he said, after she turned it over. “Not even a made-in mark. So why a bright star?”
They looked at each other, wide-eyed. “During my run-in with Bright Star Monson, he insisted Tess’s wedding was pagan. I threw back at him something like I’d trust Adena pagan ways compared to how he ran roughshod over his people.”
“But if he left these, what’s his point? And why wouldn’t he leave a cross—a crucifix—if he’s trying to Christianize the pagan dead of this mound, or whatever.”
“Because he’s a cult leader, not really Christian,” she insisted, her voice rising. “Maybe he’s convinced he can convert the pagan dead to his ways. He’s into complete control of his robot congregation and who knows what else. It makes me sick he’s got my relatives enthralled and enslaved. In a cult, it always ends up being all about the leader, like that crazy Jim Jones, who got a thousand of his followers to drink Kool-Aid laced with cyanide!”
“Not so far off, maybe, from the ancient Adena leaders. I read their leaders were sometimes buried with others who were killed to accompany them to the afterlife. So don’t you go confronting Bright Star yourself. I wonder what the paint on the points means?”
The reality of what she was looking at hit her hard. “I thought it was paint at first, too,” she whispered, “but now I think it’s old or dried blood.”
* * *
Back at work at the mill, Grant had another theory about the stars Kate had found. Could she have planted them just so he’d let her get closer to Mason Mound—and closer to him? She’d found the second star pretty fast in that ground cover.
“Grant.” A voice cut through his thoughts. Brad stuck his head in the office door. “Keith said you wanted to see me? A guy that big speaks, ya gotta listen.”
“Yeah. Come on in,” he said, ignoring the lame joke.
“I mean, it’s not like we don’t see each other at the house, if this is some big-brother talk,” Brad said, closing the door behind him and taking the other chair.
“You’re hardly there. I assume the new places uptown are more appealing than my food or conversation.”
“Look. I’ve been trying to help out around here—show you I can be valuable to you. I’ve talked to everyone on the floor, kept an eye on Todd, and—”
“And that’s one thing I wanted to ask you. Todd should be keeping an eye on you, not the other way around. You don’t think I’m going to change my mind about demoting him and putting you in as foreman, do you? At most, I can work you in as cutting-line supervisor when Randy Thatcher retires in the fall but—”
“Well, thanks a lot! I come in here, willing to help, and you give me no hope of moving up in our family business. I know, I know, you bought out my share when I wanted to go out on my own. But I’m telling you, if Dad was still alive, he’d welcome me home with open arms like the prodigal son!”
“I’m impressed with the reference. I have no doubt he’d kill the fatted calf for you. And I’ve welcomed you back, but not at the price of firing or demoting loyal, hardworking men here, and Todd’s a longtime friend of ours.”
“One we don’t want to tick off since he’s one of our coconspirators, right?”
“Brad, just listen. I know you understand that Todd’s good at what he does and loyal. Dad would not fire or demote him, either, nor would Grandpa or—”
“So, it’s family-tree time again. And I don’t mean that as another reference to the stolen tree.”
“There’s something else. On Sunday, when you and Todd were both here, you worked on the inventory, right?”
“Yeah. There any mistakes in it?”
“No. I was just surprised so little of it got done. You weren’t arguing with each other instead, were you?”
He gave a little snort, then—after a beat—shook his head. “If you want to know, we both came and went. I went uptown for a few minutes and he went home—or somewhere—for quite a while.
They looked at each other, wide-eyed. “During my run-in with Bright Star Monson, he insisted Tess’s wedding was pagan. I threw back at him something like I’d trust Adena pagan ways compared to how he ran roughshod over his people.”
“But if he left these, what’s his point? And why wouldn’t he leave a cross—a crucifix—if he’s trying to Christianize the pagan dead of this mound, or whatever.”
“Because he’s a cult leader, not really Christian,” she insisted, her voice rising. “Maybe he’s convinced he can convert the pagan dead to his ways. He’s into complete control of his robot congregation and who knows what else. It makes me sick he’s got my relatives enthralled and enslaved. In a cult, it always ends up being all about the leader, like that crazy Jim Jones, who got a thousand of his followers to drink Kool-Aid laced with cyanide!”
“Not so far off, maybe, from the ancient Adena leaders. I read their leaders were sometimes buried with others who were killed to accompany them to the afterlife. So don’t you go confronting Bright Star yourself. I wonder what the paint on the points means?”
The reality of what she was looking at hit her hard. “I thought it was paint at first, too,” she whispered, “but now I think it’s old or dried blood.”
* * *
Back at work at the mill, Grant had another theory about the stars Kate had found. Could she have planted them just so he’d let her get closer to Mason Mound—and closer to him? She’d found the second star pretty fast in that ground cover.
“Grant.” A voice cut through his thoughts. Brad stuck his head in the office door. “Keith said you wanted to see me? A guy that big speaks, ya gotta listen.”
“Yeah. Come on in,” he said, ignoring the lame joke.
“I mean, it’s not like we don’t see each other at the house, if this is some big-brother talk,” Brad said, closing the door behind him and taking the other chair.
“You’re hardly there. I assume the new places uptown are more appealing than my food or conversation.”
“Look. I’ve been trying to help out around here—show you I can be valuable to you. I’ve talked to everyone on the floor, kept an eye on Todd, and—”
“And that’s one thing I wanted to ask you. Todd should be keeping an eye on you, not the other way around. You don’t think I’m going to change my mind about demoting him and putting you in as foreman, do you? At most, I can work you in as cutting-line supervisor when Randy Thatcher retires in the fall but—”
“Well, thanks a lot! I come in here, willing to help, and you give me no hope of moving up in our family business. I know, I know, you bought out my share when I wanted to go out on my own. But I’m telling you, if Dad was still alive, he’d welcome me home with open arms like the prodigal son!”
“I’m impressed with the reference. I have no doubt he’d kill the fatted calf for you. And I’ve welcomed you back, but not at the price of firing or demoting loyal, hardworking men here, and Todd’s a longtime friend of ours.”
“One we don’t want to tick off since he’s one of our coconspirators, right?”
“Brad, just listen. I know you understand that Todd’s good at what he does and loyal. Dad would not fire or demote him, either, nor would Grandpa or—”
“So, it’s family-tree time again. And I don’t mean that as another reference to the stolen tree.”
“There’s something else. On Sunday, when you and Todd were both here, you worked on the inventory, right?”
“Yeah. There any mistakes in it?”
“No. I was just surprised so little of it got done. You weren’t arguing with each other instead, were you?”
He gave a little snort, then—after a beat—shook his head. “If you want to know, we both came and went. I went uptown for a few minutes and he went home—or somewhere—for quite a while.
Similar Books
