Jodi Thomas - Ransom Canyon

“Better than standing around here,” Reid said as Tim kicked mud toward the building. “I’d rather be walking than sitting. Plus, if we go back to the church, Mrs. Patterson will probably come out to keep us company.”

Without a vote, they started walking. Lauren didn’t like the idea of stumbling into mud holes now covered up by a dusting of snow along the side of the road, but it sounded better than standing out front of the gas station. Besides, the moon offered enough light, making the tiny flashlight her father insisted she carry worthless.

Within a few yards, Reid and Tim had fallen behind and were lighting up a smoke. To her surprise, Lucas stayed beside her.

“You don’t smoke?” she asked, not really expecting him to answer.

“No, can’t afford the habit,” he said, surprising her. “I’ve got plans, and they don’t include lung cancer.”

Maybe the dark night made it easier to talk, or maybe Lauren didn’t want to feel so alone in the shadows. “I was starting to think you were a mute. We’ve had a few classes together, and you’ve never said a word. Even tonight you were the only one who didn’t talk about your project.”

Lucas shrugged. “Didn’t see the point. I’m just entering for the prize money, not trying to save the world or build a better tomorrow.”

She giggled.

He laughed, too, realizing he’d just made fun of the whole point of the projects. “Plus,” he added, “there’s just not much opportunity to get a word in around those two.” He nodded his head at the two letter jackets falling farther behind as a cloud of smoke haloed above them.

She saw his point. The pair trailed them by maybe twenty feet or more, and both were talking about football. Neither seemed to require a listener.

“Why do you hang out with them?” she asked. Lucas didn’t seem to fit. Studious and quiet, he hadn’t gone out for sports or joined many clubs that she knew about. “Jocks usually hang out together.”

“I wanted to work on my project tonight, and Reid offered me a ride. Listening to football talk beats walking in this weather.”

Lauren tripped into a pothole. Lucas’s hand shot out and caught her in the darkness. He steadied her, then let go.

“Thanks. You saved my life,” she joked.

“Hardly, but if I had, you’d owe me a blood debt.”

“Would I have to pay?”

“Of course. It would be a point of honor. You’d have to save me or be doomed to a coward’s hell.”

“Lucky you just kept me from tripping, or I’d be following you around for years waiting to repay the debt.” She rubbed her arm where he’d touched her. He was stronger than she’d thought he would be. “You lift weights?”

The soft laughter came again. “Yeah, it’s called work. Until I was sixteen, I spent the summers and every weekend working on Reid’s father’s ranch. Once I was old enough, I signed up at the Kirkland place to cowboy when they need extras. Every dime I make is going to college tuition in a year. That’s why I don’t have a car yet. When I get to college, I won’t need it, and the money will go toward books.”

“But you’re just a junior. You’ve still got a year and a half of high school.”

“I’ve got it worked out so I can graduate early. High school’s a waste of time. I’ve got plans. I can make a hundred-fifty a day working, and my dad says he thinks I’ll be able to cowboy every day I’m not in school this spring and all summer.”

She tripped again, and his hand steadied her once more. Maybe it was her imagination, but she swore he held on a little longer than necessary.

“You’re an interesting guy, Lucas Reyes.”

“I will be,” he said. “Once I’m in college, I can still come home and work breaks and weekends. I’m thinking I can take a few online classes during the summer, live at home, and save enough to pay for the next year. I’m going to Tech no matter what it takes.”

“You planning on getting through college in three years, too?”

He shook his head. “Don’t know if I can. But I’ll have the degree, whatever it is, before I’m twenty-two.”

No one her age had ever talked of the future like that. Like they were just passing through this time in their life, and something yet to come mattered far more. “When you are somebody, I think I’d like to be your friend.”

“I hope we will be more than that, Lauren.” His words were so low, she wasn’t sure she heard them.

“Hey, you two deadbeats up there!” Reid yelled. “I got an idea.”

Lauren didn’t want the conversation with Lucas to end, but if she ignored Reid he’d just get louder. “What?”

Reid ran up between them and put an arm over both her and Lucas’s shoulders. “How about we break into the Gypsy House? I hear it’s haunted by Gypsies who died a hundred years ago.”

Tim caught up to them. As always, he agreed with Reid. “Look over there in the trees. The place is just waiting for us. Heard if you rattle a Gypsy’s bones, the dead will speak to you.” Tim’s eyes glowed in the moonlight. “I had a cousin once who said he heard voices in that old place, and no one was there but him.”

“This is not a good idea.” Lauren tried to back away, but Reid held her shoulder tight.

“Come on, Lauren, for once in your life, do something that’s not safe. No one’s lived in the old place for years. How much trouble can we get into?”

Tim’s imagination had gone wild. According to him all kinds of things could happen. They might find a body. Ghosts could run them out, or the spirit of a Gypsy might take over their minds. Who knew, zombies might sleep in the rubble of old houses.

Lauren rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to think of the zombies getting Tim. A walking dead with braces was too much.

“It’s just a rotting old house,” Lucas said so low no one heard but Lauren. “There’s probably rats or rotten floors. It’s an accident waiting to happen. How about you come back in the daylight, Reid, if you really want to explore the place?”

“We’re all going now,” Reid announced, as he shoved Lauren off the road and into the trees that blocked the view of the old homestead from passing cars. “Think of the story we’ll have to tell everyone Monday. We will have explored a haunted house and lived to tell the tale.”

Reason told her to protest more strongly, but at fifteen, reason wasn’t as intense as the possibility of an adventure. Just once, she’d have a story to tell. Just this once...her father wouldn’t find out.

They rattled across the rotting porch steps fighting tumbleweeds that stood like flimsy guards around the place. The door was locked and boarded up. The smell of decay hung in the foggy air, and a tree branch scraped against one side of the house as if whispering for them to stay back.

The old place didn’t look like much. It might have been the remains of an early settlement, built solid to face the winters with no style or charm. Odds were, Gypsies never even lived in it. It appeared to be a half dugout with a second floor built on years later. The first floor was planted down into the earth a few feet, so the second floor windows were just above their heads giving the place the look of a house that had been stepped on by a giant.

Everyone called it the Gypsy House because a group of hippies had squatted there in the ’70s. They’d painted a peace sign on one wall, but it had faded and been rained on until it almost looked like a witching sign. No one remembered when the hippies had moved on, or who owned the house now, but somewhere in its past a family named Stanley must have lived there because old-timers called it the Stanley house.

“I heard devil worshippers lived here years ago.” Tim began making scary movie soundtrack noises. “Body parts are probably scattered in the basement. They say once Satan moves in, only the blood of a virgin will wash the place clean.”