by Amity Green
Their mom appeared in the doorway. “Now.” Her eyes rested on Savannah briefly, before she retreated.
“Wow.” Savannah helped Chaz gather the cards and snapped a rubber band around the pack. “You’d better get in there.”
“She’s in a bad mood now,” Chaz said. He took the deck when she offered it and left to do what he was told. Savannah headed outside to find someone who might be more hospitable, like Mabeline. She found her father crouched beside a tractor, watching used oil drain from the motor.
“Hi, Daddy,” she called.
“Hey there, sunshine.” He smiled.
Craving having her “old dad” back, Savannah headed over to him.
“The hay’s looking good already. Figured I’d better change the oil in Old Green here,” he said, patting the machine’s metallic flank as if the tractor was his favorite milk cow.
“Will we get as much hay as we got from the ranch?” she asked, looking toward the field.
The aspens were leafed out, making it impossible to see past the side yard.
“No, but we’ll have enough for our stock. We won’t sell any from now on, and we don’t need money from that anymore.” He held out the used oil filter, oblivious of the grease streaking the canister. “Toss that for me, would ya?” he asked, turning to a neat stack of oil cans. A new oil filter rested inside a carton with the replacement oil. He picked it up, opened the box and handed her the empty. “This too?”
“Sure. I’m gonna go see Mabeline for a while.” She smiled. The conversation went well enough. Dad seemed to be back to his normal, busy self. His words were warm and mannerism upbeat, like he used to be.
“It’s too late to take off riding tonight,” he warned.
“I know. I just want to say hi.”
Mabeline nickered as she trashed the filter and box just inside the barn. The horse craned her neck gracefully over the stall gate, kind eyes gleaming. She stamped a hoof with eager anticipation, watching Savannah’s approach.
“You’re just what the doctor ordered, girly.” She scrubbed the flat of the mare’s face, smiling as the horse closed her eyes and nodded her head in rhythm to the scratching. “How about some grain?”
Other horses showed up inside their stalls when Savannah opened the grain drum, signaling the evening round of four-way grain. The mix of rolled corn, oats, wheat, and barley was coated with molasses, and the horses viewed the feed as a treat. She measured the grain, filled five pans, stacked them up and delivered one to each horse, taking time to pet and scratch them all. When they all munched greedily, she grabbed a brush and began giving Mabeline her daily grooming. Shedding season was full-on, and where the thicker hair came away, a thin coat of dappled grey velvet shone like dark ribbons under stars.
A horse snorted, two stalls away. Mabeline stopped chewing, picking her head up as her ears twitched. She stepped toward the stall gate, abandoning most of her treat. The gelding down the row snorted again louder, followed by hoof-beats as the horses moved about. Mabeline stuck her head over the gate, peering toward the barn door.
Savannah joined the big mare to look just as her father pulled the door open and stepped inside, rubbing his hands with a red grease rag. He smiled when he saw her and started over. Wood cracked in the stall next to her, and the horse squealed. A solid smack sounded, the undeniable beat of a hoof meeting thick wood.
“Whoa,” he said, holding out a hand.
Savannah moved to the other side of her horse, looking around a post to see. The gelding next to her backed away as her dad neared the stall.
“Easy boy,” he said, low and calm, hand still extended. The horse spun, backed close and sent both rear hooves smashing through the wall separating him from her dad. Savannah jumped back as wood splintered into the air. Sorrel hair stuck to blood when the horse withdrew one of his legs. The gelding barreled outside to his pen.
“Oh my God,” she said, dropping the brush and squeezing through the rungs of Mabeline’s stall. Jack stared at the busted up wood and listing gate.
“What happened to him?”
“I don’t know. Something spooked the hell out of him,” he said.
The commotion continued for the other horses. They threw their heads and paced with agitated stomps in and out of their stalls. Mabeline snorted, pawing. Her dad turned his head to look at the mare, who laid her ears flat back against her head. He stepped closer to Savannah and the mare reared high, striking out with churning front hooves that came down hard on the gate holding her in. Savannah jumped back as the mare screamed with bared teeth, going up again for another strike. The gate seemed unsubstantial next to the horse when she was up on her hind legs, striking the air.
“Crazy bitch,” Jack yelled.
Savannah grabbed his arm, tugging him away. “Back up, Daddy!” she yelled. “She’s gonna come over that gate at you!”
Mabeline’s fit threw the other horses into full blown panic. They called to each other, crying in screams and alarmed squeals. The noise was nearly too much for Savannah. She clamped her hands hard over her ears. Hooves split wood and turned over water troughs.
“Get out!” she screamed at Jack. “Leave so they’ll stop.” The sounds grew louder still with banging like gunfire. Savannah went to her knees, slamming her eyes shut in terror.
Abrupt silence coaxed her hands from her ears. She opened her eyes to see her father had gone. Five equine faces stared at her. Mabeline nickered softly. Savannah rose slowly, wondering what in the world caused the horses to be spooked by her dad. They’d been with him for years, and he hadn’t done anything strange or made any noises that would have startled them.
She headed for the tack room to get Bag Balm and bandages. At least one horse had injured itself, but she needed to check them all. She couldn’t explain the incident, but at least she could clean up the mess.
* * *
Dinner was quiet, except for the occasional, “Please pass the salt,” or the scraping of silverware. Molly didn’t look up from her plate one time. Their seats at the table had been rearranged so that Chaz now ate next to Mother, where Savannah’s seat used to be. The two girls sat on either side of Jack at the other end of the table, picking at their food, more moving things around than eating.
When Mother rose to start clearing, everyone else took the cue and scattered. Dishes were scraped and washed, the table wiped down, and Savannah headed upstairs with Molly right on her heels. She left her bedroom door open, expecting Molly to follow her inside, but she never came.
Instead, Molly’s door clicked shut across the hall. Savannah went over and knocked.
“Mol? You okay?” she said through the thick wood.
“Leave me alone, Savannah. I’m fine.”
“Okay. I love you.”
After a moment of silence, Molly answered. “Love you, too.”
* * *
Of all things that Savannah had awakened to in the middle of the night, none had ever been a smell. She bolted upright in bed. The scent was familiar. She’d ridden after two missing heifers once and found one of them had fallen over an overhang into a creek. After plunging around twenty feet onto smoothed river rocks, the cow had rolled into the water and drowned due to splintered leg bones and begun to rot. She’d followed the smell of decay to find the carcass. That smell hung in her room like that poor cow was on the floor next to her bed.
Molly whimpered from her room across the hall, so Savannah got up and headed over to comfort her. It was probably just a bad dream, but since she was already awake, she’d go make sure. The door handle turned, so Savannah went inside.
Moonlight shone through the window, illuminating the pale flesh of Molly’s legs on the bed. She’d kicked off the blankets again while she slept and the sheet was bunched around her feet. The stench was much stronger on that side of the house. Chaz’s dumb dog must have found a dead deer and brought part of it into the yard. From the strength of the smell, it must have been a juicy one. Molly sat up rubbing her eyes.
“You oka
y?” Savannah asked through the hand over her nose.
“Yeah, but that smell is grodule,” Molly said, using one of their fun words for “gross.” Molly reached to her feet to retrieve the cast-off blankets. She grasped the sheet and pulled. The fabric didn’t budge, like it was caught around the bedpost. Using both hands, she tugged hard, but still, nothing. Savannah took a step closer, bending to see what the sheet was hooked on.
“Dang it,” Molly complained, dropping her hands in her lap. “I have to get up.” Twisting to put her feet on the floor, she jerked back to sitting when her feet didn’t move from the foot of the bed. “Savannah? I can’t move!”
“What’s going on?” Savannah reached for her sister but an electrical shock blasted her hand back.
“Get out of bed, Molly, now!” She went at the bed again, but just when she’d almost touched Molly’s hand, something sparked and she was flung back against Molly’s dresser in a heap.
Molly trembled, watching as her breath began to steam in white puffs of air. Gooseflesh raised along her skin in rashes large enough Savannah could see it clearly from the floor.
Molly bent her knees, yanking hard with her hips, panicking as the sheet constricted around her ankles, like concrete setting up fast. The bed squeaked under her labor for freedom. She shrieked as she was grasped from behind and forced flat on her back. Molly’s bedroom door slammed shut with a thunderous bang.
Savannah was on her feet, but stopped short of the bed. “Molly!” she screamed, afraid to reach and get thrown down again.
“Help me,” Molly tried. All that came out was a strangled whisper. Something moved at her feet. “Help me,” she managed to cry. Fabric tumbled heavily, creeping up her shins. She reached for the sheet, attempting to free herself, but it wouldn’t come off her legs.
“Molly!” Fists pounded against wood. “Let me in!” yelled Daddy. “Why the hell is your door locked? Savannah?”
“It’s freezing me!” Molly shrilled. She flung a hand out, grasped her reading lamp from the bedside table and swung it like a club, just as the sheet pulled back, baring a place for the weapon to strike. Skin split away from her knee, but Molly kept swinging until she lost hold and the lamp landed on the floor. Filling her lungs full with freezing, putrid air, she screamed again just as Daddy shouldered through the entryway.
Savannah huddled by the bed, helpless and crying. She got to her feet and went to her sister.
Eyeing Molly’s bloodied knee, Jack ran into the room and pulled her up from the mattress to hold her against his chest. “What’s happening? Why didn’t you come to the door? Are you okay?” He searched her face, eyes drawn back to the gash in her kneecap.
Molly clung to him, finally able to move her legs. “No. Not okay,” she said around a sob.
“Bad dream?” he asked, looking at Savannah.
Savannah smoothed long strands of brunette hair from Molly’s damp cheeks. At a loss, she just nodded her answer.
Molly didn’t respond, just dug her fingers into her big sister’s nightgown and trembled.
***
Chapter 6
“We’re going to church tomorrow morning,” Dad announced. He set his fork on his empty dinner plate and looked around the table at his family’s reactions.
“Why now?” asked Savannah. “Seems a little overdue.”
“Um, maybe because this stupid house is haunted?” Molly snorted, shaking her head as she moved peas around on her dinner plate. She’d been quiet all week and still limped a little from the cuts on her knee.
Caroline glared between the girls and their father.
“Boring,” Chaz mumbled. “It’s almost summer and now we gotta go to Sunday School.”
“We’re closer now, so the drive isn’t as long. There’s a nice congregation at the Baptist Church in Victor.” He turned to Savannah. “And it’s never too late. We used to go with your grandmother, before she died.”
“I remember that.” The experiences at church weren’t good ones. Savannah had asked too many questions, which apparently wasn’t what a nine-year-old female child should do. They were typical questions, really. “If God loves us, why does he let babies die? He can do anything, right?” That had been the doozy of them all. She didn’t have faith, according to Mrs. Kearney, that day after Sunday school. Savannah shrugged.
“Speaking of closer and drives and all,” he said, “somebody turns eighteen tomorrow.”
Savannah grinned. Things had been so hectic, and with Molly’s turmoil, she didn’t want to bring it up.
“Who could that be?” asked Mother, smiling, which was the first time Savannah witnessed the woman do something other than scowl in weeks. “Shall we head outside to give the birthday girl her present?”
Relief mixed with excitement as they walked to the front door. She’d been afraid everyone forgot. Daddy held the door open to reveal a midnight blue Toyota truck in the driveway.
“Happy birthday, Savannah,” said Mother.
“It’s a four-wheel-drive,” added Chaz.
“Wow! You guys got me a truck?” She looked at her parents, who stood across the doorway from one another, the space spanning a comfortable mile. It made sense that her mother smiled. She probably hoped Savannah would get in the truck, drive away, and never be heard from again.
“Do you like it?” asked her father.
“I love it,” she said, hugging him. She mussed Chaz’s hair. “And you knew about this?”
“If I would have told you what you were getting for your birthday, I couldn’t go for a ride with you. But I didn’t tell, so you can take me.” He grinned.
“Thanks, Mom.” Savannah embraced her mother. Genuine warmth met with cool appeasement as her mom patted her back twice and broke away.
Savannah looked for Molly, but she was nowhere to be seen. A frown pulled at the corners of her lips, and she immediately forced a smile so she didn’t ruin the moment, which would have been even better if her sister was there.
A set of silver keys dangled in front of her. She snatched them and ran down the porch steps to check out her gift, Chaz and his dog right behind her.
“Can I put Hornet in back?”
“Sure,” Savannah said with an excited laugh.
“Clutch in, Savannah,” Dad called. “Look at the shifter and start with first,” he teased.
Chaz put his grinning mutt in the back, closed the tailgate, and climbed into the passenger side.
“Ready?” she asked. He nodded with a huge smile and she turned the key.
* * *
Gunshots cracked through the night, shattering the peace in the meadow down the draw from the house. Savannah slammed her bare feet into her boots and met Molly at the front door as they burst through onto the grass. Moonglow lit the yard as the two searched the night, shivering in their thin, summer nightgowns.
“Is that a car down there?” Molly asked.
Another blast sounded and the girls startled, covering their ears from the report. Savannah drug her sister to a crouch beside the house, where they peered out at the dark hillsides, listening hard as an engine revved in the distance.
“Get outta here, you son-of-a-bitch,” yelled Jack, just ahead in the trees. Headlights glinted on a dust cloud that crept up from the meadow.
The girls ran in the direction of their father’s voice.
“Dad! Are you okay?” Savannah called. She stopped suddenly, grabbing her sister by the shoulders. “Get inside, Molly,” she whispered. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“What’re you going to do?” Molly shivered with an even mix of fear and chill.
“Dad’s down there, and I’m going to make sure he’s okay. Get back in there and keep Mom and Chaz inside.”
Molly scrambled back toward the house. After the wedge of light closed off the front porch, signaling she was safely behind the door, Savannah continued toward the commotion, keeping an eye on the silhouette of her dad and his shotgun.
Another crack rent the night,
but still, the car spun in circles, tearing a mid-spring cutting of hay from moist earth, digging troughs into the field. The driver apparently didn’t care if he might get filled with buckshot. The lines of the coupe came into view, reminding Savannah of the old classic James Bond sped around in. The car threw patches of grass and dirt, spinning dust free in spiraling gusts, coming to a halt after each revolution with her dad dead on in the headlights. The gun clicked and snapped in his hands, he leveled it again, and fired into the classic’s windshield. Fractures spider-webbed along the glass, etching the window with crackled white lines.
“The hay!” Savannah cried. “He’s ruining it,” she said, chest heaving with adrenaline. “Who is that?”
“I don’t know anyone who owns an old car like that, Savannah,” Jack shouted. “Get back in the house. Now,” he commanded.
“What about you?” she called, over the engine noise. The car spun closer, buffeting them both with a spray of dirt and small clump of grass roots. They twisted away, covering their faces from the blast.
“Get in there and tell your mother to call the law,” he gritted.
She stood her ground, eyes wide with fear, glancing from the car to her dad. “Mom’s probably already calling them. Or maybe Molly. I sent her back in.”
“C’mon, Vannie, I need you to do that for me,” he pleaded. “This field’s gonna be cashed. I’m not doin’ any good with just this,” he said, holding up the firearm. “I need help.”
The car’s engine idled down as dust settled. The coupe’s windows came into view, tinted darker than the moon-drenched night. The only thing visible through the windshield were two black-gloved hands grasping the wheel. The chassis squatted at once as the driver floored the accelerator. Gripping turf, the old car shot forth, headed straight at them.
“Get to the trees,” Jack yelled, pulling Savannah into motion. Glare from the headlights blinded them and threw the hillside into deep shadow, so they ran across untried ground, tripping and pulling one another along. Savannah had to keep hold over her heavy glasses with one hand at a temple. Jack went down hard when a boot caught an outcropping of rocks.
