Wishmakers Read Online Free

roomin' house, of sorts.” He grinned. “I ain't thinkin' you want to stay there.”
    “I knew the company owned a house, but I thought Mr. Thorn and his family used it.”
    “It's a big house. Must have five or six rooms.”
    “Five or six…rooms?” She hoped she sounded suitably impressed.
    “Yeah.” Tom grinned proudly. “Real fine house.”
    “Mr. MacMadden—ah—Tom, Mr. Thorn knew of my wishes to arrive as a guest, an employee, or simply as an observer without revealing my identity. I fail to understand why he took you into his confidence.”
    “He done it 'cause I've known him since he was a tad and 'cause I knew your pa and 'cause I know a hell of a lot more about this company and how it started than anybody else 'round here. I saw your picture once, and I'd a known who you was the minute I clapped eyes on you.
    That's why he told me and sent me to fetch you. Far as anybody else knows, you're Maggie Anderson come to help out for a while.”
    “Margaret Anderson,” she corrected. As the station wagon once again jostled them over deep ruts, Margaret commented, “The road's very rough.”
    “It gets smoothed out once in a while. Gets hard use. Wait 'til you're on it after the whistle blows. Can't see for the dust the young hellions raise goin' to town to get a beer.”
    Margaret swiveled to look at the brick-red dust swirling behind them as they headed along the rough trail. There was a fine film of it over everything in the car, including herself. She could even feel it grit between her teeth when she brought them together. She was certainly going to need a bath before she met her…partner.
    “We've come quite a way from town. Is it much farther?”
    “Not much.”
    “Do you live out here, too?”
    “I got a little place down the road a ways.”
    “But, you do work for the company?”
    “I don't work for nobody but me, Tom MacMadden.”
    “Oh. Then I'll certainly owe you something for picking me up.”
    He swung his head around, started to say something, then clamped his mouth shut and looked back to the road. Presently he said, “No trouble. I was glad to do it for Chip.”
    Suddenly Margaret was as nervous as if she were approaching the guillotine. She fervently wished for the confidence she'd felt while she was planning the trip.
    What would she say to this man? She would be crowded into a house of five or six rooms with him and his family! Would his wife resent her? Maybe she should have stayed at the rooming house! She was on the verge of telling Tom to turn the car around and head back to town when signs of habitation again appeared.
    A house was set in a clearing some distance from the main road. What sloped from the back of the house to the river below couldn't really be called a lawn, but it was devoid of trees and brush. The structure was a simple uncluttered design of plain lumber that had apparently been stained brown but that was now faded and weathered. It had a long, wide porch facing the road and a big square chimney on the side. There were no shrubs, and the grass in front of the house had a very trampled look. The drive continued past the house toward a long, low garage that housed several vehicles. A path led to the river and a wooden jetty where an outboard motorboat was moored. Two other small houses to the north completed the “estate.”
    Tom pulled up to the side of the house and stopped. “This is it,” he announced.
    “Where's the mill?” Somehow Margaret had visualized a mill with a brick and glass office building attached and the owner's house set off to the side and surrounded by a white picket fence.
    “The mill's on down the road a ways. It's so damn noisy when it's runnin' you can't hear yourself think. Don't look like Chip's got back yet. Leastways I don't see his Jeep. Guess you might as well get out and make yourself at home.”
    Without another word he got out of the car, took her bags from the rear, carried them to the porch, and set them down. Margaret