Crops and Robbers (14 page)

I raised my eyebrows.

Bo laughed. “That’s pretty morbid, but she’s been talking about it for years, since Dad died. It feels like a natural conversation to have.”

“I inherited my farm from my aunt and uncle,” I said with a shrug.

“I think I knew that. Stanley and Ruth Robins, right?”

“Yes.”

“My mom might have known them. We’ll ask her.”

Bo led the way down the driveway and into the house. The inside was just as charming as the outside but in different ways. It was sparkling clean and full of antique furniture. The entryway was big, with an old coatrack next to an old wardrobe that was next to an old table. Everything was dark wood, but the wardrobe had white ceramic knobs. The floor was more polished dark wood.

“Have a seat in there.” Bo nodded toward the room to our left. It was full of more antique furniture. A sofa and a couple chairs were upholstered in navy blue plush fabric. They all had matching ornamentally carved dark wood frames. Even though the furniture was antique, there was nothing fragile or frilly about it. It looked welcoming and as though you could plop down on it without having to be careful.

The polished wood floors continued into the room but were covered with large rugs that blended with the navy blue upholstery. There were also paintings filling the walls. They were portrayals of people working in fields or on some other farm-related job. One was of a man fixing a tractor that looked just like the tractor by the barn. Bo caught my intrigued stares.

“My mom painted every single one of those. It’s what she does.”

“It’s how she makes a living?” I said.

“Oh, no, she doesn’t take money for them. She either hangs them up around here or gives them away. It’s just . . . well, what she does.”

“They’re fantastic.” They were. The colors were bright, and the subjects in the paintings were almost, though not quite, realistic, their edges softer and rounder than reality would allow.

“Thank you. Have a seat. I’ll go round her up.” Bo turned to make his way down a wide hallway that I guessed led to a kitchen, and I set a course for the tractor painting.

Only an instant later, I was halted in my tracks.

A high-pitched scream sounded from the direction Bo had gone.

Under normal circumstances, I would have run toward the shrill scream to see what was wrong and determine if I could help whoever was in distress.

But considering my life had recently been full of less-than-normal circumstances, such as finding a dead body in my barn, I reacted like I was scared—because that’s exactly what I was: scared like I had never been scared before.

Once I mentally found my feet again, I ran to the front door. I
wanted out of that house.

I heard more noises after the scream: voices, things banging, thuds, and then finally Bo’s voice saying, “Becca—it’s okay. My mom’s cornered a rat. Go on out to the front if you want. I’ll come get you after I get the filthy creature.”

“Oh, hello, you’re Becca Robins. Nice to meet you, sweetie. Sorry about the scream. The stupid animal scared the livin’ grits out of me.”

Bo and his mother stood at the end of the hallway. She peered over his shoulder, a big, friendly smile on her face.

She reminded me of my mother, before my mother quit perming her hair. Miriam Stafford had a head full of long curls that had gone gray somewhere along the way. The gray worked, though. She was tall and skinny, and I couldn’t tell what color her eyes were, but they were smiling with the rest of her face. She wore a long, sleeveless denim dress that somehow made her gray hair look fashionable.

My heart was pounding in my ears and my throat hurt. For an instant I thought I might faint, but the sight of Miriam acted like a tether to bring me back to earth. I took my hand off the door, nodded, and made some sort of unintelligible noise that seemed to signal Bo and Miriam that it was okay to go back to their rat trapping.

I took a couple deep breaths and decided to see what I could do to help with the rodent hunt.

“Bo, no, not like that. I don’t want to hurt the poor thing. Let’s just try to lasso it and then throw it outside.”

“Mom, it’s a rat. The longer we let it live, the longer it will have to contribute to making baby rats.”

“Don’t be silly. You know I don’t believe in killing any creatures except for spiders. They’re the devil’s creation, I tell you. Now back off and let me at it.”

I reached the kitchen door just as Miriam elbowed her much larger son out of her way. She held a frying pan in one hand and a spatula in the other.

The kitchen matched what I’d seen of the rest of the house: it was full of antiques. But I suspected this was an illusion. The icebox was probably some sort of retrofit, hiding a modern refrigerator-freezer behind the wood-door front and pull handles. The huge stove, which looked like the kind that required burning wood for heat, was, I guessed, also faux old-fashioned. I couldn’t imagine that anyone would still really use such archaic appliances when the newer ones made life so much easier.

A large stainless steel island sat in the middle of the space, its modernness contrasting with all the old. On the other side of the island, Miriam stood in front of Bo, her weapons at the ready and her sights set on the creature that must have been cowering against the wall by the sink.

“Can I help?” I said, though I stayed on my side of the island.

I didn’t like rodents. I didn’t have to deal with them often, but whenever I did, my reaction was automatic and similar to Miriam’s: I screamed. However, I usually didn’t stick around long enough to arm myself. My first instinct was to run.

I’d never come upon a rat, though, just the occasional mouse that left the premises by the time I returned to where I’d found it. I prepped myself before I leaned over the stainless island. I didn’t want to add to the commotion with another scream.

I said something similar to “Uuugh” when I saw the monster.

It wasn’t cowering. If anything it was emanating attitude. The black rat sat up slightly on its hind legs and looked at Miriam with the beadiest of beady eyes. It worked its claws as if it couldn’t wait to pounce, and it twitched its nose as if to say, “Bring it on, lady.”

“You okay, Becca?” Bo said.

“Fine. As long as I’ve lived in the country, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a rat quite that big,” I said. I swallowed another exclamation.

“We’ve got a creek running on the other side of the barn. They love the water, blasted creatures. I’ve not seen one this big before, but I’ve seen my share,” Miriam said with a chuckle. She was enjoying the hunt.

I wanted to tell her that I agreed with Bo and it should be killed, but I didn’t want to make an enemy of her before we got a chance to talk about Nobel.

“Come on, you,” Miriam said. “Just scoot yourself right on out of there. Bo, open the door. I’m going to move in. Becca, stand over there. If it runs that way, it’ll run right into you. Then it’ll turn the other way, probably for the door. Once it runs out of here, close the door immediately, Bo. You hear?”

“I hear,” he said. He rolled his eyes my direction.

Miriam’s prediction of how the rat would behave didn’t inspire a lot of confidence in me, but I moved to where she’d pointed anyway. If it ran toward me, I doubted it would turn and go the other way. It would most likely either run up my leg or veer around me and head for the room with all the wonderful paintings.

I hoped it would run around me. If it did run up my leg, everyone would be treated to a scream worse than Miriam’s.

“Everyone in their positions?” Miriam asked.

“Uh-huh,” Bo and I said. Both of us sounded unsure.

“All right, here I go.” Miriam stepped forward as she extended the pan and the spatula. I was intrigued as to how she planned to use the two items on the rat if they weren’t meant to kill it or at least knock it silly.

From my new angle, I couldn’t see the rat, but I could sense what it was doing by the looks on Bo’s face. His expression went from concerned to surprised. I braced myself.

With the speed of a freight train, the creature darted from the corner and headed directly at me. It wasn’t going to go around. It was either going to go up my leg or knock me over and drag me by my hair to wherever it kept its hostages.

If I’d had to answer the question “What would you do if a large rat ran right at you?” I would not have been able to answer correctly. This was one of those moments that you don’t know what you’ll do until you have to do it.

“Stop,” I yelled. I put my hand out in the halt position. I was slightly bent over, with my other hand resting on my hip. “Stop!”

The rat skidded to a stop. It sat up on its hind legs again and looked at me. It needed only a black leather jacket and a pack of cigarettes to complete the image of toughness it portrayed. I was intimidated, but I also knew that if I let it see or smell my fear, it would win. Whatever the result of its winning, I knew that it would be bad and ugly for me.

I didn’t look up at Bo and Miriam, but I knew they were still as they watched the showdown.

I took a tentative step toward the rat.

Whisker twitch.

“Bo, the door is open, right?” I said as I kept my eyes on the rat.

“Wide.”

“Get ready,” I said.

“Oh, we’re ready, sweetie,” Miriam said quietly.

I had nothing, no weapon, no tool, nothing. There was nothing in my reach either. I would have to do whatever I was going to do on my own. Mine would be a lonely battle.

The rat was beginning to look impatient. It wanted whatever was going to happen, to happen. It was ready, too.

I took a deep breath. I couldn’t believe it hadn’t run. I took another step forward, but this time I stepped hard and loudly.

“Get on out of here,” I said. I sounded like a mean version of my grandmother shooing Allison and me out of her kitchen when we were kids.

The rat blinked and flicked a claw and looked taken aback, but didn’t move.

“I mean it!” I stepped again, with enough force to rattle dishes. I continued moving directly toward it. If it didn’t move, I would stomp on it. I hoped it died with the first stomp. I didn’t want to have to make a bigger production out of it than necessary or horrify Miriam any more than I had to.

Suddenly, it moved left and then right and then back and then forward.

But I was gifted with small, quick feet. I was able to block any ideas it might have had about running down the hall. We were both moving too quickly for it to consider running up my leg.

For what seemed like a few long minutes but was probably only about thirty seconds, the rat and I danced through the kitchen. I kept moving it backward toward the door, and it kept trying to figure out how to get past me.

Finally, it gave me one last glance that I imagined was full of respect before it turned to dash out of the wide-open door. Bo slammed it immediately.

I was out of breath but very pleased with myself.

“Well, I’ll be,” Bo said as he looked at me.

“Becca, sweetie, you’re a darn fine rat whisperer,” Miriam said.

“Your momma and I caused our fair share of trouble in our day.
Oh, the stories I could tell, but probably shouldn’t. Let’s just say, they might not have solved the mystery of who put the green Jell-O powder in the swimming pool to protest the no-bikini rule, but your momma and I know exactly who did the deed,” Miriam said. She took a swig of her extra-hot mug of coffee. She could gulp hot coffee like it was a profession. I was still blowing into my cup.

“You and Mom?” I said.

“I’ll never tell.” Miriam looked thoughtful a moment. “Anyway, I heard about her being in jail. Your mother didn’t kill that awful woman, Becca. You don’t need to worry. They’ll figure out who the real killer is.”