FiveThe homestead stood deserted, wall planks buckled, some fallen into the ground. An old rocking chair , painted white, sat on the porch , the only evidence that people ever dwelt here.
There were four buildings. A main house, two barns and an outhouse, or privy. Wind moaned through the broken doors of the main barn, sending up flurries of hay and straw. Horses stabled here once, their ghosts lingering in the thick, musty smell, sunlight from a roof light cutting thin beams through the floating dust.
Nothing lived here now except the silence.
Curly, bent low behind a small rise, scanned every inch of the place, not convinced it was uninhabited.
“It's clearly deserted,” said Arthur. Next to him, Brewster stretched himself out on the ground, arms behind his head, hat over his eyes. “Wh
