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

pound bag of Science Diet dry dog food sat on the floor under the shelf.

“Awesome.”

She pointed at the stair doorway. “There’s a new Range Rover down in the garage. It belonged to your grandfather.”

“I know, Mom. Willis already showed me.”

“Good grief. We’ve been here nearly a month and I didn’t even know.”

Nobody ever tells me anything. 

“Did he show you the natural refrigerator and freezer down there, cut into all that rock?  It’s so cold in there I couldn’t believe there’s no compressor.”

“Of course.” He sounded so matter of fact.

Little monster.

She loved him more than she could have ever imagined loving anybody.

He jumped up, took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the kitchen door. More blood showed on his shirt.

“Whose blood is that?”

Lord.

He'd strung his new knife onto the back of his belt.

“I thought I told you to leave that knife at home.”

“Awe, Mom, all us guys have knifes. Most of the kids only have pocket knifes, so this one’s special. They all know it’s from Willis because he makes the scabbards.”

“Special, my foot.” She stomped her foot.

Ouch. 

Sharp pain shot up her back. “You leave that at home from now on.”

“Awe, Mom.”

“Who’s blood is that?”

She spun him and marched him into the light near the bay window.

His dog growled.

“You shut up.”

He growled again.

Jason had always said his dog liked being in charge.

“Awe, Mom, don’t worry. It’s not mine.”

“Whose is it? Did you cut somebody?”

“No, silly. Jake Embry got a bloody nose, that’s all. He’s okay, though. Vicar made us shake hands.”

“What if you were to pull your knife and cut somebody? What if somebody else pulled a knife?” Had he forgotten what happened to Jimmy?

“Awe, Mom.”

“You want me to take it away from you?” She held out her hand.

“No.” He looked dejected, the overacting little creep.

I’m the bad guy.

He reluctantly unbuckled his belt, slid the knife off and set it on the table, such a sad face.

“Did you see the front of the house?” Some gardening had been done near the entry.

“You mean the flowers Willis planted?”

“Yes. He must have planted them while I was in the corral with John and Dandy.” She'd probably been sitting on that brick John Crow called a saddle.

“He did that yesterday when we went to church.” Jason looked at her legs, seeing her stiffness.

The fiend.

“Funny, he didn’t say anything to me about it.” How could they just do this stuff? Why didn’t anybody ask permission?

“Funny you didn’t notice before today.”

“Don’t you think he should ask someone before he goes and plants a garden?”

“Awe, he told me all about it on Saturday. I forgot to tell you. They bloom at night in the moonlight, even in winter; especially if you plant them where the sun can keep the soil from freezing hard. Willis says the flowers are real pretty red with a yellow center.”

Well . . .

At least he’d asked somebody. “What are they called?”

“Wolf Bane.”

Chapter Twelve

On Thanksgiving Eve, Carolyn sat in the dark of the Rock Church with the other parents, all waiting for the curtains to open for Act III of Pocahontas and the Captain. It had been their school project for the past two weeks, making props, rehearsing, and finally setting stage on the church altar. The first two acts had been wonderful.

They’d been in this valley for more than two months now and she felt at home. She and Jason both did. They loved it. She would never have believed she could feel so much at home so quickly. Her earlier jitters had been completely forgotten. With the horses, the fishing and his new friends, Jason acted as if he’d been born here and had never left.

Time passed quickly here in the mountains. It had only taken a couple of days for John to teach her to ride and another week for the soreness to pass. The horses needed daily exercise and Carolyn had never felt healthier.

After getting Jason off to school, she’d spent the rest of her mornings in her office on her computer, writing articles for the magazines and submitting them online. Tom Kirby had been praising her work more than ever before. That felt good, too.

Ranching had turned out to be easy enough, so far, still fitting in. She'd do the bookkeeping while Willis and John took care of their cows. The Allen Brothers came up twice a year to buy prime beef and sheepherders brought in flocks to graze the tall grass every spring.

After his chores in the lower meadow, John cleaned the barn, chopped and stacked firewood and kept both barns fully stocked.

Willis checked the coal oil drums and propane tank and cleaned the furnaces regularly. The bank paid their wages from the ranch operating fund and Olen delivered groceries.

The bank paid everybody.

Carolyn found ample time to explore the handwritten recipe books from the pantry and to teach herself to cook. That might take a while, learning to cook, but she'd been steadily getting better. This would be her first turkey dinner, still fearful of that one.

Olen would bring a fresh turkey out early tomorrow morning, Thanksgiving Day, along with all the necessary ingredients and appropriate side dishes, including two pumpkin pies and fresh whipping cream.

She almost smelled it.

She and Jason had gone riding every afternoon as soon as Jason got home from school. Jason had insisted on it, rain or shine.

John always made sure the horses were saddled and ready by the time the bus started back up River Road.

They'd ride for about an hour and give the horses their head coming home. Jason always won the race. Stoner was bigger, younger and stronger.

She'd even saddled Dandy and gone riding alone one morning after Jason left for school. That had been about a month ago. Those awful noises had come from their upper meadow the night before and she’d gone to investigate. When she'd arrived at that flat rock, Willis had been ready to carry the carcass off someplace and she’d asked him who owned this cow.