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The
Trapingus
County
high
sheriff
was
a
whiskeynosed
old
boy
with
a
gut
like
a
washtub
and
a
head
of
white
hair
so
fine
it
looked
like
pipe-cleaner
fuzz
.
I
knew
him
well
;
he
'd
been
up
to
Cold
Mountain
plenty
of
times
to
see
what
he
called
"
his
boys
"
off
into
the
great
beyond
.
Execution
witnesses
sat
in
the
same
folding
chairs
you
've
probably
sat
in
yourself
a
time
or
two
,
at
funerals
or
church
suppers
or
Grange
bingo
(
in
fact
,
we
borrowed
ours
from
the
Mystic
Tie
No.
44
Grange
back
in
those
days
)
,
and
every
time
Sheriff
Homer
Cribus
sat
down
in
one
,
I
waited
for
the
dry
crack
that
would
signal
collapse
.
I
dreaded
that
day
and
hoped
for
it
,
both
at
the
same
time
,
but
it
was
a
day
that
never
came
.
Not
long
after
--
could
n't
have
been
more
than
one
summer
after
the
Detterick
girls
were
abducted
--
he
had
a
heart
attack
in
his
office
,
apparently
while
screwing
a
seventeen
year-old
black
girl
named
Daphne
Shurtleff
.
There
was
a
lot
of
talk
about
that
,
with
him
always
sporting
his
wife
and
six
boys
around
so
prominent
come
election
time
--
those
were
the
days
when
,
if
you
wanted
to
run
for
something
,
the
saying
used
to
be
"
Be
Baptist
or
be
gone
.
"
But
people
love
a
hypocrite
,
you
know
--
they
recognize
one
of
their
own
,
and
it
always
feels
so
good
when
someone
gets
caught
with
his
pants
down
and
his
dick
up
and
it
is
n't
you
.
Besides
being
a
hypocrite
,
he
was
incompetent
,
the
kind
of
fellow
who
'd
get
himself
photographed
petting
some
lady
's
cat
when
it
was
someone
else
--
Deputy
Rob
McGee
,
for
instance
--
who
'd
actually
risked
a
broken
collarbone
by
going
up
the
tree
where
Mistress
Pussycat
was
and
bringing
her
down
.
McGee
listened
to
Marjorie
Detterick
babble
for
maybe
two
minutes
,
then
cut
her
off
with
four
or
five
questions
--
quick
and
curt
,
like
a
trained
fighter
's
flicking
little
jabs
to
the
face
,
the
kind
of
punches
that
are
so
small
and
so
hard
that
the
blood
comes
before
the
sting
.
When
he
had
answers
to
these
,
he
said
:
"
I
'll
call
Bobo
Marchant
.
He
's
got
dogs
.
You
stay
put
,
Miz
Detterick
.
If
your
man
and
your
boy
come
back
,
make
them
stay
put
,
too
.
Try
,
anyway
.
"
Her
man
and
her
boy
had
,
meanwhile
,
followed
the
track
of
the
abductor
three
miles
to
the
northwest
,
but
when
his
trail
ran
out
of
open
fields
and
into
piney
woods
,
they
lost
it
.
They
were
farmers
,
not
hunters
,
as
I
have
said
,
and
by
then
they
knew
it
was
an
animal
they
were
after
.
Along
the
way
they
had
found
the
yellow
top
that
matched
Kathe
's
shorts
,
and
another
piece
of
Cora
's
nightie
.
Both
items
were
drenched
with
blood
,
and
neither
Klaus
nor
Howie
was
in
as
much
of
a
hurry
as
they
had
been
at
the
start
;
a
certain
cold
certainty
must
have
been
filtering
into
their
hot
hopes
by
then
,
working
its
way
downward
the
way
cold
water
does
,
sinking
because
it
is
heavier
.
They
cast
into
the
woods
,
looking
for
signs
,
found
none
,
cast
in
a
second
place
with
similar
lack
of
result
,
then
in
a
third
.
This
time
they
found
a
fantail
of
blood
splashed
across
the
needles
of
a
loblolly
pine
.
They
went
in
the
direction
it
seemed
to
point
for
a
little
way
,
then
began
the
casting-about
process
again
.
It
was
by
then
nine
o'clock
in
the
morning
,
and
from
behind
them
they
began
to
hear
shouting
men
and
baying
dogs
.
Rob
McGee
had
put
together
a
jackleg
posse
in
the
time
it
would
have
taken
Sheriff
Cribus
to
finish
his
first
brandy-sweetened
cup
of
coffee
,
and
by
quarter
past
the
hour
they
reached
Klaus
and
Howie
Detterick
,
the
two
of
them
stumbling
desperately
around
on
the
edge
of
the
woods
.
Soon
the
men
were
moving
again
,
with
Bobo
's
dogs
leading
the
way
.
McGee
let
Klaus
and
Howie
go
on
with
them
--
they
would
n't
have
gone
back
if
he
'd
ordered
them
,
no
matter
how
much
they
dreaded
the
outcome
,
and
McGee
must
have
seen
that
--
but
he
made
them
unload
their
weapons
.
The
others
had
done
the
same
,
McGee
said
;
it
was
safer
.
What
he
did
n't
tell
them
(
nor
did
anyone
else
)
was
that
the
Dettericks
were
the
only
ones
who
had
been
asked
to
turn
their
loads
over
to
the
deputy
.
Half-distracted
and
wanting
only
to
go
through
to
the
end
of
the
nightmare
and
be
done
with
it
,
they
did
as
he
asked
.
When
Rob
McGee
got
the
Dettericks
to
unload
their
guns
and
give
him
their
loads
,
he
probably
saved
John
Coffey
's
miserable
excuse
for
a
life
.
The
baying
,
yawping
dogs
pulled
them
through
two
miles
of
scrub
pine
,
always
on
that
same
rough
northwest
heading
.
Then
they
came
out
on
the
edge
of
the
Trapingus
River
,
which
is
wide
and
slow
at
that
point
,
running
southeast
through
low
,
wooded
hills
where
families
named
Cray
and
Robinette
and
Duplissey
still
made
their
own
mandolins
and
often
spat
out
their
own
rotted
teeth
as
they
plowed
;
deep
countryside
where
men
were
apt
to
handle
snakes
on
Sunday
morning
and
lie
down
in
carnal
embrace
with
their
daughters
on
Sunday
night
.
I
knew
their
families
;
most
of
them
had
sent
Sparky
a
meal
from
time
to
time
.
On
the
far
side
of
the
river
,
the
members
of
the
posse
could
see
the
June
sun
glinting
off
the
steel
rails
of
a
Great
Southern
branch
line
.
About
a
mile
downstream
to
their
right
,
a
trestle
crossed
toward
the
coal-fields
of
West
Green
.
Here
they
found
a
wide
trampled
patch
in
the
grass
and
low
bushes
,
a
patch
so
bloody
that
many
of
the
men
had
to
sprint
back
into
the
woods
and
relieve
themselves
of
their
breakfasts
.
They
also
found
the
rest
of
Cora
's
nightgown
lying
in
this
bloody
patch
,
and
Howie
,
who
had
held
up
admirably
until
then
,
reeled
back
against
his
father
and
nearly
fainted
.
