Sudden Independents - By Ted Hill Page 0,27

closed.

“To the bathroom.”

Hunter frowned and pulled on jeans, sweater and a pair of wool socks. He hurried from the room before she could entice him to stay, which was always an easy thing for her to accomplish. He wandered downstairs and stoked the coals in the fireplace and added another log. Then he fell on the unoccupied sofa, curling up into a ball with hopes of a few more hours of dreaming.

Moments later, feet pounded on the front porch. His eyes popped open in agitation. The front door swung wide, followed by a frosty gust. The chill spread a rash of goose bumps over Hunter and set his teeth to clacking.

Frustrated, Hunter hammered his fist into the back of the sofa several times when the owner of the pounding feet failed to enter right away.

“Hurry up and shut the door! You’re letting the heat out!”

“In a second,” Scout called. “Better yet, give me a hand.”

Hunter growled and pushed himself off the sofa. He reached the doorway and shivered. Heavy clouds packed the sky, barring any chance for the sun’s warmth.

Scout stood in the back of a truck, wrestling with a bulky object lying in the bed. He brought one end up and over the side rail and then pushed the rest of a large rolled-up rug over the rail and onto the porch.

Hunter folded his arms from the biting wind and shook his head, dismayed at yet another one of Scout’s finds. He brought everything home. “Where the hell are we going to put that?”

Scout flashed a big grin and hopped to the ground. “Grab that end and help me get it up to my room.”

Hunter slipped on his boots by the door. “Where’d you get it?”

“I found a farmhouse to the northeast last week that had a bunch of good stuff. Mark and I took the truck this morning to get some things. There was a really nice crib set for little David and I got myself a new rug so I don’t freeze my feet on the hardwood all winter.”

Hunter peeked into the truck bed, but he saw nothing he wanted. “What did you get me?”

“I didn’t get you anything,” Scout said, slipping in front of Hunter like he was hiding something. “Why, what do you need?”

“My own bedroom,” he said.

Scout smiled. “Well, I know where there’s an abandoned farmhouse, minus baby furniture, one rug.” Scout lowered his voice. “And some sewing supplies for Ginger, but don’t tell your girl about that.”

Hunter bent down to tie the laces on his boots. “Don’t worry, we don’t really talk much.”

“Gotcha.” Scout said.

Hunter stopped tying and shook his head. “Cut it out. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Now you’re just bragging.” Scout winked.

Hunter dropped the topic altogether and took one end of the rug. He frowned when he realized his choice forced him into hauling the thing upstairs backwards.

They hefted the rug through the door and up. Hunter cursed when he fell over the top step. He fought out from under the heavy roll and then pulled the rug and Scout up the rest of the way. They negotiated the corner into Scout’s room and dropped the bundle with a loud flop. Hunter hoped all the noise hadn’t woken Molly.

Scout’s room was a montage of nostalgia, without any apparent theme. He was a hoarder and proud of it. Shelves lined every available wall space and were filled with all sorts of things from toys, miniatures, books, stuffed animals, framed pictures of dead movie stars, bobble-heads, metal cars, laptops, e-readers, videogames, cameras, a variety of cell phones and MP3 players, pocketknives, comic books, action figures, board games, baseball cards, baseball gloves, bats, and balls, Frisbees, Yo-yos, dog collars, trophies for various sports—especially bowling—and finally, an assortment of busted clocks with their hands set at 3:30.

Hunter thumbed at the clocks. “What’s up with the time?”

Scout looked over and flashed a smile that quickly found its way to his eyes. “School’s out. Time to grow up.”

Hunter nodded with a grunt. School for them was out the moment they were big enough to ride their motorbikes. They were never Vanessa’s best students. Hunter didn’t like to admit that Scout was smarter, but Vanessa was her little brother’s live-in tutor at the time. When Jimmy arrived home from the fields, he was always too exhausted to help Hunter calculate math problems or quiz him on his spelling words.

Hunter traced his finger through a layer of powdery dust amassed on the shelves. “I see your collection is