Becoming A Witch (Raya Book 1)

Chapter 25

     Shane was nearly fifteen when Papa died. That was a year ago today. Ann was out gathering wildflowers to place at his cross right next to Mama's in the family plot out back. Shane watched her zig zag in the pasture finding the few flowers that the cows hadn't eaten yet. She would stop now and again and pluck one to add to the growing bunch in her tiny hand.

      Shane shook his head. What was he gonna do with her? The silly woman was always trying to civilize him, and now that Papa wasn't around to keep her off his back, she seemed to attack with a vengeance.

      Every morning, she'd insist that he take a bath before greeting the new day. What a waste of time, and water he thought. He was far to busy to be splashing about in a cold metal tub every morning.

      Every evening, she insisted they read after dinner. Shane didn't need to learn all those fancy letters. Who was he supposed to read to anyway? The cows?

      Shane shook his head. He continued on with his chores. There was a fence post that had rotted out, and he needed to replace it before a coyote decided to stop by for dinner. Or worse yet, the bumbling beasts found it and wondered off on their own.

     With the small buckboard loaded down with all the supplies he needed, Shane hitched up Quicksilver and hiked up onto his saddle. He shot one last glance over at Ann and made his way to the broken fence post.

... 

     The sun was low in the sky by the time he was finished with the broken fence. He watched the dance of reds oranges and purples moving low in the sky as he and Quicksilver sauntered back across the sea of grass. Before he made it back to the house, he veered off to see if he might be able to find Penelope. She was fat with a calf and he was sure she'd give birth any day now. He would have to bring her close to the house while the calf was on the tit so someone else didn't get the idea to try and steal it. He hoped it would be a girl, it seemed that they always needed more milking cows, especially now that Miss Ann decided to start making cheese for the market a couple towns over.

     Shane made quite the ruckus as he pulled along the well used buckboard behind his horse along the uneven field. The wheels were a little loose and made squeaks and groans. Shane wasn't bothered by the noise, just so long as they stayed attached. Once the reds and oranges began to fade on the horizon, Shane gave up, and made his way back to the house.

     With the buckboard in its place, and Quicksilver brushed and fed, Shane trudged up to the house. He felt a sense of unease come over him when he noticed how dark it was through the window. Usually Ann was sitting in the wide living room reading in the high backed chair by lamplight while she waited for him to come in for dinner.

     Shane shrugged it off and walked up the three steps to the porch. He kicked the dirt off of his shoes at the top step and crossed the porch to the front door. When he opened the door, another wave of dread washed over him. Normally there would be the scent of dinner greeting him, but instead of the lingering smell of freshly baked bread to accentuate the roast, or whatever else the woman had prepared for them, Shane smelled only stale air.

     "Miss Ann?" he called out, with no answer. Mayhap the day was too much for her, Shane thought. After all, Shane knew that she had a tender spot for Papa, just as Papa did for her. Mayhap the stress of the day sent her to bed early.

     Shane thought nothing more on the subject, and went into the kitchen to find something to ease the dull ache in his belly. He heard a wet noise, like the sounds the pigs make when they are eating from the troughs. This time when that sense of trepidation came over him, Shane reached for the knife he had strapped to his hip. He left his rifle propped up against the wall next to the front door.