Set high on a limestone bluff, streaked gold at sunset, the burial mound overlooked the entire Meramec River Valley. Inside, some of the bodies were flexed into fetal position, others laid out straight as Uncle Harold. Still others were bundle burials, the bones defleshed and stacked together. Maybe they were the black sheep of the clan. Maybe they were kept in the charnel hut so long their flesh rotted. Maybe, rather than drag home heavy corpses, a warring party left the dead to nature, returning after the birds picked away the flesh and the sun... More >>>