Signs in the Blood Read Free Page B

The interior of the knapsack was alive with maggots.
    “You see,” Miss Birdie demanded as Elizabeth hastily lowered the bag to the ground out of reach of the urgently whining dog. “Somethin' must have happened to Cletus. Else how come Pup to bring that bag home? We got to call the high sheriff and get them to go out and find my boy. Cletus may be layin' up some'ers with a broke leg . . . or worse,” she said grimly. “I'm gonna tie up this dog and bury that nasty bag. Washin' won't never get that smell out. You go on up to the house, Lizzie Beth, and call the sheriff for me.” Miss Birdie stumped off toward a doghouse surrounded by hard-packed dirt, towing the still agitated Pup.
    “Wait, Miss Birdie,” said Elizabeth. “Where should I tell the sheriff to start looking for Cletus? Where does he usually go?”
    Miss Birdie paused. “Be still, Pup!” she admonished the unruly dog, who was deeply intent on getting back to the knapsack and its reeking contents. Her face was troubled as she said, “Lordy, Lizzie Beth, I can't rightly say. He took off up Pinnacle but he'd a hit the ridge and started walkin'. Ain't no tellin' where he might of come down. One time he ended up almost to Tennessee. They's a world of deep coves all along there.”
    As Birdie went to find a shovel, Elizabeth delicately opened the smaller pocket of the knapsack. Inside were several shriveled plants, dried black forest soil still clumped about their fleshy roots.
    “Miss Birdie,” she called. “There's ginseng in here too. Where would Cletus go to hunt ginseng?”
    From the lower part of the barn Miss Birdie's voice called back, “Lizzie Beth, honey, ain't no sang hunter ever told nobody where he gets his sang.”
    Elizabeth found a little stick in Miss Birdie's woodpile and knelt to poke at the knapsack's repulsive contents.
Maybe there's something else in here that would give us some clue as to where Cletus could be,
she thought, breathing through her mouth and trying to ignore the rank odor of the rotting squirrels.
Nothing but maggots and carrion there,
she decided, and turned her attention to the smaller pocket. A glint of yellow caught her eye, and she pushed aside the dirt and ginseng plants to reveal a small, intricately folded origami crane. She stared at the fragile little thing, wondering how Cletus had come by such an exotic creation out in the backwoods of Appalachia.
    “I done dug us a hole, Lizzie Beth. Let's go drop that nasty thing in and cover it up good.” Miss Birdie was at her side, holding out her hand for the knapsack.
    “Look at this, Miss Birdie.” Elizabeth teased the little yellow crane out of the pocket with the stick. “Does Cletus know how to fold paper into shapes like this?”
    Miss Birdie regarded the crane with disapproval. “Naw, I wouldn't think so. Though he's a right good hand to make a paper aeroplane. No tellin' where'bouts he might of picked that up. That boy's like a crow, purely loves bright things.” She sniffed, wrinkling up her face in disgust. “Let's get that poke in the ground. That smell's like to make me vomick.”
    Elizabeth said nothing but continued to work at the paper crane with the stick, carefully unfolding it. A few black marks were visible on the paper, and she hoped there might be writing that would give some clue as to the origin of the thing. But as the last fold was opened out, only a few wavy lines were revealed. She peered closely at the paper. It seemed to be a copy, not an original, and there was no writing at all. Just the wavy lines and, down in one corner, something that might be a sketch of a hand.
    “You know what, Miss Birdie?” she said, aware of her friend's impatience. “I think we ought not to bury the knapsack. The sheriff might want to see it for evidence.”
    Miss Birdie's mouth set in a thin line. “Hit'll be evidence Cletus was huntin' out of season. How come him to do that anyhow? Now, I don't say that boy wouldn't take one or two squirrels if