bag strapped across shoulder. At his side was his father, alive and strong and just as he had looked in Jedd’s youth. They strode together across a familiar ridge, hunting deer. In the dream they were not alone. With them was Rand Blalock, the local sheriff, longtime family friend, and frequent hunting companion of the Colters. As usual, Blalock was talking too much and walking too heavily and loudly, annoying his companions. When Jedd’s father would ask him to be a little quieter, Blalock would take obvious offense and reduce his talk to a mumble that made him hard to understand yet still carried farther and more loudly than it should. He had one of those voices. Then it seemed to Jedd he heard another voice besides Blalock’s, and it wasn’t Treemont’s. Yet it was familiar, but it didn’t belong in a dream of North Carolina. At length Jedd awakened and sat up. The first thing he noticed was that Sheriff Blalock really, and amazingly, was present, seated on the ground near the smoldering fire that was now reduced to red-glowing coals.
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