Summer of the Redeemers by Carolyn Haines Page A

here.”
    Before I could be pinned by Effie’s evil look again, I went to my room. I got out my old yellow notebook that had been bought for math notes, which I hated, and started to draw pictures of Cammie. Somehow I’d get back to Nadine’s. Mama Betts said that opportunity only knocks once, and I knew that was it for me. I took my notebook into the bathroom and ran some hot water. When I took off my jeans, I could smell Cammie on them. How had they not noticed? Somehow I was going to have to leave a pair of jeans at the barn, so I could ride and then change to go home. I’d work it out. As I slipped beneath the hot water in the old claw-foot tub, I let my body float and tried to recapture the feeling of complete freedom I’d felt on Cammie’s back.

Nine
    A LICE’S
bicycle was returned—intact. She found it the next morning parked under the tree with the swing. The Redeemer boy had singled me out as a particular target. It was personal between us now.
    I was caught between a rock and a hard place with Arly. He put my Schwinn back together, as good as new. Every bolt and nut that had come out of the bicycle had been returned. But I needed Arly’s help to get even with the church boy, especially since Alice was reluctant to go on any more adventures down at Cry Baby Creek. She counted herself lucky, she said, to have escaped without getting in hot water over the bike. Mrs. Waltman was cranky and mean in her fifth month of pregnancy, and Alice was walking a thin line with her already. If I got Arly to help me, I’d have to spend a lot of time with him, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Cammie and Nadine. Arly could not be trusted with that secret.
    Two of the longest days of my life passed while I stayed around the house and tried to make it up to Effie and Mama Betts for all the worry I’d caused them. I washed venetian blinds in the bathtub and ironed curtains and scraped dead wax out of corners until my knees were red and sore. I thought it was a suitable penance. There weren’t any Catholics on Kali Oka Road, probably not even any in the county. But I’d read somewhere that Catholic women had been known to walk to certain sacred places on their knees. It was their way of showing they were worthy of a miracle, and I needed one where horses were concerned.At the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder what the Redeemers considered a suitable penance. Remembering their gray clothes and faces, I shied away from that thought. It would no doubt be harsher than knee-walking.
    The third day of my rehabilitation, Mama Betts and I went plum picking down Kali Oka. She suggested the trip, a sign that I was making it back to a state of grace. Walking with an easy step, pails swinging in our hands, we passed the old McInnis place, and Mama Betts gave it a thorough sizing-up.
    “Needs a good cleaning. I can’t imagine how someone could live in that house without doing some hard scrubbing. Now, how old did you say this woman is?”
    “I don’t know.” I sought Cammie in the pasture beside the barn, but there wasn’t a single horse out. The barn doors were closed, and the old truck and trailer were gone. Nadine had probably gone to get the rest of her horses. I wondered when she would be back, and who was feeding and taking care of her animals for her. There was no sign of the dogs out either, and five dogs, even if they were those little froufrou house dogs, should have made a racket. Picket, for her part, was eagerly eyeing the area for any cats to chase.
    “I thought you said the woman had horses.” Mama Betts walked on, pail swinging and an old straw hat pulled down over her eyes. She had pretty white skin and hair, and she said she’d never been in the sun without a bonnet or a hat.
    “She does.”
    “Why aren’t they out in the sun? Livestock needs sunshine. Can’t keep ‘em cooped up all day. It’s inhumane.”
    I shrugged, feigning a lot less interest than I had. “You think Mrs. Mason’s trees will