Trickster's Point by Krueger William Kent

Author:Krueger, William Kent [Krueger, William Kent]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Published: 2012-08-21T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

Cork and Jubal left the rocks and followed the road, which dropped into the valley in a series of lazy switchbacks. All those curves worried Cork. He hoped Willie’s assurance that he could handle the Jeep hadn’t been just cavalier or wishful thinking.

There was a white rail fence around the orchards, badly in need of whitewash, rotted in many places, completely collapsed in others. Cork and Jubal stepped over a fallen section and slipped among the rows of fruit trees. There were buds but no blossoms yet, and Cork couldn’t tell what kind of fruit they might bear. He and Jubal moved quickly until they came to the place where the trees gave way to the yard. They paused, and Cork studied the house. It was a classic, old ranch house, two stories, with a long front porch and a widow’s walk. White curtains framed the windows, but beyond that, the interior was invisible. Cork thought it would be best to slip in through the back door. He tapped Jubal’s arm and signaled that way, but Jubal’s eyes weren’t on Cork. They were riveted to the front of the house. When Cork looked there, he saw what had captured his friend’s attention. Winona was crossing the porch and descending the front steps.

There was no mistaking her. Her hair was shorter, and she seemed thinner, but even from fifty yards away, it was easy to see that she was every bit as graceful and lovely as Cork remembered.

She crossed the yard and entered the barn.

Without waiting for Cork, Jubal began to lope among the trees, following a course that would circle to the back of the barn. Cork was right on his heels. When the barn was between them and the house, they broke from cover. They raced to a back door, which had an old latch. Jubal lifted the latch, and when he swung the door wide, a bright corridor of sunlight cut through the dark of the barn’s interior. Jubal stepped into that sunlit corridor, and his shadow, huge and black and menacing, fell on the dirt before him.

“Oh!” came a small cry from inside.

And then Cork was in the barn, too, standing next to Jubal and looking into the beautiful, stupefied face of Winona Crane.

Even after all the years, Cork found himself responding much as he had when he was a kid. Something melted in him, then formed into a solid longing. Winona Crane was the first girl he’d ever really loved, and although what he felt now was different, shaped by his age and experience, it was also very familiar.

But Winona wasn’t even looking at Cork. She stared at Jubal, stared with an open mouth, stared as if she were seeing a ghost, or a dream, something that had to be unreal. Her eyes were almond-colored with a glint of fire from the sun. Her hair was black, but dull-looking, in need of a wash. She wore an old flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to

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