recalled how Creighton had pointed out some sumac shrubs on their walk earlier. The scrubby plant could be used for tanning, dyeing, and even medicine. Snippets of a lighthearted song trailed after those thoughts of Creighton. The morning had been one without complaint, all that time spent with him. She made a mental note to remember water and maybe something to eat for her next long hike, chastising herself for earlier naïveté.
Inside, Shana rummaged through the cupboards and finally used the coffee can—after she dumped the contents in a sandwich bag and stuck it in the small freezer—to arrange the eagle feather and gathered grasses. She wrapped a red checkered dishtowel around the can to cover the label, and placed it on the table.
“Now that’s a nice touch.” Such a small thing, yet the action proved that she wasn’t totally useless. A few minutes later, she admired the arrangement while eating yogurt and a salad.
“Hello, the cabin.”
Shana valued his courtesy. Haste had replaced manners for many hurried Lincolnites.
Creighton had listened to her request for a heads-up. He, or anyone, could just walk around the deck, appear on the other side of the glass, and scare the wits out of her.
That didn’t take much effort lately.
She swallowed her bite of carrot and yelled, “It’s open.”
He stood a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the indoor light.
Her body revved to full alert.
His gaze skittered over her before settling somewhere over her right shoulder.
She ignored her obvious warmth and tried to sound lighthearted. “Hi again.”
He didn’t return the greeting. What was with his lack of response? The smile she wanted to greet him with died before it was born.
Creighton had yet to look her in the eye. “There were a couple of calls for you. Your dad said something about the bank trying to reach you. And Rita. Feel free to use the phone any time. You’ll see it in the kitchen. House is always open. I’m headed down to work on some old tack in the barn.” And just like that, he was out the closed door.
Had Rita ever mentioned how moody her brother was?
Shana took a bite of yogurt. The cherry vanilla now tasted like mud. She rinsed it down the sink. She tossed the rest of her salad over the deck rail, hoping to catch sight of a squirrel or rabbit, glad that the threat of rattlesnakes wasn’t viable. She mulled over the bank situation as she walked to Creighton’s house. How serious could it be?
Discomfort entered the empty ranch house with Shana, where the rich aroma of cooking beef greeted her. Instead of warming her stomach, the scent churned the knot that balled there. Shana noticed the condensed moisture on the lid of the slow cooker not far from the telephone.
“What a guy. He cooks.” She shook her head over that silliness. “Of course he cooks. No fast food way out here.”
Shana dialed the familiar number. “Hi, Daddy. How’s Mom?”
“We’re fine. The point is how are you, stuck so far out in the boondocks by yourself?”
“I’m not exactly by myself, and I guess I’m OK. I don’t like relying on Creighton so much, though.”
“That’s Rita’s brother, right?”
“He’s a nice guy,” Her voice softened with the statement.
“Guess that eases my mind somewhat. We’d like to come see you and bring your car so you have something to drive.”
“I don’t need to go anywhere. That’s the idea. To keep me here so I get this thesis written. It would be silly for you to bring two cars. I’m fine.”
She listened to the hum of silence on the line, and then braved the reason for his earlier message.
“So, Dad, what’s this about the bank?”
“I go in all the time, you know. One of the officers was at the window when I went in this morning. Since my name is on your account, both came up. She asked me if you had something exciting going on since there was unusual activity on your account.”
“What do you mean?”
“A couple big checks cleared. You
Inside, Shana rummaged through the cupboards and finally used the coffee can—after she dumped the contents in a sandwich bag and stuck it in the small freezer—to arrange the eagle feather and gathered grasses. She wrapped a red checkered dishtowel around the can to cover the label, and placed it on the table.
“Now that’s a nice touch.” Such a small thing, yet the action proved that she wasn’t totally useless. A few minutes later, she admired the arrangement while eating yogurt and a salad.
“Hello, the cabin.”
Shana valued his courtesy. Haste had replaced manners for many hurried Lincolnites.
Creighton had listened to her request for a heads-up. He, or anyone, could just walk around the deck, appear on the other side of the glass, and scare the wits out of her.
That didn’t take much effort lately.
She swallowed her bite of carrot and yelled, “It’s open.”
He stood a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the indoor light.
Her body revved to full alert.
His gaze skittered over her before settling somewhere over her right shoulder.
She ignored her obvious warmth and tried to sound lighthearted. “Hi again.”
He didn’t return the greeting. What was with his lack of response? The smile she wanted to greet him with died before it was born.
Creighton had yet to look her in the eye. “There were a couple of calls for you. Your dad said something about the bank trying to reach you. And Rita. Feel free to use the phone any time. You’ll see it in the kitchen. House is always open. I’m headed down to work on some old tack in the barn.” And just like that, he was out the closed door.
Had Rita ever mentioned how moody her brother was?
Shana took a bite of yogurt. The cherry vanilla now tasted like mud. She rinsed it down the sink. She tossed the rest of her salad over the deck rail, hoping to catch sight of a squirrel or rabbit, glad that the threat of rattlesnakes wasn’t viable. She mulled over the bank situation as she walked to Creighton’s house. How serious could it be?
Discomfort entered the empty ranch house with Shana, where the rich aroma of cooking beef greeted her. Instead of warming her stomach, the scent churned the knot that balled there. Shana noticed the condensed moisture on the lid of the slow cooker not far from the telephone.
“What a guy. He cooks.” She shook her head over that silliness. “Of course he cooks. No fast food way out here.”
Shana dialed the familiar number. “Hi, Daddy. How’s Mom?”
“We’re fine. The point is how are you, stuck so far out in the boondocks by yourself?”
“I’m not exactly by myself, and I guess I’m OK. I don’t like relying on Creighton so much, though.”
“That’s Rita’s brother, right?”
“He’s a nice guy,” Her voice softened with the statement.
“Guess that eases my mind somewhat. We’d like to come see you and bring your car so you have something to drive.”
“I don’t need to go anywhere. That’s the idea. To keep me here so I get this thesis written. It would be silly for you to bring two cars. I’m fine.”
She listened to the hum of silence on the line, and then braved the reason for his earlier message.
“So, Dad, what’s this about the bank?”
“I go in all the time, you know. One of the officers was at the window when I went in this morning. Since my name is on your account, both came up. She asked me if you had something exciting going on since there was unusual activity on your account.”
“What do you mean?”
“A couple big checks cleared. You
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