When Zachary Beaver Came to Town by Kimberly Willis Holt Read Free Book Online Page A

something.”
    â€œSir?”
    â€œI need to find out what those fellas’ plans are, and since he’s just a kid, I don’t want to scare him or anything. Seeing a sheriff at your door can be intimidating. You know what I mean?”
    He continues explaining. “Since you boys are about his age, maybe he’d relax a bit, open up and tell me the whereabouts of that other guy. The Dairy Maid has been mighty patient with them parked out front. Before he left, that sideshow fella paid them cash for the water and electricity hookup, but he said it would only be for a few days.
    â€œYesterday Ferris got an envelope in the mail from that guy with money for some meals for that boy. It had a San Francisco postmark, but no return address. Now the folks at the Dairy Maid want to know what’s
going on. Don’t blame them one bit. And, well, it’s my job to make sure strangers have a good reason for sticking around Antler.”
    Sheriff Levi doesn’t mention the broken window. Bringing him straight to Zachary Beaver’s door would be like asking me to pick out the electric chair for my own execution. Zachary probably assumes we broke it since he caught us peeking in it a few days ago.
    â€œTobias,” Dad says, raising his eyebrow, “the sheriff is waiting for your answer.”
    I have no choice. “Yes, sir. Yes, sir, I’ll be ready in a second.”
    Â 
    Duke rides shotgun in the front while Cal and I ride in the backseat of the sheriff’s car. I hold a sack of bell peppers and green onions Dad packed for me to give to Zachary. Cal acts like we’re going on a field trip to Disneyland. I feel like I’m attending a funeral—mine. As we pull up in front of the trailer, I check out our bikes still leaning against the side of the Bowl-a-Rama.
    Sheriff Levi parks his car and Cal bounces out. I take my time. As we walk up to the trailer, the sheriff looks toward the broken window, which is now covered with Wag-a-Bag grocery sacks. He tilts up his hat. “Wonder how that happened?”
    After the sheriff knocks on Zachary’s door, we wait
for Zachary to answer. When he doesn’t, I’m thinking, Good, maybe we can leave. But Sheriff Levi knocks again and hollers, “Mr. Beaver, Sheriff Levi Fetterman here. I need a minute of your time, please.”
    The door slowly creaks open a few inches and Zachary peeks through with one eye. He huffs, beads of sweat rolling down his face like he ran the fiftyyard dash.
    The sheriff clears his throat. “Mr. Beaver, sorry if I woke you, but I need to ask you a few questions. I brought along a couple of my young friends. This is Toby and Cal.”
    Zachary’s eye narrows, and I know he remembers. I hold my breath, waiting for his finger to point our way. But he only nods and says, “We’ve met.”
    â€œCan we come in?” asks Sheriff Levi.
    Zachary swings open the trailer door and we step inside. The smell of lemon Pledge makes me think back to the first day Zachary arrived. He’s wearing a long red nightshirt like I saw in The Night Before Christmas . The ball of Zachary’s right foot is wrapped loosely with gauze. Malcolm wears a size twelve, and Zachary’s feet look a lot bigger. He wobbles across the room, the floor creaking with each step, and flops on the love seat, his bottom covering both cushions. He doesn’t ask us to sit down, but there’s no place to sit
anyway. The Plexiglas panels rest next to the wall, folded like an Oriental screen. I see the fabric panel hanging at the other end of the trailer and wonder if the bathroom is behind it.
    Sheriff Levi leans against an empty space on the wall. Cal looks around, his eyes casing out the place, and I can see his fingers itching to touch something. I take deep breaths through my nose and try to look relaxed. In one hand I hold the sack of vegetables, but I don’t know what to do with my other hand. Finally I