Blair stumbled to his knees. His sore knees. He put his hands to the ground to push himself up, "YAH! Oh God!" and jerked them up fast as a thousand red ants marched in a parade toward his hand, all armed for battle. His hand was squashing their hill and his finger was in their hole. Thoreau, I'm not.

He stood, wavering in the humidity. Indonesia was never this sultry. The only place on my body that's dry is under my arms, and that's just because of Right Guard.

Will I ever find the Ellison homeplace? I never was too good with directions, but I followed the cow path, and up the hill, or was it down the hill. Oh, hell, maybe it's over the next rise, past that big tree.

As soon as Blair stopped under the big pine tree, he unbuttoned his shirt, took it off and waved it front of his steaming face. Then he felt himself hurtling down as if from a great height as a red thing landed on him and toppled him over.

Oh my god, a monster! There was dirt in his eyes, pine straw under his tee shirt trying to insinuate itself under his belt, sharp pebbles making bumpy designs into his back, and a head...no, it was a she-devil and she was laughing like a hyena in the Cascade Zoo. A devil-woman with fuzzy bright red hair, white, white teeth all of which she bared at him, small hands grasping his hair and knocking his neck on the ground in an act of whiplash.

He grasped her wrists and pushed. She pushed back, and her voice screeched, "OOOh-whee!" then softened, "You shore are the purtiest sight my eyes hev ever seed! Whut's yore name? Mama said if I wonted a fine purty feller I'd hev to go huntin' him myse'f, they wuddunt cum ter me, and she wuz right as rain fallin' out of the clear sky. Yes, she wuz."

"Let Me Up!" Blair yelled, "Get off me, now, lady."

"I ain't no laydee, I'm Cassie. Miss Cassie Dayzella Ellison, yore new bride."

Blair choked, trying to work up enough saliva to swallow. I'm not in Kansas, Toto. Is there a lunatic asylum in these hills? She's probably an escapee...wait a minute, did she say Ellison?

"Your name is Ellison?"

Miss Cassie Dayzella's eyes gleamed and travelled up and down the highways and byways of his body, and reached out a hand to grab a tuft of chest hair. She loved exploring new textures and shapes and seeing if things were as soft as they looked. Blair quickly stepped out of that groping hand's way. Disappointed that he wasn't gonna let her feel that hair, she nodded, and got to her feet.

"Are you William and Grace Ellison's daughter?"

She stuck her finger to the roof of her mouth, scratched at a sodden biscuit crumb still stuck up in there, and nodded. Maybe if I got him to tawkin, why he'd be pliable as bisket dough in my hands. "Yep, I berlong to Willie and Gracie. And I got two big brothers, the slick one is Stevie Ray, and the craz...uh...mean one is Jimmy Joe. Do you wanna meet my Pappa and Momma and ask if'n you cun cawl on me?"

More spit making before dry Blair could answer. "I'm really here to locate James Ellison. Do you think I could meet him?"

Her face fell. "Doan-no whut chew wan' wit' Jimmy Joe fer. He's katty wonkers, he is. Why you after him? He ain't breaked on no laws, has he? Why, he ain't bin off'n this hill'n'holler since he wuz a yunggin, and Mamma tukken him with her to visit sum of her city-foke kin."

Catching her breath, she continued in a fast rush. "He got lost in thur big city 'way from the fambly, and the poleece foun' him some days later unner a brij, jus' a carryin' on 'bout a man 'ith his throat cutslashed and an Indian man all dolled up in paint, and somepin 'bout a curly haided boy tellin' him whur to hide, who taken 'im by his hand and holin' on tull the poleece got thur. That li'l boy disapurred when they gotten Jimmy Joe founded and whun he gotten home, he 'gun actin' out of his goard."

Blair tried to follow the dialect, is this language for real? Surely people do send their children to school, even in these backwoods, to learn grammar. Why does she speak this way? I could understand that "Beenie" man way better that her.

"Uh, Cassie..."

"Cassie Dayzella," she corrected.

"It's much too complicated to give you all the details at this moment as to the reasons I would love to meet your big brother. Would you take me to see him?"

"Oh, sugar-foot. Well, hay-ull, as Poppa says, whine not. Come own, purty man."

"Curly hair, purty man.?" She said aloud, but to herself she asked, "Now whur did I heared that? Naw, not Jimmy Joe's invishable boyfrien'? Naw, dasn't thank that," and she shivered like the haint of Sunken Creek was a-ridin' with his hell-far hoss after her on a moonful night in October.