NIGHT TERROR by Tilton Russ

Author:Tilton, Russ
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2021-10-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter thirty-five

Clayton Benton walked the back half of his farm, surveying his plants, while Bear ran ahead, rooting out unfamiliar smells. The trillium looked good, and the bloodroot was showing signs of seed pods. The golden seal, too. He’d have to remember to harvest the seeds before the squirrels got them all.

The fruit trees made it through the winter in good shape, with the apples and pears showing buds. White blossoms burst from the cherry trees, bringing a promise of spring, though nighttime temperatures tried to convince them otherwise. He could almost taste the Bing cherries.

A couple of the fence posts holding up the chicken wire around the garden didn’t make it through the winter. If he wasn’t careful, the deer would turn it into a salad bar. That was a benefit of having fruit trees and a garden, he didn’t have to do anything special to attract animals during hunting season, but if he didn’t want them eating up all the profits, he’d have to fix the supports soon.

Benton turned a corner and came to a large expanse shaded by oak trees. The gently sloping land looked relatively unproductive but looks were deceiving. He walked down the hill, carefully avoiding the tiny green sprouts of slow-growing ginseng popping out of the rich, moist soil. They had several plots, each planted in different years so there was always a crop ready to harvest and sell.

The Bentons grew “wild simulated” ginseng, which was a fancy way of saying grown in the woods instead of in shaded plant beds. It was hard, dirty work, but it resulted in a product almost identical to the increasingly hard-to-find wild ginseng that was in such high demand. There was big money in ginseng, but the plants took six to seven years to mature, so you had to be in it for the long haul. He had started planting his eighteen years ago, right after he got out of the Army, and he and his wife were finally making a decent profit from it.

Benton followed a trail leading to a gravel road bordering the west side of his property. The road led to the Myles Fork Campgrounds, as well as other trails and boat launches in the Pyatt River National Park. It was frequently used, so it was a good way for ginseng poachers to access his land. It was a lot easier to steal the valuable plant than it was to grow it, and since there were no secrets in a small town, everyone knew about their farm. Poachers had hit twice in the last two years. But their eight established plots weren’t the only thing Benton was worried about.

About fifty yards from the road, he came to the first trip wire. The nearly invisible fishing line was connected to a pop-up flare that would whistle loudly through the air. He rigged it waist-high so that small animals, including Bear, wouldn’t set it off. The second trip wire was two feet off the trail and led to a car airbag fastened to an old oak tree.

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