Part 4 (1/2)

Chapter Five.

Twilight slashes the western sky when I spot our house. In the dark, the dusty white farmhouse stands like a lone beacon. As the tires crunch onto our driveway, a kerosene lamp blazes to life in the upstairs. I kill the engine. Arn's already swinging out when I reach his door to collect him.

The screen door thwacks as my mama barrels out, her nightgown flowing behind her in the moonlight.

”Riley,” she cries, her hands flying up to her mouth. Then her eyes land on my stepfather. ”Oh G.o.d.”

She runs through the yard barefoot. Gravel tears at her feet, but she doesn't bat an eye. She throws her arms around us, sobbing. She smells like home.

The door bangs again and Ethan stumbles out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He blinks, and then runs down the steps, smas.h.i.+ng into us, almost knocking everyone over.

”Dad!” Then he turns his oval face to me. ”Riley, you brought him home. I knew you would.”

Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, but my hands are too full of my family to wipe them away.

Slowly we make our way toward the house, touching, hugging. Ethan asks a million questions which no one answers. Auntie's on the porch, clutching her shawl around her. She shakes her head at me as we pa.s.s. ”Stubborn girl.” She grips my arms and smiles.

My mama takes my spot under Arn and leads him to the stairs. When they get to the base of the steps, she turns and throws her arms around me again. ”Thank you for bringing him home,” she whispers and kisses my cheek. They limp up the stairs.

Ethan's cold fingers find mine. ”Caught a rabbit while you were gone.”

I lead him down the hall to our bedroom. ”That's fantastic, little bud. Did you kill it?”

He drops his eyes. ”I couldn't.”

”What'd you do with him?” I drag my body down the dark hallway. So tired.

Ethan swings our arms back and forth lightly. ”He's in a cage in the barn. I named him Superman.”

I chuckle. ”Superman, huh? Now we really can't eat him.”

”I wanna keep him.”

”We'll see.”

I fall into bed with my clothes on. My last image is Ethan curling into his blanket, his dark hair falling over his sleepy eyes. Man, it's good to be home.

I wake to a sharp beam of sun dancing on my eyelids. I squint into the midday sun. Ethan usually has me up at the crack of dawn with his chatter. Either I slept through it, or he thought I needed the rest. Boy, is he right. My body aches like I've taken a bad fall down a rocky hill. The goose egg where my head hit the jail wall smarts when I probe it. My mouth tastes like a dirt road. Yet, the voices down the hall are laughing. All worth it.

I drag my body out of bed and down the hall to the kitchen. Arn sits at the table with a fresh bandage wrapped around his bare chest. His eye's still swollen shut and his jaw looks like someone put it on crooked, but his color has returned. He spoons weak broth into his mouth. His hand trembles when the spoon meets his lips, but he steadies it easily enough.

My mama strides around the kitchen, pounding fresh dough on the counter, chopping angled carrots. Her burned face is set in a calm contentment. Auntie knits in the chair opposite Arn. She's the first one to notice me leaning in the doorway.

”Up, I see,” she says, her needles clicking. ”Thought you'd sleep the day away.”

”Hush, Bell. She needed her sleep.” My mother floats over and hugs me. ”Morning, angel. Hungry?”

I haven't eaten since the canned beans I scarfed on the road yesterday afternoon. My stomach growls. ”Yeah. Is it lunch time?”

My mama drops dough b.a.l.l.s on a tray. ”We're pulling out all the stops. I'm making Auntie's famous bread, we got fried rabbit, and I found an apple in the back of the pantry.”

”Rabbit?” I look for Ethan. ”We ain't eating Superman, are we?”

She shakes her head, but her smile wilts. ”I promised Ethan we wouldn't hurt Superman, but he's pretty upset we can't take him. I told him he has a few days till the move, but he's out sulking in the barn. Maybe you could talk to him.”

I don't understand. ”What?”

”I said he's sulking in the barn. When you're done eating, could you talk to him?”

”Not that. The other part. The part about us moving.”

She stops slicing carrots into little orange circles. ”Riley, you didn't think we could stay here after what happened? We'll never be able to trade in town again. As soon as Arn's well, we're leaving.”

I stare at my mama with my mouth open. This had not crossed my mind. Of course she's right. We can't trade in town, but moving means traipsing through dangerous territory. Last time, it was nearly impossible to find a house with a working well outside of town walls. We'll risk being attacked, running out of gas, or starving to death. No wonder Ethan's in the barn sulking.

Arn raises his eyes to mine. The bruising under his left eye is a yellow green. He goes back to spooning the soup into his mouth. Auntie says nothing, but the furious clicking of her knitting needles speaks for her.

My mama offers me a calming smile. ”It'll be fine, darling, as long as we're together.”

As long as we're together. It usually brings me comfort. Today it falls flat.

”I'm going in the barn,” I say, heading for the back door.

”What about your lunch?” she calls.

”I lost my appet.i.te.” It's a childish thing to say, but I can't help myself. I am jogging when I hit the back porch.

The barn's familiar animal scent greets me as I enter. Bounty moos deep in her throat. I detour towards her and stroke the soft fur along her nose.

”Hey, girl. Thanks for watching them while I was gone.” She flips her ears back and forth, dislodging a few flies that buzz up and spiral around to her back. We won't be able to take Bounty. Arn will butcher her and the pigs before we leave. G.o.d, this day just gets worse. I turn away from her big brown eyes.

Ethan's squatting on the dirt floor next to the rabbit cage he's constructed out of old chicken wire. He's pa.s.sing bits of carrot through the bars. Superman is a scrawny brown hare with long ears and a little cotton ball tail. He's too skinny to make a good dinner, anyway. I sit in the hay next to Ethan, my arms around my knees. My brother slides another carrot top through the wire into Superman's awaiting teeth.

Finally, Ethan looks up at me. ”Are you gonna kill him?” he whispers.

I reel back. ”What? No! I'm not going to kill your pet.”

Ethan shrugs. ”Mom says I can't keep him when we move, so I thought maybe she sent you out to kill him.”

I shake my head. ”She promised. You and your pal got a couple more days. Then we'll send him back to his bunny family.”

Ethan slips his fingers through the mesh cage and strokes Superman's soft sides. The jackrabbit is surprisingly calm at my brother's touch.

”He bite?” I ask.

Ethan shakes his head. ”Not me. When I got him out of the snare, he was bucking a lot and scratched my arm, but I calmed him down.”