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Authors: Out of the Darkness
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in the trailer, along with other supplies. The round hay bale had been delivered in their absence, dropped inside the pasture fence next to the corral, where the horses stretched their necks over the top of the fence and clipped off mouthfuls. She let them into the pasture to graze and they headed straight for the hay.
Steve attacked the lawn while Sami tackled the barn. The electric was a later addition, the metal conduit and junction boxes not yet dulled by oxidation from the humid Florida air and complete with waterproof electrical sockets. She located an old wheelbarrow in what she was using as the tack room. She filled it several times with old, musty straw from the stalls and started a muck pile near the far fence. She then hooked up the pressure washer and cleaned everything with a mild bleach solution. Once up to her standards she took a break and checked on Steve’s progress.
He’d almost finished. The property looked a lot better with the tall weeds knocked down, and Sami felt better than she had since arriving. Steve rode over after making his last pass and shut the tractor off.
“Well, Chief, do I pass inspection?”
She felt a wave of guilt over his good nature. He was trying. If his sudden bout of sleepwalking was unexpected, it certainly wasn’t a reason to hold a grudge. She leaned over and kissed his sweaty forehead.
“You certainly do. You’ve got the rest of the day off.”
“But I promised I’d help.”
“You did, and I appreciate it. I’m going to take a ride and putter around for a while and then call it a day. Go ahead and clean up and do whatever you want.” She smiled. “Your publisher is expecting a book out of you. Matt’s coming down early for some R & R. He’ll give you holy hell if you miss your deadline.”
He hugged her. “Thanks, hon. Why don’t we call in a pizza? Isn’t there a place across the street from Winn-Dixie?”
She nodded. Cooking was the last thing she wanted to do. “That’s a good idea.”
* * * *
She groomed and saddled Jeff and headed back to the gate she found the night before. She dismounted, opened it, and rode through. Steve had returned the same way he’d left, his footprints still clearly visible in the dirt, although they were now occasionally crossed by dirt bike tracks. The trail ran south along the property line, eventually curving off to the east and up a small hill into a thick stand of pine trees.
Jeff shied away from the trail and Sami dismounted, encouraging the gelding to follow.
“C’mon boy, don’t wuss out on me now.” She found a small clearing where the tracks disappeared in the thick bed of pine needles carpeting the ground. A small stone marker stood in the center of the clearing. As she approached, she realized with a chill it was a gravestone.
George Simpson, 1863-1908 . No epitaph, just cold letters chiseled into a small granite marker. The name sounded familiar. She searched her memory and drew a blank. Several old, rotting wooden markers stood nearby, the names lost to the ages. She also noticed several piles of stones scattered around the clearing. Some sort of cairns, she suspected, maybe left by early settlers or native tribes. Despite a raging case of the crawling creeps, the clearing intrigued her. She decided to go to the library to do more research. Maybe it was fodder for her next book.
She circled the outer edge of the clearing, the gelding still in tow, and found no other footprints except where Steve had followed his own back trail.
He came to visit a graveyard he knew nothing about?
She clipped that line of thought and led Jeff from the clearing.
Chapter Eleven
“What the hell is that?”
Sami, her eyes wide and mouth full of pizza, shook her head in amazement.
Steve cocked his head. “How the hell do they even get into that position?”
Sami swallowed her pizza before she choked on it and looked at the remote control. “Forget how they got into it, how do they get out ?” They
Steve attacked the lawn while Sami tackled the barn. The electric was a later addition, the metal conduit and junction boxes not yet dulled by oxidation from the humid Florida air and complete with waterproof electrical sockets. She located an old wheelbarrow in what she was using as the tack room. She filled it several times with old, musty straw from the stalls and started a muck pile near the far fence. She then hooked up the pressure washer and cleaned everything with a mild bleach solution. Once up to her standards she took a break and checked on Steve’s progress.
He’d almost finished. The property looked a lot better with the tall weeds knocked down, and Sami felt better than she had since arriving. Steve rode over after making his last pass and shut the tractor off.
“Well, Chief, do I pass inspection?”
She felt a wave of guilt over his good nature. He was trying. If his sudden bout of sleepwalking was unexpected, it certainly wasn’t a reason to hold a grudge. She leaned over and kissed his sweaty forehead.
“You certainly do. You’ve got the rest of the day off.”
“But I promised I’d help.”
“You did, and I appreciate it. I’m going to take a ride and putter around for a while and then call it a day. Go ahead and clean up and do whatever you want.” She smiled. “Your publisher is expecting a book out of you. Matt’s coming down early for some R & R. He’ll give you holy hell if you miss your deadline.”
He hugged her. “Thanks, hon. Why don’t we call in a pizza? Isn’t there a place across the street from Winn-Dixie?”
She nodded. Cooking was the last thing she wanted to do. “That’s a good idea.”
* * * *
She groomed and saddled Jeff and headed back to the gate she found the night before. She dismounted, opened it, and rode through. Steve had returned the same way he’d left, his footprints still clearly visible in the dirt, although they were now occasionally crossed by dirt bike tracks. The trail ran south along the property line, eventually curving off to the east and up a small hill into a thick stand of pine trees.
Jeff shied away from the trail and Sami dismounted, encouraging the gelding to follow.
“C’mon boy, don’t wuss out on me now.” She found a small clearing where the tracks disappeared in the thick bed of pine needles carpeting the ground. A small stone marker stood in the center of the clearing. As she approached, she realized with a chill it was a gravestone.
George Simpson, 1863-1908 . No epitaph, just cold letters chiseled into a small granite marker. The name sounded familiar. She searched her memory and drew a blank. Several old, rotting wooden markers stood nearby, the names lost to the ages. She also noticed several piles of stones scattered around the clearing. Some sort of cairns, she suspected, maybe left by early settlers or native tribes. Despite a raging case of the crawling creeps, the clearing intrigued her. She decided to go to the library to do more research. Maybe it was fodder for her next book.
She circled the outer edge of the clearing, the gelding still in tow, and found no other footprints except where Steve had followed his own back trail.
He came to visit a graveyard he knew nothing about?
She clipped that line of thought and led Jeff from the clearing.
Chapter Eleven
“What the hell is that?”
Sami, her eyes wide and mouth full of pizza, shook her head in amazement.
Steve cocked his head. “How the hell do they even get into that position?”
Sami swallowed her pizza before she choked on it and looked at the remote control. “Forget how they got into it, how do they get out ?” They
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