Chapter Thirty-Seven
Jim returned with a shovel. Rebecca had pulled away the leaves and some of the dirt with her hands, and there was a clear pattern to the stones, which were roughly lined up across the top of the slight mound.
Jim put the shovel on the side of the mound and placed his foot on the top of the blade, ready to push in, when he jumped back as if electrocuted, as if whatever was under these rocks and dirt had reached out of the ground and tried to strangle him.
“I can’t do it,” he gasped, anguish on his face.
Rebecca was startled.
“You can’t do what?” she asked, moving to him and placing her hand on his shoulder.
“If this is a burial mound, my faith won’t let me do this,” he said.
“Tell me,” she said impatiently.
“If this is an Indian burial mound,” he explained, “we
