Read by Shawn Robertson
“Tain’t never cottoned to outsiders no less Yankees tellin’ me what to do, sonny,” the wizened woman called Granny Liz said. “And I sure as hell ain’t gonna let none traipse about up them hills.” She waved a thin hand at a wooded section of the countryside. “Specially not were Cloud family bones is buried.”
The Arkansas State Trooper who stood before her sighed. “I know, Liz,” He said. “Miss Cloud,” the silver haired woman corrected. She was dressed in layers of blue and red gingham with a grey shawl tossed over her narrow shoulders but at barely five feet tall she still looked painfully small next to the burly officer.
“Miss Cloud,” he said. “They are not going to hurt the land and they have a perfect legal right with documents from the state government to harvest turpentine.”
“Ain’t no government that can give no permission to desecrate graves-”