The Weight of Blood by Laura McHugh Read Free Book Online

The path cut through a stand of cedars and descended into a valley where the Danes first settled in Ozark County. Dad used to tell me bedtime stories about the old homestead, stories passed down from his parents and grandparents. How Emily Dane, upon finding a blacksnake in the chicken coop, cut open the snake to retrieve the stolen eggs and place them back under the hens. How, when the well was dug, John Dane lowered an ax handle on a rope to check the water, and the underground current was so strong he had to let go.
    What was left of the homestead now was a cluster of tin-roofed outbuildings in various states of decomposition, a collapsed barn, a root cellar with its crumbled steps leading into the earth, and the stone foundation and chimneys of the main house. Walnut trees had sprouted in the spaces between the buildings, and blackberry brambles tangled in the field. Judd pulled up behind the barn and parked in front of a single-wide trailer that looked out of place among the ruins but every bit as forsaken.
    â€œAll right,” he said, handing me a key. “Crete’s selling this trailer and needs to get it cleared out. Everything goes. Should be trash bags and whatnot inside.”
    â€œSince when did he have somebody living out here?” I asked. The last time I could remember visiting the homestead was sixth grade, when Bess and I had come berry picking. There hadn’t been a trailer then.
    Judd shrugged and fiddled with his hearing aid. “I dunno, some friend of his.”
    Daniel and I got out of the truck. “When’re you coming back?” I asked.
    â€œâ€™Round quitting time,” Judd said, not elaborating on when that might be. Then he was gone and Daniel and I were alone in the valley, the hills rising up around us and the sun bearing down. We stared at each other.
    Daniel spoke first. “It’s a little spooky out here,” he said, surveying the abandoned buildings.
    â€œMy grandparents thought the house over there was haunted,” I said. “There’d be knocking at the door odd times of the day or night. But when they went to answer it, no one was ever there.”
    â€œThanks,” he said, grinning. “That makes me feel better.” He started walking toward the trailer.
    â€œIt wasn’t really haunted,” I said, catching up to him. “When they opened up the old kitchen fireplace that’d been bricked in, they found a poker hanging on a hook. If the wind came down the chimney just right, it’d knock against the wall.”
    â€œReal ghosts don’t need to knock, I guess,” he said. We reached the trailer and he motioned for me to go first.
    I climbed the steps and twisted the key in the lock. The door swung inward, releasing a wave of putrid heat.
    â€œWhoa,” Daniel said. “Smells like something crawled in and died.” He pushed past me, and we waded through trash to reach the nearest window. It was covered with heavy drapes that had been nailed to the wall at the top and bottom so they couldn’t be opened. With a bit of effort, Daniel ripped the drapes down, illuminating the living room. A cracked vinyl sofa sat against the wall. Across from that, a TV balanced on a stack of cinder blocks. There was no other furniture. I wrenched the window open and sucked in fresh air.
    To the left of the living area was a tiny kitchenette where a dark puddle spread out like a shadow from the base of the fridge. A narrow hallway led to a bathroom and bedroom, both strewn with beer cans, food wrappers, and dirty clothes, and one empty room with the carpet cut away.
    Daniel found the cleaning supplies on the kitchen counter. “All right,” he said. “How about we bag everything up, toss it out, then scrub the place down as best we can.”
    â€œNo amount of scrubbing’ll fix this carpet,” I said.
    â€œYeah, probably not.” He handed me a pair of gloves, and I started filling my trash