Read Online Scarecrow by Richie Tankersley Cusick - Free Book Online Page B

had steadied me again, and I twisted to see Micah there behind me.
    “What—” I began, but his hand, releasing my arm, came down firmly over my mouth, pushing me back against the house before I could struggle. For a moment all I could see were his eyes, the color of clear, blue sky, fixed on me like magnets—and the fear in them, the pleading, as he made a shushing sound and looked wildly back over his shoulder.
    “Micah—” I mumbled beneath his fingers, but he pressed harder and shook his head violently.
    “You gotta get out of here,” he hissed. “You shouldn’t be here…it’s all Girlie’s doing, she—”
    I struggled to pry his hand from my mouth, and he dropped it to my shoulder, giving me a shake. “You don’t understand!” he gasped. “You don’t belong here. You’re not part of it. She didn’t mean anything by it, but—”
    “Didn’t mean anything by what? What are you talking about?”
    “I’ll help you,” he went on, not listening, almost crying now, his voice desperate and shaking. “I’ll help you and you can get away and maybe it’s not too late…maybe—nothing will happen—”
    “Happen—Micah—what are you talking about? What’s going to happen!”
    He pushed me back against the house, his face close to mine, every feature sharp with terror. “I’ll help you,” he whispered. “I’ll help you get away.”
    And then he squeezed my hand and was gone.

Chapter 6
    HIS HANDS KNOWING EVERY inch of me…memorizing each line and curve…no one knowing me so totally…so intimately…and the lovemaking, wild and sweet…and how willingly…how wonderfully, wonderfully willing…
    “Brad!”
    I sat up in bed, shaking, my nightgown soaked with sweat. In my dreams he had been with me again, keeping me safe, and then suddenly other hands had been there, hands that weren’t his—hands catching me, holding me, desperate hands that trembled with fear— scarecrow hands—and one of Micah’s hands, dangling bloody from the steel jaws of a trap — and other hands pulling me from a raging fire. And yet, even now, wide awake with terror and grief, I still felt on fire, still felt a stranger’s hands that made me aching and afraid…
    Trembling, I reached up and unfastened my bandage, unwinding it slowly, cringing at the feel of my damp, dirty hair. Tomorrow I’d ask Rachel about a bath…a shampoo…I always felt better after a bath…I could think clearer…things made more sense…
    I buried my face in my hands and pulled my knees up to my chest, rocking slowly as I’d rocked Kerry when he’d had a nightmare. What was happening? I didn’t understand any of it—Seth’s animosity and Micah’s terror and the strange little girl with the Knowing who told me things about myself that no one else could possibly know. And why was Micah so desperate to help me leave? What had he meant by all that talk about Girlie? He’d made it sound as if something dreadful was about to happen.
    Yet even as those thoughts hammered at me, I felt guilty. These people had saved my life—no matter how it had come about—and as for being stuck here, I really wasn’t, was I? There was a wagon. A road that led somewhere. They just didn’t want me to travel yet. Not until they were sure I was really better. And hadn’t my reaction to the scarecrow today proved how unnerved I still was? You’ll never get home.
    With mounting uneasiness I walked to the window, opening it wide, leaning out into the cold air until I felt chilled to the bone. No one knew I was here. I hadn’t told anyone about this trip. No one knew where I was supposed to be traveling or how long I should be away…When would anyone even realize I was gone? How long until someone got worried about me? How distant and unreal the world seemed now…how strangely remote…like a world I’d never known except in some crazy mixed-up dream.
    I froze.
    And even as I gripped the windowsill and felt the gooseflesh up my spine, even as I told