Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
INDY
Jare and Mr. Harris disappeared while I was working with the kids, so I’ve been eyeing Echo’s stall the whole time I’ve been cleaning up. When everything’s put back where it needs to be, I saddle Echo up and head to the house.
Mama’s on the front porch with a game of checkers laid mid-game by the time I put Echo up and wash down all of his things.
“Playin’ yourself, Mama?” I ask, looking through the screen door to catch a glimpse of Jare or Mr. Harris.
“Not this time. Mrs. Harris is inside,” she leans back in her rocking chair and holds her hand out. Taking it, I step up beside her and lower down to place a kiss on her head, before I make my way inside, “Your Papa’s talkin’ to Jarrett and Mr. Harris. Don’t go bargin’ in.”
“Was there somethin’ in Jare’s loft this afternoon?” The question slips out before I can gobble it back in, and the side of her lip pulls down.
Shaking her head, she covers my hand with hers, “Don’t you worry ‘bout it.”
“Mama,” I protest but get cut off when Mrs. Harris comes through the door.
“Indy!” She says, her jubilant smile and warm hug making me feel a little less frazzled. “How are you, dear girl?”
I haven’t seen her around much, but then again, I’ve been distracted. Reminding myself I need to take more time to go see them, I take a seat on the railing of the porch and watch as Mama and Mrs. Harris continue their game.
“Busy,” I laugh, to which she nods.
“Don’t I know it, y’all kept my Frank busy as all get out.” She smiles and leans back toward me. “He needs it though, that old man wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he didn’t have the ranch.”
We all laugh, and then the men join us on the porch. Jare smiles and comes to join me on the railing, as Mr. Harris and Papa take the rocking chairs on the other side of the door and we all fall into easy conversation.
Jare nudges me with his boot while the old folks are laughing up a storm, and when our eyes meet he tilts his head toward the Honey Hut.
“I’m gonna go check on the hive,” I tell them when there’s a lull in conversation. “They probably feel neglected.”
“Take Jare with you,” Papa says, looking me directly in the eyes.
I nod, but feel a little jolt in my stomach that has nothing to do with the emptiness. Walking down the steps, I hear Jare’s boots behind me crunching over the gravel driveway as we walk in silence to the bees.
My Honey Hut’s the same as it always is. Jars line the shelves full of golden goodness, the pot I use to fill the jars sits untouched this season. I need to get to work, or else the bees will be overrun with their honey.
Offering Jare a suit, he takes it and steps into it while I pull on my own.
It’s not as hot this late in the day, and while it may be harder to see, at least I’m not sweating everywhere.
Placing the wool pellets I use from the leftover sheep shearing into the smoker, I go about the movements I’ve memorized over the years.
This always gives me a sense of peace, and is the best part of my day.
We move through the hives, gathering combs and spinning the boxes into buckets. Jare’s helped me a few times before, and it seems he remembers the routine well. We don’t talk as we work, instead letting a steady silence hang between us.
Unanswered questions, and the expectation of answers drown out the buzzing of the bees.
When we’ve gone through all the hives, we head back to the hut and he helps me process the honey. It’s a tedious task, but it settles my nerves.
“There was a message written on the back of my door,” Jare says once he’s finished loading the big pot with raw honey.
My hands stop, and I turn to face him. His back is to the open door, and with the light being minimal, it’s hard to see his expression.
“What kind of message?” I whisper as my stomach grows into knots.
Looking down at his boots, he kicks away some fallen comb. “‘Stay away from her.’”
My mind whirs with all the ways that could be interpreted. “Did you call Sheriff Folley?”
“Sheriff Hartley came out, she wanted to take pictures,” he says, wrapping his hand around his neck. “But Mr. Turner didn’t want her scarin’ the kids, so she’s comin’ back.”
No sooner than he says it, tires grind against the drive.
“I’m guessin’ that’s her,” he sighs. “I’m not sure if this is a prank, or if somethin’ else is goin’ on, Indy, but whatever it is…”
“I know, Jare. Me too.” I can’t understand what that message would even mean, “You’re sure that’s what it said?”
“Mr. Harris read it too,” he nods before turning to look out the door. The way the Honey Hut is situated, you can’t see the house from the front. “I should probably head that way.”
“I’ll walk you over,” I offer, and he nods, helping me close up the Hut.
Papa and Mr. Turner are already loaded into one of the buggies, along with Sheriff Hartley.
Her blonde hair is slicked back into a neat ponytail that ends at her shoulders.
She nods as Jare and I climb into the other buggy, the one I typically use, and Papa leads the way to the big barn where the loft is.
“What do you think it could mean?” I say, just loud enough so he can hear me over the engine.
“I’ve got no clue,” he admits, shaking his head. “I’ve wracked my brain thinkin’ about what it could mean, but I’ve got nothin’.”
“First, Finn turns up missing, and now there’s ominous notes written on my employee’s sleepin’ quarters. I don’t understand,” I say, tired beyond belief and confused as all heck.
“None of us do. This is all so random, I was talking with River today, and they said the whole camp’s ‘vibe was off’, whatever that means.”
“But why you, Jare? Why write ‘stay away from her’ on your door? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he admits.
“You aren’t seein’ anyone, are you?” I’ve never seen him with anyone. Jare kinda flirts with everyone, so it never occurred to me he was dating. “Is there a girl we should be warnin’?”
Worrying his hands in his lap he shakes his head with a half laugh, half scoff that makes me think there’s a whole lot more to that answer, but I don’t have the time to puzzle him out right now.
When we arrive, Sheriff Hartley walks in with Jare and asks us to wait out here. I’m not sure why, considering we’ve been in and out of the barn all day.
Papa and Mr. Harris whisper to each other, but I can’t be bothered to listen. I just want to know what Hartley thinks.
“Mr. Harris,” I hear Jare holler, there’s a waver in his voice that makes me wonder if there’s more now that we’ve been gone. “Can you come up here?”
Mr. Harris looks at Papa, and then disappears inside.
“What do you think is going on?” I ask Papa, hoping he’ll have a wise and logical answer.
Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, he kisses my temple and says, “I don’t know, BeeBee.”
That’s not exactly the comforting words I wanted, but it’s honest.
The sheriff, Mr. Harris, and Jare all appear at the door, and they’re each sporting varying looks of concern.
Jare looks up first, catching my eye, and his next words chill me to the bone. “It’s gone.”