"Please, Martha. Tell us everything," Dean said.
"Caleb knew where it was-where he was going-'cause he was told, see? Only he wouldn't tell me what we were looking for, like it was going to be a joke and it would scare me. He ran ahead and I fell down-that's how I skinned up my knee. When I caught up and looked over his shoulder-that's when I saw it." They paused as Martha looked from first one, then the other. "The dead guy." They were speechless. "Really. A dead guy." When they still said nothing, she turned away. "You don't believe me, do you?"
Dean looked at his wife. Neither was sure what to say. Finally he answered. "That's an incredible story, Martha. Are you sure it was a dead man you saw?"
"Yes! It was like bones. The first thing I saw was his skull. It was white and busted on the top."
"It was a skeleton?" Dean asked and she nodded. "Might it have just been some kind of a joke? A pretend skeleton someone put there to scare you? Or maybe an animal?"
"It sure did scare me-but no. It was a real skeleton-of a man."
"Perhaps old Indian bones?" Dean offered, but she shook her head. "How could you tell it was a man?"
"What he was wearing. Like a plaid shirt. And boots. He was old, but not Indian-old. He had a green thing of cigarettes. Then the flashlight went out."
Cynthia closed her eyes. "Dear God. You must have been petrified!"
"How did you get out?" Dean asked.
"What happened?" Cynthia, nearly at the same time.
"Caleb screamed and jumped up and bumped his head pretty good. We tried to make the flashlight work but it was as dead as the skeleton guy. But I had some matches. At first I couldn't find 'em but when I did, I yelled at Caleb until he calmed down enough so we could get out. We didn't mess around with the dead guy anymore. There weren't enough matches and we were sort of in a hurry."
"You're a very brave little girl," Cynthia sighed, "even if what you did was foolish."
"See? I told you it was bad. What are you going to do?" Dean took a deep breath and looked at Cynthia who simply shook her head in wonderment. Martha glanced over to the dresser and Dean's unused hairbrush. "I know I shouldn't have gone in there. Caleb made me promise not to tell."
"Why did you tell us now, Martha?" Dean asked.
Martha rose and began to pace across the room, putting one foot toe to heel in front of the other, as if walking a tight rope. "'Cause I kept having dreams about the dead guy in the mine. I could see the white face and holes where his eyes should have been. I got thinking if his head was busted, then maybe somebody busted it for him and got away with it. Nobody knows where the man is and even if he's been in there a long, long time, someone must care about him, or at least maybe did back then, when it happened. It didn't seem fair not to say he was in there. Even if someone gets a beating for telling. That's why Caleb wouldn't tell. He'd get a licking. His new pa would whip him good, he said."