Nothing Stays Buried

by P. J. Tracy

  Walt started up his tractor again and continued his steady pace, chewing up the final two rows of corn. When he got to the edge of the field where the lion had been lounging, he noticed something white, gleaming dully in the sun. It was a bone, and a large one at that—too large for a deer. A cow or a horse, most likely. He’d buried his share of lost animals over the years and so had every other farmer in the county.

  It briefly crossed his mind that the bone was something the crime scene folks had overlooked when they’d excavated the graveyard. But wherever it had come from, it belonged to the lion now.

  Nothing stays buried, he thought as he headed toward the barn.

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