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Mother was
canning fruit. This time it was apricots or maybe peaches….whatever.
It was some yellow fruit and some of it was done and already in Mason
jars, cooling. Big pots of boiling water were on the stove and the sink
was full of freshly washed fruit.
Sighing,
Jill started for the back door, “Can I ride Cricket down to the spring
so she can eat some green grass?” Riding ancient old Cricket the pony
would be better than doing nothing at all, or worse yet helping to can
fruit.
“Yes, but
be back by lunchtime,” Mother said, “so you can have a bath before we go
to town for your allergy injection at Dr. Wynters. By the way it’s ‘may
I,’ not ‘can I.”
“I will,”
Jill answered but thought to herself ‘What an awful day this is. Not
only do I get left behind on the camping trip to the mountains, I have
to have a bath, a grammar lesson AND go get a shot.’ She headed toward
the saddle shed to get Cricket’s bridle.
She walked
a few steps and stopped, listening to an unusual noise. Jill thought
she heard a thumping, banging sound coming from somewhere….where? She
paused and listened again but there was only silence. Hearing nothing
more, she walked to the hot wooden shed with the tin roof which served
as a tack room. Usually there were many saddles, bridles and blankets
but today only the pony Cricket’s tack remained. It was another
reminder that the rest of the ranch horses and gear were in the
mountains where she wanted to be and it angered her all over again. She
slammed the door and began walking toward Cricket’s pasture behind the
machine shed.
Just then
the distant noise began again, only this time the thumping wasn’t the
only sound. There was a high pitched scream, like a tiny animal in
trouble….what could it be? |