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A deep bark, the booming kind that only larger dogs can make, sounded once, and then the dog sat perfectly still again on his haunches. David stood; his hand jutted out, pointing toward the field. “Brin’ one back!” he ordered, and in an instant the dog bounded off the front porch, rocketing past Thais and me, and into the field. Soon, it became a gray spot amid the yellow-green grass, and then disappeared from sight over the first distant hill.
“Trick’ll bring back somethin’,” David said with a confident nod. “Give ‘im a little while.”
The hinges on the screen door creaked as Emily pulled it open. “Come on in,” she invited with the backward tilt of her head. “I’ll introduce ya’s.”
My guard shot up—if there were more people here besides David and Emily, then that meant Thais and I were outnumbered.
Emily disappeared inside the house, the screen door shutting softly behind her, while David stood on the porch waiting for us, a look of mild question on his deeply-lined face.
“Are ya comin’ in?”
Not entirely conscious of the reaction, I took hold of Thais’ hand and went to move her behind me slowly; my free hand went toward my back where my gun was tucked in my pants.
The screen door opened and two young women stepped out.
“This ‘ere is Shannon,” David said, pointing at the scowling blonde. “She’s my daughter. And this ‘ere”—he pointed at the other girl with long, dark hair pulled into a ponytail—“is Emily’s daughter, Rachel—only good thin’ she got outta that marriage with James Bass.”
Dark-haired Rachel looked me over with a flirtatious sweep of her eyes. She wore a blouse decorated by a smattering of blue and yellow flowers; it lay open, the top four buttons left undone, making her breasts as inviting as the smile she wore.
“Nice to meet you,” she said looking only at me.
I slowly moved my hand away from my gun.
The other girl turned and went back into the house, skipping the pleasantries.
“She don’ like strangers much,” David said about his daughter, Shannon.
“I can’t say I blame her,” I admitted.
Rachel’s dark eyes continued to move over me.
Thais stepped up.
“I’m Thais,” she introduced. “And this is Atticus.”
“Is there anyone else here we should know about?” I insisted.
“Not at the moment,” David said. He opened the screen door. “Shannon’s boyfriend, Lance, is out huntin’; prolly won’ be back ‘til dark. Come on in and have some breakfast.” He gestured at us and then slipped inside the house.
Rachel waited on the porch; that smile of hers I knew meant so much more than kindness, never faltered.
26
THAIS & (ATTICUS)
The house was warm with heat from the kitchen, stuffy even, but the smell of fried chicken in the air made the heat worth it. Atticus and I made our way through the living room where paintings hung on the walls; a cozy recliner sat near the open window; an area rug dressed the hardwood floor. There was a fireplace with a rock mantle and knick-knacks placed atop it; there were even magazines spread out in a half-moon atop a coffee table, and a decorative glass bowl of potpourri shavings.
A fat orange cat sat in the window behind the sofa, pressed against the screen; a tall bookshelf was perched in one corner next to the cat, chock full of mostly hardbacks with their paper sleeves missing. It seemed these people somehow went on living the way they did before The Fall, perpetually oblivious to the world beyond their forty-five acres. I was awed by it. (I didn’t trust it. All it did was further scratch that Hansel and Gretel itch.)
“Come an’ eat,” Rachel urged, batting her dark eyes painted with dark makeup. “My momma is a great cook.” She flitted into the kitchen, passing beneath an arched entrance.
Atticus turned. “I don’t feel comfortable about this,” he breathed in a low voice, “but you need to eat—we’ll stay long enough to get full, maybe get a few things to take with us, and then we’re gone, all right?”
I nodded. “I still think they’re harmless,” I said. “And I’m not the only one of us who needs to eat, Atticus,” I pointed out.
Everyone, minus Sour Shannon, was in the kitchen sitting around the table when we entered the room. Shannon strode by curtly with a plate balanced on her hand and a glass of water in the other, to eat in the living room instead.
“Take a seat anywhere,” David offered, gesturing toward the empty chairs situated neatly around the table littered with strategically-placed bowls of food: scrambled eggs, fried chicken, a stack of pancakes, two jars of jelly, and a pear-shaped bowl of gravy speckled with pepper.
