Linked Through Time Page 7

  The longer I waited, the sorrier I felt for myself.

  The bull, ever determined, remained close to the machinery, stalking me, daring me to come out.

  A shot rang out.

  Startled, I sat up quickly and banged my head against the bottom of the equipment. The bull snorted and ran for the far edge of the field, dancing and kicking his hoofs in annoyance.

  Dean’s floppy brown hair came into view as he poked his head between the spokes of one of the rusty wheels. His eyes twinkled with laughter and I noticed a dimple in his left cheek, something I’d never noticed on him as an adult. Then again, I never knew him to smile like that, not even when my mother still lived with us.

  I scrambled out and raced with my father the rest of the way to the safety of the bordering fence. He ran easily, carrying a large gun that probably weighed as much as he did. I was shocked that he was allowed to carry a gun much less use it, but these were different times and anyone big enough to carry a gun was expected to use it, especially to hunt.

  I paused outside the fence and pulled my father into a long, heartfelt hug. He had saved me… again. How could it be that I had to rely on a skinny little boy the same as if he were a man? When I released him, my heart full of gratitude, I remembered why I had been out in the field in the first place. “Guess what?” I said, excited I could finally give him something in return. “Dave said he has enough bottles to turn in for all of us! You can go on all the rides at the fair!” I swept him up into my arms and swung him around.

  Searching his face, I expected him to be full of joy, but instead his eyes held a suspicious glint. “What’s the matter, Dean? Aren’t you happy?” I prodded, curious at his change in attitude.

  My father shook the hair out of his eye and peered up at me, shy. “Of course, it’s just that…” he trailed off. “Is Dave nice to you?” He ducked his head to the ground, embarrassed.

  Shocked, I grabbed Dean’s shoulders and turned his face to mine. Why is he asking me this? It was such a strange, insightful question from a little kid. I looked him straight in the eye, hoping to ease his anxiety. “Yes… yes, he’s wonderful. Dave’s a great guy! He’s giving our whole family tickets, isn’t he?” I watched how my father remained unconvinced. For some reason, unlike Louise, he wasn’t won over with simple gifts of gum and tickets. “You worry too much, squirt,” I added, ruffling his hair.

  I turned to go, when I heard his voice, shaky and quiet.

  “I saw it. I know. I know what he does sometimes. When he’s angry.” Dean’s eyes implored me to understand his meaning, his disjointed sentences only confusing me even more.

  “What are you talking about?” I squatted down to his eye level. Maybe he had the answers I was looking for; keys to Dave and Sarah’s past relationship.

  But he only shrugged, digging his toe into the dirt, averting his gaze. “I know,” he repeated. He seemed to be struggling not to cry, so I let him go, pretending I didn’t see the deepening pools in his eyes.

  We wandered toward the farmhouse, and I brought up the fair again, hoping to change Dean’s mood. It was obvious he wasn’t going to elaborate on what he knew about Dave. Finally, I was able to coax a smile from him when I mentioned riding the Tilt-A-Whirl as many times as he wanted.

  Louise sat outside the gate to the farmhouse, a glare marring her pretty features. “Where were you? I looked all over for you! I had to pick buckets and buckets of raspberries by myself and had to collect vegetables from the garden.” Furious, her tone flat out accused me of my abandonment. “I was fine helping you after your accident, but now, you’re just taking advantage of me. I saw you coming back from the field by Slater’s store. I told Dad.” She crossed her arms over her chest, rigid with anger.

  “Oh, my gosh, Louise. I’m so sorry,” I started, but stopped when I heard heavy boots stomp across the screened porch. My grandfather stepped outside and headed straight for me, his face even, betraying nothing.

  Instinctively, I backed away.

  Of course, the one day he’s home from the woods. I haven’t seen him but maybe two times the whole time I’ve been here, and now… today of all days.

  Leaning against the garage stood a long rigid pole. My grandfather grabbed the pole and motioned me to follow him behind the garage. I looked to Dean for an explanation, but he stared at the ground, avoiding my eyes. Louise remained with her arms folded, looking smug.

  My stomach churned, as I guessed what was coming. My pulse pounded loud in my head, the anxiety of true fear emerging, making it difficult to breathe or even concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.

  Behind the garage, my grandfather stood next to the remains of a solid tree stump. My eyes traveled between the stump and the pole clenched in his fist.

  I had never been struck in my life. I was pretty sure one strike of the pole would break my weak, city girl body in half. My feet refused to move closer, my knees trembled and sweat broke out on my brow.

  Surprisingly, my grandfather sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Let’s get this over with,” he murmured.

  “Would it change your mind if you knew I just spent the last hour trapped out in the field almost getting killed by the bull?” I said, praying for sympathy.

  “If you’d been doing what you were supposed to, you wouldn’t have been there in the first place,” he reminded me.

  “Right,” I mumbled, remembering how I had left Louise alone all morning. But I’m too old for spankings. What about grounding, or extra chores? That would be punishment enough, I thought, recalling the milking disaster from that morning.

  My grandfather stood solid, not moving a muscle.

  Resigned, I bent over the stump, my fingers digging into the rough edges of the bark. I focused on the endless tree rings, remembering how each ring meant a year of the tree’s life. The tree had to be over a hundred years old, easily.

  The first strike on my backside buckled my knees and had me squeezing the mighty stump for support. The stinging, hot streak spread, burning a course of pain through my body and stealing my breath away. Two more swats followed and my bravado wavered. I let out a high-pitched yelp that sounded like a wounded dog and tears dripped onto the wood, staining its perfect color.

  “A family that works together, stays together. Until you’re married and on your own, you follow the rules of this house. No more running off with Dave Slater or anyone else. Don’t test me again, or you won’t set foot off this land until you graduate.” My grandfather’s tone left no room for arguing or reasoning.

  Either way, I was too busy curled around the stump, crying like a baby, the crippling pain of the pole leaving me weak. The punishment hurt, but it hurt worse inside. I was humiliated - reduced to a helpless, confused, blubbering mess. I would take a million awkward days of being compared to my Aunt Sarah, as long as I didn’t have to be her. I couldn’t last two months in this life, waiting to prevent a death I couldn’t explain or understand. I couldn’t last another two days. I finally understood how Sarah’s death could have been a suicide. Anyone remotely sane would want to escape the struggles of this life for another.

  I had no choice but to leave. Besides, it wasn’t as though I helped anyone by being here. I had done nothing but cause trouble from day one. I needed to get out of this place - and find a way to get back home.

  * * * *

  That night, I lay awake in bed while Louise and Janice alternated loud jagged snores with soft even breaths. Counting to one thousand in my head seemed like enough time to insure a safe escape, but I hesitated to leave the warm, cozy bed. If I get caught sneaking out, will I be whipped again? I knew the answer even as I thought the question.

  Determined not to let the past dictate my choices, I slipped from beneath the quilt. I crossed to the open window, feeling the cool summer breeze sneak through the dark screens. Waiting on the roof sat the old wooden ladder, still missing the same rungs, even in its prime, decades before I had contemplated using it for this exact purpose. />
  I was down the ladder and across the yard before the farm dog, Rex, began to bark. Hurdling the fence, I hid behind the chicken coop, ducking low to the ground. Two minutes later, I heard the door to the screened porch screech open and two figures thudded down the steps, the ominous outlines of shotguns evident in the moonlight.

  I held my breath as the shadows raced across the farmyard, heading for the fields. Rex trailed after them, stopping once to look back at me, ears raised in question.

  I waited until they were gone, disappearing down the paths to the acres of fields behind the farmhouse.

  Then, tripping down the gravel trail, I followed the pair. I figured it was Bobby and Rodney, out hunting raccoon or bear in the cornfields, trying to protect the family food supply. Little did they know, it was my fault they were up; Rex’s barking having sent them on a hunt for a false intruder.

  It was a shame, I had wanted to keep to the back roads and away from the highway for the first few miles I trekked toward town, but the only way to get to the back roads was through the cornfields. Hoping the boys would give up soon, I hunkered down at the edge of the field, straining my eyes for their creeping shadows.

  Waiting for what felt like hours, I finally stood and stretched my cramped legs. My feet had fallen asleep and a strange tingling sensation prickled my skin as the blood circulated normally through my body again. My feet sunk into the dark, moist earth as I picked my way through the field to the knee-high plants.

  Thankful for the bright starry night, I recognized the uneven tree poles of the boundary fence in the distance and made a beeline for it. I tried not to think about the animals that prowled the fields at night, the perimeter of the wilderness not too far from where I stood. Suddenly, I wished I had brought some sort of weapon; my vulnerability becoming more apparent the further I got from the house. I hadn’t put much planning into my escape, but for the main goal of getting myself out of the immediate area, and now that I was thinking, I realized I had forgotten to bring any extra clothing or food. I am such an idiot. I deserved to die out there in the woods. I can’t even remember to bring something as simple as shoes!

  A faint rustling snapped me to attention. My feet paused and my senses went on high alert. My ears strained to hear the noise, the rustling, I had heard. Was it an animal? I scanned the field, turning slowly, looking for any shape or shadow that didn’t fit. A human cannot outrun a bear. Wolves travel in packs. Raccoons can have rabies. Erratic pieces of trivia flashed through my mind; random facts about the animals that roamed the woods surrounding the farm.

  The night stayed silent. The chirp of crickets and songs from the frogs had quieted to an ominous silence.

  I inched forward. A low click sounded to my right and I raised my arms into the air. I cringed, waiting for the boom of the gun to sound, knowing full well that by the time I heard the explosion, I would be on my way to dying.

  Chapter Seven

  Change of Heart

  “What are you doing out here?”

  Anger emanated from the voice, a voice I recognized belonged to Bobby. My knees quaked and I exhaled the breath I’d been holding. Turning slowly, I found only one silhouette in the darkness. Thank you, God, for letting Bobby be alone.

  “I said, what are you doing out here? I almost shot you!” Bobby’s voice was shaking. He still hadn’t lowered the gun; he looked like one of those little green plastic soldiers Corey used to play war.

  I stood quiet, afraid that if I moved too quickly, the gun might go off by accident.

  Finally, Bobby lowered the gun. “I thought you were a bear,” he muttered, rubbing his hand wearily over his face. He looked at me. “You’re lucky Rodney took the other field. He shoots first, then checks.”

  I blanched, feeling the blood leave my face. I was lucky to be standing here, alive. “I….I…” I stuttered, having do idea what to say. I couldn’t think of a reasonable explanation for me to be out in the fields this late at night.

  “Is this about Dad whippin’ you?” Bobby asked, making it sound like an accusation.

  I shook my head. “It’s complicated,” was all I could say in response, but the welts on my backside flared up in pain.

  For a while, we stared at each other, both wanting the other to understand without actually saying any words.

  Bobby threw his gun over his shoulder. “Let me show you something,” he said, leading me across the field to a narrow gravel road.

  Meekly, I followed in his wake, trudging the same path I would have chosen to escape, but only now I walked it more like a prisoner.

  We walked for what seemed like at least a mile or two, passing several country roads.

  Bobby left the main road and headed through some trees before coming to a stop beside the shadow of a run down, crooked home. It reminded me of something you’d see gracing the pages of a Dr. Seuss picture book - all lopsided and wrong, certainly nothing that looked safe to inhabit.

  I spoke up, my voice scratchy and rough from not talking, “What are we doing here?” I hoped Bobby wasn’t planning on leaving me here to find my way back alone. All the bravado I’d saved up to run away had vanished as we walked the dirt roads in the enveloping dark. There was nothing but wilderness for miles around the farmhouse, and it was becoming more and more apparent how ill equipped and naïve I was to survive in the area. Every rustle in the nearby ditches gave me visions of being attacked by wolves or bears. I doubted I could even make the twelve-mile walk to town; I was a gutless city girl.

  Bobby’s voice broke into my thoughts. “A few days ago, I was hunting in the back forty. I came across these girls who were looking for berries. They were real skinny, you know, you could see their bones sticking out, and their clothes were torn and worn so thin, they were hanging on by threads. They had bruises and scrapes. I thought they were lost or orphans. I gave them my sandwich and they ate it like a couple of animals.”

  Bobby pointed to a smaller building, a rickety shed that stood a short distance from the house. “That shed is where they sleep. I followed them home after I met them. I just wanted to see what happened to them; I’ve never seen them at school. They don’t have any lights, or beds, or anything! Their mom gives them scraps from the table while they stand at the window. They’re treated worse than animals!” Bobby swallowed hard, his voice choking up with emotion. “And the weird part is, they have brothers, too. But the brothers are treated like kings compared to these girls. The mother has it in for them for some reason.” He continued staring at the shack, his mouth twisted with sadness.

  “Why are you telling me this?” I said, horrified at all he had shared. Did he want me to do something?

  “Because I know what you’re thinking. I know what you were trying to do tonight. It’s no secret, Sarah - you’ve made it plain as day for some time now that you can’t wait to leave the farm life and head for the big city. But your head is big with these ideas and you can’t see what you do have. A family that loves you. A home. Food. You might feel like you have it bad, but it’s nothing when you compare it to these girls here.” He paused to let his words sink in, and I turned my face to the ground.

  Right then, I wished for that ground to open up and swallow me whole. I didn’t want any part of this. I didn’t want to see things like this. I just wanted everything back to normal.

  “So what can we do?” I said, hoping I could redeem myself in Bobby’s eyes.

  “There’s nothing we can do. It’s not our place to step in. A mom’s right to raise her children, is a mom’s right.”

  “How can you say that? We could call the cops? Or social services? We can’t leave them out here, getting treated like a bunch of dogs! They could die out here and no one would even know!” My voice rose and heat rushed up my neck. The thought that the girls lying in the rickety old shed could die and no one would know, let alone, care, shocked and scared me to the core.

  Bobby placed his arm around my shoulders, pulled me close, and led me from the clearing back to the grav
el road. “I needed you to see, is all. I needed you to feel for someone else, besides yourself,” he said in a soft voice.

  The words cut into my heart like a knife. Everything he said was true. Regardless of if I played the part of my Aunt Sarah or not, I still only looked out for me. What I wanted. What I thought was fair.

  “It’s just… complicated,” I said lamely. “I wanted to get away for a while. Take a break. I haven’t been feeling the same since the accident.” I stopped in mid-step, wondering if I could share the truth with Bobby. Would he believe me? Or write me off as a lunatic, full of excuses?

  “You may need a break, but everyone needs a break. You don’t think I don’t look forward to graduating sometimes? There’s days I can’t wait to join the military - get out and see the world. There’s nothing they could do to me there that would be half as bad as the work we do every day on the farm.” Bobby stared at the stars as he walked, his eyes far away, dreaming of his future. “Still, Sarah, we all have a purpose, a job…. the farm couldn’t function right if a piece was missing. Not to mention what you leaving would do to Mom.”

  I could only nod and bite my lower lip, aching to hold back my tears of remorse. My heart ached for the girls we left behind and my thoughts turned to dreams of rescuing them and whisking them off into the night.

  A bitter laugh escaped my mouth. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t even save myself.

  The early morning chill had begun to set in; the fields were coated with a thin layer of moisture, and I shivered in my worn flannel shirt.

  In the distance, I could see Rodney approach, a long barreled shotgun resting on his shoulder.

  “What are you doing out here?” he growled, eyeing me suspiciously.