Who’s Billy?” I asked again, following you inside. In the darkness of the barn your large frame, holding two big containers in each hand, looked like a barren tree against the backdrop of unused farm equipment waiting their turn in the field and empty stalls expecting animals as a lone poor looking mare stared out at us over her stall door.
You had your back to me so I didn’t at first notice that you stood in the same spot as before, when I had rushed into the barn. I remember seeing you bent over a hole, and then close something that looked like a door, before turning to grab your rifle and point it at me. So you have a hide-a-hole. I wondered what secrets it held inside.
You tried to conceal it from me with your body while covering the space with layers of hay with your foot. “You best get back up to the house now,” you said, before turning to stare at me with those brown eyes that had scared me when I first saw them. They still scared me, but now for a different reason. You walked over to me and, putting one large can under one arm, you grabbed me by the shoulder. Turning me around easily, you led me back out the barn. “Gon’ now I got wurk to do,” you said, pushing me forward. “And so do you.”
“But you ain’t ever said who Billy was?”
“You’ll find out soon enough, now get,” you said, waiting for me to move. I frowned as I started to walk away, but turned back in time to see you placing the containers in the bed of the truck before going back inside. What were those for I wondered as I walked back to the house? But I was more curious about the secrets that hide-a-hole held.
I hadn’t made it far before I heard the sound of the truck engine roar to life. I stopped to look back, but you came driving pass me fast as you headed to the road. “Get to wurk,” you yelled. I watched for a moment, seeing only your dust cloud in the air, wondering where you were going. When I could no longer see any traces of you, I finally made my way back to the house. Picking up my bag I went inside.
Copyright © 2013 Glynis Rankin