“No, I’m simply pointing out the facts to her,” Mr. Hatfield insisted, undeterred. “This old farm is way past its sell-by date. Ms. Muldoon isn’t going to be able to make it pay, any more than her grandmother was these past years. Places like this simply can’t compete with big corporations nowadays, and it hadn’t been a lucky home at all for any of her family, besides. Her mama broke her neck here, and now her grandmother’s been felled by a stroke. Her daddy knew this place was cursed. Why, that’s probably why he upped and ran off!”
By this time, Mr. Hatfield was blustering so loudly that he looked as though he might have apoplexy himself, and he was gesticulating so wildly with one fist that Hallie was afraid he actually meant to strike her.
Warily she took a step back, and at that moment a sudden flash of movement occurred from the side of the house.
At first Hallie thought it must be the massive black wolf, that everyone present would see it at last. But then, as the speeding blur, its head lowered, rammed Mr. Hatfield straight in his large, flabby belly, violently knocking him back into the side of his car, she realized it was Scarecrow who had attacked the man.
“That’s not true! That’s not true!” the disfigured man screamed, pummeling the startled and now abruptly terrified Mr. Hatfield mercilessly. “Ms. Muldoon’s daddy was sorry about running off and leaving her and her mama. He told me so himself!
“He said Meadowsweet was the most wonderful place on earth! So you take that back, what you said about Mr. Muldoon and this here farm, you brainless old overstuffed toad! Or I’ll make you sorry you didn’t!”
In the end, such was Scarecrow’s fury and strength that it was all Trace could do to pull him off Mr. Hatfield.
“If I were you, Dandy Don,” Trace drawled insolently, “I’d hurry up and hightail it out of here while you’ve still got the chance. Scarecrow’s so wrought up that, frankly, I don’t know how much longer I can hold him!”
Jamming the straw hat he had previously been holding politely in one hand back on his head and swearing mightily, Mr. Hatfield jerked open his car door, got inside his vehicle, then slammed the door shut. Stamping down so hard on the accelerator that his spinning tires caused gravel to spew in every direction, he drove off, sounding just like Arnold Schwarzenegger as The Terminator when he hollered out his open car window, “I’ll be back!”
Chapter 14
Some Revelations
“S carecrow, are you all right?” Hallie asked slowly as she glanced at the poor man still pinioned in Trace’s tight, powerful grip. “Have you calmed down now? I can’t insist that Trace release you unless I’m sure you’re not going to do yourself nor anybody else an injury. I thought you weren’t a violent man, Scarecrow.”
“I’m not, ma’am…I—I promise you,” he gasped out, trying to catch his breath. “I—I don’t know what…came over me. Ever since I was bitten by that maybe rabid animal, I’ve—I’ve just felt so strange, and I was so very angry about that man threatening you, shaking his fist at you, and what he said about this place and your daddy.”
“Yes, I’d like to hear more about that, please. Let him go now, Trace. Scarecrow, would you like to join us on the verandah for a cold glass of Aunt Gwen’s fresh lemonade? It’s become a habit with us to enjoy a pitcher of it every day around this hour.”
“I’d—I’d be mighty pleased to, Ms. Muldoon. Thank you ever so kindly.”
“Aunt Gwen, would you mind very much getting the lemonade for us? And, Trace, there’re some packages in the car, which I’d appreciate you carrying upstairs for me. Now, Scarecrow.” Hallie settled herself on the glider and patted the place beside her. “Will you sit here, and tell me about my father? How did you come to know him?”
“It happened—it happened the last time I was in the hospital, Ms. Muldoon,” Scarecrow explained. “He was there, too, in the bed next to mine. We started talking, and he told me his name—Liam Muldoon.”
“Yes, that was…that was my father’s name,” Hallie confirmed slowly.
“He told me about this place, Meadowsweet. ‘Heaven on earth,’ he called it, and he said he had been a real fool ever to leave it, that he’d abandoned his wife and baby, and that now he’d had a while to think about it, it was the biggest mistake he’d ever made in his life. He hadn’t been ready for all the responsibilities that come with marriage and a child, he said, but that instead of running away, he ought to have stayed and stuck it out, doing the best he could for his family.
“He told me that if he got out of the hospital—he was very sick, ma’am…with what, I don’t know—he was going to come back here. He gave me this.” Scarecrow pulled a gold pocket watch from his baggy trousers, handing it to Hallie. “He said he wanted me to keep this, to return it to his wife someday. He made me promise.
“I tried to protest…that I was weak and that since the warehouse fire and all the treatment I’d needed, I was easily susceptible to infection, that I might not survive myself…that he should keep the watch instead and give it to his wife himself. But he insisted.” Scarecrow paused for a moment, remembering. Then he went on.
“I wish I could tell you what happened to him, Ms. Muldoon. But the truth is that I simply don’t know. I was discharged from the hospital a few days later, and by the time I was well and truly back on my feet and could return there to ask about him, he was no longer a patient. The hospital could find no record of him, either.
“Anyway, I was at loose ends, with nowhere else, really, to go. So I came here to Wolf Creek, to Meadowsweet. But it was a bad time then, filled with pain and grief, for your mother had just died, and your grandmother had sent you away. There was nothing I could do. Still, I stayed on…got me a little place up the road a piece so I would always be near to the farm.
“Then, one day, you came back, Ms. Muldoon. That’s why it was so important to me to see you.” Scarecrow shrugged simply.
“But you said nothing of all this to me before—when I might have pressed charges against you. Why didn’t you speak then?” Hallie asked.
“The sheriff was there. It didn’t seem right to talk about this before strangers.”
“Thank you…thank you for telling me all this, Scarecrow.” Hallie patted his hand, grateful for the story he had told her and feeling the pocket watch, smooth and warm in her palm.
“It’s…it’s George, Ms. Muldoon…George Chester,” he announced shyly. “But it’s been so long that anyone’s called me that that I’d almost forgotten it myself. Scarecrow’s always been my nickname, ever since I was child—on account of my being so scrawny.
“My dad used to say that if I didn’t eat more, a strong wind would blow me away, just like it would a scarecrow. The name just stuck. So I’ve always been happy to answer to it…reminds me of my own dad—may the good Lord rest his soul.”
“Well, if you two have finished your chat now, Hallie, how about that lemonade?” Aunt Gwen inquired brightly as she joined them on the verandah, Trace following behind, carrying the tray on which the pitchers and glasses sat.
“Yes, thank you, Aunt Gwen,” Hallie replied, smiling. “We’re ready for it now, aren’t we, Scarecrow?”
“Yes, ma’am. I don’t think this day can get much hotter. It’s awful nice here on the verandah, with the ceiling fans turning and all the shade.”
“Trust me, Scarecrow. It’s even better if you’re armed with a flyswatter!” Aunt Gwen declared, her laughter tinkling and her dimple peeping. “I confess that if I’d had one handy earlier, I fear I’d have been sorely tempted to use it on Dandy Don! Thank goodness you sent him packing, Scarecrow!”
“I know one thing. No matter what Don said, he’d better not come back here!” Trace growled. “I’ve never liked the cut of his jib—and now I really don’t!”
As the two men and the elderly lady continued to discuss Mr. Hatfield’s unpleasant behavior, Hallie rose, walking to one end of the verandah, where she could examine the pocket watch Scarecrow had given her.
Pressing i
ts catch, she opened it, and its chimes began to play a melody she recognized as Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. Inside was a picture of her parents and herself as baby. It was a smaller version of the photograph she had discovered tucked away in the trunk at the foot of her mother’s bed, when she and Aunt Gwen had tackled that room.
In the past, Hallie had rarely ever given her father a second thought. She had never known him. It had not seemed he had wanted to know her, either, and she had been content to leave things at that.
But now it appeared her father had perhaps suffered a change of heart, and for the first time, she felt curious about him. She wondered whether he were still alive, if, based on the information she now had, she might be able to locate him.
At the very least, she could enter his name into a search engine and see if there was anything to be found on the Internet, she thought.
In the meantime, there was his pocket watch to treasure, a tangible connection to him and to her past.
Chapter 15
The Watcher
I t was after the day Scarecrow attacked Dandy Don Hatfield in the farm’s front yard that Hallie began to suffer the disturbing impression that someone was secretly watching her.
Initially, she thought it must be the immense black wolf.
Once or twice, she even believed she had observed it—only to realize it was other, smaller wolves instead. Those animals ran in packs and seldom approached the farm. So Hallie saw them only in the distance and usually after sundown, when they were occasionally to be spied flitting among the isolated green copses dotting the blooming meadows, or else hiding amid the tall grasses that covered the surrounded countryside.
Now and then the beasts came to the creek to drink—never, of course, to that portion of the serpentine waterway that snaked through town, but rather to the desolate stretches that wound through the open farmland beyond.
But although Hallie watched the packs covertly for some sign of the great black wolf, it was never to be seen, and she thought perhaps it had finally moved on, or perhaps had even died of rabies, if it had fallen prey to that disease.
No, whoever or whatever was lurking around the farmhouse, spying on her, it was not the wolf Trace had claimed was her special totem animal.
Under other circumstances, Hallie might have suspected Scarecrow. But ever since the day he had provided her with the information about her runaway father, the disfigured man had come and gone freely at Meadowsweet, having no reason to spy on her, surely.
“Hallie.” Leaning the pitchfork with which he had been turning the compost heap, Trace pushed back his hat and sighed. “Sometimes, it’s difficult for me to believe you ever lived in a big city. Because I would have thought that experience would have made you a great deal less trusting of people than you actually are.
“Why, just look how you hired me on here that first day! You didn’t know anything at all about me, except what I told you. I might have been an ax murderer, for all you knew. I’ll bet you never even followed up with Frank Kincaid to ensure I was really who I said I was.”
“What’s your point?” Hallie asked crossly, knowing this to be the truth. “Aunt Gwen knew who you were and that you’d been working over at Frank’s place, Applewood, besides.”
“Yes, that’s true.” Trace nodded. “Still, for all she knew, I might have axed Frank to death right before I drove over to your own farm.”
“Good grief, Trace! I come out here to tell you I think I’m being spied on—and all you can do is talk about being an ax murderer! A whole lot of comfort you are. It’s not you who’s lurking around Meadowsweet, furtively watching me, is it?”
“No. I like to do all my looking at you openly—because I like to know you’re looking right back.” He grinned at her for a moment, then, at her frown, hastily sobered. “I’m sorry, Hallie. I’m only teasing you to try to take your mind off your worries. But I don’t guess I’m doing a very good job of it.
“My point was this—all you actually know about Scarecrow is what he told you. For all you really know, he mugged your absent father on some city street, knocked him in the head and killed him, and stole his pocket watch and wallet—which is how he got the farm’s address.”
“That’s…that’s a terrible thought, Trace.” Hallie swallowed hard. “And I—I just don’t believe one word of it. Scarecrow’s lived in that shack of his for more than two decades now, and evidently he’s never done anything ill to anybody in Wolf Creek. Besides, I’ve made clear to him he’s welcome here anytime he pleases. So why would he secretly spy on me?”
“I don’t know. But he did peep through your bedroom window at three o’clock in the morning that one night.”
“He explained all that—and I don’t think he lied. No, no, it’s somebody else. I’m sure of it. But why would somebody want to sneak around here, watching me? It just doesn’t make any sense.”
“Unless they wanted to drive you off the place,” Trace suggested. “And from what you told me, Hallie, you started having all these feelings about being spied on right after Dandy Don Hatfield came out here to make you an offer on the farm. Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t consider him to begin with.”
“Well, actually I did,” she admitted. “But honestly, I somehow just couldn’t see him tramping around here, hiding in the bushes—particularly in one of those god-awful loud suits of his. I would have spotted him a mile away!”
“Yes, I think you’re right about that,” Trace agreed. “Still, that doesn’t mean the man hasn’t changed his clothes for something far more suitable to accomplish his more nefarious activities than peddling used cars. Or, more likely, that he hasn’t hired some unknown person to do his dirty work for him. As you mentioned, what reason would anybody else in town have to spy on you?
“You’ve no other enemies here in Wolf Creek, have you, Sleeping Beauty? There’s no one else who would want to lurk around Meadowsweet, making you uneasy enough to forego your beauty sleep and to pack up and sell the farm, is there?”
“No, of course not. And I wish you wouldn’t call me Sleeping Beauty! I rise just as early and work just as hard on this farm as you do!”
“I love it when you’re angry. Your eyes look just like emeralds—spitting fire.”
“Will you please be serious?”
“I am. Oh, about the intruder, you mean? Hallie, I don’t want you to worry. I feel quite certain your special animal totem is patrolling the premises, keeping watch over you—as I myself do.” Although he continued to smile at her, Trace’s eyes were once more sober and earnest.
“What would make you think that great black wolf is still hanging around? Have you seen it?”
“Did I not once say I believed it would show itself to no one but you?”
“Then why do you think it’s still here? Have you seen its tracks?”
“It doesn’t leave any. Don’t you remember?”
“Yes, yes, I know. It’s a mythical, magical beast with all kinds of strange powers that enable it to come and go like the wind—or so you would have me believe.
“I’m sorry, Trace. But as I’ve told you before, I’m not a Native American—not even half Native American—and so, as much as your own personal spiritual beliefs may mean to you, I’m afraid they’re part of a religion about which I know little more than you’ve explained to me, and so I find it difficult to have your faith.
“I simply can’t rely for protection on some animal that may—or may not—actually exist, that may, in fact, be nothing more than the product of my own wild imagination.”
“It bit Scarecrow,” Trace reminded her.
“We don’t know that. To use your own line of reasoning, we know only what Scarecrow said happened on the verandah that night. For all we really know, he might just as easily have been bitten by a dog or even a raccoon or some other such animal.”
“Hoist by my own petard! Nevertheless, having myself actually viewed Scarecrow’s injured calf to assure myself the wound was not serious, I thin
k I can safely say he wasn’t attacked by a chipmunk! No, whatever nipped him—and it was only that, thank goodness, a short light chomp intended as a warning—was quite real.
“Even Scarecrow himself wouldn’t have agreed to receive the rabies vaccination if he hadn’t been worried about contracting the disease. Fortunately, it’s no longer administered via those painful shots in the stomach, but these days is given as a series of five or so relatively painless shots in the arm and the butt.
“Hallie, I confess I don’t know what more to say to try to comfort you. I’ve tried both humor and logic, neither with much success, I’ll admit, and I’ve attempted to reassure you that I take your suspicions seriously and am on my guard. What more would you have me do?” Trace queried, clearly at a loss.
“If I thought it would help,” he continued, “I’d take you in my arms and kiss away all your troubles. But no doubt I would only have my ears boxed for my pains!”
“You certainly would!” Hallie retorted tartly with feigned primness, for inwardly she felt her heart race at the prospect, and longed to confess that right now she would adore nothing more than to feel his strong, muscular arms wrapped protectively around her, loving her and keeping her safe always.
“However,” she went on, “there is one thing you can do—teach me how to use one of those shotguns in the gun case in the library. I’d feel better if I knew I had some way to defend myself, in the event that anything should occur at the farm. What if you weren’t here when it happened? I’d have no means of protecting myself and Aunt Gwen!”
“I’m truly flattered by how you’ve come to rely on me, Hallie. I mean that sincerely, and I promise you, you won’t regret it, that I’ll never let you down. And of course I’ll teach you how to shoot, if you like. But you must make me a promise if I do.”
From the Mists of Wolf Creek Page 13
