It was a lie, Sheridan knew. But it was sort of a good lie.
'Can't we go tomorrow?' her mom asked. 'Tomorrow is Sunday.'
'I've got to read the books,' Sheridan said, looking to her grandmother for sympathy. 'I've got to do a book report on one of them.'
Missy Vankeuren laughed. She had been in a good mood ever since they had come to the house at the Eagle Mountain Club. 'She sounds like me in my school days.'
'Yes,' her mom said, looking with disapproval at her own mother. 'But it doesn't sound like Sheridan.'
Mom turned back to her.
'Sheridan, you know better than to wait until the last minute to do your homework,' her mom admonished as she took the dishes to the kitchen.
'Well, it's been pretty busy lately,' Sheridan said, indicating the move. That would instill a little guilt, Sheridan thought. Her mom knew Sheridan didn't really like the new 'vacation home,' as Missy called it.
'Just use your charm to get yourself out of it,' Missy said, winking at Sheridan. 'Bat your eyes and make up some good story. That's what I would do.' Then she smiled.
Sheridan's mom came back into the dining room.
'Well?' Sheridan asked her. 'Can we go get my books?' Persistence usually paid off.
'We'll see.' Her mom looked at her sternly.
'Does that mean yes?' Sheridan asked.
'It means, we'll see,' her mom answered. 'Now, scoot. You look like you could use a little nap.'
'I'm okay.'
'Are you feeling all right, honey? You're looking a little pale.'
'I'm okay,' Sheridan repeated, hopping down from the chair.
'She's fine,' Missy told her mom with a knowing smile.
Boy, Sheridan thought, is she ever wrong.
Which meant yes, Sheridan thought, as she huddled with Lucy under a blanket on the sofa to watch Saturday morning cartoons. A second 'we'll see' always meant yes.
Despite what she had told her mom, Sheridan wasn't feeling good. She stared blankly at the television set. She had not eaten much breakfast and her stomach hurt. Last night had been the worst night yet. In the unfamiliar bed it was almost as if that man was in it with her, he seemed so close. She could almost smell his breath. It was as if he were there watching her, waiting for her to say or do something she wasn't supposed to. Then that smile of his would turn into something else, something wicked, and in her imagination she could see him turn on his heel to hurt her family. And there was nothing she could do to stop him.
She had awful dreams. The dreams awakened her, and she had trouble getting back to sleep. In one dream, the worst, the man was in her room sitting on a chair near the foot of her bed. He was talking to her, telling her that he was her friend, but in his lap there was something round and large and wrapped in paper. Only this time, when she looked at the object, it was not the head of a kitten. It looked like Lucy's head. In the dream he began to unwrap it.
Another dream had her back in the barn, pinned again to the stall by the man as he breathed in her face and talked to her. He would do things to her mother, he had said. That he'd do things to the baby that was coming, too. You don't really want another brother or sister around here anyway, do you? he asked. / can tell, he said. You would like it if it were only you, wouldn't you? It made her feel bad that in the dream she had nodded her head yes. She hoped she didn't really feel that way. To prove it, she hugged Lucy, but Lucy wriggled free.
Sheridan had stayed awake after her dad had left her room, and had listened as he made coffee and shuffled around the house, gathering things to take with him. She had come close to telling him about the man and her secret pets when he was in her room. She had come so close. But remnants from her dreams had stopped her at the last second. After her dad had left the house, she stared at the unfamiliar ceiling and made a couple of decisions. When she made them, they felt right to her. So she wouldn't forget them in the morning, she got out of bed and wrote them down on a piece of paper with a crayon. The crumpled paper was in her pajama pocket now.
First, she would figure out a way to get back to the house so she could make sure the creatures were still there. She would feed them if she could. She prayed they would be all right.
Second, she would tell her dad everything. Something about the way he had put his hand on her face the night before made her feel that if anyone could protect her and the family, it was her dad.
Knowing what she planned to do made her feel a little better. Lucy leaned back against her, and they snuggled under the blanket. Lucy laughed at something that happened in the cartoon. Sheridan let her eyes close. Her eyes were burning.
This was too much for her. All of it. She would have to wait for her dad to come home. Then she would talk. It was time.
***
The first half mile of the canyon was easy going, even as the dark gray walls became sheer and the sky became no more than a ribbon of blue light straight overhead. There were Indian petroglyphs on the rocks, scenes of elk bristling with arrows, painted and feathered men on horseback, figures of warriors holding aloft the scalps and entire heads of other warriors. Near the petroglyphs, Joe found newer and much more stupid graphics written with a felt-tipped marker.
'Ote Keeley Sucks the Big One,' someone had scratched.
'Kyle Eats Shit,' said another.
