The Haunting Read Online Free PDF Page A

too?”
    The officer looked troubled. “How old are you?” he asked.
    “I’m sixteen.”
    “Where are your parents?”
    “They were killed in an accident two years ago.”
    “You have no other relatives?”
    “A distant cousin of my mother’s who lives in Baton Rouge,” I replied.
    The worry lines on his face deepened. “This cousin—will she take you in? I have a daughter your age. You can’t stay here alone.”
    I glared at him with all my might, and I hoped he could feel my hatred. “My age doesn’t matter,” I said. “I will send for my mother’s cousin, but until she comes I can do whatever is needed. I beg you to grant me this one reprieve. Do not burn my home, sir. There is nothing valuable inside. That has all been stolen already. Just leave the house standing.
    The men looked from me to their officer. I stood still, waiting patiently while he frowned, his anguished thoughts showing on his face.
    “
Leave the house be. Ride on,” he called to his men. He spurred his horse and headed for the road.
    Some of the soldiers grumbled their dissatisfaction, but they wheeled their horses and rode after him.
    “I hope you are sorry for the horrible crime you have committed,” I shouted as a fresh wave of anger boiled up within my heart, but of course they couldn’t hear me.
    As soon as the men had ridden out of sight I ran to Grandfather, cradled his head in my arms, and cried until dry sobs shook my body and there were no mate tears.
    Some of our farm help had come out of hiding, waiting patiently until my storm had passed. They moved forward, helping me to rise. They lifted Grandfather’s body, carried it into the house, and placed it on his bed.
    After what Grandfather had told me, I was desperately afraid of Slade. “Is Mr. Slade gone?” I asked.
    “There’s been no sign of Mr. Slade since earlier this mornin’,” John answered.
    “Was he here when Mr. Harper arrived with the news?”
    “No’m. As I said, we haven’t seen him since this mornin
’.”
    I glanced at the top of Grandfather’s dresser. Normally it held a carved wooden box, inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The box was gone. So was the pair of oil lumps with silver and teak bases.
    I left the bedroom and walked down the stairs, going from room to room. All the silver was gone, as was the crystal. Heartsick, I realized that Mr. Slade had done just as he had threatened. He’d stolen all our family treasures and mementoes. I hated him all the more.
    Upstairs, my mother’s jewelry box had vanished, and with it her silver-backed brush, mirror, and comb.
    I checked the barn and discovered that Mr. Slade hadn’t taken our buggy or his horse. I didn’t understand his thinking. All I could deduce was that he had been afraid of meeting up with Union soldiers on the road and had cut through the woods on foot. I sent John to ride to Baton Rouge to inform my mother’s cousin, Lydia Hartwell, that Grandfather was dead and I had need of her help.
    I went back upstairs, washed Grandfather’s body with warm water and soap, and dressed him in his best suit of clothes. Then I washed myself from head to foot and changed into clean clothing. The bloody dress and apron I had worn I threw into the fireplace in my bedroom and lit the kindling to start the fire. Clothing was hard to come by, but I could never wear that dress again.
    At the last moment, just as the fabric began to smolder, I remembered the book tucked inside the pocket of my apron. I pulled at a corner of the apron, dragging it from the flames, and quickly tugged the book from its pocket. I tossed the apron back into the fire and stamped out the few sparks that burned on the hearth.
    One corner of the book’s cover had been singed, and it
smelled of smoke. The bookmark had fallen out and was gone. But I carried the book to the window and looked through it carefully, page by page. I think I had hoped that if Grandfather had meant to give me a message in the book he would have hidden a