Who’s Billy?” I asked again, following you inside. In the
darkness of the barn your large frame, holding two big containers in each hand,
looked like a barren tree against the backdrop of unused farm equipment waiting
their turn in the field and empty stalls expecting animals as a lone poor
looking mare stared out at us over her stall door.
You had your back to me so I didn’t at first notice that you
stood in the same spot as before, when I had rushed into the barn. I remember
seeing you bent over a hole, and then close something that looked like a door,
before turning to grab your rifle and point it at me. So you have a
hide-a-hole. I wondered what secrets it held inside.
You tried to conceal it from me with your body while
covering the space with layers of hay with your foot. “You best get back up to the house now,” you
said, before turning to stare at me with those brown eyes that had scared me
when I first saw them. They still scared me, but now for a different reason.
You walked over to me and, putting one large containers under one arm, you grabbed me
by the shoulder. Turning me around easily, you led me back out the barn. “Gon’
now I got wurk to do,” you said, pushing me forward. “And so do you.”
“But you ain’t ever said who Billy was?”
“You’ll find out soon enough, now get,” you said, waiting
for me to move.
I frowned as I started to walk away, but turned back in time to
see you placing the containers in the bed of the truck before going back inside. What
were those for I wondered as I walked back to the house? But I was more
curious about the secrets that hide-a-hole held.
I hadn’t made it far before I heard the sound of the truck
engine roar to life. I stopped to look
back, but you came driving pass me fast as you headed to the road. “Get to
wurk,” you yelled. I watched for a moment, seeing only your dust cloud in the
air, wondering where you were going. When
I could no longer see any traces of you, I finally made my way back to the house.
Picking up my bag I went inside.
