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

The kid kicked at Kirby, missed and slammed past his mother into the house where his dog followed him upstairs.

Perfect.

He could finally be alone with her.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” She crossed her arms and backed into the warmth of the open doorway.

“He’s getting to that age where he needs a father.” Kirby smiled.

Perfect.

She watched him climb the front steps, maybe thinking about it. Her new clock chimed once.

6:30pm.

He looked out into darkness. “You have a flashlight? It’s time to get that calf into your barn.”

“Maybe we should leave it alone. They have a system.”

“System? Ha!” He shivered, standing on the front porch, no place for lengthy conversations. He smelled his stinking hands, hurried through the living room and kitchen into the pantry and washed his hands. He returned to the living room and smiled at her gorgeous blue eyes. “You going to show me where it is?”

“We’d better put on some heavier coats.” She led him back through the kitchen and into the pantry. She turned on the light.

Several sheepskin coats hung from hooks in a hallway past the washing machine. She handed him a big, nice, new looking coat. "Here. You keep this."

"Oh, I can't. These are too expensive."

"I think it belonged to Jason's grandfather. He's dead now."

"Well . . ." He put it on, soft and warm. "Very nice."

"Merry Christmas."

She pulled on a smaller coat. “What time is it?”

“Your new clock just chimed a minute ago.” He looked at his watch, making sure. “It’s 6:32. Why?”

“We still have plenty of time.” She grabbed a flashlight from a nearby shelf and tested it before putting it into her coat pocket. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.” She dragged her feet leading him back to the entry, thinking about it. “I don’t want any trouble with the sheriff.”

“He’ll be fine after I kill it, whatever it is.” Kirby opened the front door and pushed her outside.

“You’ll be sorry.” The kid stood at the top of the stair with his dog.

Because of the low ceiling over the stair, Kirby could only see from his chest down, holding his dog.

Kirby said, “I’m going to deal with this thing and keep you two safe.”

“Mom?”

Stupid kid.

Kirby pushed Carolyn outside and closed the door. “He’ll be fine. You’ll see.” She hesitated on the porch and looked back at the door. The chiseled pattern had true artistic merit. “That guy, Willis? He’s a craftsman, I’ll give him that.”

She agreed with a nod and grin.

He pushed again and she started down the steps. She led him into knee deep snow, coming down hard now. She pulled out the flashlight, switched it on and led him around the corner of the garage into the woods. They traversed uphill through the forest, left turn and right.

His trousers and shoes had already become freezing wet. "Thank you for the coat."

The large, open space beyond the trees had been covered by at least two feet of cold, wet snow.

They followed a path cut by Willis and the Indian for a short distance then she turned and they plowed through deeper snow.

In the quiet, Kirby heard a waterfall, still at a distance. He couldn’t see it.

Six inches of fresh snow had covered a hard, thin crust of ice that cut uncomfortably into Kirby’s thighs like cold steel, painful in his thin trousers.

Should have stayed in L.A.

Steam rose from a large, flat rock where the calf had been tied to a ring in the center. Falling snow melted on contact.

Kirby walked onto the rock and brushed ice off his soaking wet pants. “That feels good.” The thin soles of his Bruno Magli shoes allowed him to feel the heat. “Maybe we should sit down for a minute.”

“No.” She held the flashlight on a heavy bronze ring and Kirby untied the knot.

“You have some hot springs up here? I think you already told me that.”

“Yes, we have several. There’s a cabin built around one of them way down there.” She fanned the flashlight into falling snow and empty space, aiming somewhere past her house.

“Jesus!” A frenzied swarm of birds darted across the path of her flashlight, all but blocked by falling snow. “That’s creepy enough.”

“The birds? They’re meadowlarks. They stay here all winter, near the warmth of this rock. They sing beautifully.”

Kirby led the calf, following her, knowing more than ever he'd been right. “Carolyn, I wish you’d think about doing something commercial with this place. It’s gorgeous. Don’t keep it to yourself.”

I’ll make a fortune.

She ignored him.

Following their tracks back wasn’t as bad as coming up. By the time they walked across her driveway, eight inches of additional snow had fallen, coming down ever harder.

“It’s up here.” She climbed onto a stump near the barn door and pulled down a skeleton key. She jumped down, unlocked and opened the out-swinging door, no snow under the deep overhang.

Kirby led the calf into the barn, nice and warm.

A big potbellied stove sat in the center.

She turned on a light and followed him in. “Put him in that open stall. I’ll get him some straw and water.”

When they got back into the house, she went upstairs to check on the kid.

He drained his drink and ducked into her office for fresh ice and a double shot.

The living room fireplace had been loaded with logs, twigs and kindling. A box of long stem wooden matches sat on the mantle.

He lit the fire. The flames grew quickly and Kirby backed away from the heat. He sat on the couch, sipped whiskey and looked at the book he’d published for her. Maybe this trip would work out yet.

Kill the beast, win the girl.

“Oh, thank you.” She turned down the short stair from the entry and nodded toward the fireplace. “I was just coming to do that.” She peeled her sheepskin coat and stuck out her hand, motioning for his.

He set his drink on the table, stood and slipped out of his coat.

She carried them into the kitchen and disappeared.

“I’ll need that in another