Thistle and Twigg by Mary Saums Read Free Book Online

was remarkably sober and quite chipper. Both he and Homer gratefully accepted the biscuits. They didn’t last long after we set out, for both man and dog were typical males, always hungry. We followed Homer, who stopped and sniffed occasionally, on a path leading into the woods.
    While we talked, I could see quickly that Cal was not only well educated, but quite a gentleman. What a difference since the night before. Without the liquor, his speech lost much of its country flavor and he stood straighter, giving the look of a younger man.
    It made me wonder if his unkempt appearance and “hermit” ways were a ruse to fool me, and perhaps all the townsfolk of Tul-lulah. Perhaps, like myself, he too wanted only to be left in peace. If so, he had certainly gone to the extreme in order to accomplish it.
    Before we reached the trees, I saw two boulders in the field to our left. My first thought was of small standing stones, like ones I’d seen in England, those great rocks moved into place in ancient times for religious rites. On top of the boulders, each about three feet high, bottles and cans had been placed in rows.
    “That’s my practice range,” Cal said. “Do you shoot?”
    “Yes, but haven’t done in some time. I need a bit of practice now that I’m living out in the wild.”
    “Come out here and shoot anytime you like. Behind the rocks is the bluff. There’s nothing else around to hit by mistake.”
    I immediately thought of Phoebe. “Would tomorrow be too soon? I’d like to bring a friend, if that’s all right.” I took another look at the boulders. Phoebe had been so generous in giving me the blanket. Considering her new interest in bullets, I thought a shooting lesson might be a small way to repay her.
    He hesitated. “No offense, but I don’t usually let strangers wander around.” He rubbed his chin, thinking intently.
    “It’s quite all right. I understand perfectly.”
    Cal stopped and looked at me. “But if it’s a friend of yours, and you promise not to wander off the trails, I reckon it’s okay.”
    “Oh, thank you. We’ll not stray.”
    A grin lit Cal’s face. “Okay. Come on. Homer’s beating us.”
    We stepped into the woods where to either side of us stood fir and pines. Cal told me his family had owned thousands of acres around here at one time, and that his great-grandfather was one of Tullulah’s founders. After more and more immigrants settled in the area, and towns and cities sprang up along the river, the Prewitt family’s land holdings had dwindled to this relatively small parcel of one hundred acres.
    “Lots of folks have tried to buy this from me. I never budged. My granddaddy told me ever since I was a boy, ‘Son, sell down by the river if you need to, but don’t ever sell up here.
Tsaluyi Udelida
— it means Secret Forest. The Cherokee and Chickasaw, Yaquis, Shawnee, who knows what other tribes before them, came here for important ceremonies, not far from where we’re standing.”
    Looking to either side, I thought it quite an appropriate name. The white rays of sunlight filtering down to the leaf-strewn forest floor certainly had the look of secret enchantments to me. I half expected to see the wizard Merlin or some native shaman step out from behind a wide tree trunk.
    I breathed in the thick evergreen air from the cedars and pines as birds chipped from high above. Hearing their bewitching melodies, I thanked Cal’s forebears who gave me this moment by insisting the forest be preserved.
    We came out of the trees to a sloping flat area. I gasped, looking out over the bluff where we stood to the scene below.
    Far below, a bend of the Tennessee River flowed between rolling hills and the variant textures of crops and fields. The squares and rectangles of soy and cotton ranged in color from emerald to light sea green. Red patches of tilled land stretched out, waiting their turns next spring. The river sparkled in the morning sun, moving swiftly as it narrowed over