Free Megan's Island by Willo Davis Roberts Page A

hammer.”
    That was the way Ben was. Do this, do that. As if they were his servants.
    Sandy didn’t seem to mind. He was too impressed by the way Ben rattled off what they were going to do, and how. Megan smoldered, thinking up things to say to him when he gave her one order too many. Which was going to be very soon, she decided.
    It took them two days to ferry the basic materials to the island. After that Ben began the actual building; he took it for granted that Megan and Sandy would run errands, hand things up to him, and in general wait on him.
    Once, when he barked a demand for more nails, Megan tossed him the bag and said gruffly, “No wonder people think you’re obnoxious. Did you ever hear of ‘please’ and ‘thank-you?’ ”
    To her surprise, Ben grinned. It made his face much more pleasant. “Yeah. Please get me those two-by-fours, and thank-you.”
    She didn’t know what to say back, so she brought the lumber from the pile on the ground. By the end of the second day of building, even Megan had to admit that the tree house was going to be better than the cave, which was open on the front and both sides except for some pine boughs.
    The tree-house platform was big enough so they could spread out three sleeping bags if they wanted to. There was a window on each side, enabling them to see in all directions, though they had no glass for them. There was a shelf to keep food supplies on, and they even salvaged an old end table with a shelf under it for their dishes. They didn’t have a way to cook, but Ben thought they would be just as well off using the grill at the mouth of the cave.
    â€œIt’s not very far to walk, and it’ll be safer than trying to have a stove in the hut. Especially when we don’t have a stove,” Ben announced.
    â€œOh, by all means, then,” Megan said dryly, “let’s do it that way if you think so.”
    Ben looked at Sandy. “What’s the matter with her?”
    Sandy shrugged. “You know how girls are.”
    Megan felt annoyance stirring again. Before she could think of a suitable comment, though, Ben asked, “Did your uncle find you?”
    In the stillness a crow’s cry sounded from the tall pines on the edge of the lake, and from far up the lake they heard an outboard motor, suggesting that new neighbors had arrived.
    â€œOur uncle?” Sandy asked stupidly.
    â€œYeah,” Ben said. “When my dad was in town this morning he said he met this guy asking about two redheaded kids in the general store. I hadn’t told him about you until then—my dad, I mean—because he’s been too busy to talk to me until he gets this difficult chapter written; but when he mentioned it, I figured it had to be you. There aren’t that many redheads around, usually. The guy that runs the store didn’t know you, but he suggested your uncle try asking at the post office.”
    Megan’s mouth felt dry. “That’s really strange. Because we don’t have an uncle.”
    â€œNo kidding? Well, I guess there must be some more redheads, then. Here, Sandy, grab the other end of this, and we’ll get the roofing on. Then we won’t have to worry that our stuff will get wet when it rains.”
    Sandy appeared to give the matter no further thought, but Megan’s stomach was churning.
    Who was the man who had claimed to be the “uncle” of two redheaded kids?
    And if the man was really looking for Megan and Sandy, what did he want?
    It wouldn’t have frightened her if she hadn’t known her mother was running away from something—or someone.
    She didn’t get a chance for a private conversation with Sandy until they got home, and Grandpa asked them to walk out to the main road and check the mailbox. “I need to keep an eye on supper so it won’t scorch,” he said. “Come right back, though, because this’ll be ready in