Under a darkening Missouri sky, Ruth grabbed the steering wheel in a tense hug and slammed the ancient VW into gear. “We’d better find a motel.”
“We’ve come all this way. Uncle Hiram must be here.” In tears, Bon consulted the map and pointed the way.
The old woman behind the counter was concerned. “What’s got you so sad, Honey?”
Tears tracked down Bon’s cheeks. “We can’t find Uncle Hiram’s grave.”
“Well, that’s ‘cause he’s in the old cemetery.” She marked the map.
“But a terrible storm is coming.”
“Why, Honey, them’re just scare clouds. It ain’t gonna rain.”
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