Whisper Town Read Free Page A

ought to at least pick one.” Jeb cupped his hand behind Ida May’s head, moving her ahead of him on the path.
    “More fun this way. You get more stuff and all anyway.”
    “It’s not about how much stuff you can get out of a boy, Angel,” said Jeb.
    “I’ll give one of the rings back after I decide which one I like the best,” said Angel.
    “It’s not like picking out a new dress. A body has to study the situation, keep an eye on the person, and see how they treat
     you.”
    “If that’s true, you ought to stop trying to win Miss Coulter over then. She treats you like an old shoe.”
    “Fern is a complicated woman. Jewelry and flowers and such don’t mean a thing to her. She wants to know more important things,
     like what a body’s been reading or how much of your time do you give in helping out a neighbor in need.”
    “Every woman likes flowers and jewelry, I don’t care what she tells you. She’s still a girl and girls like to be given stuff.
     Men who don’t know that are up the creek, far as I’m concerned.”
    Willie told Jeb, “I like Miss Coulter. She knows how to hunt and fish and I never see her walking around bragging about who
     give her what. I think you’re wrong, Angel.”
    “Neither of you know nothing about women.” Angel dropped the chain into her blouse.
    “Dub, how come Miss Coulter thinks you’re an old shoe?” asked Ida May.
    “Fern can hunt and fish? Who told you that, Willie Boy?” asked Jeb.
    “She tells it to her class. When some of the boys are having trouble with math, she uses her fishing line and asks things
     like, ‘If Willie’s trout is ten yards from him but is swimming a foot every five seconds, how far will he have to throw his
     line to reach that trout in fifteen seconds?’”
    “Fern never said she fished,” said Jeb.
    Angel blew out a breath. “That don’t mean nothing. Miss Coulter was raised with boys.” She said it like Fern had been raised
     with wolves.
    “Fern’s not average. But she takes a long time to get to know.” He figured Fern had a reason for never bringing it up. “You
     take this whole fishing-and-hunting matter. Not once has she told me that she does either one. Leastways, not that I can recall.
     She’s never shown up in the deer woods, has she? I’ll grant you, she doesn’t brag about all of her abilities. She’s uncommon.”
    “News flash, Jeb Nubey. She doesn’t tell who she doesn’t like,” said Angel.
    “She made Bobby Gray give up his hunting rifle once when he brought it to school.” Willie directed his comments to Jeb. “But
     then she opened the barrel and told him he should clean his gun. After school she give it back to him and showed him how to
     carry it.”
    A gun blast reverberated, tree to tree, through Millwood Hollow.
    Ida May latched onto Jeb’s arm.
    “Someone’s out hunting possums, Littlest,” said Jeb.
    The ratchet of toads boomed out of the woods, but no other identifiable sound.
    “Let’s get inside,” said Jeb. “Some fool teenager out there might mistake us for night prey and I don’t want to be his next
     kill.”
    “I don’t believe no stories about the apple orchards,” said Willie. “People tell lies all the time.”
    Ida May asked what stories. Angel guided her around the church and onto the parsonage lawn. The Welbys made for the porch.
     Jeb locked them all inside for the night, checking out the window twice. He shut off the lights.
    A rumor gave no man cause to waste good electricity.

2
    Y
ELLOW-WHITE LIGHTS MOVED THROUGH THE marsh at the edge of White Oak Lake, boys out frog gigging most likely. The lights undulated in the fog that stretched all
     the way down the stream that emptied out beneath the bridge at Marvelous Crossing. A torchlight moved down the stream and
     into the woods.
    A bird called out in the night, a trilling song that made the darkness easeful. A goose flapped down, landing on the stream’s
     shore, followed by tufted goslings that pursued the