I lowered the stick.
“You scared me half to death.”
The dog stared.
Then sniffed toward my fire.
I laughed.
The sound surprised me.
It was the first real laugh I had made since release.
“You followed me?”
The dog moved closer.
Not all the way.
I opened the last corner of my cracker packet.
I had saved three.
I placed one on the ground.
The dog waited.
Then took it.
I gave it another.
Then another.
“There.”
“Now we’re both broke.”
The dog lay near the entrance.
I turned back to the box.
The latch would not open.
I found a stone.
Hit the rusted metal.
Once.
Twice.
On the fourth strike, it broke.
My hands shook as I lifted the lid.
Inside was oilcloth.
Several bundles.
And a metal container.
I removed the first bundle.
Papers.
Old property documents.
I could barely understand them.
Deeds.
Maps.
Tax receipts.
