Y’all new to Hallettsville?” the cashier at Morgan’s asked, as Brett and Audrey piled merchandise on the counter. Morgan’s was a gas station and convenience store with a better-than-usual selection of prepared foods. Flyers covered the front windows advertising local events and services such as brush clearing, road building, and dozer work.

“Yeah,” Brett said, as he glanced at the cookies and small pies sitting near the cash register. “My great uncle died and left me his home place.” He gestured to the food and cleaning supplies he’d piled on the counter. “My wife Audrey and I are going to stay for a while. I visited once when I was about ten, but it was just for a few hours. I never got far from the house.”

Audrey pointed at the deli display behind the cashier. “How about a couple of those brisket sandwiches?”

“Sure thing.” The cashier rang up the sandwiches and bagged them. Turning to Brett, she asked, “Who was your uncle?”

“William Praha. We called him Uncle Dub.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Dub Praha? About a section of land some 20 miles down 530? Backs up on the Navidad River?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“The cashier looked down and then back up a Brett. She paused and narrowed her eyes. “What have you heard about the place?”

“What’s to hear?” Brett asked. “We expect it needs some work, but we’re OK with that.”

The cashier opened her mouth as if to speak and then seemed to think better of it. After a moment, she asked, “And you’re spending the night there?”

“Sure. We’re teachers, and we’re making the place our summer project. Any reason we shouldn’t?” Brett swiped his credit card through the reader.

She glanced away and chewed her lip. She mumbled something to herself and called over her shoulder. “Hey, Hank. This fella inherited Dub Praha’s place. He and his wife are gonna stay out there for a while.”

A gray-haired, heavy-set man turned and pursed his lips. He looked Brett’s five feet, eight inches up and down, seeming to take in his Longhorn T-shirt, bermuda shorts, and Teva sandals.

“Tell you what, mister,” Hank said. “If I was you, I’d stay out of the bottomland, and I’d keep to the house at night. You got a gun?”

“Why?” Brett asked. “What could be out there?”

“Well.” Hank paused, furrowing his eyebrows. “You just never know. That country’s pretty thick. I cain’t rightly say what might be lurking around.”

“Deer, pigs, coyotes, and maybe a bobcat?” Brett asked with a smirk as he signed the receipt.

Hank tilted is head. “Suit yourself.” His cheek twitched.

As Brett and Audrey turned to leave the store, the cashier called out, “You take care of yourselves, you hear?”

“Sure thing. Thanks,” Audrey said.

-0-

Audrey was already in the car when Brett finished loading and slid into the driver’s seat. Cassie thumped her tail and moved from Audrey to him for attention.

Brett laughed. “They sure tried to spook us. I guess they’re looking for a good buy on the land.”

Maybe so,” Audrey said. Her voice showed doubt. Brett looked at her, but let it drop, and pulled onto the street. Cassie whined, wanting the scratching to continue.

They headed southeast down Farm-to-Market 530. The route was dotted with open pastures, but the uncleared areas were treed and had heavy undergrowth. In many of the pastures, the brush was trying to take the open areas back one clump at a time.

-0-

A half hour later, they arrived at the gate and pulled in front of Uncle Dub’s house. It had almost forgotten its acquaintance with paint. The main part of the house had a gable roof. At the rear, the angle of the roof decreased, forming a shed-roof extension. Thick, thorny bramble had taken over part of the porch and was prying away boards. Tattered curtains fluttered from an open window. Plywood covered another window, and on it, someone had spray painted “Trespassers Will Disappear.”

When they stepped out of the car, mosquitoes engulfed them in clouds. After covering themselves with repellent, Brett saw Cassie sniffing a large area of churned earth.

“Look over there,” he said. “I wonder if somebody has been digging here.”

“Feral hogs do that,” Audrey said. “I used to see that on my dad’s deer lease. They root around looking for something to eat. They make a mess, don’t they?”

After loading the car, they secured the house as best they could and found the electricity still worked.

“Praise the Lord,” Audrey said. Brett found a place to plop down with a beer before starting to clean.

-0-

A couple of days later, Audrey shifted her work from inside to the back porch.

“Look what I found,” she said, holding up a small wreath braided with vines. It has fresh flowers tucked in it.”

“That’s odd,” Brett said. “It’s hasn’t been here too long or the flowers would have wilted. It’s like something a kid would make. Have you seen any kids?”

Cassie seemed anxious, and Audrey held the wreath down for her to sniff. Cassie’s hackles rose, her ears went back, her lips pulled back from her fangs, and she growled from deep in her chest.

“Cassie!” Audrey pulled the wreath back. “That’s weird. I’ve never seen Cassie behave like that. But no, I haven’t seen or heard any kids. Have you?”

“No, I don’t --- oh, you made that.” Brett said. “You’re jerking my chain, aren’t you?”

“I am not!”

“Come on, what would you have me believe?”

Audrey gave Brett a sour look, and they went back to work. After a while, he turned back to Audrey.

“Did you find a file around here?”

“No, why?”

“Because I didn’t bring one. Look at those rusty tools hanging from the wall.”

“What about them?”

“The blade of the machete,” Brett said. “It’s been sharpened recently. But not the hatchet beside it. Its blade’s as rusty as the rest of it. Who would come along and sharpen tools?”

-0-