Something Suspicious in Sask (5 page)

No, scratch that. I'm never speaking to Sheila
again as long as I live.

I mean, I went to all that trouble to save her dad's
skin—not to mention his ranch—and what does Sheila
do? Stays behind with him! Even when she knew I
need her here.

How could she do this to me?

“Whatcha doin'?”

Katie jumped at the sound of Rusty's voice. He flopped down on the wicker loveseat and leaned back on its pillows.

“Nothing.” She flipped her notebook shut.

“Oh. Because I thought, maybe you were writing notes.”

Katie shrugged.

“But,” Rusty went on, “since you're not, I guess you don't care what I found out.”

Katie curled her fingers around the top of her notebook. She stared down at them. Eight round little fingernails, like pale white faces looking up at her. Curious.

Rusty started to hum. From the corner of her eye she saw him sit up and open his sketchbook. He bent over it, a pencil in his hand.

She did not want to ask. She tried not to ask. She had to ask. “Okay, what did you find out?”

When Rusty kept on drawing as if he hadn't heard, she leaned over to see. Big round eyes looked up at her from a long triangular face. “What's that? A cow?”

Rusty looked smug, as if he knew something she didn't. “You know the accident with the windrower?”“Of course,” she snapped. “I was there, remember?”Rusty shrugged and returned to his sketching.

“Okay, Rusty, I'm sorry. Yes, I know the accident.

What about it?”

“That wasn't the first.”

“Wire got caught in the cutter bar before?”

Rusty shook his head impatiently. “No, but Aunt Margaret said that last week the stock got out—”

“Stock? What stock? Got out of what?”

“Stock. Farm animals, you know—”

“You mean cows? Is that why you're drawing a cow?”

“Yeah, okay, cows. Some of them escaped from the pasture last week. They got into the neighbor's canola and did tons of damage that Aunt Margaret has to pay for. She's not too happy about it.”

“How'd they get out?”

“Two gates were left open. Not one, but two. She says it's Megan's job to move the stock from one pasture to another.”

“So it's Megan's fault?”

“Who else?”

Katie opened her notebook.

Cows in Canola—What's that about?

Two gates left open—can't be an accident.

Or can it?

“Hey! Look at that!” Rusty jumped up so fast his sketchbook slid from his lap. It landed on the wicker table, hit Katie's water glass and sent it crashing to the floor. The glass rolled toward her bare toes, spilling water.

She snapped it up and followed Rusty's gaze but caught only a quick glimpse of a shadow that flitted across the shed and was gone. “What did you see?”

“The shadow of a man,” Rusty said. “First it was getting bigger, coming this way, and then your glass crashed and the shadow took off.”

Katie jumped up, tucked her notebook under her arm and headed for the door. “Let's go!”

The screen door slammed behind them as Katie ran along the driveway with Rusty at her heels. She darted around the corner of the house and followed a gravel path to the backyard. They both stopped abruptly on a small grassy area, cool and green under Katie's bare feet.

They faced a square vegetable garden, divided by narrow grassy paths. It was separated from a field of tall grain by a barbed wire fence. Nothing moved, not so much as a breeze ruffled the tall grasses. The only sound was the high-pitched buzz of crickets.

“Where'd he go?” Rusty whispered.

“I don't know. Maybe it was only your imagination.

”“No. Someone was here,” Rusty insisted. He started along a narrow pathway between rows of vegetables. At the barbed wire fence he turned left to follow the fence line. Katie ran after him.

As she brushed through long brown grass that grew along the fence line, Katie had the eerie feeling that someone was watching. She glanced up at the house. A thin white face peered down from a second floor window. Megan. Two angry eyes locked with Katie's, and then Megan turned away.

Rusty and Katie followed the barbed wire fence, searching for any sign someone had been here. Then Katie spotted it. Close beside the fence the grasses were trampled, as if by heavy feet. They followed the ragged line of trampled grasses past the vegetable garden to the far side of the house where it stopped abruptly.

A stretch of brown lawn led from that point to the front of the house. They crunched across it, prickly underfoot, and stopped on the driveway. Katie turned toward the road, expecting to see a furtive figure running away.

“Where'd he go?” Rusty asked.

“I don't know. He must be fast.”

“Shh!” Rusty whispered. “I think I heard a car door.”

They listened. First there was nothing, then an engine came to life somewhere on the road, seeming to come from behind a grove of leafy green trees. Moments later an old, beat-up, red pickup rumbled past the end of the driveway, gathering speed and trailed by a cloud of dust.

7

The house was quiet when Katie first opened her eyes the next morning. Quiet and so breathlessly hot her light cotton pajamas stuck to her skin. She couldn't move her legs. They were trapped, wrapped in a twisted cocoon of sheets. She kicked to free herself. On the far side of the room, Megan moaned softly in her sleep.

For half the night Katie had lain awake, tossing and turning, too hot to fall asleep. Now her eyes were heavy with fatigue, but she couldn't relax. She wanted to be far away from this room when Megan stumbled out of bed with a scowl on her face and a biting comment on her lips.

Katie slid one foot and then the other to the floor. She eased herself up, gathered some clothes and tiptoed from the room. As she made her way down the hallway to the bathroom, she tried not to think about the day ahead. It was too depressing. Stifling heat and whining mosquitoes would drive her half crazy, and boredom would complete the job.

Eyes closed against a stream of warm water that plastered her hair to her head, Katie began to relax. Until suddenly, with a sickening thud, she remembered her birthday. Today. Twelve years old. She turned off the taps and wrapped herself in a towel. She did not want to celebrate her birthday here. What could be worse than sharing a birthday with Megan? Would her cousin have a party? Dozens of Megan clones hanging around the house with weird eyes in skeleton faces? Katie shuddered and tried to think of something else.

She dressed quickly, hung up the towel and left the bathroom.

A sweet, spicy-warm aroma wafted up the stairs. It wrapped itself around her like a silky scarf and gently drew her downward. In the kitchen she stopped, surprised that no one was sitting at the big round table or standing by the old-fashioned sink. The oven light was on, and a mouth-watering scent of cinnamon filled the room, mixed with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

A murmur of voices and the clink of coffee cups drifted in from the screened porch. Katie tiptoed toward the sounds.

“Allow at least an hour and a half,” Aunt Margaret said.

Katie stopped to listen, to figure out what they were talking about. She brushed aside a dark curl from her forehead and wondered why they stopped talking. Then Aunt Margaret was in the doorway with a coffee mug in each hand.

“Well, if it isn't the birthday girl!” She smiled.

“Come on out here.”

Gram jumped up, threw her arms around Katie and planted a coffee-wet kiss on her cheek. “Happy birthday, Katie! We made cinnamon buns, your favorite. They'll be ready in a few minutes.”

“I'm just going to check them.” Aunt Margaret bustled past while GJ made his way over to envelop Katie in a birthday hug.

“I hope you won't miss your mom and dad too much,” he said.

When the buns were ready, Katie sat at the table and wolfed down two of them, warm and soft and buttery-sweet, while listening to the adults outline their plans for the day.

“Aunt Margaret's taking us into Humboldt,” Gram told her. “We can swim and have lunch out. Won't that be fun?”

“Gram told me you don't like the shallow, mucky prairie lakes, Katie,” Aunt Margaret said. “But you'll love the indoor pool, no bugs, no slimy bottom. I used to take Megan there a lot when she was younger.”

Things were looking up, Katie realized. At least she wouldn't have to spend her entire birthday here, on the farm, with nothing to do. “That sounds like fun.” She smiled, but the smile didn't feel quite real.

Aunt Margaret glanced up in the direction of Megan's room. “There's a shopping mall in Humboldt, so I hope Megan will come with us. I want to buy her something new for her birthday.”

Real or not, Katie's smile faded. “I hope they've stocked up on black stuff,” she said without thinking.

Aunt Margaret laughed. “On the other hand,” she said, “if they don't have any black clothes, it'll save me a bundle of money!”

Katie turned to GJ. Her grandfather loved swimming, and he had taught both her and Rusty to swim when they were small. Lately he had been teaching them some fancy dives. “I hope they have a high board,” she said. “I could use a diving lesson.”

GJ looked surprised, and then a little guilty. “Uh, I'm not coming with you, Katie.” He hesitated. “I need to drive into Saskatoon today. There's someone I need to meet.”

“Who do you know in Saskatoon?” Katie demanded. What she really meant was,
Who could be
more important than going swimming with your
granddaughter on her twelfth birthday?

GJ's eyes shifted to Gram and back to Katie. “Just, uh, a couple of people I've known for a long time. Sorry, Katie, but this is the only day I can go, and it's important to me.” He glanced at his watch and stood up. “I need to get going right about now.”

Katie ate a third cinnamon bun on the screened porch while GJ's truck rumbled down the driveway. She watched brown dust settle behind the truck and wished she was at home in Victoria.

The day didn't turn out to be a total loss, even though Megan, with an indifferent shrug, agreed to come along. By the time Katie and Rusty were ready to go, Megan was seated in the backseat of Aunt Margaret's ancient little car.

“You get the middle seat,” Katie whispered to Rusty.

“No way!”

“Yes way. It's your turn to bond with our dear sweet cousin. Besides, it's my birthday, so I get to choose.”

Rusty groaned and slid into the car.

The long drive wasn't completely horrible. Megan actually said a word or two without being forced into it and her usual scowl relaxed into a mild pout.

In fact, the closer they got to Humboldt the more Megan began to behave like a real human being. So much so that Katie decided to risk asking a question.All along the roadsides she noticed swampy, ditch-like wetlands filled with tall brown grasses. Red-winged black birds flitted back and forth. Perched on posts above the shallow water of almost every slough, was one or two of those cylindrical structures, the size of rural mailboxes. Katie wondered what they were. So, when one came up on Megan's side, Katie gathered her courage. “See that mailbox-sized straw thing stuck on a post? What is it anyway?”

Megan looked out the window but didn't answer. Between the two girls, Rusty pulled a face at Katie. His meaning was clear. Why didn't she keep her big mouth shut? Why did she have to stir up trouble?

Slowly Megan's head began to turn. Katie cringed. Rusty leaned toward her, away from Megan. But their cousin smiled. Actually smiled. “They're nest baskets,” she said. “We make them for mallards and pintails and teal, but half the time those moronic Canada geese take over.”

“Ha!” Rusty said. “I'd like to see a Canada goose squeeze into one of those things! It would have to be as scrawny as…” He leaned further away. “Uh, it would…”

Megan rolled her eyes. “They sit on top.”

“You make them?” Katie asked, trying not to look as surprised as she felt.

Megan shrugged. “Used to.”

“By yourself?”

Megan's scowl returned. She sank back on the seat and turned away.

“Megan belongs to the Wildlife Federation,” Aunt Margaret explained. “She and Scott built several nest baskets and placed them in sloughs near our fields. But since Scott left…” Her voice trailed off.

Megan slouched back against the seat and stared out the window.

Silence gathered inside the little car, relieved only by the high-pitched whine of the engine and the rumble of tires on a gravel road.

Katie chewed her lip. She stared out at the fields they were passing and the faraway horizon. She wanted to ask what Scott stole and how they knew it was him, but decided to wait for a better time. Megan had smiled once today. Who knew? It could happen again. The good news was that Megan didn't come swimming with them. Gram, Rusty and Katie headed for the pool while Aunt Margaret and Megan hit the mall. Katie hated shopping. Always had. Always would. Sheila hated shopping too; that's one reason they got along so well—used to get along so well, Katie corrected herself—back when they were best friends.

After swimming they met Aunt Margaret and Megan, both of them smiling. Katie stared. She scarcely recognized her cousin and not only because of the smile. Megan had on a new outfit: sandals, pants that came to just below her knees and a shirt that showed her belly button. All of it black, but with a burgundy trim to match her lips. One step toward color.

“Where shall we go for lunch?” Gram asked. “I want to treat my two granddaughters on their birthdays.”

Katie really felt like a hamburger and milkshake, but she glanced at Megan and decided not to provoke her. For once her cousin was in a good mood. “You decide,” she said. “I've never been to Humboldt before.” Once the words were out of her mouth, Katie wondered if she had made a huge mistake. What if Megan didn't want to eat? What if she chose a salad bar? Or worse, a drinking fountain?