Something Suspicious in Sask Read Free Page B

Why did he study Aunt Margaret as if asking permission to continue?
    â€œWho-is-Scott?” Katie repeated.
    Cliff stuck his cap back on and pulled it low on his forehead. His face was flushed from heat that hung over the field like a thick quilt. Slowly his eyes moved to Katie. “Scott used to help out around here, but we had to let him go.”
    â€œWhy?”
    Cliff hesitated. Again his eyes glanced over to Aunt Margaret. She nodded, almost imperceptibly.
    Cliff’s gaze shifted to the ground where he studied the toe of his workboot. When he answered, it was in a half-whisper, as if he hated to speak badly of anyone. “Your aunt caught him stealing.”
    Finally Aunt Margaret spoke up. “Scott’s a young fellow, who just graduated from high school,” she said. “I hired him to help out with the seeding in June.” She glanced over Katie’s shoulder. Frown lines appeared on her forehead and her lips tightened. “He seemed like a nice enough boy. I couldn’t believe he would steal from us.”
    Katie turned to see what her aunt was looking at. Thin as a fence post and topped by a tangle of hair that blended perfectly with the hay, Megan stepped carefully in her pink flip-flops, following the path of flattened hay made by the truck tires. Her bone-thin arms flapped uselessly at her sides like two broken wings.
    Cliff also watched Megan’s progress toward the farmhouse. “I never trusted that boy,” he said quietly. “And now I catch him hanging around the farm at all hours of the day and night. I swear he’s trying to get even.”
    â€œWith who? For what?” Katie paused. When Cliff didn’t reply she asked, “Do you think he sneaked into the hay field and left that hunk of wire because you fired him? What good would that do him?”
    â€œNone at all,” Aunt Margaret said. “I’m sure it was just an accident, nothing to do with Scott.”
    â€œYeah, and I guess the fire that burned down the feed shed two days ago wasn’t his fault either?” asked Cliff.
    â€œIt was an accident,” Aunt Margaret insisted.
    â€œMegan burned off the flax straw, the fire wasn’t quite out, and the wind did the rest.”
    â€œI told you I saw…,” Cliff started, but Aunt Margaret cut him off.
    â€œLet’s all hop in the truck and head for the house.
    I don’t know about all of you, but I’m thirsty enough to drink a gallon of water and I need to think about getting dinner ready.”
    Cliff drove so fast, bumping over the uneven field, that Katie had to hold on tight to the side of the truck box. Bouncing along, she managed to lean over the side and face forward, into the wind, where Megan still walked in the track.
    The truck raced closer and closer, as if Cliff would run Megan down. Couldn’t she hear? Why didn’t she step out of the way? Why didn’t Cliff slow down? It was like a game of chicken. And Cliff was the one to give in. He slowed and pulled around Megan to stop beside her. He leaned out the driver’s side window with a friendly smile. “Hey, lady,” he said, “want a ride?”
    Megan turned and stood uncertainly, looking at all the faces that looked back at her. Cliff, Gram and GJ from inside the cab. Katie, Rusty and her own mother from the box behind. Without bothering to reply, Megan stepped onto the back bumper and swung over the tailgate into the truck box where she settled in the opposite corner to her mother. Aunt Margaret leaned forward to pat her daughter’s bent knee.
    Megan retreated further into the corner. She stared across the fields toward the distant line of the horizon. The truck started up again, more slowly this time.
    Fifteen minutes later they were all gathered around a long rectangular table in the old-fashioned farmhouse kitchen, a tall frosty glass of ice-cold lemonade in front of each person. Except Megan. The teenager leaned