Night Howl by Andrew Neiderman Read Free Book Online

trappin’ gear, too. Iknow you want to keep this quiet, Doc, and for now I’ll go along with this worry about spies and all, but we’re goin’ to have to do it right. This is a real challenge. This animal knows we’re comin’. Maybe you’ll tell me a little more as we go along, huh?”
    “Maybe,” Kevin said. He smiled. Despite his initial feelings, he felt he could come to like this man. There was a refreshing forthrightness about him. Perhaps the simplicity of the natural world gave him more insight, even about people. He felt he could trust him and he knew that before it was all over, he would probably end up telling him everything, as wild and incredible as the story might sound. “We’ll do what you say,” Kevin said. “Take us back.”
    Ken Strasser paused at the kitchen sink and looked out the window at the barn. Maybe his old eyes were playing tricks on him, but he thought he saw something slip in through the partially opened door. He expected there would be all sorts of small wildlife in there by now: snakes, field mice, rabbits, and skunks. Maybe a raccoon and a possum would go in and out, but he didn’t expect to see anything that big make its way inside. This looked big—as big as a large dog. A damn stray, he thought. A damn stray.
    He debated whether or not to let the animal stay the night and then thought, if I give him an inch, the animal won’t go. He’d seen it too many times before. When Ethel was alive, it was different. She took pity on anything. Every time he reached for the rifle to shoot a pesky skunk or drive off a coon, she pleaded for mercy. He always gave in, and even if he did shoot, he made sure to shoot too high or too low. It was because of Ethel that he hadn’t gone deer hunting since he was eighteen. He stopped when they started courting, and after they were married, there was no chance. Of course, he could have resumed it after shedied, but somehow that wouldn’t have seemed right. He couldn’t do anything she wouldn’t have wanted him to do.
    He even kept the house cleaner than she had kept it. The moment he finished a meal, he was up and about clearing off the table, scraping off the dishes, wiping and washing everywhere. God forbid there was a crumb on the floor. Charley would come and laugh at him, but he knew that his son was quietly pleased.
    “Mom always said you could eat off her floor.”
    “You could. What can I do . . . she left me with bad habits.”
    “Bad habits.” They both laughed about it. His son was fifty-one years old, and in some ways he looked older than his father. Didn’t have the same good life, Ken thought. You can’t compare the women. I was blessed with Ethel, he was cursed with Paula. Why his son had married such a woman, he’d never know. A home-cooked meal was always an ordeal, and to think, they lived in a six-room apartment and she needed a maid twice a week. No wonder Charley came here twice a week to eat and spend time.
    Well, in a way Ken was happy about that. At least he had his son’s company regularly. How many people his age could say the same thing? Oh, they had their share of arguments, most of them about whether or not he should keep the farm. It was a big house for one man, but it didn’t seem right to even think about selling it. It was the only home he had ever known; it had been in the family back to his great-great grandfather. He hoped Charley would take it when he was gone; he had even hoped Charley and Paula and the girls would move in with him, but Paula hadn’t gone for that. She wouldn’t go for it after he died, either; she thought the place was too old and unattractive. The condo was more like it. Condo, he thought. Sounded like some kind of Latin music, not a home;and how could you say that you owned an apartment? It didn’t make sense. Right through the wall was another family who supposedly owned their apartment. There wasn’t any land to speak of, and privacy was nonexistent as far as he was