Scarecrow by Richie Tankersley Cusick Read Free Book Online Page A

quietly. When he didn’t answer, I stole a look at him. It was hard to tell how old he was. With his harsh face, the few strands of gray highlighting his beard and the tawny mane of his hair, he could have been Brad’s age or older, anywhere from thirty to midforty. It was this place, I realized suddenly—the wind and dust, the years of hard work—that had worn such a mysterious air of timelessness about him.
    Looking away again, I heard him sigh as he set his cup down on the porch banister.
    “Rachel’s happy,” he said, but more to himself than to me.
    I glanced up to see him regarding me grudgingly.
    “With you here,” he said. “I haven’t seen her this happy in a long, long time.”
    “She’s been so sweet to me. Everyone here is so—”
    “You don’t know us,” Seth cut me off. “You’re not part of it.”
    I puzzled a moment over that remark. “Part of what? Your world here?”
    He flung the last of his coffee onto the ground. “Outsiders always think they know best. About things they’ll never understand.”
    I wasn’t sure what he meant, nor was I sure what to say. Finally I reminded him, “Really, all I’m trying to do is get home.”
    Seth gazed out at the endless hills. “You’ll never get home.”
    It sounded so final, so fatal. My heart clutched coldly in my chest, and I forced myself to take one step closer to him.
    “I only need to call someone. Rachel said you have a wagon—do you think you could just drive me to a neighbor’s?”
    “Dewey doesn’t have a phone.”
    “Then maybe if I could just borrow your wagon, then you wouldn’t have to take me and—”
    “I don’t loan out what’s mine. And I can’t waste a good day’s work taking you back and forth to town.”
    A shiver of quiet panic began to ease through my body. “How long would it take me, then? To walk to Cranston?”
    “The road’s that way, about five miles.” He jerked his thumb vaguely over his shoulder. “It turns off to another road…about seven miles, maybe eight…then another road, split north and south, depending on where you’re headed. If you’d rather take the shortcut, you can go off through these woods, past the first ten acres, down a bluff…two, no, three creeks…”
    I knew I was staring at him like an imbecile; I turned away, hoping he wouldn’t see how frightened I really was.
    “You’ll have to watch out for coyotes, though. And bears. And copperheads that haven’t bedded down yet for the winter.” He paused, studying my face. “You couldn’t make it. You know you couldn’t.”
    A strange, cold flood coursed through me, pounded in my head, blurred the autumn panorama into one bloody haze behind my eyes— Pam, you might as well let me do it, you know you can’t…Brad laughing…will you ever be able to do anything without me…
    As my head began to clear again I stared out at the short expanse of scraggly yard, the rope swing dangling from a scarlet maple, the silhouette of Girlie’s scarecrow by the road, the screen of forest that separated that road from the wooded fields and craggy hillsides beyond. And it occurred to me as I looked up through the tangled canopy of trees that hugged the clearing all around, that in the full bloom of summer this house would very likely be invisible, camouflaged beneath leaves, behind weeds, between hills. Even from the air it would be hard to spot this place. Only a fool would attempt to find a way out of here on foot.
    Reluctantly I glanced over at Seth, his profile stark and unmoved against the backdrop of morning. He seemed as much a part of the landscape as those wild, sturdy hills.
    “Rachel said you’ve lived here a long time,” I mumbled.
    He glanced at me without shifting positions. “All my life.”
    “You built this house yourself, she said, when you two got married.”
    His expression showed plainly that it wasn’t any of my business.
    “You must have some wonderful memories,” I said.
    He regarded me for several