Shade Tracks

Contents

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

SNEAK PEEK:

About the Author

Copyright

SHADE TRACKS. Copyright © 2022 Liz McCraine.

ISBN: 9798201227944

All rights reserved. Any duplication or use of this work in any form or by any means without prior permission in writing from the author is forbidden.

This is a work of fiction. While the names of some U.S. towns and cities mentioned in this story exist, all characters and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or locations is purely coincidental.

First published digitally in 2017 by Finch Books as Boone by Robin Cranney.

Dedication

To my husband, who resists poking me in the ribs while I write.

SHADE TRACKS

Liz McCraine

Chapter One

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Bailey’s stomach dropped as she read the green sign on the side of the road.

Welcome to Fairmont, Wyoming; Population—142

This was going to be even worse than she’d imagined. She felt like the star of a cheesy B-rated drama... Opening scene reveals lonely stretch of road. Cue car. Camera focuses on sad girl in passenger seat. Cue depressing music.

I’m a cliché, she mumbled.

What was that, honey? Mom glanced over from the driver’s seat, a hopeful expression on her too-lean face. The weight loss from everything that had happened over the last six months was evident in her hollow cheeks. The gray hairs at her temples were new, too.

Nothing, Mom. Bailey turned back to the window. Fields overflowing with gray-green sagebrush flew past. In the distance stretched a line of square business buildings. Next to them, quaint homes nestled together in a miniature oasis of dull leafy trees and not-quite-vibrant lawn. Beyond the cluster, a white water tower stuck up like a sore thumb.

The town didn't look big enough to have a gas station, let alone a basketball team. But Mom promised there was one, so she’d survive. Somehow.

After entering the pebble-sized town, they turned onto an unpaved road leading away from the cluster of businesses. The car’s tires kicked up gravel into the wheel wells as it bumped over railroad tracks. Each clunk of stone on metal was like a mini grenade erupting in Bailey’s mind, eroding the thin control she had over her emotions.

There it is. The very first one, Mom said. What do you think?

Never mind the B-rated drama. Perched on a corner lot, the one-story white house with black shutters resembled something from a 1950s horror show. Perfect, Bailey grumbled. At Mom’s stricken look, she summoned a small smile. She’d sworn to herself she’d stay positive. It looks like it could use a few more people, Mom. Maybe even people like us.

The creases on Mom’s forehead smoothed. Good. She smacked the steering wheel. I wholeheartedly agree. She turned their small SUV into the unpaved driveway.

A rustle in the back seat drew Bailey’s attention from the lonely house. Her little sister had woken up.

I have to go to the bathroom. Sarah’s words slurred with grogginess.

Just in time. Mom turned off the ignition and stepped out. Rounding the car, she opened the rear door and unbuckled the drowsy six-year-old. She lifted Sarah into her slim arms. Come on, sweet girl. Let’s visit the bathroom. Bailey, she called over her shoulder, grab those bags, will you? The movers will be here any minute.

Bailey watched them hurry into the clapboard house. Like everything else she had seen, patchy grass and dust surrounded the structure. A screened porch encompassed one side, shadowed by a large tree. The porch opened to an unfenced, decent-sized yard that extended all the way to the corner road. Whoever lived here before them had done little yard work, because dead branches lay all over the place. And small rocks. And dust.

A familiar hot rush hit the backs of her eyes. No, she would not cry. She’d already spilled a million tears. They had changed nothing. The lush green mountains and crystal-clear streams of her old home were in the past.

Bailey, you coming in? Mom called through an open window.

Yeah. She brushed back an errant honey-brown wave that had pulled free from her ponytail, then forced herself to move. Hefting the suitcases, she climbed the steps and entered a small kitchen with a blue-and-yellow linoleum floor.

See? It’s not so bad. Mom took the suitcases and set them aside, then put an arm around Bailey’s shoulders. They turned on the electricity, just like they promised. And look... With a quick squeeze, she released her gentle hold and opened the refrigerator door. A brown paper bag filled with groceries sat on the bottom shelf, a yellow sticky note attached. She pulled the note off and handed it to Bailey.

Welcome to Fairmont. We’re so glad you’re here, Bailey read. She stuck the note on the cheap laminate counter. Well, at least somebody’s happy we’re here.

Guilt roared through her even as Mom’s face fell. I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to—

Bailey! Bailey! Sarah galloped into the kitchen, clutching a package of fruit snacks. Come see our rooms.

Bailey held up a hand. Hold on a sec, Sarah. She hesitated, wishing she could backtrack. Mom... really, I—

I know, honey. You didn’t mean to get upset. I don’t blame you. Heaven knows it’s not what we’re used to, but with a little love and some pretty curtains, we can certainly make it a home.

Bailey glanced at the stark white walls, the chipped corner of the kitchen table. It wasn’t what they were used to. In Portland, they’d had so much more of everything. Now it was all gone. Taking a deep breath, she threw back her shoulders and nodded. She would get through this. She had to, for Mom’s sake if not for her own.

The school promised me a house with three bedrooms, and they delivered, Mom said. They’re smaller than what we had, but that’s okay. Why don’t you go with Sarah and look? You two can duke it out, and I’ll take whatever’s left. She smiled, but Bailey could tell it was forced.

A loud horn honked outside, making them both jump. Mom gave her a push. That’ll be the movers. Go pick your room so they know where to put your bed.

An hour later, Bailey was reaching into a large box containing her bedding set. The mattress protector was stuffed at the very bottom.

Momma called the doctor, and the doctor said...

With a sigh, she turned up her music to drown out Sarah’s enthusiastic singing. The kid was bouncing on the bare mattress like a ball in a Ping-pong game.

No more monkeys jumping on the bed! Her sister catapulted from the mattress, knocking Bailey forward into the box and dislodging one of Bailey’s earbuds. Oops. Sorry.

Sarah, she growled, grabbing her earbud before it got lost. But Sarah was already climbing back up.

Five little monkeys jumping on the bed...

Bailey pushed herself up and walked out of the room. Mom stood at the entrance to Sarah’s bedroom next door. She was pointing at something inside. Right there. It goes right there, she was saying.

Mom—

Mom looked over at her and opened her mouth, but two men in blue uniforms walked between them, lugging a bedframe.

Mom, she said again once they’d passed. She lifted her eyebrows and gestured into her own room, where Sarah’s singing voice reached record-setting heights.

Mom gave a wan smile. They’re almost done in here, then you can kick her out.

She’s driving me crazy. Bailey gritted out the words so Sarah wouldn’t hear.

Soon.

Bailey’s shoulders dropped. The movers passed by again.

You can manage. Mom stepped away, toward the porch. The door to the kitchen was too small for some of their furniture, so the truck was unloading at the opposite end of the house.

Bailey, Sarah shouted.

Sighing, Bailey turned back toward the room.

Tap tap tap. Somewhere beyond the din of Sarah’s treble voice, the creaking mattress springs, and the movers’ chatter, she heard the knock at the kitchen door.

Just a second, Sarah. Tugging on her wrinkled t-shirt, Bailey walked into the kitchen and opened the door.

Two girls stood there. One was fairly short, with reddish hair and petite, pixie-like features, a pie in her hand. The other was taller, with dark hair and a long nose. Both looked around sixteen, her age, and wore unexpectedly trendy clothes for the boondocks.

Hey. You Bailey? the pixie asked.

Bailey shifted, wishing she had on something other than a baggy old t-shirt and cutoffs. And no doubt her hair looked like it hadn’t seen a brush in weeks. Yeah.

I’m Jenna, the redhead said. And this is Karly. A wide grin split her face. We’re the welcome wagon.

Um... thanks? Welcome wagon? How do you know my name?

The brunette chuckled. In a town this size, we know everything about everyone. Trust me, there are no secrets. We knew who you were five minutes after they interviewed your mom for the job. Unless your mom isn’t Mrs. Johnson? she teased.

Karly’s dad is the principal, Jenna added. She lifted the pie. My mom made this. She didn’t want you to worry about going into Buffalo for food.

Bailey’s jaw dropped. Buffalo was more than a half hour away. There’s no grocery store here?

Or gas station, so make sure you fill up whenever you leave town.

Looked like she’d been right about the gas station. Hopefully Mom hadn’t lied about the basketball team. Dazed, she accepted the dessert. The heavy weight was warm in her hands and helped distract her from her shock. She took a whiff. Apple? Her stomach growled.

Jenna nodded toward the living room. You guys need help?

Any lingering discomfort officially dissipated with her selfless offer. These two were okay. Maybe they’d even be friends. Bailey smiled. The movers are taking care of the hard stuff. But thanks anyway.

Sure, Jenna said. Everyone is excited to have a music teacher. The last one got sick and had to quit two years ago.

Wow. That’s a long time to go without a teacher. Mom wasn’t just a new music teacher, she was the only music teacher. For all grades. As in, K through 12.

Yeah. We have art and shop for electives, but it’ll be nice to have another option. All the upperclassmen pick shop, though.

Shop class? Like auto shop? Bailey had a vision of crawling under a rusted-out pickup to fix... whatever it was people fixed under trucks.

Jenna grinned. You’ll see.

Um, okay. Well, thanks for the pie.

Jenna shrugged, and she and Karly stepped back from the door. See you at school, she said with a wave.

Yeah, see you Monday.

The two walked to a little blue car parked next to Mom’s SUV. Just before they got in, Karly called out, And watch out for Old Man Boone.

It took a second for Bailey to process the words. Wait—who?

The doors shut over her words, and the car backed out.

Bailey took another whiff of the pie as they drove down the road. Old Man Boone? She must not have heard them correctly. With a shrug, she kicked the door closed. No use worrying about it now. She was hungry for pie.

* * * *

2:42 a.m.

Bailey stared at the numbers on her phone. Groaning, she tossed the phone back on the nightstand. What had woken her up? She plopped back on her pillow and closed her eyes, but sleep evaded her. With a groan, she turned to her other side.

A ghostly whistle outside made her stiffen. She popped open her eyes and stared hard at the window. She hadn’t put up curtains yet, and beyond the glass the branches of a tree vibrated as the whistle increased.

She relaxed. It was just the wind.

Closing her eyes again, she envisioned a basketball player dribbling down the court. One dribble, two dribbles, three dribbles...

The whistle outside suddenly changed into a forceful, continuous whoosh. She sat up, goosebumps rippling along her flesh.

Something was wrong.

A scratching sound, like fingernails on a chalkboard, came from outside the house. Bailey’s nerves screamed, her heart leaping to her throat. Eyes wide, she stared out the window again.

Screech. Scratch. Screech.

With a cry, she flung herself down onto the mattress and yanked the covers over her head, anchoring them with fisted hands.

Stupid. She was being stupid. She was way too old to believe in the boogeyman. Nothing was out there. Even if there was, she was safe inside the house... right?

The wind sped up, the whistle lifting an octave as it swooped around the side of the house. Then a long, loud cry penetrated the air, blasting like a foghorn through the whistling and scratching.

Bailey’s bed shook. She yanked down the covers, gasping. An earthquake?

The cry came a second time, wailing like a phantom. The earthquake’s force increased, rattling the glass against the window frame and knocking Bailey’s bedposts against the wall. Beside her, her phone danced across the nightstand and off the edge, dropping to the floor with a smack.

The midnight monster cried a third time—shorter, but just as effective.

They were going to die! She had to get Sarah. Get Mom.

She jumped from her bed and bolted across the shaking floor, the wood cold against the bottoms of her feet.

Mom! She sprinted into the living room.

Bailey? Mom burst from her room. Are you all right?

Bailey threw her arms around Mom, quaking every bit as much as the house.

The phantom nightmare let loose another long, low cry, this one louder than the others.

Gripping Mom, eyes pressed tightly closed, Bailey waited for the house to crumble around them.

Then, unexpectedly, the wailing stopped.

The shaking subsided, the house creaking as it settled into its former resolute stance. The whistling wind became audible once more.

What’s wrong, honey? Mom ran a calming hand over Bailey’s mussed hair.

Bailey looked at her in astonishment. What’s wrong? Didn’t you hear that?

Yes, sweetheart. The train.

The train? Bailey’s mind lurched, trying to piece everything together. Her heart drummed in her chest.

Did it scare you? Mom asked. They warned me we’d hear it sometimes at night. It runs through here on its way to Gillette. Of course, I wasn’t expecting the house to shake, but it makes sense considering how close we are to the tracks. And that wind! Let’s check on Sarah.

Bailey’s face heated. No wailing phantom haunted the outdoors. And the reason for the whistling wind was obvious—they were in Wyoming. The wind blew more fiercely here than in Portland; there weren’t as many trees and mountains to break the flow. And the scratching sound was probably just a bush rubbing against the side of the house.

She followed Mom into Sarah’s room.

Didn’t even faze her, Mom said as she walked to Sarah’s bedside. She’s utterly exhausted.

Over Mom’s shoulder, Sarah breathed steadily, her eyes closed. In the nightlight’s glow, Bailey spotted a drool mark darkening the pillow beneath her sister’s mouth.

It’s a good thing they hooked our washing machine up, Mom said, a smile in her voice. Looks like I’ll be doing that pillowcase sooner than I thought. She turned and put a hand on Bailey’s arm. Come on, let’s go back to bed. You scared me when you came storming out of your room like that.

Sorry, Mom. And she was. She was also pathetic. Because who got worked up over a silly thing like a train?

The star of a cheesy B-rated drama, that’s who.

Except she was no longer certain this was a drama. Lonely town in rural Wyoming. Strange warnings from girls she didn’t know, but who knew her. Creepy, haunting cries at night.

Nope. This was no drama. She’d stepped straight into a Stephen King thriller, and no way did she want the lead role.

Chapter Two

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Monday morning, Sarah’s soft hand gripped Bailey’s fingers as they walked toward the tracks on their way to school. Why is Mommy already there?

To get her classroom set up. Bailey scrunched her nose as a thick aroma hit her. Cattle. Glancing behind her, she noted the white-faced black blobs grazing at the foot of a butte, just beyond the pathetic collection of homes on their side of the tracks.

Are the other kids going to like me?

The worry in her sister’s voice brought her attention around. Sarah stared up at her with bright-blue eyes so much like Mom’s. Oh, Sarah. They’re going to love you. I promise.

They walked over the train tracks and down the gentle slope. Both the high school and elementary school sat across the main road. Bailey pulled Sarah up and looked both ways before crossing, though the gesture was unnecessary. No cars came from either direction. A few dusty pickups decorated the single line of businesses, and a nice sedan waited in front of a petite, two-story building boasting that it was the town hall. But other than that, the place was a ghost town. After the busy streets of Portland, such stillness was... eerie.

I’ll drop you off at Mom’s room. She said she wanted to walk you to class, she told Sarah after they crossed the street and turned toward the high school. A neatly clipped lawn surrounded the red brick structure, and a row of young trees intermingled with an occasional bench along the sidewalk.

They entered the school and met an empty hallway.

Sarah pouted. Nobody’s here.

Not yet, Bailey soothed. We’re early. I want to look around before everyone shows up.

She found the music room and dropped Sarah off with Mom, who was pinning portraits of famous composers to the wall.

Does my hair look okay? Bailey asked before leaving. Unlike Sarah, she had inherited Gary’s green eyes and thick wavy hair. She’d stopped calling the sperm donor who was her father ‘Dad’ after the divorce rocked their world, but despite her efforts to forget him, the hair was a constant reminder. Gary could manage his hair by chopping it short and rubbing gel in it, but Bailey couldn’t do the same. Cutting her long, light-brown waves only made them more unmanageable. She’d tried it once and ended up looking like one of Jim Henson’s Muppets. That had been four years ago, and she’d never made the mistake again.

Looks perfect, Bailey, Mom answered. Good luck today. Let me know if you need anything.

Okay. Bye, guys, Bailey said over her shoulder as she ventured back into the hall.

She found the gymnasium first, right in the center of the building. A full-sized, shiny-floored court with—hallelujah!—six basketball hoops. Things were looking up.

Outside the gym, she found a miniature library, a computer lab with a handful of monitors, and an itty-bitty weight room in one short hallway. Around the corner, she discovered a longer hallway with a row of tall, slender beige lockers on one side, and five—yes, that was right, five—classrooms on the other. Science, math, social studies, English, and language arts, according to the signs on the doors.

The school was small. Tiny. Incredible that six grades—seventh through twelfth—could fit comfortably inside. But it looked fairly new, the walls bright, the carpet in good condition, and the lockers undented. New enough that if more rooms had been needed, the builders could have built them.

Bailey grimaced. There’d better be enough players for that basketball team, or else she and Mom were having a serious conversation.

Muted voices drifted from the opposite side of the building. People were finally arriving, which meant school would soon begin. She better get to her locker.

She pulled out the card Mom had given her earlier, with her locker number on it. She found the locker and dialed in the combination.

It didn’t open. Frowning, she tried it again.

The shuffling of footsteps alerted her to someone approaching. Hey, hey, hey—it’s the new girl.

She glanced over. Blue eyes in a lean, freckled face smiled back at her from the locker next door. The boy leaned against the metal and crossed his arms, looking her up and down. You’re cute. His sandy eyebrows waggled. It’s too bad you’re too tall for me.

Speechless, Bailey could only stare at the cute, albeit short, boy. Not that she was extraordinarily tall at five foot nine, but this kid was a good six or seven inches shorter.

Um...

Cat got your tongue? He chuckled. No worries, I’m just messing with you. Though you are kinda cute. I’m Chris, by the way. Junior, right?

That’s right. Bailey—

Johnson. Yeah, I know.

Evidently, Bailey muttered.

Ah, I guess I’m not the first illustrious citizen you’ve met.

Two girls stopped by while the movers were unloading. She scanned her memory for their names. Karly and Jenna?

Chris snapped his fingers. Dang, they beat me to it. I’d hoped to be the first. It’s not every day we get newbies. As you can see, the school is fairly small.

She looked around. A dozen kids had arrived, meandering through the hallway. More than one glanced her direction with curiosity.

Not what you’re used to? Chris asked.

No, not really.

Well, don’t worry. You’ll adapt. Eventually. He stared expectantly at her.

Did he expect some kind of response? Yeah, I guess. Not knowing what else to say, she turned back to her lock. Triple checking the combo, she dialed it in, then groaned when nothing happened.

There’s a trick to it. Here. Chris thumped his fist twice above the dial. The door popped open.

Bailey raised her eyebrows. I guess that’s why it was still available.

You could ask for another, but it would be in the freshman section. He nodded down the line, where a trio of younger boys were pulling at each other’s shirts.

That wouldn’t work. She would deal with what she’d been given.

Bailey, someone called from down the hall.

She twisted. Jenna approached, pulling a boy with bright-orange hair behind her.

Hey, don’t talk to that guy, Jenna ordered when she spotted Chris. He thinks he’s the class clown. But she smiled as she said it.

Jenna, Chris said. Ready for another year?

Are you kidding? I’m the smartest kid in the class. I was born ready.

Yeah, right. Chris laughed and turned back to Bailey. She’d have to get better math scores than me to be the smartest, and that’s not gonna happen.

Whatever, freckle-face, Jenna sparred.

Dream on, redhead.

Jenna stuck out her tongue.

"That’s mature," Chris said with a laugh.

Whatever. Listen, I gotta make sure my brother gets to class. Chris, you wanna take Bailey to homeroom? I think the first bell is going to ring.

Sure enough, the hall was filling up with students. But it wasn’t the swarm of wild activity Bailey had expected; it was more like a light buzz. Many of the kids looked younger than her, but a