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

That had been the day Willis had told her they were called cattle. That particular calf had belonged to Jim Embry.

She wanted this business off of her property. Jason couldn't see this business in their upper meadow. It might damage him permanently. Why it happen at all was a mystery. These people, nice as they were, had some very strange customs.

In simple fact, she and Jason had come from down below and the locals had been slow to trust them, like giving them the reasons behind this business, what Helfred Jacobsen and Vicar had called the ritual. Olen had given his wife a strange look at the time, warning her to be careful with her words.

Well . . .

They all acted friendly and seemed honest. Why she so quickly felt at home. She even left her car unlocked with the keys inside.

That's what's important.

Still, she could never allow Jason to see that carnage in their upper meadow, not ever. If their ritual needed to take place, it needed to take place somewhere else. She’d find time to talk to the banker about it. He would explain all of this. He'd better. After all, the bank belonged to her now.

The vicar stepped out from behind the curtain and the small church grew quiet. “Now, with the completion of Act Two, we’ve seen thanks offered up to our Creator. Let’s all be grateful, today and tomorrow, for the special blessings from our Lord and for the abundant generosity of Jethro and Mary Lou Potter.” He smiled at Carolyn, making sure she'd been paying attention. “Their trust fund keeps this school free from government funding and, thus, free from the secular teachings of the public school curriculum. Down below, in our public schools, they now teach that the pilgrims gave thanks to the Indians for teaching them how to farm and how to plant corn. What gibberish, as if Europeans never hitched a plow to an ox and never knew how to plant corn. My friends, corn is mentioned many times in the old testament and in the new. Jesus and his disciples were scolded for picking and eating corn on the Sabbath.”

He looked at Carolyn again, more personal. “We are all thankful to the Potter family.” He smiled and addressed the audience. “Now, it’s time for Act Three, Breaking Bread.”

She wished Vicar hadn't mentioned her or her family, people now staring at her. She didn’t like it.

The curtain opened, Vicar stepped down and took his seat, and Carolyn swelled with pride.

Jason had been chosen to play Captain John Smith, the leading role. Sissy Gilpin played Pocahontas, cute as can be.

The stage lights came up and Carolyn joined the applause. The altar had been dressed to look like a small clearing in the forest with the students costumed as Indians and pilgrims, all facing the audience in a wide half-circle in front of the church’s giant rock.

Wonderful. 

Dressed as Indians, the Embry twins held a large, live turkey. One held the head and the other held the feet, stretching it across a wooden stump at center stage. The large bird flapped and struggled to get free.

Jason climbed up from behind the stump.

Carolyn clutched her throat, hard to breath, unable to move.

The twins giggled and watched.

Jason lifted both hands over his head, holding something shiny.

Lord!

Jason swung down with a hatched, thump.

One of the twins dropped the turkey’s severed head and the other twin let go of the feet.

A flurry of feathers rushed toward Carolyn, spurting hot blood into Carolyn’s face as it launched itself into her lap, flapping, strong wings hitting her face, still spraying blood.

She threw the heavy bird into the aisle.

Olen Jacobsen grabbed its feet and rushed out the door, wings still flapping.

The small church erupted with applause, cheers and laughter.

Carolyn shook with rage.

The twins pointed and laughed at Carolyn.

She wiped hot blood from her face, grabbed Jason's hand and rushed out the door. She threw Jason into the passenger side of their car, climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine. “Buckle up.”

“What’s wrong, Mom? Didn’t I do it right?”

She knew she needed to be careful. Cold rain had been falling all day. There would be ice. Her car tires spun a little backing up. She slammed the brake pedal and slid to a stop.

The congregation poured out of the church, all looking at her. Nobody laughed anymore. She threw her car into drive and stomped on the accelerator. Her tires spun and she let up on the gas.

Three gas pumps behind Jacobsen’s Emporium flashed in her headlights.

She cleared the parking lot, turned left and her car went into a spin. The weightlessness took forever until a loud crunch stopped them. She looked out the shattered windshield at one of the giant redwood trees.

Jason said, “Don’t worry, Mom. These trees belong to us. Even Vicar . . .” His words faded.

Carolyn Potter swirled into a very dark and cold place.

THE DARK GRAY MORNING fit Carolyn’s mood, remembering the night before, all those gawking faces.

She’d awakened with a bright light shining in her eyes and a woman telling her to look to the right then back to the left.

Dr. Nancy LaRosa had been examining her after she plowed her car into that tree. “No sign of concussion or trauma.” The doctor had actually been cheery, speaking to everybody standing around the car. “I think she just fainted.”

They’d all laughed, so embarrassing.

It had been snowing when they'd put her and Jason into the backseat of Sheriff Nason’s truck and he and his doctor girlfriend had taken them home.

Carolyn had never driven in snow before and she knew she should be grateful nobody had been hurt. She didn’t feel grateful. Her car was a mess and so was her opinion of this place, of these strange people.

I know, I know.

Her opinion jumped up and down like a yoyo. Right now, it was down. How could they force Jason to do something so vile as to chop off the head of