Stolen Away Read Online Free Page B

hoarded
Farmer
s’
Almanac
s like they were gold. He’d gone through every issue and couldn’t find a hotter September or October on record.
    “I don’t think it’s going to rain,” I said miserably.
    She patted my cheek. “Don’t you worry on it. Rain comes when it wants to.” I’d tried telling my Environmental Science teacher that once, but he’d disagreed. I wanted to see him try and convince my grandmother otherwise. I had to grin at the image. She’d decimate him. “There’s my girl,” she said approvingly, not knowing what I was smiling at. “Go on and say hello to the old bastard.”
    “I’m telling Granddad you’re calling him names again,” I teased.
    She snorted. Old Bastard was the name of their goat. He was the oldest goat on the planet. He just refused to die. He was half-blind and he head-butted anything that moved, even if he did miss his target half the time. But he loved Granddad.
    “Bring him a glass,” Nanna said, handing me another jelly jar of lemonade. I crossed the rut worn into the grass from countless daily walks to the barn. Old Bastard was the only animal they had left, except for Apple Betty, some chickens, and the barn cats.
    I could hear Granddad cussing him. “Get outside, you lazy thing,” he said.
    Old Bastard stayed where he was, chewing on one of the doors. The barn was dark, the air thick with dust and the smell of hay. I’d spent countless summer afternoons in the barn loft, eating Popsicles and reading novels about Anne Boleyn and Eleanor of Aquitaine. My parents were stilltrying to convince me to go to university and be a history teacher like Mom, but I just wanted to write historical novels, like Phillipa Gregory and Victoria Holt, and run the farm.
    “Hi, Granddad.” I handed him the glass. At the sound of my voice, Old Bastard made a weird goat sound and charged me. I leaped out of the way, and he got distracted by one of the fences.
    Granddad shook his head. “He never did take a shine to you.” He wiped his face with a bandana. “Loopy old thing.”
    I kissed his leathery cheek. His eyes were squintier than usual, and he smelled like cigars. “You’ve been smoking,” I accused.
    He shot a guilty glance at the porch of the house, as if Nanna could hear us. “Be a good girl and keep a secret.” He slipped me a dollar. He’d been bribing me since I was three years old.
    I grinned. “Okay, but you know those are bad for you.”
    He wagged a finger. “Smoking is bad for
you
. I’m an old man.” He wiped his face again. “Hard summer, pumpkin. Hard summer.”
    I hugged him, feeling useless and sad for him. “I know, Granddad.”
    “Main well up and quit on us yesterday,” he said. “Turned on the hose and nothing came out.”
    I winced. Wells only ran dry when it was so hot that even the groundwater running under the fields dropped too low for the pump to grab. They had two other wells, but the mainone watered the crops and the orchards. Granddad looked about a hundred years old. It was alarming.
    He must have caught the worry radiating off me. “We’ll get through. We always do. Just have to call a water witch to find us a new well. Trouble is, she’s overbooked.” He flashed his usual toothy grin. “Go on, Jo-bug, before the Old Bastard makes a run at you again.”
    Last time he’d caught me, I had a bruise on my butt and couldn’t sit comfortably for a week. I went around the other side of the farm fence, wisely keeping it between us. “You’re sure?”
    “Your grandmother just snuck off to the orchard,” he tattled. “You know she’s not supposed to climb those ladders alone.”
    I was crossing the lane toward the fruit orchards when Devin’s car rumbled up the driveway, chased by a huge cloud of dust. I blinked at him and Eloise when they climbed out.
    “Dev, she got you up at this hour?” They were both decidedly
not
morning people. “Blackmail? Death threats?”
    “I am an awesome friend.” Devin yawned.
    “He really