Free The Betrayal by R.L. Stine Page A

the front of her long white apron.
    The sun was just climbing above the trees, but the air was already hot and sticky. Puffy clouds hovered overhead. A rooster crowed. Somewhere in the direction of the barn a dog barked in reply.
    Mary walked with her head lowered, her copper hair flowing down her back nearly to the waist of her linen dress.
    She nearly dropped the egg basket when a strange voice behind her called out, “Good morning, miss!”
    Uttering a short cry of surprise, Mary spun around and stared into the sky blue eyes of a smiling young man. He grinned at her, his eyes lighting up as if enjoying her surprise.
    â€œOh. H-hello,” Mary stammered. “I didn’t see you.”
    She realized she was staring at him. He was a good-looking boy, about her age, maybe a year or two older. Above his sparkling blue eyes he had heavy blond eyebrows on a broad, tanned forehead. The skin beside his eyes crinkled when he smiled. He had wavy blond hair the color of butter, which fell heavily down to his collar.
    He wore a loose-fitting white shirt, the front open nearly to his waist, over Indian-style deerskin breeches. His boots were worn and covered with dust.
    â€œI am sorry to trouble you,” he said, still grinning, his eyes locked on hers. “I am looking for the owner of this farm.”

    â€œThat would be my father,” Mary replied, turning her gaze to the house. “Matthew Fier.”
    â€œIs your father around?” the young man asked, the morning sunlight making his blond hair glow golden.
    â€œI believe so. Follow me,” Mary replied shyly.
    He reached out and took the egg basket from her. “I’ll carry it for you,” he said, smiling pleasantly at her. “It looks heavy.”
    â€œI carry it every morning,” Mary protested, but she allowed him to take the basket. “We have a lot of chickens.”
    â€œIt’s a very big farm,” the boy said, gesturing to the far pasture with his free hand. His boots crunched loudly over the hard ground. “My father and I settled here recently. We live in a small cabin outside the village. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a farm this big.”
    Mary smiled awkwardly. “My father and uncle came here before I was born. The farm has been growing ever since.”
    â€œWhat is your name, miss?” the boy asked boldly, his blue eyes flashing.
    Before Mary could answer, Matthew appeared, lumbering out the back door. His flannel shirt hung loose over his big belly. His knee breeches had a stain on one knee.
    Matthew yawned loudly and stretched his hands over his head. Then he noticed the young man holding the egg basket beside Mary.
    â€œOh,” Matthew said, furrowing his brow and clearing his throat. “And who might you be?”
    Matthew’s brusqueness didn’t seem to bother theyoung man. “Good morning,” he said with a confident smile. “My name is Jeremy Thorne, sir.”
    â€œAnd what might your business be, Jeremy Thorne?” Matthew asked. “Has Mary hired you to be her egg carrier?”
    Jeremy laughed even though Matthew’s remark wasn’t terribly funny. “No, sir,” he replied cheerfully. “But I have come to your farm in search of work.”
    Matthew Fier stared rather unpleasantly at Jeremy. “I regret to say I’m not looking for farm help right now,” he told Jeremy. “If you would kindly—”
    Matthew was interrupted by Edward, perspiring from his walk across the pasture from his house. “Wait a moment, Uncle Matthew!” Edward cried. He raised his free hand to halt the conversation.
    Startled, Matthew turned to his nephew. “Good morning, Nephew. Does the arm give much pain this morning?”
    â€œEnough,” Edward replied dryly, glancing at his arm, suspended in the sling. “I overheard your conversation with this young man, Uncle Matthew. I believe we do need an extra