bust a spring before he made it out of the hollow.
Margaret said the bend in the creek was about two miles up from Campbell’s Creek Road, but to Tom it seemed longer. When he finally came to where the road forked, he kept to the right and started looking for houses. There were very few, most of them set back from the road and partially hidden by overgrown brush. A half-mile later, he spotted what looked like a driveway and a house with smoke curling up from the chimney. He pulled in, stopped partway down the drive, then got out and headed for the house.
The girl who answered the door was wearing overalls and an oversized tee shirt. He could tell she was young, in her 20s maybe, but her expression looked old and tired. She looked at him without saying anything, so he spoke first.
“Sorry for disturbing you; I hope I’m not interrupting your breakfast.”
“You ain’t.”
Since she obviously wasn’t much on small talk, he cut to the chase. “I’m trying to locate members of a family that lived a little further up the hollow a while back. Their name was Hobbs. They had six boys and three girls. The daddy was—”
“You from the government?” She eyed him suspiciously.
“No, ma’am, I’m not. I’m a friend trying to help Margaret Hobbs find her missing brothers and a sister named Nellie.”
“What’s she want ’em for?”
Not prepared for such a question, Tom could only hope the truth would work.
“She’s come into a fair bit of money and wants to share it with the rest of her family.”
“Lucky them.” The girl grinned, turned, and hollered back, “Mama, you know a family livin’ up here, name a’ Hobbs?”
An old woman hobbled out from the back room and said, “Who’s askin’?”
Tom explained a second time that he was a friend trying to help Margaret Rose find her missing brothers. “After she got married and moved to Georgia, the family apparently lost touch with one another.”
The old woman hiked her mouth up on one side and sneered. “More ’n likely it was intentional. Their daddy was the meanest man I ever set eyes on. The devil himself would’ve left town to be rid of him.”
“Did you know the family?”
“Used to. Most of ’em moved away, but Louella stayed ’til their mama died. Her and me went to school together, except she quit in the ninth grade on account a’ her mama being sick.”
“Was it just the two of them?”
“Then it was. Earlier on some of the boys was still home.”
“Do you know where any of the brothers went after they left here?”
She shook her head. “Not really. The littlest one, Edward, I think his name was, he got sent off to the same family what took his sister. I don’t remember her name.”
“Nellie?”
“That sounds about right.”
Having caught sight of a toddler with his bare bottom hanging out, the old woman turned and yelled, “Darleen! Come get a diaper on this young’un!”
When it looked like she was about to go after the boy, Tom quickly said, “I’ve just got one or two more questions, if you don’t mind.”
“Make it quick, ’cause I’m busy.” She turned and screamed for Darleen again.
“When Louella stopped going to school to take care of her mama, was John Paul still living here then?”
She wrinkled her brow and look at him with a puzzled expression. “John Paul? Was he the oldest boy?”
“No, that was Oliver. John Paul was just a year younger than Louella.”
“Oh, right. He was sure enough a strange one. He didn’t live with them but used to come and go all the time; be here for two, three days, then disappear for weeks on end. He was real good with a rifle. Could shoot the eye out of a squirrel sitting on the far side of the yard. That last year he’d come in the dark of night, hang a piece of meat in the smokehouse, and be gone before anybody knew he’d been there.”
“You know where he stayed the rest of the time?”
“No idea,” she said and shook her head. “At one time he was sweet on Francine Swift. She was in his class at school. They didn’t get married or anything, but she might know what became of him.”
“Do you know where I can find Francine?”
“Last house, far end of the holler. Brice her name is now.”
Before Tom could thank the woman for her time, she turned and screamed, “Dammit, Darleen, I’m sick a’ telling you…”