Something Suspicious in Sask

by Dayle Gaetz

  The truck doors flew open and all three adults ran toward the tractor. Katie followed more slowly, stepping lightly on hay that grew sharp and prickly under her bare feet. The tractor was one of those weird-looking ones she had seen lined up for sale in every little town they had passed through since leaving Alberta’s ranchland. Its big back tires had heavy tread like a normal tractor, but the front ones were small and smooth.

  They were attached to the frame by two weird arm-like projections that bent at the middle like elbows. The machine perched above the hay field like a huge, mechanical grasshopper.

  When she reached the side of the tractor and looked up at the cab, Katie realized her mistake. The small wheels were actually at the back of the machine. In front of the big tractor tires was a wide attachment that resembled an over-sized lawn mower blade, the kind used to cut the grass in parks back home. Printed in neat white letters on it were two words: Harvest Header.

  “Margaret!” Gram dropped to her knees.

  Katie crouched beside her. Just visible beneath the tractor was a pair of brown leather boots.

  “Mom?” a metallic voice echoed from underneath.“Margaret.” GJ put his hand on the red metal side and bent to peer underneath. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” the voice hesitated, “but I’m sort of stuck.”

  On her knees, Katie crept closer. Attached to the boots, a pair of jean-clad legs lay on top of hay stubble between the two high front wheels. Not much else showed of Aunt Margaret other than a scrap of green plaid shirt. Her arms were lost somewhere up under the header.

  “Is your arm caught?” GJ called.

  “No, Dad, don’t worry. The sleeve of my shirt got hung up under the cutter bar. It’s all tangled in there, and I can’t pull it loose.”

  “We need a couple of jacks,” Cliff sounded agitated. “We’ll have to lift the windrower.”

  Katie turned and squinted up at him. His face was black against the bright sun behind him. “What’s a windrower?”

  Cliff shifted his weight from one leg to the other and didn’t seem to hear Katie. But Megan, who was leaning against the truck bumper hugging her arms around her bony body, rolled her eyes impressively. She stepped quickly out of the way when Cliff started toward the truck at a run.

  “I’m going to get a jack, some rope, and…”

  “Why don’t I just wriggle under and cut her sleeve loose?” Katie asked.

  But no one answered; they were too busy worrying about Aunt Margaret and making hasty plans.

  “I’ll go with you.” GJ hurried toward Cliff. “I’ve got a good jack in my truck, and we’ll need some blocks. I think…”

  Gram jumped up. “Katie’s right!” she shouted, her voice loud in the still air.

  Both men stopped as if they had slammed into an invisible wall. They swung around, mouths open in identical, round circles of surprise.

  “There’s room for someone small like Katie to squirm under and cut Margaret’s sleeve free. If you’re going to do any jacking up, you’d better wait until my daughter is out of there!”

  Cliff rubbed his hand over his whiskers and glanced at GJ, who nodded agreement. “It’s worth a try,” he said.

  “I don’t suppose anyone has a pair of scissors?”

  Gram asked.

  For a silent moment everyone looked at everyone else. Then Rusty said, “Here, take my Swiss Army knife.” He pulled the closed knife from his shorts’ pocket and handed it to Katie.

  “Be careful, Katie,” Gram said.

  Katie lay down on the sharp remains of cut hay. It felt like a thousand sharp sticks poking into her back as she wormed her way between the big wheels and wriggled up close toward the header beside her aunt. A horde of mosquitoes must have been hiding in the hay, because suddenly they were everywhere, landing on her face and bare arms and legs. She did her best to ignore them. “Hi, Aunt Margaret,” Katie said to the plaid-clad shoulder. “I bet you were glad to hear us coming.”

  “You’re not kidding! If I had to lie here much longer I’d be nothing but one massive mosquito bite.”

  “So, do you do this sort of thing often around here?”

  Aunt Margaret laughed. “Only when I’m expecting company. It’s my way of avoiding cooking.”

  “Well, I hate to break the bad news, but all this rescuing is gonna give everyone a huge appetite.”

  Aunt Margaret made an odd sound in her throat and muttered something about Megan.

  “Which sleeve is caught?” Katie asked.

  “The left one, closest to you. If you can wriggle just a little farther forward you should be able to reach up and cut it loose.”

  Katie opened the knife and, holding it in one hand with her arms over her head, inched forward using her heels and bent knees. Her right hand found Aunt Margaret’s left arm and she wrapped her fingers in the cotton shirt fabric.

  “Just cut the sleeve right off at my elbow,” Aunt Margaret said. “You’ll never free it from the cutter bar.”

  “Okay, but don’t forget to tell me if I slice into your arm.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll hear me loud and clear.”

  It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Katie bunched up the cotton and struggled to work the knife tip through. But there wasn’t much room to move and she couldn’t see what she was doing in this confined space with her arms stretched above her head. The knife tip refused to break through the fabric. Katie held her breath. What if the knife slipped? What if she stabbed Aunt Margaret’s arm? She could slice into an artery, blood would spurt everywhere.

  Katie was suddenly way too hot, her face damp with sweat. A frightened little squeak slipped from her throat.

  “Katie,” Aunt Margaret said calmly. “Take a deep breath. Don’t worry, you can do this, you won’t cut me. Besides I’m a tough old bird.”

  Katie took her aunt’s advice. She paused, took a long deep breath, let it out, and tried again. One quick slice and the knife slipped through the shirtsleeve. After that she sliced and hacked, holding the material away from her aunt’s arm as she worked her way around the sleeve. Mosquitoes whined in her ears and tickled her face with their landings. But there was nothing she could do about them, except work a little faster.

  At last the sleeve came free. “Ahh.” Aunt Margaret pulled her arm to her side. “Let’s get out of here!”

  The minute they were both standing up, free of the windrower, Aunt Margaret engulfed Katie in a grateful hug. “Thanks for rescuing me.”

  “Anytime,” Katie said, pulling away. “But what happened?”“It’s the strangest thing.” A confused look came over Aunt Margaret’s face. Confusion and something else. Worry? She glanced in Megan’s direction and then back to Katie. “It seems a piece of chicken wire got left in the field. It was hidden in the hay, and I didn’t spot it until too late. I was trying to free it from around the cutter bar when my sleeve got caught up.”

  “Oh, Margaret, you had us so worried.” Gram stepped up to wrap her arms around Aunt Margaret.

  She placed her hands on Margaret’s shoulders and took a half step back to study her daughter’s face.

  “But I don’t understand how wire could get left out here. I’d think you would all be very careful about things like that.”

  “I don’t know, Mom.” Again she glanced over at Megan, who stared back at her, unflinching. “I can’t imagine anyone here being so careless. That harvest header is an expensive piece of equipment, and we can’t afford to damage it.”

  “Just say it why don’t you?” Megan’s shout made everyone jump.

  Megan looked at Gram. “My mother thinks it’s my fault.” She swung around and stomped away, parting the hay in front of her as she went.

  “I don’t understand.” Gram turned to Aunt Margaret.

  Aunt Margaret bit her lip. “Let’s talk about it later, Mom.”

  Cliff walked to the front of the header and crouched low for a closer look. “It’s chicken wire all right,” he said, getting to his feet. “B
ut it can’t be Megan’s fault.

  I warned you we hadn’t seen the last of Scott.”

  “Who’s Scott?” Katie asked.

  3

  Cliff pulled off his baseball cap and ran his fingers through straight sand-colored hair that flopped lazily over a forehead beaded with sweat. His blue eyes swept past Katie and sought out Aunt Margaret.

  Why didn’t he answer her? Why did he study Aunt Margaret as if asking permission to continue?

  “Who-is-Scott?” Katie repeated.

  Cliff stuck his cap back on and pulled it low on his forehead. His face was flushed from heat that hung over the field like a thick quilt. Slowly his eyes moved to Katie. “Scott used to help out around here, but we had to let him go.”

  “Why?”

  Cliff hesitated. Again his eyes glanced over to Aunt Margaret. She nodded, almost imperceptibly.

  Cliff’s gaze shifted to the ground where he studied the toe of his workboot. When he answered, it was in a half-whisper, as if he hated to speak badly of anyone. “Your aunt caught him stealing.”

  Finally Aunt Margaret spoke up. “Scott’s a young fellow, who just graduated from high school,” she said. “I hired him to help out with the seeding in June.” She glanced over Katie’s shoulder. Frown lines appeared on her forehead and her lips tightened. “He seemed like a nice enough boy. I couldn’t believe he would steal from us.”

  Katie turned to see what her aunt was looking at. Thin as a fence post and topped by a tangle of hair that blended perfectly with the hay, Megan stepped carefully in her pink flip-flops, following the path of flattened hay made by the truck tires. Her bone-thin arms flapped uselessly at her sides like two broken wings.

  Cliff also watched Megan’s progress toward the farmhouse. “I never trusted that boy,” he said quietly. “And now I catch him hanging around the farm at all hours of the day and night. I swear he’s trying to get even.”

  “With who? For what?” Katie paused. When Cliff didn’t reply she asked, “Do you think he sneaked into the hay field and left that hunk of wire because you fired him? What good would that do him?”

  “None at all,” Aunt Margaret said. “I’m sure it was just an accident, nothing to do with Scott.”

  “Yeah, and I guess the fire that burned down the feed shed two days ago wasn’t his fault either?” asked Cliff.

  “It was an accident,” Aunt Margaret insisted.

  “Megan burned off the flax straw, the fire wasn’t quite out, and the wind did the rest.”

  “I told you I saw…,” Cliff started, but Aunt Margaret cut him off.

  “Let’s all hop in the truck and head for the house.

  I don’t know about all of you, but I’m thirsty enough to drink a gallon of water and I need to think about getting dinner ready.”

  Cliff drove so fast, bumping over the uneven field, that Katie had to hold on tight to the side of the truck box. Bouncing along, she managed to lean over the side and face forward, into the wind, where Megan still walked in the track.

  The truck raced closer and closer, as if Cliff would run Megan down. Couldn’t she hear? Why didn’t she step out of the way? Why didn’t Cliff slow down? It was like a game of chicken. And Cliff was the one to give in. He slowed and pulled around Megan to stop beside her. He leaned out the driver’s side window with a friendly smile. “Hey, lady,” he said, “want a ride?”

  Megan turned and stood uncertainly, looking at all the faces that looked back at her. Cliff, Gram and GJ from inside the cab. Katie, Rusty and her own mother from the box behind. Without bothering to reply, Megan stepped onto the back bumper and swung over the tailgate into the truck box where she settled in the opposite corner to her mother. Aunt Margaret leaned forward to pat her daughter’s bent knee.

  Megan retreated further into the corner. She stared across the fields toward the distant line of the horizon. The truck started up again, more slowly this time.

  Fifteen minutes later they were all gathered around a long rectangular table in the old-fashioned farmhouse kitchen, a tall frosty glass of ice-cold lemonade in front of each person. Except Megan. The teenager leaned against the sink, clutching a glass of water and studying the purple toenails that peeked out from beneath her black jeans.

  In the center of the table was a bowl of taco chips along with salsa and sour cream that Gram had brought in from the trailer. Rusty and Cliff seemed involved in a serious competition to see who could eat the most in the shortest period of time.

  Katie half-listened to Gram, GJ and Aunt Margaret chat while she crunched into a salty taco chip with a scoop of tomatoey salsa and cool sour cream. A hot spicy aftertaste burned her tongue, and she reached for her lemonade.

  “I’m putting Katie upstairs with Megan. I’m sure these two girls have a lot in common now that Katie is getting so grown up.”

  Katie choked on her lemonade.

  “Good idea,” Gram agreed.

  Katie’s glass slammed so hard on the table a slop of watery-yellow liquid sloshed over the top. She watched it trickle down the side. “Um…I’d rather sleep in the trailer.” Her voice came out angry, with a high-pitched edge of panic. How could they do this to her?

  Time stopped. Everyone froze. Every eye stared at her. Katie fumbled for words.

  Megan saved the day. “Oh, Moth-er!” she drawled.

  “You have got to be kidding!”

  Still clutching the water glass, she folded her arms across her non-existent stomach. “What’s wrong with the trailer?”

  “Exactly,” Katie said.

  “Nothing’s wrong with it,” Gram said. “Except that it will be stifling hot out there, and we don’t want to waste electricity by plugging into Aunt Margaret’s power for our air-conditioning unit. Why should we when there’s a huge, perfectly good house right here, with four bedrooms upstairs?”

  You think those bedrooms won’t be stifling hot? Katie wanted to say, but Gram hadn’t finished yet. She fixed Katie with a firm, uncompromising glare.

  “Besides, your aunt has gone to the trouble of preparing a bed for you with lovely, crisp, fresh sheets. Won’t that be nice after using a sleeping bag for so long? And I can get all our bedding washed while we’re here.”

  Katie knew what was expected of her. She was supposed to quit complaining and start acting grateful. But she wasn’t grateful. As if simply being here wasn’t bad enough, now she had to share a room with Megan? Couldn’t anyone else see how Megan scowled at her, as if all of this was Katie’s fault? Katie shuddered and opened her mouth to object.

  This time GJ headed her off. “Katie is speechless with joy,” he said. “Thanks, Margaret, I’m sure these two cousins will become great friends in no time.”

  No time is right, Katie thought. No time, no way, not never.

  “She’s speechless with something,” Rusty commented before stuffing a handful of chips into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully, swallowed and grinned at Katie. “I think it’s great! You and Megan will get to bond!”

  Before Katie could reply he added, “And I can hardly wait to sleep in a real bed tonight. In a room to myself! You have to admit, Katie, those bunks in the trailer aren’t the most comfortable beds in the world. Weren’t you complaining about yours just a few nights ago?”

  Katie glared at her younger cousin. If he were close enough, she’d kick him in the shins, under the table where no one would see. Rusty grinned again, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. Then he pulled the biggest taco chip out of the pile, scooped up a whopping load of salsa and sour cream and opened his mouth wide to shove the whole mess in at once.

  While Gram and Aunt Margaret, with reluctant help from Megan, set about making dinner, Cliff and GJ decided to head back out to the windrower.

  “We need to jack it up so I can get underneath and cut that wire away from the cutter bar,” Cliff said, pushing up from the table.

  “I’ll get that extra jack from my truck,” GJ offered as they headed for the door.

  “Hey, y
eah, okay. See you in a sec, I need to grab some wire cutters from the equipment shed.”

  The screen door slammed behind them, but Katie watched them through a window of the screened porch. Cliff disappeared to the left. GJ moved to the right, toward his truck. Katie picked up a taco chip and bit into it.

  “Ready?” She heard GJ call.

  Cliff walked past, shoving a red-handled tool into his back pocket. A truck engine roared to life. Wheels crunched over dirt and gravel. Katie jumped to her feet. “I’m going out to get my stuff from the trailer,” she announced, glancing at Rusty.

  “Want to come?”

  “Uh-uh.” Rusty’s hand hovered over the taco chips.

  “I’m busy.”

  Katie wrinkled her brow. She shifted her gaze to the door and quickly back to Rusty. She needed to talk to him. Outside. Now.

  Rusty got the message. He grabbed a handful of chips, pushed back his chair and got to his feet. “Why not?” he said. “The sooner I get settled in my own room the better.”

  Katie pushed the screen door open with both hands and hurried outside. Hot dry air slapped her in the face, the acrid stink of burned straw filled her nostrils, and a swarm of mosquitoes dive-bombed in for the kill. She turned left and started across the driveway at a run.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Rusty ran after her.

  4

  Katie studied the shed in front of her. Roughly the size of a one-car garage, it was built of wide vertical planks painted white.

  Rusty stopped beside her. “What’s up?”

  “We need to check out the equipment shed.”

  “Who says this is the equipment shed?”

  “Me.”

  “As if you know.”

  Katie rolled her eyes. “I saw Cliff turn this way.” She nodded toward the other, almost identical shed, more than thirty feet away. “And he didn’t have time to go to that one and back.”

  She pulled the door open. It creaked on rusty hinges as Katie stepped from dazzling sunlight into the shed’s dim light.