I stepped inside, and still did not see any mud, but I got the impression that someone had been here – and recently – I’m not sure why. Entering slowly, I walked through the short hallway and into the kitchen area; that’s where I began to see the damage. Somebody or several somebody’s had made an absolute mess of the house. Tables were turned over, drawer contents dumped on the floor, cabinets, and closets emptied and even several pieces of furniture broken.
Instinct told me to go back to my car and my .38, which I did. Retracing my steps, I retreated to the Ford, got my revolver from the glove box and put it in the waistband of my pants. Whoever tore the place apart could still be inside, and I wanted to be prepared.