Free Night of Fear by Peg Kehret Page A

didn’t even have a gun. Maybe he had shoved something else in his pocket, back there in the Crowleys’ barn.
    Maybe, T.J. thought, I should run.
    The pony whinnied again, this time from the direction of the house.
    “Get in,” Brody hissed. “Now.” He grabbed for T.J.’s shoulder.
    T.J. ducked, whirled around, and ran.
    Brody instantly dove forward and his outstretched hands caught T.J.’s ankles, tackling him from behind.
    Brody’s fingers dug into T.J.’s ankles as T.J. landed face down in the dirt.
    “You are asking for real trouble, boy,” Brody said. He kept one hand on T.J. as they both stood up.
    Whether he has a gun or not, T.J. thought, he’s stronger than I am. He can force me to go with him and I’ll just make it worse for myself if I run again.
    Wearily, he returned to the truck and got in.

    Grandma Ruth stumbled on a protruding tree root. She grabbed at a bush to steady herself and then quit walking. She looked in all directions but, no matter which way she turned, it seemed the same.
    The woods had always been a joyful place, full of adventure and discovery. Now, for the first time in her life, she was unhappy here. She was tired, too tired to go another step. She decided to do as the animals do and make herself a nest in the dry leaves. She would curl up on the forest floor, like a fox or a fawn, and fall asleep.
    Tomorrow, after she was rested, she would go home. Surely by morning, Edward would find her. He would hug her and take her home and tease her about her foolishness.
    “How could you get lost in our own woods, Ruthie?” he would say. “You know every stone and leaf better than the squirrels who live here.”
    And she would laugh and tell him, “I wasn’t lost. I just decided to spend the night with the deer.”
    Smiling, Grandma Ruth eased her weary body to the ground and closed her eyes. She heard only the slight rustling of the leaves as an occasional breeze brushed her face. It seemed as if she were the only person in the universe.
    Then, not far away, she heard the yipping of a coyote and she felt less alone.

Chapter Eight
    Brody drove slowly away, with no lights.
    Am I a coward? T.J. wondered. Did I give in too easily? I could have yelled, and struggled with him; someone might have heard us. If I had kicked him and bit him, I might have been able to get away and outrun him. Maybe Craig Ackerley is right. Maybe I am scared to fight. Maybe I am a wimp.
    On the other hand, what if the police made a mistake and had the wrong man in custody? What if Brody did have a gun?
    Win with your wits, not with your fists.
I’m trying, T.J. thought. I’m trying, Grandma Ruth.
    As the truck sneaked down the lane past the vegetable fields, T.J. looked back at the house. Light now glowed in an upstairs window. What were the people doing? Maybe they heard our voices or heard the pony, when it got near the house. Had they seen the fire? Had they called for help?
    T.J. thrust his hand toward the steering wheel and pushed on the horn. It responded, barely, with a weak
beep
before Brody shoved T.J’s hand away.
    A yard light went on, flooding the front of the house with brightness. T.J. saw a man step outside and look in all directions before he ran down the porch steps and crossed the yard. A small child ran after him. At the far side of the yard, the pony waited quietly, the tether hanging from its neck. The man moved toward him. The pony stood still while the man and the child approached.
    Despite his weariness and anger, T.J. smiled. The pony was safe. That was something. T.J. was riding around with a lunatic who burned down other people’s property, but at least, because of him, the pony was alive.
    Brody didn’t turn the headlights on until he reached the main road.
    T.J. watched for a police car or fire engine but none appeared. Surely the fire had been discovered by now. The man would try to put the pony back in the shed and would find the smoldering ruins. But there was no reason to