Fairlight’s eyes shone. “I’d like that the best in the world.”
After they had read through the alphabet twice, Fairlight began studying the letters with such concentration that she seemed to forget Christy was even there. After a while, she looked up. “Think I’ve got it,” she announced. “A—B—C—D . . .” She went all the way through the alphabet, only making one mistake.
John and Lizette applauded. “Ma, that was wonderful!” John exclaimed.
“Isn’t she the smartest ma in the whole wide world, Miz Christy?” cried twelve-year-old Clara, who was playing by the fire with her younger sister, Zady.
“Fairlight, I can tell you are going to be a wonderful student,” Christy said. She felt almost as excited as Fairlight clearly was. She propped up one of the background pictures of a landscape drenched in sunlight. “Now, Fairlight, you pick out one of the paper people from this pile.”
Fairlight selected a well-dressed young man and stood him up before the landscape. Christy taught her the word man, and Fairlight eagerly practiced saying it and forming the letters. Soon they’d moved on to tree, sun, grass, sky, and light. Before long, Fairlight had mastered ten words.
Christy opened the Bible to the first chapter of Genesis. “Now, Fairlight, look at this,” she said. “The words on this page are just ideas marching along. Like this one—‘And God said, Let there be light—’”
“L-I-G-H-T!” Fairlight cried. “There it is! Light! Just like in my own name. I see it!” She turned to Clara and Zady. “Look, girls. L-I-G-H-T, light.”
Christy couldn’t help beaming. It was such a thrill to be able to open up a whole new world of reading to someone like Fairlight, who was so grateful for the chance to learn.
“Before long, you’ll be reading the Bible to the children,” Christy said. “I must say, Fairlight, you’re a joy to teach.”
Zady pulled on Christy’s sleeve. “How about us, Teacher?” she asked, her black eyes wide. “Are we joys, too?”
“You are a joy to teach, too,” Christy said, patting Zady on the head. “All my students are.”
“Even Wraight and Lundy and Smith?” John asked from the corner.
“Even them,” Christy said. Although the truth was, there had been many days when she’d wished the older boys weren’t at school, trying her patience and testing her will.
Fairlight turned toward the only window. “What was that?” she asked, frowning.
“What?” Christy asked.
“Thought I heard somethin’ at the window.”
“Probably just Pa,” John said, standing. “But I’ll go check.”
Outside the window, the shadows had grown long. Already the sun was vanishing behind the mountains. “I should get going,” Christy said. “Miss Ida frets so if I’m late for dinner.”
“John’ll walk you,” Fairlight said.
Christy shook her head. “Oh, there’s no need.”
“I’ll walk with you part way, Miz Christy,” Lizette volunteered. “Time for me to get goin’, anyhow.”
“John’ll walk you both,” Fairlight insisted.
“All right, then,” Christy said, recalling her promise to David that morning.
John appeared in the doorway. “Ain’t nothin’, Ma,” he reported. “Pa stackin’ logs, most likely. He says he didn’t see or hear nothin’.”
“Probably just my ears playin’ tricks on me,” Fairlight said. “John, I want you to walk Miz Christy and Lizette on home. It’s gettin’ on toward dark, and I’m afraid I took up way too much time with my schoolin’.”
“Don’t be silly, Fairlight,” Christy assured her. “I enjoyed every minute. In fact, I can’t wait for us to get together again for another lesson. I’ll leave that box of materials for you to work on.”
“Meantime, maybe I can get me some help from my very own Junior Teacher,” Fairlight said, giving John a hug.
John blushed, glancing over at Lizette. “We’d best get goin’,” he said, pulling out of his mother’s grasp.
“Thank you again, Miz Christy. I’m goin’ to practice my letters till I know ’em backwards and forwards and inside out.”
After Christy said goodbye to the children and to Jeb, she and Lizette and John set out along the rough path toward the mission. They took a slight detour that led to Lizette’s cabin. When Lizette was safely inside, John and Christy resumed their walk to the mission.
After a few minutes of silence, John turned to Christy. “Have you ever been . . .”
“Ever been what, John?”
“You know.” He picked up the pace. “You know, sweet on somebody?”
Christy hurried to catch up. “Well, once or twice, I suppose.”
“Lizette says the preacher’s sweet on you.”
“Oh, she does, does she?”
John gave a terse nod. “S’posin’ the preacher were sweet on you, but you weren’t sweet on him?”
Christy felt herself blushing. She wasn’t “sweet on” David, exactly. After all, she’d only known him a little while. But she had to admit she did look forward to his sly smiles and silly jokes.
“Miz Christy?”
Christy cleared her throat. “All right, then. Let’s suppose. As long as you understand we’re just supposing.”
“Well, s’posin’—” Suddenly John stopped in his tracks. “You hear somethin’?”
Christy paused, straining to hear. “No.”
“Bushes cracklin’.”
“No, I don’t hear anything.”
Christy glanced over her shoulder. The trees cast long, black shadows. The edges of the sky were tinged with pink, but the sun had vanished.
“Hearin’ things, I guess. Sorry.”
“So, John, you were saying?” Christy asked as they started walking again.
“Oh. That. I guess I was just wonderin’ if there’s a way to get a girl to be sweet on you when maybe she ain’t.”
“That’s a good question. I suppose you should just be the person you really are, John. And if Liz . . . I mean, this girl . . . isn’t the right one for you, trust me, someone else will come along who sees how special you really are.”
John gave a small, hopeful smile. “You reckon?”
“I’m sure of it.”
After a few more minutes, they reached the last ridge before the mission. The first stars had begun to glimmer.
“You go on home, now, John,” Christy said. “If you head back now, you might not miss dinner.”
“No’m. I promised I’d take you all the way.”
“John,” Christy said firmly. “I insist. Otherwise I’ll have to worry about you.”
John hesitated. “I don’t mind, Miz Christy—”
“But I do. The mission is just over the next ridge, and I don’t want you going home in complete darkness.” She put her hands on her hips. “Now, go home. That’s an order. After all, you may be a Junior Teacher. But I’m the Senior Teacher.”
John laughed. “All right, then. You take care to go straight over the ridge so you don’t get sidetracked. The path is hard to follow when it gets this dark.” He started to turn, then hesitated. “Miz Christy?”
“Yes, John?”
“Thanks for the . . . uh, the advice.”
“Any time.”
Christy smiled as she started up the crude path. John was a nice boy. She wondered why Lizette was interested in Wraight—if she really was. Well, love was funny that way. Maybe Lizette saw something in Wraight that Christy couldn’t see.
She climbed up the path, taking careful steps because of the patches of snow and mud. After a while, the path seemed to disappear in the twilight gloom. Hadn’t it been better marked? The hill was steeper than she’d remembered it, too.
She stopped. Had she lost the trail, just as John had warned her not to do? It had been here a minute ago—
Behind her, something cracked. It was the distinct, loud crunch of a dry stick breaking.
An animal, Christy told herself. She tur
ned, straining her eyes to see if she could make out anything. John had long since vanished. She saw no animals. Nothing. In the near darkness, the trees blended into one another, forming a lacy, black curtain. She gazed back up toward the top of the ridge. Above her, a stand of pines lurked like a group of menacing giants.
Hoo—hoo—oo —hoo —hoo.
Christy started. It was an owl, that much she knew. She wasn’t such a “city-gal” that she’d never heard an owl before. But it seemed to be coming from deep in the bushes, just a few yards to her left. Shouldn’t any self-respecting owl be up in a tree?
You’re almost home, Christy, she told herself. Relax.
It was just like Fairlight had said—her ears were playing tricks on her.
Christy quickened her pace, but the snow was hard and icy in spots. She’d only gained a few feet when she slipped and fell. She landed on the cold ground with a thud. As she struggled to untangle her long skirts, a deep, horrifying howling noise seemed to fill the whole woods. It was the cry of a wolf, so close it might have been just inches away.
Christy froze in place. Her heart galloped in her chest. If he saw her move, he might attack.
The howl came again, a long, sad wail. It was close, too close. She was sure she could hear the wild, dangerous animal breathing.
Whatever you do, she told herself, don’t move.
On the other hand, she couldn’t sit here all night in the cold, could she? They’d find her here tomorrow, stiff as a statue, with a look of terror permanently frozen on her face.
No, that was too awful to think about. One way or another, she had to take her chances.
Christy stumbled slowly to her feet. There was no point in looking for the path now. She’d just aim for the top of the ridge, where the dark blue sky glistened with a dusting of stars. She couldn’t run up the steep, bramble-covered hill, even if she’d wanted to. Instead she grabbed at limbs and bushes wherever she could, pulling herself toward the top.
Christy held her breath as she made her way past the spot where she’d imagined the wolf—or whatever the source of that horrible howl—was hiding. She tried to be quiet, but every step meant the sound of cracking branches or crunching snow.
Nothing happened. No knife-toothed creature leapt from the darkness to tear at her throat. The only sound was the gentle creak and moan of an old tree nearby, fighting the wind.
See? Christy told herself. You let your imagination get the better of you. Now, relax. You’ve lost the path, but once you reach the top of the ridge, the mission will be in view. In a few more minutes, you’ll be sitting at the dinner table, laughing about your imaginary “wolf.”
Step, grab. Step, grab. It was slow going, but she was almost to the top. The trees had grown so thick that she had to squeeze between some of them. The smell of pine trees perfumed the night air. Their needles made a soft, swishing noise, like whispering voices. The bare branches of other trees clicked and cracked, but Christy told herself it was just the wind.
Near the top of the ridge, the trees thinned out a bit. Christy was panting. She paused to lean against a tall pine. “You’re almost there,” she said aloud. “Just a few more—”
Suddenly, she heard something falling from the tree. Christy screamed as it glanced off her shoulder before landing on the ground. Whatever it was, it was wet and soft and small. Swallowing back her fear, Christy knelt down.
It was a rat, a dead one. Starlight shone in its glassy eyes. Christy shuddered and backed away. She stared up into the pine tree.
Just then, a shadowy figure leapt out from behind a nearby tree, and once again, with all her might, Christy screamed.
Five
The figure moved closer and closer.
Christy backed against the pine. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her fists were clenched.
“Miz Christy, don’t be scared. It’s me.”
Christy blinked. She didn’t recognize the boy’s voice. But she did recognize the red cap.
“Zach Holt?” she said in a trembling voice. “Is that you, Zach?”
The little boy came close and extended his hand. Even in near-darkness, she could see that his forehead was beaded with sweat. Pine needles stuck to his ragged, patched coat. A small stick was caught on his cap.
“Zach, what are you doing here? You weren’t . . . following me, were you?”
“Me?” Zach cried. “No’m. Not me. I was just— ” he hesitated, “I was just out huntin’ possum.”
“With your bare hands?”
Zach swallowed. “It’s a special trick my pa taught me,” he said quickly. “You corner ’em, and then when they play possum—you know, all curled up like they’s dead, you whomp ’em on the head with a stick.”
“I see.” Christy crossed her arms over her chest. Now that her fear was fading, she was left with far too many questions. “I heard noises before,” she said. “Branches cracking, that sort of thing. It sounded like somebody was following me.”
With great care, Zach examined some pine needles on his coat.
“And I heard a wolf. At least, I thought it was a wolf.”
“Could’a been.” Zach nodded. “There’s lots of wolves around these here parts. They get real mean this time of year. Hungry, too.”
Christy nudged the dead rat on the ground with her toe. “Are there lots of tree rats in the area, too?”
Zach gulped. “Tree rats? Ain’t never heard of no tree rats, Ma’am.”
“I haven’t, either. So how do you explain this one? It fell out of this pine tree. And nearly scared me to death, I might add.”
Zach glanced up quickly at the upper branches of the tree, then met Christy’s eyes. “Just can’t mortally explain it, Miz Christy.”
Christy stared up at the tree. She saw nothing but a blur of dark branches.
“Could be that’s not a ground rat, factually speaking,” Zach suggested. “Could be one of them there flyin’ rats.”
“Ah. Those must be very rare. I’ve never heard of them.”
“Well, you’re from the city. Ain’t no flyin’ rats in the city. They hate cars and such.”
“I see.”
“You heard of flyin’ squirrels?”
“Yes. Now that you mention it, I believe I have.” Christy tried not to smile. She was torn between her anger at having been scared, and her amusement at Zach’s desperate attempt to explain the rat.
“Flyin’ rats is the same thing. Only instead of big fuzzy tails, they got scrawny ones.”
“Well, then. Thank you for clearing that up, Zach.”
He pointed to the top of the ridge. “If’n you like, I could walk you the rest of the way home.”
“Actually, I’m more worried about you getting home, safe and sound.”
“Oh, don’t fret about me none. I got company—” Zach swallowed hard. “What I mean to say is, I got me the stars and the trees for company. I know these woods like the back of my own hand, anyways.”
“I’d be pleased to have you as an escort, then, Zach,” Christy said.
They climbed in silence. At last they reached the top of the ridge. Below them, the mission house was a welcome sight. Yellow light glowed in the windows, and Christy could just make out the figure of Miss Ida inside, bustling to and fro.
Christy brushed the snow off a fallen log and sat down. She motioned for Zach to join her there. “I’d like to rest up, Zach, before I go the rest of the way. Maybe you could keep me company for a moment.”
“Well . . .” Zach sat down, looking very uncomfortable. “My pa gets ornery if’n I’m out too long. I oughta be gettin’ on. That is, if’n you don’t need me to es-squirt you the rest of the way.”
“Escort.” Christy smiled. “Are you close to your pa, Zach?”
“Close?”
“You know. Do you two like to talk? Go hunting and fishing together, that sort of thing?”
“Not a whole heap. He talks some, I s’pose.” Zach kicked at a stone. “Pa’s got kind of a mean strea
k in him, when he gets to drinkin’ moonshine.”
Christy nodded. Miss Alice had told her that illegal liquor was a big problem here in the mountains.
“That must be hard for you, when he gets like that,” she said gently.
“Ain’t so hard. I’m used to it. Wraight, he—” Zach stopped himself.
“What, Zach?”
“Nothin’. It’s just . . . now and again, he gets riled up somethin’ fierce about Pa. Wraight’s got a temper, see, and so does Pa.” He gave a little shrug. “Course it’s not real feudin’, mind you. Not like the Taylors and the Allens or nothin’.”
“I’ve heard that the Taylor and Allen families have been fighting each other for a long, long time,” Christy said. “Why are they still fighting, do you think?”
Zach looked at her in confusion, as if he couldn’t understand why she’d even bother asking. “Way back when, the Taylors and Allens got to shootin’ each other, and they ain’t never stopped. Could be over moon-shinin’.” He shrugged. “Could be over nothin’.”
Once again, Christy felt a deep sadness for mountain children like Zach. They were so used to hate and fighting and killing. It wasn’t fair. They grew up far too fast.
“Zach,” she asked casually, “do you like Lundy?”
“He’s all right enough, I s’pose.”
“But you’re friends with him, aren’t you?”
“I’m too little. Wraight’s his friend, more’n I am.”
Christy stared up at the starry sky. “I guess Lundy can be kind of a bully, can’t he?”
Zach answered with a small nod.
“I can see how it might be hard for someone —especially someone smaller—to say no to Lundy.”
“Right hard,” Zach agreed.
Christy sighed. This was tougher than she’d thought it would be. She was almost certain that Lundy was putting Zach up to these pranks. But could she ever get the little boy to admit it, as long as he was so afraid of Lundy?
She decided to try the direct approach. “Zach, did Lundy make you follow me this evening, to try to scare me?”
“No’m,” Zach said, leaping off the log. “Don’t be gettin’ Lundy all mixed up in this. It’ll just make things worse!”
Bridge to Cutter Gap / Silent Superstitions / The Angry Intruder Page 21
