The Hex Witch of Seldom by Nancy Springer Read Free Book Online Page B

away.
    Shane was forcing her to see him again in the way she had not wanted to see him, as a being with thoughts and will, as a—no. She would not say it. She would not see it. Angrily she jerked her eyes away from the weird manifestation in the air and in the horse itself. She made herself meet Shane’s blue-eyed stare, and she burst out at him, “I offered to take that halter and lead rope off you, you just remember that! Now it’s too late. I’m not allowed.”
    Shane did not move, but the form behind his horse form faded into air. Bobbi stood woodenly, badly shaken, and beside her, Travis laughed his low, nervous laugh. He had seen nothing strange except Bobbi’s behavior. “You talk to that horse like he was people,” he said.
    Of all things, that was the one Bobbi didn’t want to hear. She turned on Travis. “You shut up! What do you know about it?”
    Travis kept his grin, but it twitched. A hurt look narrowed his eyes. Bobbi did not care; she was hurting too much herself to care if she hurt anyone else. But Shane did an odd thing. He reached out with his proud head and tapped Travis on the shoulder. It was not a nose-nudge but a strange gesture Bobbi could not name, a light blow with the bony ridge, wild and friendly and challenging all at once. It was like an athlete’s slap or a knight’s accolade. Travis’s eyes widened, though he did not seem afraid.
    â€œWhat did he do that for?” he asked Bobbi.
    â€œI don’t know,” she told him. Then, because fair was fair, she added, “That’s the first time he’s come up to anybody and touched them.”
    Travis’s face had turned smooth and quiet, the tight, nervous lines gone. “He likes me?”
    â€œNot exactly,” said Bobbi, but without nastiness. She felt sorry she had snapped at Travis, but mostly she felt tired, and Shane was still in her way. “Move, please,” she requested, and the black horse stepped aside at once and let her carry the water to the trough.
    The rest of the week, as he helped carry water and spread hay, Travis watched Bobbi and Shane with quiet, wondering eyes. Sunday he didn’t come. His parents, passing through on a Sunday walk, told the Yandros he had the flu.
    Sunday night, as darkness was falling, Bobbi went out through the corral to the barn. She walked into the aisle between stalls, blacker than night, and did not turn on a light. She opened her horse’s stall. “Shane,” she called, her voice only a little shaky, “come here, please.”
    He came, but slowly. Something in her voice made him hesitate. But a man of honor had to obey the wishes of a lady, even a lady he detested. He came.
    â€œI have to ask you to go into the stall, please.”
    The stall was clean enough that she could have slept it in herself; she had seen to that. There was a bucket of fresh water hanging on the wall, and hay piled in the corner. Not that she expected these things to make any difference to Shane. But they made some small difference to her.
    He went into his prison. He had to, because she asked it of him. All she could see of him was a glimmer of yellow lead rope, dragging in the dirt like a felon’s chains. All he could see of her was a dark, slim shape in the night.
    She closed the stall and latched the door firmly, and imagined that she saw his head lift with uneasy surprise.
    â€œI have to,” she told him, not trying any longer to keep the tremor out of her voice. “I can’t go against Pap. I got to live with him, and he’s—he’s all—he’s the only one—”
    All the family she had. The only one who—loved her?
    She could not feel love anywhere in the night.
    She left Shane in the stall and went into the cabin. Her grandfather was sitting in front of the TV and did not look up as she passed him on her way to her room.
    Bobbi could not sleep. Early the next morning, Monday