Invincible (World of Danger Book 1) Page 6
“Much obliged,” she mumbled and turned to climb into the wagon.
“Scharlie!” came the breathless call from Tom’s beautiful wife, Angie, as she raced out of the general store. “I have a letter for you!”
Scharlie kept her eyes averted from Tom as she reached down to take the small envelope that Angie held out to her. There was a little weight to the letter but not a return address. The postal mark, which came from northern Missouri, the only identifying mark.
“Thank you, Angie,” she said as she slipped it under the binding that held the books together.
She knew Angie and Tom waved at her, but she didn’t even spare them another glance as she headed out of town toward her little home located about a mile west. Her monthly trip to town always brought back the unpleasant memories of that long-ago summer when everything had changed. First her mother, then her face, and finally, how it made Harlow leave. Lots of things she could forget and forgive but her brother forever branded a killer wasn’t one of them. If she could dig up her dead stepfather and kill him all over again, she would. Not for herself but definitely for Harlow.
A low rumble rolled across the ground and the wind picked up slightly. Scharlie looked skyward and saw low-hanging clouds that seemed to be turning an ugly color that she didn’t like. She flicked the horses’ reigns, urging them to move a bit faster since she preferred not to be stuck in the downpour when it hit. The long day at the schoolhouse plus the ride into town had left her fatigued, and all she longed to do that night was read before going to sleep early.
As her horse and cart trotted down the dirt road that led to her cozy little house, Scharlie noticed a shape lying in her path. As she neared, she pulled on the reigns, coming to a stop. The wind whipped furiously at her clothes and hat as she applied the break and then stepped down onto the road.
It was a dead doe already in the early stages of rigor mortis. The blacks of the eyes had started to glaze over to white. It hadn’t been there as she gone to town and she wondered if it had fallen off someone’s wagon as they transported it somewhere else. Scharlie walked around the poor creature and then abruptly stopped, the breath swooshing from her lungs. The doe’s face had been slashed, from the high forehead, over the snout and into the lip.
Scharlie put a hand up to her own scar as her stomach rolled. The wound looked eerily similar to the one on her face. She spun around, looking in every direction, but for what she didn’t know. The only thing out of the ordinary was the fact that everything was silent. No birds chirped, no crickets sounded. Only the wind whipping through the trees could be heard and it made her uncomfortable. She felt too vulnerable out in the open since the road wound along the edge of the woods. Hurrying back to her cart, she quickly resumed her ride home, maneuvering around the carcass and flicking the reins harder than usual.
If the doe had been left for her to find, had it been a practical joke? If so, who would be so cruel? Scharlie tried to think if any of the parents had held any objections to her taking over the schoolhouse, but no one came to mind. When she had applied for the position of teaching in the small community the people had all agreed.
So, if the deer wasn’t a joke, was it a warning? Only one evil person from her past came to mind, and he currently resided six feet under in the town cemetery.
When Scharlie reached her house she placed the books inside before running to unhitch the horse. She secured him and her cow in the small barn before running to close up the chicken coop. Though she had a lot of land, she only had the necessary animals to maintain living in the small house that had belonged to her parents. She and Harlow had been born here, grown up here, and she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
The heavens broke as she hurried inside, barely sprinkling her with a smattering of rain. Scharlie breathed a sigh of relief and then proceeded to secure her little home. The unease from earlier lingered though she didn’t know why. It wasn’t like anything happened. Still, she couldn’t help but feel that the doe’s scared face wasn’t accidental.
Southeast Missouri lay on the border of tornado alley, but close enough to take the storms seriously. After securing the windows and door, she grabbed a traveling bag and stuffed it with a blanket, a change of clothes, a flask of water and some dried jerky. Then she peeled back the rug that hid the storm cellar door in the kitchen and opened it. She hadn’t been down there in a few weeks and a musty smell wafted upward. She lit a lamp and walked down the ten steps to place her traveling bag on the shelves. Next, she moved the new children’s books as well because after taking four months to get them she’d be damned if she’d lose them to the weather.
She blew out the lamp and left it there, using the light streaming from the open hatch to guide her way back up. While the wind howled and the rain battered her tin roof, Scharlie settled in for the night. She took off her confining dress, unbraided her long dark hair, and curled up on her bed in her shift, pulling the covers up to her chin.
As she lay in the dark, trying to fall asleep, the day came back drifting through her mind. More specifically, the ride home from town. When she’d been young there had been the occasional taunt from other children about the scar on her face and the fact that her brother was branded a murderer. She’d dealt with their snide remarks and cruel jokes, keeping to herself and letting the years pass by. Those kids had grown up and some had even apologized for their behavior while others refused to look at her hideous face. But there wasn’t one person she could think of who would slash the deer’s face to match her own and then place the dead animal in an area she would deliberately find it. Was there a message behind the macabre spectacle? A threat? Or just a mere coincidence?
She didn’t believe in coincidences and all the rationale debates in her mind couldn’t block the fact that someone had intended to shock her. For good or bad was yet to be determined.
Rain pelted the roof, luring her into dreamland, so she embraced the fall and succumbed to sleep.
End of sample chapter
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