Dark Tree: The Birth of Slocum’s Hollow
The horse died in its wagon harness.
Angus Slocum had been driving the animal onward up a dry creek bed when it simply gave up and fell to the ground in the brutal heat of the Appalachian Mountains. Swarms of flies descended instantly upon it.
Angus’ hands shook momentarily and then stopped. It was the only outward display of the panic he felt. He was a strong, stoic man by nature, but it wouldn’t have mattered if he weren’t. He was barely in better shape than the horse had been, having been lost for two weeks trying to find a way through the heavily wooded hills, and he had no energy left over to show emotion.
Their food had run out five days prior. Their water…three.
Angus glanced over at his daughter Mara and his wife Amy seated in the wagon net to him. They showed little more emotion than he did, the big hazel eyes in their round faces gazing emptily down at the dead horse.
Angus was happy he’d scolded Mara for trying to name the horse. Things would have been tougher otherwise…especially if they had to eat the animal— a very distinct possibility.
Angus wanted to tell his wife and daughter that they’d be okay. He wanted to assure them that they’d find some way out of this. He believed that, too. That’s the kind of man he was. That’s why he’d…
