Read Online Kansas Troubles by Earlene Fowler - Free Book Online Page B

the pale scattered light of the quarter moon, looked like huge men in dark overcoats. The sharp, wintry scent of pine seemed incongruous with the hot summer air and the electrical buzz of locusts. At the end of the driveway the old two-story farmhouse I’d seen at a distance earlier that afternoon loomed as dark and spooky as Dracula’s castle. A flickering yellow light illuminated a second-floor window.
    “Otis Spears. He owns this place. My dad and he were best friends. They owned the garage together.” Her sentences came out in short gasps. “Heavens, I need to start aerobics again. I’m exhausted already. Anyway, he’s like a member of our family. In fact, my girls call him Grandpa Otis.”
    A figure appeared in the lighted window. Becky waved, and the person waved back. “Good, he knows.” She pushed me gently between the shoulder blades. “Okay, you’re on your own now, sister-in-law. It’ll be harder to catch us if we split up.” She disappeared into the forest of pines. “Oh, shoot,” I heard her say, her voice growing fainter. “I should have sprayed my socks for chiggers.”
    Chiggers? Memories from my childhood visits in Arkansas caused me to scratch at my thighs prematurely. This was a Midwesterner’s idea of a fun Saturday night? I started into the Christmas trees and had threaded my way to a thick bunch of overgrown, untrimmed pines when the sound of angry voices stopped me. I hid behind a wide pine, eavesdropping on yet another argument. This time both voices were vaguely familiar, but I’d met so many new people in such a short time and the gummy air and dense trees made their words almost indecipherable. The wind shifted, and I heard a low voice say, “How could you!” The other voice, frantic and high, said something I couldn’t make out. Then the low voice returned. “. . . heartless . . .”
    In the distance, muffled by the trees, men’s voices, then rowdy laughter, moved up the driveway of the farm. I dashed through the trees and found a fence. Working my way by touch, I followed the fence until I reached the barn. I slid the door open. The scent of horse was strong and fresh, telling me it was a working barn. In the darkness a horse whinnied and pawed the ground. Not wanting to scare any animals, I decided against the barn. I came back out and edged my way around to the back of the building, trying to avoid the old cars and ancient farm implements only faintly illuminated by the silvery light. Something metal rang when I stepped on it. A cat screeched and darted in front of me, its yellow eyes glowing with fear. I jumped back and stumbled, then laughed at my overreaction.
    “By the barn!” a male voice yelled. I looked around frantically for somewhere to hide, then decided speed was my best bet at this point and headed through a field of cropped wheat. In the distance, a grove of dark trees looked like a good hiding place. A thought flashed through my mind as my feet crunched through the hard wheat tufts. Just what kinds of snakes were indigenous to Kansas, and where exactly did they go at night? I reached the grove of elm and cottonwood trees and found a metal shed. Crickets fell silent as I inched around to the back of the shed and rested against its cool metal side. I unbuttoned my shirt one button and fanned at the sweat trickling down my breastbone. These people were crazy. We were too old, and it was too darn hot for this. I closed my eyes and pretended the sultry air was a cool, Pacific Ocean breeze blowing through the canyons into San Celina. In a few minutes, the crickets took up their symphony again, and the locusts continued their high-pitched sawing. I stuck my fingers in my ears and wondered how anyone could get used to that sound. Far off, I could still hear men’s voices with an occasional shriek of laughter from a woman. Somebody was apparently losing a poker chip.
    For what seemed like hours, I leaned against the wall of the shed. No one had said exactly how