It was late October and Indian summer. The warm autumn breeze was stirring softly as they stood knee deep in the rain-swollen current of Hidden Creek, a refreshing haven for Rita and Billy. The cool muck felt good to Rita's aching, blistered feet as she watched Billy skip rocks across the water. She was amazed at his agility, swift and precise was each graceful toss, Papa would have been pleased.
"Rita, you won't believe it!" Billy cried. His adolescent voice cracked with excitement. "I just tied Papa's record. Eleven skips!" His face positively beamed.
"I'd have to see it to believe it," Rita baited, fully expecting the indignant look she received. Billy turned away, his lanky frame bent as his childish excitement departed. "Don't be silly, knucklehead," Rita cooed, feeling sorry she had teased him so. "You know I'm only kidding."
The boy faced her, smiling, telling her with his expression that she was forgiven. Returning his smile she watched him as he bent over, his nose just inches above the murky water as he searched for a suitable rock to skip.
After awhile Billy grew tired of skipping rocks and went ashore. He found some sticks at the creek's edge and began a new adventure. Over the sound of his pretending to be a world-famous javelin thrower Rita heard an indistinct sound coming from behind her, up and over the embankment. Wanting to investigate, yet not willing to endanger Billy, she had to figure out a way to lose him.
"Billy," she made her way toward him, "we both know you're fast— but, what about long distances? We're about a mile from home; I'll bet you a quarter you can't do it in less than fifteen minutes."
"Really?" he breathed, astonished. "A whole quarter?"
"No, a half quarter, they mint them now—don't be silly! Here's my watch. It's four-fifteen now. Let's see if you can do it." Knowing Billy's competitive nature she was sure he'd take her up on the bet. She was right.
"Okay!" He grabbed her watch and splashed across the water. Rita watched him until he disappeared into the pines. Her heart raced as she listened for the sound again. In her search for its origination she became like a predator seeking out its prey.
The creek was more like a gully with tawny grass, thick in spots, along the embankment. Slowly Rita climbed, straining to hear, hoping she was going in the right direction. As she neared its source the sound became more distinct. It was moaning, and it became louder, rhythmical almost. Rita stopped, entranced. Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw. She could feel the strength seeping out of her body and knew if she didn't move quickly, she would probably faint right there. Turning soundlessly she ran, not caring where she was going. Hot tears spilled forth, blurring her vision, making the wind feel cool against her face. She would never know how long or far she ran. What stopped her was a vision of Billy standing in the yard, alone. It was with reluctance she turned back for Billy, knowing she could never leave him.
As she expected, Billy was standing at the end of the drive patiently waiting for her.
"I'll take that quarter you owe me now!" he hollered.
"You'll have to wait; I don't have it on me." Rita said with a heavy heart when she met up with him. "My watch, please."
"Yeah, you'll get it when ya give me my quarter," Billy half-kidded as he handed it to her. "What took you so long?"
Again, the act Rita had witnessed earlier was full-blown in her mind. "I went scouting for deer and lost track of time," she lied, hoping he would drop the subject. "Hey, Billy, let's get upstairs before Daddy Joe—" Her words ceased mid-sentence as she felt a prickling sensation along the back of her neck. The look on Billy's face confirmed what she already knew.
