Coming of Winter

by Tom Threadgill

  Paula scribbled a note. “Got it. Everything else going to be same out front?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Pumpkins, hay bales, gourds, that kind of stuff. I was thinking if we could find some cheap wagons, we’d throw a few out there for the parents to haul around their kids.”

  “I’ll check, but don’t count on it. I think they’re fairly expensive. Yard sales are probably our best bet. Oh, and the pumpkins are ordered and should be here within a week.”

  “Good. Already had a bunch of folks asking when we’re opening.”

  “The maze ready?”

  “Pretty near. Still need to put a few ghosts out, hire a few more guides, stuff like that. Won’t take more than a day or two. The concession stand could use a coat of paint, but I suppose it’ll make it another season without it.”

  “Uh-huh. I believe that’s the same thing you said last year. I’ll have the boys throw on some old clothes and spruce it up. What about the hayride?”

  “Picking up the horses tomorrow. We’ll do a few trial runs to make sure they’ll work out. Wouldn’t mind handling them myself every day, but that’s not likely. Too much else going on.”

  “You can play with your toys this winter after things settle down. See about getting somebody to do it for you. The boys don’t know anything about handling horses, and until they do, I don’t want them hauling around a wagon full of people.”

  Mason rolled his eyes. “Yes, dear. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Opening next week then?”

  “I’ll be ready if you will. Just got to put the signs out on the road and let the bank know to build a bigger vault to hold all the money.”

  Paula planted her hands on her hips. “Sure. We’ll be lucky to clear enough to pay for those horses.”

  He leaned over and kissed her. “Keep the faith, baby.”

  “The scarecrows all done?”

  “Skelcrows. Yep, done as they’re gonna be. Next time you’re over that way, stop in the thrift shop and get a few extra shirts. If we get much rain, might have to replace some of their clothes.”

  “Mason, are you sure it’s a good idea? Putting them out in the open like that?”

  He lightly dragged his fingers up and down her back. “We’re not having this conversation again this year.”

  “I know, but it seems like the more of them you put out, the more likely it is—”

  “Nobody’s looking. And if they are, we’ll follow the plan. We both know that sooner or later, my part in this is going to end, right? What’s done is done, and we can’t change it. All we can do is enjoy what we have. No matter what, you and the boys are protected.”

  “Doesn’t mean I don’t worry about it.”

  He laughed and mussed her hair. “You wouldn’t be the woman I married if you didn’t. Now, best get to work. Both of us. This farm’s not going to run itself. And if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll double-check the old barn. Make sure everything’s ready, just in case.”

  She kissed his chest. “You don’t have to do that ... but I wouldn’t mind it if you did.”

  He let his fingers dance on her back again. “That’s my girl.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Day three of the pumpkin patch festivities, and things were going off without a hitch. Borrowing the horses from the neighbor proved to be a huge hit on the hayride, although the realism could be a bit smelly at times. Paula had already ordered a second truckload of pumpkins, and the weather had turned breezy and brisk with no rain in the forecast.

  The sun crept toward the west, and in another three hours it would be dark enough to start charging extra for the corn maze. A few families meandered through it now, but the real crowds came out once the sun set. That’s when the fun began.

  The guides dressed up as zombies or some other creature of the night and wandered in their assigned areas. Mason had strict rules regarding their behavior and had fired the Palmer kid on the first night for getting too close to a guest and then mouthing off about it. The safety of everyone on the farm was paramount. These were his friends and neighbors. Sure, he wanted—needed—to make money, but not at the expense of damaging relationships in the community.

  He patted his pocket to make sure his cell phone was there and climbed onto his John Deere lawn tractor. Last year he’d run out of gas in the middle of the maze and had to walk back to the new barn for more. Not a mistake he wanted to repeat. A box of AAA batteries and other supplies sat in the tow-behind trailer. The LEDs in the skulls needed to be replaced, and no one touched the skelcrows except him or, on occasion, Paula. Rule number one.

  The maze’s entrance sign was starting to look a little worse for the wear. He’d have the boys touch it up a bit tomorrow. Next to the sign was an overhead photo of the maze taken by a crop duster, blown up to poster size for easier viewing. Each year, the design became more involved as Mason and the boys progressed in their skills. This Halloween, they’d opted for a clown’s head, complete with bulbous nose and wild hair. Enter through the left ear, eventually exit through the right.

  Ten yards in came the first decision for guests. Left or right? Mason could run through it blindfolded, but he had to check out all the dead ends and twists anyway. Skelcrows, pumpkins, ghosts, and all manner of eerie things were spread throughout. Even on the tractor, it would take him a good hour and a half to get through the whole thing with all the stops he had to make.

  The corn was dry and dark, and the roughness of the brown stalks rubbing against each other in the wind only heightened the spookiness. The decorations seemed to be in good shape, save one pumpkin that someone, probably a teenager, had decided to bust. Boys will be boys.

  As he approached the clown’s right eye, a flash of red off to the left caught his attention. He climbed off the tractor and walked back to check it out. An Atlanta Braves baseball cap. Poor Sarah must’ve lost it last night. He picked up the hat, tossed it in the trailer, and motored off to return it to its proper location just around the next turn. Even with the polyurethane and plastic, Mason didn’t like leaving the skulls exposed to the sun for too long. They needed to last a lifetime.

  He rounded the corner and smiled at—

  Nothing.

  Sarah was gone.

  Mason’s scalp tingled and ice flowed through his chest. He sat, staring and unbelieving, at the wooden cross before him. Her jeans had fallen to the ground. The unstuffed shirt still hung on the crossbeam and fluttered in the breeze. The dull gray duct tape atop the 2x2 pointed upward as if Sarah had somehow gone there. Hay bales had been dragged over and stacked, forming steps to what remained of the skelcrow.

  Paula needed to know. He pulled the phone from his pocket, paused, and replaced it. Not yet. Don’t panic. Sarah’s here somewhere. Just a prank. That’s it. Someone hid her in the corn. Probably the same boy who busted the pumpkin.

  His body shuddered as a chill raced down his spine. He stepped off the John Deere and brushed his palm across his forehead. She’s here. She has to be here.

  He patrolled the clown eye’s perimeter, searching for any sign that the corn had been disturbed. Nothing. She could have been tossed back in there, though. A sudden wave of heat exploded from his chest into his face. Thrown. Like trash. Unwanted. Who could do such a thing to his Sarah? He’d find out, and when he did ...

  “Hi, Mr. Miller!”

  Mason swung around. The Kelly family. Dad, Mom, and Amy. He swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Well, hello there, Amy. Are you having fun?”

  “Yeah.”

  Mrs. Kelly whispered to her daughter, and the little girl frowned before speaking again.

  “I mean, yessir.”

  “I’m glad. Are you showing your mom and dad the way through the maze?”

  “I’m trying, but it’s hard and my legs hurt. Daddy said he’d carry me in a minute.”

  Amy’s dad rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  Mason glanced back at the lonely cross. “You don’t have too much farther to go.”
r />   Mrs. Kelly nodded toward the vacant wooden structure. “Problem?”

  Mason rocked on his feet, one hand behind his back clenched into a fist. “Naw. Just doing some maintenance. Changing batteries, things like that.”

  “We won’t keep you then,” she said. “And thank you for doing this every year. I know the kids really enjoy it.”

  “Yes, ma’am. My pleasure.” His heart’s pounding reverberated through his ears.

  Amy turned to her dad and stretched her arms upward. “Carry me, Daddy.”

  Mr. Kelly picked up his daughter and slung her over his shoulder. “Okay, Munchkin. Which way next?”

  Mason waited until he could no longer hear them and moved into the corn. He made several passes, each time moving the arc farther out, doing his best not to disturb the stalks. No one else had traipsed through here. He was sure of that. No sign of Sarah.

  Who?

  Why?

  Calm. Keep it together. He dialed Paula and gave her the news. Not good. Not good at all.

  Tidy up the area, she’d said. Put the clothes back together and stuff them with hay. Make it look like it was supposed to be that way. They’d figure it out. Just stay calm.

  Easier said than done. When he caught whoever’d taken his Sarah, he’d show them what it meant to steal from Mason Miller.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Mason couldn’t stop moving. Kitchen sink to living room sofa to bathroom. He’d already thrown up twice. Sarah was out there.

  Alone.

  Paula patted the couch. “Honey, will you please sit down?”

  “What are we going to do?”

  She walked to him and squeezed his hands in hers. “You’re shaking, baby. Let me get you something that’ll help you relax.”

  He jerked his hands away. “No. No drugs. I’ve got to focus. Think.” “It’s just some kids playing a prank. We’ll find her. I promise. But we’ve got to keep going like nothing’s happened. Mason, do you hear me? Like nothing’s happened.”

  He stretched and yawned violently, forcing as much tension as possible from his body. “How do we do that? What if the police have her?”

  Paula pointed at his recliner. “Sit.”

  “Baby, I don’t—”

  “Sit. Now. I mean it.”

  He trudged to the worn leather chair and sank into it, the seat’s padding long ago having conformed to his body. Paula reached down and pulled the lever to raise the footrest, then moved behind him.

  “Close your eyes.” She rubbed her fingers across his temples, massaging tiny circles one way, then the other. “We’ll get through this. We always do.”

  Mason grabbed her hand. “We always do? Nothing like this has happened. It’s bad, Paula. Bad.”

  “Yeah, I know it is. We’ll find her, baby. I promise.”

  He took a series of deep breaths, holding each before slowly blowing out. “You say that, but you can’t know. Not for sure. She’s out there somewhere. No family around her. Wishing she was home.”

  “Well, let’s think about this for a minute. We can be sure the police don’t have it, I mean, her.”

  “We can?”

  “Well, they couldn’t have taken her without a warrant, right? And if someone had given Sarah to them, don’t you think they’d have been here by now?”

  He turned to look at her. “Probably.”

  “So isn’t it more likely some kids took her?”

  “Maybe. I know some of the boys around here got no respect for other folks’ property.”

  Paula kissed the top of his head. “Oh, honey. Has it been that long since you were a boy? I’m sure you never did anything like that around Halloween, now did you?”

  He chuckled. “Did I ever tell you about the time me and Johnny Orsteen snuck into old man Smithson’s barn?”

  She leaned close to his ear. “At least a dozen times.”

  “I can’t just sit around waiting, Paula.”

  “I know you can’t. We’ll find her, but we need to be smart about it. First things first, though. What are we going to do to protect the others?”

  Mason stood, placed his hands on his hips, and arched his back. The chair might be comfortable, but its back support had become sorely lacking over the years. “I’ll get with the guides and station one of them next to each skelcrow. Let them know one is missing and to keep their eyes open.”

  “How about dangling some cash in front of them? Tell everyone there’s a reward for the safe return of the, um, decoration.”

  “Good idea. Wouldn’t surprise me if they know who took it. Kids like to brag about stuff like that. And we’ve got a good group this year. Except for that ...”

  “What is it, Mason?”

  He stared off into space, his mind churning. “The Palmer kid. What’s his name? Lanny.”

  “What about him?”

  “I fired him, remember? He got too close to some of the customers, girls from the high school, then smarted off to me when I talked to him about it.”

  “And you think he took Sarah?”

  “Wouldn’t put it past him, that’s for sure.”

  “Well, maybe he did, and maybe he didn’t. The important thing is to act like it’s no big deal. Show too much concern, and people will start to wonder. Can’t have that now, can we? Every family has secrets and ours are, well, a little more dangerous than others, I suppose.”

  “I know that. Everything I do is for this family and our farm. I’m not going to risk anything.”

  She smiled at him. “You’d better not. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Find somebody better, probably.”

  Mason wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. “Love you, baby.”

  She glanced up, grinned, and rolled her eyes. “Love you, too, though for the life of me I can’t imagine why.”

  He’d get through the night. Keep a smile on his face. Thank the customers for coming. Make sure no one else went missing. But tomorrow morning he’d take a little drive.

  Lanny Palmer needed a stern talking-to.

  And maybe something more.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  The Palmer’s house sat alone on a back road about three miles from Mason’s farm. It was a school morning, so the boy would be heading to the end of the road to catch the bus soon. Mason parked at the intersection and waited. Paula had wrapped up a hot sausage and biscuit to give Lanny as a peace offering. She knew boys.

  Just talk. That’s the plan. Tell him he can have his job back as long as he behaves. The boy’s fourteen, probably going on fifteen soon. He needs to learn respect. Follow the rules. If his own daddy couldn’t teach him that, it was Mason’s duty to step up and do the neighborly thing.

  A foggy mist hung low over the fields along the dirt road. Likely some deer moving around, though he didn’t see any. Another couple of months, though, it’d be a different story. Hunting season would open again.

  After a few minutes, Mason spotted the boy heading his way. He got out of his truck, leaned against the hood, and waved. Lanny slowed for a moment before returning the wave and walking toward the vehicle.

  “Mornin’, Lanny. Brought you some breakfast. Paula fixed it up fresh a bit ago.”

  The boy glanced around before taking the biscuit and biting into it. “Thanks, Mr. Miller.”

  Mason crossed his arms. “Sure. Listen, I’ve been thinking, and I’m real sorry about how things happened back at the maze. Now, don’t get me wrong here. You should’ve never got that close to those people, and you sure shouldn’t have mouthed off to me. But Paula reminded me what I was like when I was your age and, well, let’s just say I was reminded of a few times I stepped out of line too.”

  Lanny cocked his head and started to respond, then looked down at the ground without speaking.

  Mason patted him on the shoulder. “Tell you what. How about we both chalk it up as a lesson learned? I could sure use some more help back at the maze if you’re willing.”

  The boy shrugged. “I
dunno. Maybe, I guess.”

  “Of course, you’d have to follow the rules. Think you can do that?”

  Lanny nodded slightly.

  “Well then. Consider yourself rehired. Can you be there tonight? Always big crowds on Fridays and we can use all the help we can get.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be there, Mr. Miller.”

  Mason smiled. “Great. I’m glad we cleared that up. Don’t want any bad blood between us. You’re a good kid, Lanny.”

  The boy shuffled his feet, and his lips turned up slightly. “Thanks, Mr. Miller.”

  “I mean every word of it. Start with a clean slate, I say. Now, is there anything you want to tell me?”

  “Uh, I’m sorry?”

  “For?”

  “Not following the rules?”

  “And?”

  “And ... what else?”

  Mason twisted his head as tension built in his neck. “Well, I thought you might know something about one of our, um, decorations going missing?”

  Lanny licked his lips, and his eyes shifted left-right. “I don’t know anything about that, Mr. Miller.”

  “No? Are you sure?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mason took a deep breath. Stay calm. Don’t scare the boy. “Do the right thing, Lanny. I won’t be mad. Just tell me where she is.”

  The youth scrunched his face and took a step back. “Who?”

  “No more games, Lanny. Where is Sarah?”

  “I don’t know anybody named Sarah, Mr. Miller. Honest.”

  Mason placed a hand on each of the boy’s shoulders. “I want you to listen to me very carefully, Lanny. Where. Is. Sarah?”

  The young man’s eyes widened. “I told you. I don’t know—”

  “Enough! Tell you what. Hop in and I’ll take you to school. We can talk about it on the way.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I should let my mom know or something?”

  Mason shrugged. “Up to you. I’ve got one more biscuit in the truck, though. Split it with you?”