Chapter Ten
KERCHUNK.
Duvall swung the heavy mattock in a high gentle arc, goring the soil with metronomic regularity.
Kerchunk.
Lucas grunted in empathy, leaning upon a shovel, waiting for his chance to dig.
Kerchunk.
“Good soil,” Lucas said.
Duvall only grunted.
Kerchunk.
“Full of roots, though. You should have buried him further from the tree.”
That earned nothing but another grunt.
Kerchunk.
“Keep on hacking up those roots and you’re apt to kill the damned thing,” Lucas noted.
Duvall looked up for the briefest instant as if Lucas had said something absurd.
Then he returned to his labor.
Kerchunk.
“It is hard to dig.”
Kerchunk.
“Why’d she do it?”
Duvall paused again.
“The child was born dead,” he said. “Any fool could see that.”
He picked the mattock up and swung ag
