Back Minor Prophets
Chapters (50)
  1. Cover
  2. Chapter 1
  3. Chapter 2
  4. Chapter 3
  5. Chapter 4
  6. Chapter 5
  7. Chapter 6
  8. Chapter 7
  9. Chapter 8
  10. Chapter 9
  11. Chapter 10
  12. Chapter 11
  13. Chapter 12
  14. Chapter 13
  15. Chapter 14
  16. Chapter 15
  17. Chapter 16
  18. Chapter 17
  19. Chapter 18
  20. Chapter 19
  21. Chapter 20
  22. Chapter 21
  23. Chapter 22
  24. Chapter 23
  25. Chapter 24
  26. Chapter 25
  27. Chapter 26
  28. Chapter 27
  29. Chapter 28
  30. Chapter 29
  31. Chapter 30
  32. Chapter 31
  33. Chapter 32
  34. Chapter 33
  35. Chapter 34
  36. Chapter 35
  37. Chapter 36
  38. Chapter 37
  39. Chapter 38
  40. Chapter 39
  41. Chapter 40
  42. Chapter 41
  43. Chapter 42
  44. Chapter 43
  45. Chapter 44
  46. Chapter 45
  47. Chapter 46
  48. Chapter 47
  49. Chapter 48
  50. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

It made me wonder a little bit if it was Cass leaving me these tapes. But how would she have copies of my uncle’s sermons? That didn’t make any sense. I had told her I’d be coming back to the tree to check for things, and she’d left me a note, that was all. I slid the tape and the note into my front overalls pocket and was about to head back to the house when George Urquhart stepped out of the woods. I tried to pretend like he hadn’t scared me.

“This is your favorite spot to spy on me, huh?” I said.

“Shit,” he said. “I seen you come out here, looking like you were on a mission. You pulled a tape out of that tree. Never seen somebody do something like that before.”

I clutched the pocket where the tape was hidden, pressed it close to my heart. He wasn’t getting this thing from me without a fight.

“Whoa there, boss,” said George. “I ain’t after your tapes now. I come to fetch you. Granny wants to see you. Don’t worry now, she won’t kill you or nothing. She just wants to talk.”

I wasn’t sure what to do. What did Jeremiah want me to do?

I felt a stirring in my heart then, just a little whisper. Go ahead. After all, you are a prophet of the Spirit. What can they do to you?

“Promise,” he said. “You’ll be safe. She’s only an old woman with some questions.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll come.”

And I followed George down the path that led off of my grandma’s land to where the Urquharts lived.

It took a while, the trail overgrown and winding, the trees thick and gnarled in this part of the woods. I realized for the first time just how massive the Farm really was, how deep the old western woods went. Eventually the trees broke and we came to a clearing with a gravel drive leading past it. Busted toys were tossed about the yard, and a rusty Ford pickup sat out front, flies buzzing around its open window. A row of ratty lawn chairs stuck up from a yard full of kudzu and weeds. A grill lay tumped over on its side, spent charcoal scattered on the grass. And in the midst of all that chaos, the Urquhart house rose like a tumor on the lot.