Foxfire Light Read Free Page B

missed my turn.” In her opinion, there was a definite distinction between the two.
    He pushed the billed cap to the back of his head and propped his hands on his hips to shrug away the difference. “Lost or missed yore turn, you can call a cat anything you like, but it’s still a cat. Where is it you are headed?”
    â€œI was supposed to turn on Lake-road number—”
    He interrupted her with a wave of his hand. “The number don’t mean nothin’ to me. I’ve been livin’ here long before any of these roads had numbers on ’em. I wouldn’t know one from the other. Just tell me who you want to see and I’ll tell ya’ how to get there.”
    â€œI’m trying to find my uncle. You probably wouldn’t know him,” she insisted tightly. “He owns a cabin here.”
    â€œYore uncle gotta name?”
    â€œYes, he has a name, Reece Morgan,” she retorted, no longer trying to contain her irritation. “If you would just tell me—”
    â€œIs he that fella from California that bought the Wilder cabin?” His gaze narrowed as he interrupted her, studying her closely as if sizing her up. “The one I heard was sweet on the Parmelee widow?”
    Joanna was taken back by his information. She didn’t know who her uncle had bought thecabin from and she’d never heard of any woman named Parmelee. “He is from California,” she admitted. “Los Angeles.”
    â€œGo back the way ya’ come and take the second gravel road on yore left. Every time the road branches, stay to the left. Ya’ll run right into it,” he stated with a certainty she found difficult to question.
    â€œHow far is it?” she asked instead.
    â€œAs the crow flies, it’s probably no more than four miles, but you’ll have to go ’bout eleven mountain miles ’fore you get there.”
    As far as she was concerned, he was talking in riddles. “What is the difference between mountain miles and regular miles?” she demanded, too hot and tired to be amused by his picturesque phrases.
    â€œA mountain mile measures the same as a regular mile. It jest takes longer to travel over it ’cause it does a lot of snakin’ and twistin’.” He grinned and bobbed his head. “Ya’ll get the idea.”
    Joanna turned back to her car, muttering under her breath. “I already have.”
    The man had disappeared behind the building by the time Joanna drove away from the pumps and onto the road, going back the way she came. After she had made the turn onto the second gravel road on the left-hand side, she noticed the small signboard with the faded numbers of the lake road. It was no wonder she had missed it the first time.
    Her car kicked up a fine, powdery dust thatdrifted in through the opened windows. Joanna could feel it caking her sweat-dampened face. The only alternative was to roll up the windows. She decided she preferred the dust to the stifling heat of a closed car.
    The graveled road had started out smooth enough, at least no rougher than she had expected. But within minutes after she had noticed the big ranch house sprawled on the knob of a hill, the condition of the road rapidly deteriorated. The little car bounced and bumped its way along the rough track, not wide enough to straddle the ruts.
    She was forced to slow down to keep from having the teeth jolted out of her head. The trees crowded close to the road making it seem more narrow than it actually was. Their thick canopy of leaves gave shade from the sun but the thick growth also stopped the breeze and Joanna was going so slowly that the car generated little wind of its own. Her uncle had to be out of his mind to come here!
    Old Jessie Bates was a wheelwright, among a handful of other things. Linc wasn’t sure it was fair to call Jessie Bates “old” either. He doubted if the bony man was much past forty but everyone had called