Free Signs in the Blood by Vicki Lane Page B

you—the old Baker place.”
    Walter, a wisp of a man in faded overalls, leaned slowly forward to peer at Elizabeth. He was about to speak when his wife said, “Why, yes, we know who she is. You remember, Walter, her and her man come huntin' their cows, back when we was livin' up on the mountain, must have been ten, twelve years ago. I believe hit was in June and they was just soaked with sweat. They found them cows, too, in the pasture with old Pet.”
    She smiled widely at Elizabeth. “Hit's good to see you again, Miz Goodweather.” Then she lowered her voice and leaned toward Birdie. “Birdie, honey, Burlen done told us about your Cletus. I hate it for you but I know he's singin' with the angel band right now.” She touched Birdie's arm consolingly.
    “I thank you, Ollie. I was just tellin' Lizzie Beth that my Cletus is safe with Jesus. But I still want to know how come him to end up in the river when I seen him goin' the other way, headin' up Pinnacle. I was wonderin' if he'd come this way—hit would have been about three weeks back of this.”
    Again Walter Johnson leaned forward, shifting his chewing tobacco into his cheek, but once again Ollie spoke first. “Why, no, honey, we didn't see him. And iffen he'd come this way, he surely would of stopped in. Cletus did love my biscuits and many's the time he come this way and stayed with us. But we ain't seed him since back in March. I know because I always write it on the calendar when people come by and when Burlen told me about Cletus, I went and looked to see when it was he was last here. March twenty-seven, hit was.”
    “Do you reckon he might of gone to your old place?” Birdie asked earnestly. “Lizzie Beth could take me up the road in her jeep. I'm a-lookin' for Cletus's shotgun what he had with him. Hit weren't there . . . where they found him.”
    “Law, honey, you can't get nary a vehicle up to the old place no more. That big ice storm last winter blowed over nineteen big trees right acrost the road. They's a big poplar down right around the curve. No, the onliest way is to walk. Me and Walter ain't been up to the old place since last fall. That old arthuritis won't let neither of us clamber over them big trees.”
    Walter raised a finger and began, “That preacher—”
    “That's right,” Ollie continued. “They's a preacher man from outside of here been stayin' up there since the beginning of March. He's one of these travelin' evangelists—Burlen knows him from some'ers. Burlen said this Brother Slagle was lookin' for a quiet place to be alone and pray between his travels and asked could he use our old cabin.”
    “Lizzie Beth,” Birdie explained, “that Burlen she's namin' is Pastor Briggs, the one was over to Dessie's that last day we was there. Burlen Briggs is Ollie's baby brother.”
    “I reckon that preacher's found hit quiet enough; we ain't seen but very little of him,” Ollie continued. “He did pass by just yesterday and stopped to visit. Iffen he'd seen Cletus, reckon he'd of said something to us.” She darted a look at Walter, who was noisily clearing his throat and added, “That preacher man's a-settin' up his tent on the bypass now, gettin' ready for a big revival startin' next week. They call him John the Baptizer.”
    Walter slowly hoisted himself out of his chair and, shuffling forward, spat a thin stream of tobacco juice into the weeds below. A bit of the amber liquid caught the edge of the porch and Ollie exclaimed, “Walter, why can't you use that spit can I fixed for you? Let me get a rag and wipe that off.” She bustled into the trailer, still fussing vociferously at her husband.
    As Walter made his unhurried way back to his seat, he caught Birdie's eye and wheezed, “Reckon you ought to go ask them hippies up on Hog Run did they see Cletus.”
    II-A PRIL 1901
    Romarie took on like one thing when she come home from Phelpses and found out that we was a-goin to have a boarder. Daddy and Mister Tomlin had gone off