Magic--there's no such thing. But the crops were beginning to grow backwards....
r it had been there for years and years."
"That spring-toothed harrow of Zimmerman's."
"Except the one we saw had twelve teeth instead of fifteen. And even the man who made it couldn't find where it had been altered or tampered with."
It had been the same with a score of other things. Each one slightly changed, just different enough to make identification impossible to prove.
Slowly, Jerry said, "Wood gets weathered, metal oxidizes, honest wear is unmistakable. And these all take time, which can't be faked."
His implication hung in the air. If the things had been stolen, then altered to avoid identification, whoever did it had more than human ability.
"Magic," Watson muttered.
"There's ... no ... such ... thing!"
"No, there absolutely ain't."
They sat looking with troubled eyes out over Dark Valley, till Jerry said abruptly, "I'm going on up to see the Carvers."
Watson reached for the door handle. "They don't have no use for me. I'll wait h
A well-plotted and matter-of-factly described fantasy story set in broad daylight can suck a person in, even if when it's over you shrug it off. It kept me interested enough to finish the story, but not convinced enough to buy a crucifix.