Orphans & Foster Homes
A faint sound brushed her ear, and she heard a voice whisper death. She glanced around, astonished. A gentle breeze had picked up, rippling the long grass in the meadow. She frowned. There was no one else there except Ira and Maddy, and the only sound was the rustling of the aspen leaves by the creek.
"A hunter knows he is never alone." She had heard Father say that once.
Aneze looked into the trees. She spoke out loud to the bush. "There's always you, Chickadee," she said to the small birds skittering above. "And if I stare long enough at the sky, I'll see you, Eagle, circling with your wife. You will show me where Rabbit and Vole are hiding. And nearby in the stream, you are swimming, Jackfish. And you, Beaver, you are working on your house."
"You see," Aneze told the woods. "I'm not alone at all."
They had him. He fell to the floor. The big man kicked him in the ribs.
"He saw me!" said the big man. "He saw me. I know he did."
The boy scrambled backward, petrified, his back against the wall.
The big man pointed his gun, his finger tightening on the trigger.
If Burlington Northern were tied up outside, Knuckles McGraw could leap through the window right onto his back and gallop away before anyone knew he was gone. But for now he has to creep down the stairs, avoiding the creaky ones, carrying his shoes in one hand and his lunch kit in the other. He shoves his shoes under his arm so he can turn the front-door handle. It opens without making a sound.