She Walks in Shadows Read Online Free Page B

pungent and tart with a hint of curdled sweetness. It prickled her skin.
    Between the rows, Nate turned and whispered, “There’s no one here.”
    She could have told him so, but Nate had to know for himself before he’d turn around. Had to go all the way to the state border before he admitted that maybe he had missed the turn for Salt Creek Road. That was just his way. He liked being careful; she liked that about him.
    “Maybe it was something on the road,” she said, so he would let them get back to the house. The thought of the road and the real world beyond the gravel driveway had reminded her that the children were alone. She had dreams about them growing up that way — little feral masters of the house, sunken and sullen and riding the dogs like wolves. “Maybe somebody blew his tire.”
    Nate seemed to be chewing the whole interior of his mouth. “That wasn’t a tire, Abby.”
    “You can look again in the daytime,” she tried.
    “I’m gonna call up that son-of-a-bitch Pierce in the daytime, is what I’m gonna do,” said Nate. “Teach him if he thinks he can intimidate me.”
    When they slunk back to the house, the boys were standing on the porch, the dogs at their heels. Zeke was trying to project his authority with his Little League baseball bat; Merrill was wiping his eyes. Teddy asked if a comet had crashed. Nate gave him a little push to the head and said, “Don’t get too excited.” Underneath the porch, the cats’ diamond eyes were shining.

    Their harvest was surprisingly healthy that summer — bigger and greener than any others since they’d moved out of their south Lincoln bungalow three years ago and decided to make a more wholesome life in the country. Nate didn’t have the nutrient content analysis back yet, but when he took bites off the blond-haired cob, he said he knew. Abigail thought it tasted off — sour, like the air in the field since the crash that wasn’t a crash — but Nate said it needed processing and when was the last time she’d won any farming awards? Well, he was right about that.
    And it was good to see Nate happy. She had never allowed herself to doubt him — before she married him she had asked herself, Do I trust this man to lead this family? and she had decided the answer was yes, come hell or tarnation — but it was still good to get good news.
    “What kind of Frankenstein corn are you growing now, Gardner?” said Ambrose Pierce when they ran into him outside Horwell’s General Store, sipping a Dr. Pepper. “I thought you were all about that hippie organic tofu living and here you are, pumping your crop with steroids.”
    “You’re the only one growing Frankenstein GMO corn,” Nate said, puffing out his chest. “Some of us haven’t forgotten what it means to be a real farmer, growing real food for a real family.” Ambrose wasn’t married. Nate had suggested he was gay, but he was not. “Guess you Big Ag types wouldn’t recognize real corn if it rose up and kicked you in the ass.”
    Ambrose made a guffawing sound. “Aren’t you from Omaha?”
    Nate shifted the bags in his hand and went to the truck and didn’t answer. But Ambrose caught Abigail by the wrist before she could follow and said to her, “Abby, something’s off about that corn. I don’t like it. I don’t know what he’s been doing, but you gotta get that shit cleared by the FDA.” A good wife would have stiffly told him he was just jealous, just sorry that he couldn’t quite yet eat up Nate’s land, but she must not have been a good wife. Nate unlocked the doors and shouted, “Abby! Let’s go!” The “go” had a punchy desperation to it, probably because that was the moment he saw Ambrose touching her hand.
    So, Nate was already in a bad mood when they started the drive home. Zeke and Teddy had been late meeting them at the truck, and Merrill had knocked down a chocolate display at Horwell’s. Abigail understood. They were restless children. Sure, they had all the