“Let me help you out.” His dark eyes glowed so strangely, Hildemara almost forgot about the turtle hiding in the mud beneath her feet. Her stomach knotted in fear. “I won’t hurt you, little girl.” His voice turned silky.
Panting now, she felt the fear rising faster. His hand looked so big. He wiggled his fingers like the tongue of the turtle he’d told her about, beckoning her closer. He didn’t have calluses like Papa. His hands looked strong and smooth. She leaned away from him. “Careful. You’ll go under again.” He reminded her of the cat when it watched a gopher hole, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce. “What’s your name?”
Mama said never to be rude to neighbors. This must be Mr. Kimball, the man who bought Abrecan Macy’s place. Mama wasn’t afraid of neighbors. She talked to everybody. “Hildemara.”
“Hill-de-mara.” The man dragged out her name as though savoring it. “It’s a pretty name for a pretty little girl.”
Pretty? No one had ever called her pretty, not even Papa. She felt her face go hot. Mr. Kimball’s mouth tipped. Beads of sweat dripped down the sides of his face. His gaze shifted as he looked around furtively.
The silence suddenly bothered Hildie. She didn’t even hear any birds. She slid her foot cautiously along the bottom of the ditch, her breath catching every time something brushed against her ankles. When Mr. Kimball got to his feet, something inside her said,
Gasping in panic, Hildemara pushed her way through the last few feet of water to her side of the bank. Reaching up, she grasped a hunk of grass and pulled, legs wheeling.
A big splash sounded behind her.
Hildemara had just reached the top of the ditch when she felt a hand grasp her ankle and drag her back. Another hand grasped the back of her shirt. Buttons popped and her shirt came off in his hand as she thrashed. She flipped and flopped like a fish out of water, kicking her free leg and catching him hard on the nose. Uttering a grunt of pain, he let go.
Scrambling to her feet, Hildie ran. She looked back once and tumbled head over heels, sand flying in all directions. Scrambling up again, she didn’t look back this time. Her thin legs pumped up and down, breath coming in frantic sobs, and she raced along the ditch and headed toward the last row of grapes next to the house. The big bay tree loomed ahead.
Mama stood in the backyard, pinning up clothes on the line. Rikka sat on the floor of the washhouse, drawing pictures in the wet sand. Hildemara ran past Mama and up the stairs, yanked the screen door open, and let it slam behind her as she dove into her bedroom. She stepped on the lower bunk and threw herself onto the top one. Her whole body started to shake. Her teeth chattered. Pressing herself into the far corner against the wall, she pulled her legs up against her chest.
23
“Hildemara?” Mama stood in the bedroom doorway. “What’s wrong with you?” Her eyes flickered. “Where’s your shirt?”
The man had her shirt.
“Did you leave it at the ditch?”
Hildemara panted softly, looking past Mama, afraid he might be outside.
Mama glanced out the screen door. “Where are the boys?”
“Grand Junction.”
“What happened to your leg? How did you get those scratches?”
Hildemara didn’t feel anything, and she didn’t want to look. Mama came into the room and stepped up on the bottom bunk. “Come on down from there.”
“No.”
“Hildemara…”
“No!”
“What happened to you?” Mama spoke firmly this time, demanding an answer.
“He… he… was in the bamboo.”
“Who?”
Hildemara started to cry. “Mr. Kimball, I think. I don’t know.” When Mama reached for her, she screamed. “No! I’m not coming down.”
“Hildemara!” Mama held her tight in her arms though she struggled.
Clotilde appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong with Hildie?”
“Go get Rikka. She’s in the washhouse.”
“But-”
Clotilde ran out the screen door. It banged, making Hildemara jerk, then banged twice more, each time more softly. Mama lifted Hildemara down and carried her into the hallway.
“Come on, girls!” Clotilde hurried inside with Rikka. “Inside the house. Go on.” She locked the door behind them and told Clotilde and Rikka to play in the living room while she talked with Hildemara in the front bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed, Hildemara on her lap. “Now tell me what happened.”
Everything poured out of Hildie. She hiccuped sobs and stammered. “Are you mad at me? I don’t want to go back for my shirt. Please, Mama, don’t make me.”
“I don’t care about the shirt. You’re going to stay right here inside the house.” She sat Hildemara on the bed. She held Hildemara’s face firmly and looked into her eyes. “You listen to me now. That man is
“Yes, Mama.” She had never seen such a look in her mother’s eyes before. It frightened her all over again.
Mama let go of her and straightened. “Stay in the house.” She went out of the bedroom. Hildemara heard a drawer being yanked open. Trembling, she rushed to the doorway and saw Mama standing with a butcher knife in her hand. “You girls stay inside this house.”
“Mama!” Hildemara ran out of the bedroom. “Don’t go. He’s bigger than you.”
“He won’t be much longer. Lock the door!” The screen door slammed.
What if the man took the knife away and used it on Mama?
“No!” Hildemara yanked the screen door open. “Mama, come back!” Mama was running along the row of grapes. She disappeared around the end. “Papa!” Hildemara shouted.
“Ring the bell!” Clotilde stood behind her.
Hildemara grabbed the cord and pulled and pulled and pulled. The bell clanged loudly. Sobbing, Hildemara kept pulling. Cloe held Rikka by the shoulders, both pairs of blue eyes wide.
Papa came running across the yard. “What’s wrong?”
Hildemara ran down the steps. “Mama went that way! She has a butcher knife!
Papa didn’t wait to ask questions. He ran in the direction Hildemara pointed. “Marta!”
Bernie and Fritz, the others on their heels, came flying around the front of the house. “What’s happened?” Bernie panted. “We heard the bell!”
Hildemara sank onto the back steps, covered her head, and sobbed.
“Holy cow!” Tony laughed. “Little Sis is half-naked.”
Mortified, Hildemara jumped up and ran inside the house. Gulping sobs, she put her foot on the bottom bunk and dove into the top, pulling a blanket over her.
“Leave her alone!” Cloe shrieked, following after her. She climbed up onto the bunk with Hildie. Rikka climbed up, too. When Bernie came inside, Cloe yelled,
It seemed forever before Hildemara heard Bernie’s voice again. “I see Papa. Mama’s with him. What in the heck is Papa doing with a butcher knife?”
Hildie let out her breath, but stayed under the blanket. She heard Papa’s voice. “Tony, Wallie, Eddie, go on home.”
“Did we do something wrong, Mr. Waltert?”
