Maple Dale (Maple Dale Series) Page 8

  Bethann wiped her eyes and tried to stop crying. Her father was telling her that there was probably a perfectly logical explanation to this. That maybe it was somebody's idea of a

  joke, albeit a bad one, but they'd get to the bottom of it. And she appeared to be listening. But then all of a sudden she gasped and pointed to the observation window. "Look! It's P-P-Phoenix!"

  Richard and Christine turned just as the cat leapt into the air amidst a cloud of dust. Bethann ran to the window, jumping up and down to see where he'd gone. "Hurry!"

  Richard fumbled with Christine's keys as he rushed outside the arena and around to the door. Christine, for her part, stared wide eyed with her mouth gaped, staring and staring. But Richard was too late. By the time he got the office open, Phoenix was gone without a trace.

  Christine wanted to leave after this. "It's obvious the cat is just fine. Now let's go."

  Richard had had enough himself, but Bethann wanted to keep looking. "In t-t-the barn. M-M-Maybe he r-r-ran in there."

  Richard reluctantly agreed to take another look. "Fine, but then that's it." Bethann and Christine went with him. They got as far as the blackboard. Christine had eventually told

  them about the blacksmith's list and about what Bill had said, so it didn't really come as a surprise. Yet Bethann appeared shocked at the sight of it.

  "What is it?" her mother asked.

  Bethann pointed to one of the names. "This h-h-horse." She swallowed. "This h-h-horse is d-d-dead." It was Handsome Sam. "He d-d-died three y-years ago."

  What was there to say now?

  "Who's d-d-doing this, D-Daddy?"

  Richard glanced around the barn, shaking his head, and ushered them out. He had to push hard on the door to secure the latch. As they walked to the car, a flock of pigeons swooped down on the barn, their wings fluttering and beating. While from atop the charred maple, a lone crow cawed.

  * * *

  Christine pulled a blanket off her bed and, wrapping up in it, walked over to the window. It was after midnight, well past her bedtime, yet she'd been tossing and turning for hours and wide awake. As she stood staring up at the stars, Bethann cracked open her door.

  "Mom...?"

  Christine turned and managed a smile. "What are you still doing up?"

  "I c-c-couldn't sleep. I k-keep thinking about..."

  Christine pressed her finger to her mouth. "Shhhh. Put it out of your mind." She motioned her over and wrapped the blanket around both of them. "Look. It's the Big Dipper."

  Bethann nodded, and for a moment the two of them just gazed into the night. Christine thought about her own mother then. And how, if she were here with them now, she'd be insisting they pray about what was bothering them and wait for a Divine answer. Christine could remember praying a lot, without ever getting any answers, and had serious doubts as to whether or not anyone ever did.

  "Can I s-s-sleep with y-you? I'm scared."

  Christine hesitated. Her instincts told her to say yes. But then what about all those baby and child-rearing books she'd read, memorized practically, the ones unanimous in their opinion about not letting a child in bed with a parent? Soothe them and assure them that there's nothing to be afraid of, then take them back to their rooms. Be firm. Be consistent. Don't give in. You do it once, and...

  "Mom?"

  Christine nodded. "Sure. Come on." They both crawled into bed, tucked the covers up to the chins, and before long were sound asleep.

  Richard had a restless night early on as well, and had just finally fallen into a deep sleep when he was awakened by a cold nose, warm breath, the sound of a thumping tail, and two big brown eyes in his face. He pulled his arm out from under his pillow and patted Shad on the head, hoping that would pacify him, and rolled over.

  It didn't. Shad came around to the other side, sat down with a heavy sigh, and rooting his nose under the blanket, thumped his tail harder. Richard gave in. Considering Shad had made it all the way up the stairs just to let him know he had to go, how could he say no.

  After their walk, Richard decided to ride out to Maple Dale and took Shad with him. He'd phoned the police last night after they came home and explained about the threat of possible vandalism. They said they'd patrol the area. But he thought he'd go check it out himself. Also, there was a part of him, a reluctant part, that wanted to take another look in the barn for that bag lady, especially considering what he'd seen, or hadn't seen in the hayloft. He stopped at an all-night convenience store for a cup of coffee, bought two beef jerkys for Shad, and started up the hill a little after five.

  Leah stood facing the barn and didn't hear him approaching. Obscenities had been smeared across the white siding in bright red paint, and several of the windows had been broken. Furious, she raised her fists to the sky and cried out, sending vibrations weaving in and out of the trees, breaking branches, rippling the still lake waters and raising steam from frost-covered grass. For some time now she'd been confused. Confused, tired, and lost. Now she was angry. And with that anger, came strength.

  Richard thought he saw someone by the barn and sped up the hill, spilling coffee all down his lap. Jamming the car into park at the top, which sent Shad sprawling to the floor, he got out, and took off at a run.

  He circled around back, hoping to head whoever it was off and picked up a stout stick as he approached the corner. But no one was there. He darted his eyes across the field, turned quickly to see if the doors had been opened, saw that they hadn't, and threw the stick into the wind.

  "Damn it!"

  Shad had gotten out of the car by now, and was walking slowly up the hill wagging his tail, when for some reason, he stopped and started barking. Howling actually. The shrillness of the sound echoed through the empty trees.

  Richard called to him several times, whistled, and had to clap his hands to finally get his attention. He came with his head low and his tail between his legs. "It's okay," Richard said, petting him and looking around, wondering what it was that had gotten him going. "It's okay." As the sun peeked over the horizon, profane graffiti greeted the morning.

  Leah sat down and rested her weary shoulders against the trunk of a stately pine. She'd only just begun her task when she was frightened by the lights, yet she was all but exhausted. Phoenix was exhausted as well, and lay curled up on her lap as they watched Richard hose off the side of the barn. When the sun rose higher, she gasped. Shad was lying on his side in the grass by the arena, and wasn't moving. He was just lying there. As if he were dead.

  "Oh God, no..." She wanted a closer look, hoping it wasn't true, but couldn't face the possibility. Clutching Phoenix tightly, she fled into the woods. She was afraid of his death; she'd always dreaded it, and didn't stop until she was far enough away so she couldn't look back.

  She tried telling herself that she was probably dreaming, and that Shad wasn't there at all, and suddenly started sinking into the ground. She edged back, wedging herself between the gnarled roots of an old oak, and breathed a sigh of relief when she felt somewhat secure. "Oh no!" She panicked again, and dangled poor Phoenix in front of her, wanting proof that he was still alive. He meowed indignantly, jumped out of her hands, and so typically feline, bolted, crouched down about ten feet away, where he twitched his tail and looked back at her. Then he quickly scaled a tree, and was gone.

  By the time Richard hosed off all the paint, it was well past eight. Shad was still stretched out in the grass, sound asleep and chasing something in a dream. Richard nudged him gently to wake him and went into the barn to put the hose away. He searched the stalls again then, not once but twice, took another look in the hayloft, and decided he might as well go look for the cat. The food was being eaten, so he felt sure it had to be near. Shad followed along.

  They came across a lot of squirrels and chipmunks, and a rabbit and then a deer, but no sign of the cat, and after a while turned back. Richard was getting hungry. About a hundred yards from the barn, Shad suddenly started barking again and took off through the woods. When
Richard caught up to him, he was panting hard and staring anxiously up a tree, where curled up on a limb sat Phoenix.

  "Well, I'll be damned." Richard glanced around, wondering how he was going to get to him, but needn't worry. The cat came down on its own, meowing up a storm, marched up to Shad whose tail was wagging furiously, and started rubbing up against him.

  Richard smiled. He'd heard of cats and dogs getting along, but had never witnessed anything quite like this before. The cat was purring as he leaned down and picked it up.

  * * *

  Leah was getting impatient with the horses. She'd just found them again and was leading them back to the barn, when just like before, after she'd only glanced away a second, they were gone. First Shad lying there dead. Now the horses. And where was Phoenix? She called out for him, her voice careening through the brush. And at that instant, Phoenix turned on Richard, scratching, biting, and wrenching to get free.

  Richard tried to hold on to him, but finally had to let go. The cat landed on all fours, disappeared into the woods in a flash, and left him cussing as he wrapped a handkerchief

  around his scratched and bloody hand.

  Christine and Bethann were finishing their breakfast when he and Shad returned. "What happened?" Christine asked, reaching for his hand to see for herself.

  Richard pulled away, then wished he hadn't, no matter how much it would've hurt. That was the first time Christine had touched him in so long. "It was the cat," he said, with a sigh. "I went out to Maple Dale to check on things and..."

  Bethann got all excited. "You f-f-found Phoenix?"

  "Yeah, but he got away. Sorry." Richard headed for the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. "He freaked out on me at the car."

  Christine got up to add his cream and sugar for him as he told them what happened, and sat down across from him. "God, I hope it doesn't have rabies."

  Oh great, Richard thought, that's all I need to hear. This grave-digging habit of hers used to drive him crazy when they were first married, always taking things one step further, always looking for the worst. "I'm sure it doesn't," he said, and sipped his coffee. "But just to be safe, we'll check its medical records. They came with Shad's."

  Christine nodded.

  "Oh, and by the way. There were some kids up there last night. They painted graffiti all over the outside of the barn and busted some of the windows."

  "Did you call the police?"

  "No, I just cleaned it up. It looks like whoever did it had second thoughts anyway."

  "What do you mean?"

  "It was smeared," Richard said, taking another sip of coffee. "As if they were trying to clean it off themselves."

  Christine sighed, finding little comfort in that. "This is really getting out of hand."

  Richard smiled. "The place is empty, Christine. Remember? It's to be expected. Kids do stupid things. Of course, not that you would know anything about that since you were never a kid."

  Christine made a face at him. "Go ahead and make fun. But a crime is a crime, and this is getting weird."

  Richard's smile widened as he just looked at her, and Bethann started to laugh.

  "What's so funny?" they both turned asking.

  "N-N-Nothing." She hadn't heard them talk like this is a long time, a very long time, and it was neat. "It's j-j-just..."

  Richard ruffled her hair. He and Christine both knew what she meant. They even exchanged knowing smiles, though somewhat self-conscious ones. Then he stood up, saying how he was going to go unveil his hand and inspect the damages. The first aid supplies were in the upstairs bathroom.

  A minute later he called for Christine, and fearing the worst from the way he'd said her name, "Christine!" she took the stairs two at a time.

  She hesitated in the doorway. He was sitting on the edge of the tub, with absolutely no color in his face.

  "It's..."

  Christine walked over to take a look, and then just stood there. She didn't understand. "Richard?" She searched his eyes. "I thought you said you were cut."

  Richard stared. "I was cut, Christine. And bleeding." But there wasn't a mark on him. "It was bleeding a lot."

  Christine took the bloody handkerchief from him. It was moist and warm, it even smudged her fingertips. She sank to her knees at his side. "Richard...?"

  He shook his head. He wished he could explain this, rationally, because it was what she wanted him to do. But he couldn't. "I'm sorry," he said. "But that cat scratched me. He scratched me several times, and he bit me."

  Bethann appeared in the doorway. When they both looked up at her, she had tears in her eyes. There'd be no more denial.

  Christine gripped Richard's hand. "Yesterday, Richard. At the arena." Her voice cracked. "When we saw the cat..."

  Richard swallowed hard, nodding.

  "Did the dust around it look like the shape of a person?"

  Richard didn't answer. He didn't have to.

  And neither did Bethann.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Klaus found his loophole, and wasted no time implementing it to storm through the rhetoric. Maple Dale development was back in operation, with construction to begin immediately on his very own future home. And the lot he chose...?

  "I'd like the one where the old Century Home stood."

  He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of this earlier, not that he had any intention of moving there. It would be a cold day in hell. But who could prove otherwise?

  He'd phoned Christine to list his present home on the market, and after that, phoned Walter, who in turn phoned Bill. Then he contacted John Smith, James Howell, and finally Richard. So much for their bureaucratic roadblocks. Things were underway. After all, Maple Dale had meant so much to his father. Why shouldn't he put down roots there?

  Yes!

  How much nicer it would be if Leah were alive though. He could gloat all the more then. Leah. He'd been thinking a lot about her since her death. Obsessive thoughts. He'd gotten to her in the end, and he couldn't get it out of his mind. She had become hysterical, so womanly, he could still see the look on her face. And he'd walked away from her, aroused, and feeling like a man. A man ten feet tall.

  * * *

  Leah roamed less and less as the autumn days grew shorter, and sank deeper and deeper. The grass no longer had a color of its own, taking on the hue of every fallen leaf now. Some fell straight to the ground. Some soared first. A final bow. Several bows. An encore. Then they too came to rest. A blanket of depression.

  A red maple leaf landed in her path. A vibrant scarlet. She leaned down to pick it up, thinking perhaps it could soar one more time. It looked hopeful. But it crumbled in her hand, the wind whisking it off in hundreds of pieces, like ashes. Lost, weary, and desperate, she began to recite the Twenty Third Psalm.

  "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures..." The words were a comfort to her, so familiar. But as she approached the valley of the shadow of death, her mood changed. She raised her eyes to the sky, sure there was no such God watching over her, and lowered herself to the wet ground, as abandoned as the day she was born.

  * * *

  Bill and his generations of superstitious blood pulled up the hill behind Walter, and parked off to the side of the barn. "There's that damned cat!"

  Walter turned. "Where?"

  "There!" Bill pointed over his shoulder.

  Walter squinted, finally saw it, and sighed. For the life of him, he couldn't understand, strange things considered, how Bill, all six-foot-five and two hundred and sixty-five pounds of him, could get so rattled by a straggly cat. "You're not going to start that again, are you?"

  Bill mumbled something, and for a moment appeared as if he were giving thought to leaving. But then Richard pulled up, and soon they were greeting one another and shaking hands.

  "Well, what do you think?" Walter asked enthusiastically.

  Richard shrugged and glanced away. He doubted Klaus was on the level about building his home here, but had
no legal recourse to stop him. "I don't know. I guess it beats having the place empty all the time. I was up here yesterday and had to hose off the side of barn. There was graffiti all over it. And those windows..."

  Walter frowned, assessing the damage, but Bill wasn't listening. He was watching the cat, who was perched on a rock a safe distance away, licking his paws and watching him.

  When Richard turned to see what he was staring at, his blood drained from his face. Dare he tell them what happened, even when he couldn't believe it himself? Hadn't he and Christine decided after being up half the night trying to comfort Bethann, to not say anything to anybody.

  "I almost caught him yesterday," he found himself saying when the cat seemed to watching him now. "But he got away."

  Bill looked at him warily, as if he knew there was more to the story, and that's all it took. Richard told them everything, cloud of dust, bloodless wounds, and all, as Leah watched.

  She wondered what they were doing, what they were talking about. She recognized Richard immediately, but couldn't place the other two. She thought she'd seen them before, but couldn't be sure, like so many other things she wasn't sure of anymore. Not even her dreams. If in fact they were dreams, because she really couldn't remember sleeping anymore either.

  They were far too old for riding lessons, and she was certain she didn't have a horse hardy enough for the large black man. They scared her. All of them. But especially the black man. He didn't belong here. And he was angry.

  "I'm not afraid of anyone or anything that can stand and take a punch," Bill said emphatically. "But a cat that can scratch and bite without leaving a mark, is another story."

  Walter started to say something, but Bill didn't particularly care to hear it. When he raised his hands, Leah fled into the woods.