Meadowlarks by Thomas Holladay (novels to improve english TXT) 📗

front porch light. That heavy bar still rested in the corner. Mom never put the thing up, probably too heavy. He unlocked the door latch and let Barnabas out, dark and cold.

“You want something to eat?”

“No. Willis said we could eat after.”

“Well, I poured you some orange juice. At least come in and drink that.”

He followed her into the kitchen and gulped down his juice. He rinsed the glass and put it into the dishwasher. He turned for the kitchen door.

Mom stood in the way, holding out a heavy looking sheepskin coat, not new.

“This might have been your father’s. There’s a newer one the same size. Keep that one for church and special occasions.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Jason pulled it on and rushed out to the front porch, but Willis and Barnabas were nowhere in sight. Light shone through the open door of the barn. He heard the river on the far side of the barn, a distant sound. He’d never heard so much quiet.

Awesome.

He ran down the front steps but the light in the barn went out. He stopped, unable to see anything past the glow from the front porch light. High above the barn, a dark blue sky outlined the shape of the mountain. The day was coming.

Barnabas’s claws raked the cobblestone driveway, coming up fast. His dog’s front paws plowed into Jason’s chest, nearly knocking him down.

“The dog needs to stay here. He’ll scare the fish.” Willis walked into the light carrying only one fishing pole.

“Don’t I get to catch any?”

“Have to ask the fish.” Maybe Willis was telling a joke. Hard to tell because Willis never smiled, not very much.

Jason put Barnabas inside the house and followed Willis around the corner of the garage and under the kitchen light, up a slight hill to a flat that ran across the back of the house, then down a trail that led them into the lower meadow.

“You bar that new door last night?”

“No. I think it was too heavy for Mom.”

Willis stopped and looked at Jason, very serious. “You need to help her. You’re the man of the house.”

Jason nodded. Okay.

It was light enough to see already, following a dirt road to a barn made of logs, less than half the size of their main barn with a low, flat roof. This barn had no electricity, so Willis struck a match and lit a lantern, trimmed it and hung it near a flatbed truck. Hay had been stacked on one side of the truck and sacks of corn feed stacked on the other.

“Is this our truck?”

“Yes. Your grandfather bought it to feed your cattle after he let John and me go.” Willis grabbed a wicker satchel from the back of the truck, blew out the lantern and led Jason back outside.

Jason could see them now.

Sleek, fat, black cattle fed at bins near the creek.

“Me and John have been taking care of your stock since your grandpa got taken, why you need to bar the doors.”

"Taken? By what?"

Willis looked down at him, walking slower and thinking. "There's dangers up here that don't exist down below. Drop that bar into place."

Willis's previous comment finally reached his brain. He and John had looked after their cows. “How much do we owe you?” That’s what Mom would ask.

Willis looked surprised, like he didn’t know how to figure it out. “John did most of it. Talk to him.”

Jason followed the dirt road, light enough now to see it clearly. “Where does this road go, Willis?” The dirt road disappeared into tall trees at the bottom of the meadow.

“There’s a hot spring down there with a small house. I built the house for your great grandparents. They liked staying overnight and using the spring. It’s nice year round but they liked it most in midwinter.”

Way down the road, a family of deer watched them and moved slowly into the trees.

“Are those your trees, Willis?”

“All the trees in this valley belong to you, all the way to the top ridgeline; you and your mother.”

“And Barnabas and Stoner?”

“That’s up to you. You're the man of the house.”

“Awesome.”

They followed the road for what seemed an hour but Jason knew it really wasn’t. The sun wasn’t even up yet.

The mountain where John and Willis lived had sun, but it hadn’t reached down here yet. He couldn't guess the time. He never wore the watch that jerk gave him for his birthday in the hospital. It felt like an anchor or something, way too big and heavy.

Willis stopped halfway down the meadow. “Let’s cut across here.” He led Jason closer to the creek. The water looked deep and clear. Long grass on the bottom had been pushed flat, swaying in the swift current. Willis pulled a Styrofoam cup from the wicker satchel and knelt near the stream, pushing the tall grass flat with his knee. He dug into the black earth with his fingers and found some big fat worms. He put them in the cup with some dirt, put on a lid and put the cup back into the satchel.

“What’s that, Willis?” Jason pointed at the satchel.

“That’s a creel. That’s where we keep the fish we catch until we eat them.” Willis found another worm in the ground and showed Jason how to put it on a hook. The worm didn’t like it, wiggling like crazy. “These fish are wild so you need to sneak up on them. If you walk too close, you can push water from the wet ground into the stream, and they’ll feel it, or they might see you or your shadow. Either way, they won’t bite.” Willis stood and looked over his shoulder.

The sun still hid behind the mountain.

On the other side of the valley, sunlight reflected through the trees. “Is that the Perch?”

Without looking, Willis said, “That’s John Crow’s place. Hard to find the Perch from here. It’s on this side of the falls, behind the trees. You can see it from your house but not from way down here.” Willis looked up there