talk. He's going to bring his granddaughter."
"So why bring along
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