“Here, you look like a big, strong thing,’’ she said. “Why don’t you take this and go make yourself useful at the water trough?’’

I shot my sister a look.

“Thanks, Bobby. We’d sure appreciate it if you would,’’ I called, as he hurried away like one of Maddie’s scared seventh-graders.

“I want to help, too,’’ the frizzy blonde said to Trey.

“You could keep an eye out to see if Belle comes back. Don’t let her be alone, if she does.’’

I wondered why Trey feared his sister being left alone.

He continued, “Belle and I know these woods front to back. I’m going to go look for her. There is one other thing you could do, ma’am.’’

“Jan,’’ the blonde said.

“I’d be grateful, Jan, if this doesn’t get around camp. My sister is having an awful tough time. She might just have gone off to mourn. I don’t want a lot of gossip about what Belle’s done or hasn’t done, or how she is or isn’t.’’

Trey sounded more protective than the average big brother. Had there been talk about Belle before?

Jan made a zipping-the-lip motion. “You don’t have to worry about me telling tales. I’m not one of them gossipy-type women. And, Trey?’’

He raised his brows at her, his eyes clouded with worry.

“I do want to say how sorry I am about your daddy.’’ She fiddled nervously with her hair. “And about us not coming over to see about your sister. I should know better than to listen to Bobby.’’

I quickly filled a shallow pail with sweet feed, and then started working at the cinch so I could pull off Poco’s saddle and blanket. I just about had it unfastened, when I noticed a brownish-red smear halfway down the horse’s neck. The stain stood out clearly against the white portion of his coat.

My mind flashed back to the merlot soaking the sleeping bag in my ruined tent. I leaned in to sniff at Poco’s neck. This time the stain wasn’t red wine. It was blood.

___

“Are you sure you don’t want to get some help?’’ I whispered to Trey as we crouched behind Poco, hidden from Maddie and Belle’s neighbors.

I’d discreetly called him over, and we’d checked for cuts or scrapes. Poco was fine. The blood wasn’t his.

“No. I can handle this,’’ he whispered back. “I don’t want Belle embarrassed by a lot of fuss if it turns out to be nothing. And I know where she likes to escape to. I want to look before we call in anyone.’’

Maddie walked up with a dirt-streaked face and a mallet in her hand. “The ground didn’t want to cooperate, but Bobby and I got up Poco’s portable corral.’’

This was a true feat, as my sister’s idea of physical exertion generally involves hefting the full slab of ribs at the Pork Pit.

“That’s great, Maddie. Trey thinks he knows where Belle might be. Do you want to come with us?’’

I could almost see Maddie’s mind working, distaste for the woods weighed against me discovering something she wouldn’t know.

Trey frowned at her. “Let’s go if you’re going.”

She nodded, and the three of us struck out across the clearing.

The moon was high in the sky now, the air not nearly as cold as the night before. Sounds carried through the quiet woods: the bark of a dog; the lowing of cattle; faint laughter from a far campsite. We rustled through the brush without speaking, Maddie’s and my flashlights trained on Trey’s path in front of us. My sister breathed raggedly behind me, but she was keeping up.

Soon, we came out of the woods to the bed of a mostly dry creek. In summer, when the rains are heavy, it would be full and flowing. But now, in the dry season, it was barely a trickle in many spots. That made for easier passage. We moved quickly through desiccated marsh grasses, so brittle they crumbled to fluff as we passed. We followed the exposed bank, dark and mucky, until the water widened.

Just ahead was a stand of bald cypress, shadowy sentinels gleaming in the moonlight.

“Belle,’’ Trey called out. “Honey, it’s me. It’s Trey.’’

No answer came from the trees.

“That’s where she’ll be if she left camp under her own power.’’ He nodded ahead as Maddie and I caught up. “We played here all the time as kids, trying to figure out which cypress knee looked like which TV star or rock singer.’’

“Belle,’’ I yelled, as we started into the trees.

A night heron’s squawk was the only response.

I was concentrating on the ground, trying not to trip over the root-like bumps of the cypress knees, when I heard Trey gasp in front of me. I stopped and raised my eyes to see what he had seen.

Belle lay face-up on the white, sandy soil of the creek bed. She was motionless. Her coppery hair formed a corona around her head, flowing like blood from the exposed sandbar into the water.

Trey splashed into the creek, moving as fast as he could in boots and jeans across a deep swath in front of Belle. In the light of the lantern, his face was drawn and pale. He looked terrified of what he’d find when he reached his sister.

Maddie and I watched from our vantage point on the high bank, flashlights trained on the water to reflect the telltale glint of gator eyes. The last thing Trey needed was a hungry alligator on his hands. As I swung the flashlight back and forth across the creek, I thought I saw Belle move. But then she was still. No noise, not even a moan, came from the sandbar.

“Belle,’’ Trey yelled, as he thrashed into shallower water. “Belle!’’

This time I was certain I saw movement. As Trey climbed onto the sand, moving on hands and knees to his sister, she turned her head away. Firmly. I looked at Maddie to see if she’d seen the same thing.

“What the hell?’’ Maddie muttered under her breath, her face a picture of confusion.

A gator grunted in the far distance, hidden somewhere in the reeds. I swung the flashlight about, but didn’t see anything close enough to worry over.

“Belle, honey, look at me,’’ Trey put his hand on his sister’s shoulder, his voice a bit lower, a bit calmer. “It’s all right. Look at me.’’

Belle shook her head, her fiery curls wet and glistening in the lantern light. She turned her whole body onto her side, facing away from Trey. He stood, and called to us across the creek, “She’s okay. Everything’s okay.’’

Well, not really, I thought. His sister was stretched out on a sandbar in the middle of a creek close to midnight. She’d had her head half in and half out of the water, with who knows how many alligators lurking nearby. Something definitely was not okay.

“I’m going over there, Maddie.’’ I leaned down to unlace my boots. “I’ll cross about twenty feet downstream, just where the sandbar tapers off. It’s nearly dry.’’

“Well, you’re not leaving me here alone.’’ She grabbed me for balance as she began to take off her own boots.

Rolling up the legs on our britches, we waded into the creek.

“Ohmigod! I felt something slimy!’’ my sister said.

“Shush, Maddie. This is serious.’’

“I am serious. It felt disgusting.’’

When we reached the sandbar, Belle was sitting, her head resting on pulled-up knees. Trey murmured to her, too quietly for me to hear his words. As we walked up, she lifted her face. Her eyes were red and swollen. They seemed unfocused. I couldn’t tell whether the wetness on her cheeks was from creek water or tears.

“I’m sorry.’’ Her voice was barely audible. She swiped her fingers under her eyes. “I didn’t mean to worry anybody. I just wanted to get away. All day on the trail, people were so nice. They said how sorry they were about Daddy; asked how I was doing. Once I got to camp, it all just hit me. He’s really gone. I wanted to keep running into the woods until maybe I wouldn’t think about it anymore. Then I got to this place, where Trey and I used to play, and I thought maybe the water would wash all the sadness out of my head.’’