said.
“You heard noises,” he said low, “and you heard all that
filth coming out of Benjamin Straddler’s mouth. And all that talk about spooks
and the Evil One and all that.”
May looked at her feet and thought about what Jim Falk
had told her as they walked along the path. She saw a dark, sparkling shape in
the corner of her mind.
“Well, Benjamin Straddler is a sick man, and he isn’t
right in the head. He’s the one you need to stay away from, May. He’s got something
awful in him.”
May wiped her face and her nose. “Benjamin brought him
back, though.”
There was a quiet moment between the two of them.
From the little room, they could hear Jim’s breathing
coming steadier and deeper now. The town of Sparrow was very, very quiet
outside.
“Pa,” May whispered, “do you think that Benjamin really
did all those things? Do you think he ate a wolf alive like he said?”
“I believe that he did, May,” Huck said. “I believe that
he did.”
Chapter 9
The men were hollering at each other in the fog.
Vernon Mosely was with Doc Pritham down by the creek.
They were sweeping the creek on the Sparrow side. Huck was up by the wood’s
edge near the hill.
Hattie Jones was spending a lot of time looking at the
chicken man’s cart. Samuel sat in the mud beside him or twirled around in a circle
looking at the white sky.
The ground was dark and muddy all over and it was cold
because it had, somewhere between evening and morning, frosted. There were marks
in the ground all over, paw prints where wolves had been running around Sparrow
all night. Here and there were darker places in the dark mud as well. These
darker spots were caused by blood. There were strange marks too—long, deep ruts
that weren’t caused by the wheels of any wagon.
Chicken feathers flitted about in the foggy air. Save
for the occasional shout of someone when they came across a ravaged chicken or
more of the strange marks, hardly a noise could be heard.
Hattie Jones’s boy, Samuel, looked to be enjoying himself,
his face lit up, his smile wide as he looked into the sky. Around him the grim
faces of the men of Sparrow, the frowning jowls and the crossed brows, appeared
now and again in the fog. The boy smiled and smiled so that some of the men
shook their heads when they caught sight of him. Even if some of the men wanted
to smile at his sunny face, they didn’t.
Everyone was looking in the fog.
Bill Hill and Violet appeared, shambling out of the misty
morning, and Hattie saw them and came up to them, pulling Samuel along. Hattie
frowned a bit when he saw the sight. The sad thing about the Hills was that
Violet was so pretty, but Bill had worn her out. Too many mornings started with
Hattie seeing the two of them arguing here or arguing there; sometimes Violet
would hide her face as she walked about. Hattie was sure he knew why, but he
couldn’t figure out why such a tough and pretty lady would go on staying with a
rude-tempered man like Bill, except that he had built up a lot of the town and
probably had some money on him.
“The chicken man’s disappeared. All his chickens too.
And his horse,” Hattie said.
“Horse,” Samuel said.
Violet was holding on to Bill’s arm and wasn’t looking
at anything in particular. Maybe she was staring at his belt buckle or his chest.
“We just come in to get some things at Huck’s,” Bill
said and looked at Hattie.
“Well,” Hattie said, “everyone is looking. You should
help us look. We’re all out here and we’re looking.”
Bill Hill looked down at Violet and said, “Why don’t
you go on to Huck’s and get the things that we talked about? Are you feeling well
enough to do that?”
Violet nodded her head and he let her go, but only after
she looked and looked into his eyes and then he nodded his head to tell her to
go on. She looked shaken, rickety. Bill coughed and patted his chest and rubbed
his left arm with his right.
“Violet hasn’t been feeling all too well.
“You heard noises,” he said low, “and you heard all that
filth coming out of Benjamin Straddler’s mouth. And all that talk about spooks
and the Evil One and all that.”
May looked at her feet and thought about what Jim Falk
had told her as they walked along the path. She saw a dark, sparkling shape in
the corner of her mind.
“Well, Benjamin Straddler is a sick man, and he isn’t
right in the head. He’s the one you need to stay away from, May. He’s got something
awful in him.”
May wiped her face and her nose. “Benjamin brought him
back, though.”
There was a quiet moment between the two of them.
From the little room, they could hear Jim’s breathing
coming steadier and deeper now. The town of Sparrow was very, very quiet
outside.
“Pa,” May whispered, “do you think that Benjamin really
did all those things? Do you think he ate a wolf alive like he said?”
“I believe that he did, May,” Huck said. “I believe that
he did.”
Chapter 9
The men were hollering at each other in the fog.
Vernon Mosely was with Doc Pritham down by the creek.
They were sweeping the creek on the Sparrow side. Huck was up by the wood’s
edge near the hill.
Hattie Jones was spending a lot of time looking at the
chicken man’s cart. Samuel sat in the mud beside him or twirled around in a circle
looking at the white sky.
The ground was dark and muddy all over and it was cold
because it had, somewhere between evening and morning, frosted. There were marks
in the ground all over, paw prints where wolves had been running around Sparrow
all night. Here and there were darker places in the dark mud as well. These
darker spots were caused by blood. There were strange marks too—long, deep ruts
that weren’t caused by the wheels of any wagon.
Chicken feathers flitted about in the foggy air. Save
for the occasional shout of someone when they came across a ravaged chicken or
more of the strange marks, hardly a noise could be heard.
Hattie Jones’s boy, Samuel, looked to be enjoying himself,
his face lit up, his smile wide as he looked into the sky. Around him the grim
faces of the men of Sparrow, the frowning jowls and the crossed brows, appeared
now and again in the fog. The boy smiled and smiled so that some of the men
shook their heads when they caught sight of him. Even if some of the men wanted
to smile at his sunny face, they didn’t.
Everyone was looking in the fog.
Bill Hill and Violet appeared, shambling out of the misty
morning, and Hattie saw them and came up to them, pulling Samuel along. Hattie
frowned a bit when he saw the sight. The sad thing about the Hills was that
Violet was so pretty, but Bill had worn her out. Too many mornings started with
Hattie seeing the two of them arguing here or arguing there; sometimes Violet
would hide her face as she walked about. Hattie was sure he knew why, but he
couldn’t figure out why such a tough and pretty lady would go on staying with a
rude-tempered man like Bill, except that he had built up a lot of the town and
probably had some money on him.
“The chicken man’s disappeared. All his chickens too.
And his horse,” Hattie said.
“Horse,” Samuel said.
Violet was holding on to Bill’s arm and wasn’t looking
at anything in particular. Maybe she was staring at his belt buckle or his chest.
“We just come in to get some things at Huck’s,” Bill
said and looked at Hattie.
“Well,” Hattie said, “everyone is looking. You should
help us look. We’re all out here and we’re looking.”
Bill Hill looked down at Violet and said, “Why don’t
you go on to Huck’s and get the things that we talked about? Are you feeling well
enough to do that?”
Violet nodded her head and he let her go, but only after
she looked and looked into his eyes and then he nodded his head to tell her to
go on. She looked shaken, rickety. Bill coughed and patted his chest and rubbed
his left arm with his right.
“Violet hasn’t been feeling all too well.
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