'I know an Edward Arthur lives over near Sylva. Used to be Holiness, but left the movement years ago. Brother Arthur used to claim he was led to the Holy Ghost by

'I know an Edward Arthur lives over near Sylva. Used to be Holiness, but left the movement years ago. Brother Arthur used to claim he was led to the Holy Ghost by George Hensley himself.'

'George Hensley?'

'The first man to take up serpents. Brother Arthur said they made acquaintance during Reverend Hensley's time in Grasshopper Valey.'

'I see.'

'Brother Arthur's got to be close to ninety by now.'

'He's stil alive?'

'As God's holy word.'

'He was a member of your church?'

'He was one of my father's flock, as devoted a man as ever breathed God's air. Army changed him. Kept the faith for a few years after the war, then just stopped folowing the signs.'

'When was that?'

'Around forty-seven or forty-eight. No. That's not right.' He pointed a gnarled finger. 'The last service Brother Arthur attended was for Sister Edna Farrel's passing. I recal that because Papa had been praying for the renewal of the man's faith. About a week after the funeral Papa paid Brother Arthur a visit, and found himself preaching down the barrel of a gun. After that, he give up.'

'When did Edna Farrel die?'

'Nineteen forty-nine.'

Edward Arthur had sold his land to the H&F Investment Group on April 10,1949.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I found Edward Arthur in a vegetable patch behind his log cabin. He wore a wool plaid shirt over denim coverals, rubber boots, and a ragged straw hat that might once have belonged to a gondolier. He paused when he saw me, then went back to turning dirt.

'Mr. Arthur?' I asked.

The old man continued jabbing a pitchfork at the ground, then pushing on it with a shaky foot. He had so little strength the prongs barely penetrated, but he repeated the movement again and again.

'Edward Arthur?' I spoke more loudly.

He didn't answer. The fork made a soft thud each time he thrust it at the soil.

'Mr. Arthur, I can see that you're busy, but I'd like to ask you a few questions.'

I set my face in what I hoped was an encouraging smile.

Arthur straightened as best he could and walked to a wheelbarrow loaded with rocks and dead vegetation. When he removed his shirt I saw scrawny arms and hands covered with liver spots the size of lima beans. Exchanging the pitchfork for a hoe, he tottered back to the row where he'd been working.

'I'd like to ask you about a piece of property near Running Goat Branch.'

For the first time Arthur looked at me. His eyes were rheumy, the rims red, the irises so pale they were almost colorless.