Chasing Redbird by Sharon Creech Read Free Book Online Page A

the box.
    I was under the porch trying to coax Ben out, when Uncle Nate thumped on the floorboards above us. “What’re you looking for down there?”
    I scrabbled out. “Poke. Ben thinks he might have—”
    â€œFoot! That old turtle isn’t under there.”
    Ben crawled out from beneath the porch, brushing clumps of dirt from his shirt. “He might be. He might be hiding—”
    â€œListen, tadpole,” Uncle Nate said. “He ain’t a-hiding. He’s down at the creek this very minute searching—”
    â€œFor what?” Ben asked.
    Uncle Nate thumped his stick firmly on the porch. “For his sweetheart, that’s what!”
    Ben made me go with him to the creek to see if we could find Poke. We searched all along the bank, but didn’t see any sign of him.
    â€œHow does Uncle Nate know Poke is down here anyway?” Ben asked.
    â€œMaybe he brought him here.”
    On the way back to the house, I found a cricket, which I took to the tree outside my bedroom window. I didn’t see the one Jake had put there, but I figured it was around somewhere, because I’d heard it each night.
    Mom called from an upstairs window. “Bonnie? Zinny? Is that you, Zinny? Have you seen Uncle Nate?”
    â€œA while ago, on the porch.”
    â€œGo see what he’s up to, will you?”
    Uncle Nate wasn’t on the porch or up at the barn. Dad was in the field, weeding the tomato patch. “Seen Uncle Nate?” I asked.
    â€œNot lately.” He stood and looked around. “Wait a minute—there he goes—”
    Cresting the hill and waving his stick at our invisible Aunt Jessie was Uncle Nate calling, “Wait on up! Wait on up!”
    â€œFollow him, would you?” Dad said. “Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”
    Uncle Nate ran down the hill, around the barn, through the squirt gardens, and around the house, circling the ash tree twice. Ben and I caught up with him as he started down the drive.
    â€œCome on!” he shouted. “Help me get her.”
    We ran down the drive behind him. He had a funny, waddling gait, but he could run pretty fast. He turned and plunged into the bushes, where he was soon tangled and flailing. “Dag-blasted branches!” He whacked his stick against the bush. “Got away again.”
    To Ben, I whispered, “Did you see her?”
    He nodded, his eyes wide open. “Yep, I did, didn’t you?”
    I hadn’t. Why couldn’t I see her?
    On our way back to the house, a truck crunched along the gravel drive behind us, and we stepped to one side as Jake pulled up. “Hey!” he called. “Get on in, and I’ll give you a ride up to the house.”
    â€œNo thankee,” Uncle Nate said. “Things to do.”
    â€œZinny? Ben?” Jake said.
    â€œHave to keep an eye on him,” I said, watching my uncle cross the drive and head toward the ash tree.
    Jake turned off the engine. “I brought you something, Zinny.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œâ€™Cause I like to.” He shoved a small brown paper sack at me.
    Uncle Nate was off and running again. “I’ve got to go after him.”
    â€œZinny—Zinny!” Jake called after me. “Don’t forget to open it. Hope you like ’em—” He drove up to the house, backed up, and turned around, leaving the way he had come.
    Ben stood in the drive, yelling, “Bring me something next time!”
    â€œZinny!” May called from the front door. “Was that Jake?”

CHAPTER 13

B INGO
    F our smooth, white lucky stones were in the sack Jake had given me. I slipped one stone into my pocket and hid the rest upstairs in my closet. Bottle caps, a cricket, a turtle, and lucky stones. These might sound like innocent presents, and they were, but they were the last of the innocent gifts.
    The next day, he brought me a beagle puppy. It’s hard to resist a