Windwood Farm (Taryn's Camera) Read Online Free Page A

she felt before was nothing but the result of a long day of driving because she was damned if she was going to look like a fool in front of him. The scent that accosted her on her first visit was already less potent than before. But when they stepped across the doorway, she was still surprised. Nothing. Not even a chill passed over her skin. Maybe it had just been an illusion , she told herself.
    “This here was the dining room,” Reagan continued. “ My daddy was going to use it as a living area himself. Must’ve been easier to heat than the living room and the parlor. I don’t know. There was an old couch in here. We already hauled it away.”
    “ Was he related to the other owner? Your dad, I mean?”
    “Oh , no. He bought it at auction. And that guy did, too. None of us knew Robert Bowen, the one who lived here longest.”
    “Did Robert live here alone?” The personal background was probably more helpful to Taryn than any other research she could have done. Sure, she had her design books back in her room and a history of the area, but it was the people who made the house and figuring out how they lived put it all into perspective.
    Reagan shook his head and went on into the adjoining room. “No. Well, at the end he did. Died of a heart attack or something or other. In the beginning he was married. She died around five years into the marriage. One of those old-timey diseases that nobody gets anymore. I can’t remember what it’s called. Sorry. Don’t know much about her. They had a daughter but she died, too. That I do know. After that, he lived alone.”
    “How did he make his money? And what did he do through the Depression? Or was this area not hit very hard?”
    “Oh, this area was hit. Kentucky was hit just as hard as anyplace else, though the smaller towns didn’t get all of them riots and stuff cause they was fairly small to begin with and employment had always been bad around here. But it got hit. No, he made his money from tobacco, same as a lot of people here. Even in a Depression, people gotta smoke.”
    So he was a farmer , Taryn made a mental note. And this wasn’t a grand house inside, although it was large, so he probably did at least some of the work himself. She wondered when the wife and daughter died. Local records would show that, if she decided it was important enough to know. It might not be. She had a lot to work with already. She was already starting to get to know the house and too much more might muddle things up. But sometimes her curiosity got the best of her. It was funny how stepping through the doors of a place could instantly start her wheels turning.
    The living room was large as well. She hadn’t noticed before. She’d been too caught up in trying to figure out what was going on. It was the front room, and a glance at the boarded up door gave Taryn faint chills. She brushed them off by telling herself the boards simply blocked out the natural light and made the room unusually dark. That was enough to give anyone the creeps.
    Reagan, as if reading her mind, chuckled. “Guess it does make the place spooky. Sorry it’s so dark in here. I’ll get those taken down. Won’t be able to take any pictures if you can barely see your hand in front of your face. I read your website. I know you like to take pictures first,” he said at her bemused expression.
    “That’s okay,” she shrugged. “I don’t mind being cyber stalked.”
    “This here was the living room. Nothing left in here anymore except the fireplaces. And some old furniture, of course. When Dad died, we took most of the good furniture, especially from these front rooms. Sold anything we could. Nothing really in here, though. Never was. Seems like that’s as far as they got though because as you saw from the kitchen and as you’ll see from the upstairs, everything’s still left up there from when Robert and his family lived here in the 20s and 30s. Interesting thing about this room is the two staircases.