Christy picked up her pace. The last thing she wanted was to get caught in a forest during a lightning storm.
Suddenly, her shoe caught on a tree root. Christy tripped, crying out in surprise. She landed on her knees in a puddle.
“Oh, no,” she moaned. “My skirt!”
As she struggled to get up, she heard footsteps nearing. They were coming from the direction of Boggin Mountain.
“Who’s there?” Christy called. Her voice was just a thin whisper in the vast forest.
No answer. Nothing.
Still, Christy was certain she could feel the presence of another living thing close at hand.
Her breath caught in her throat. She could hear someone else—or something—breathing low and steadily.
It was watching her, whatever it was that was hidden in the dark, endless forest.
Christy didn’t move. She seemed to have forgotten how to move. She peered into the shadows. A branch cracked to her right.
She looked, and then she saw it.
It was hideous. Monstrous. Its eyes glowed like an animal of the night.
It was the Boggin.
Nine
Somebody screamed.
A moment later, Christy realized it was her own voice echoing through the trees.
Then, as quickly as he’d appeared, the awful creature vanished into the dense forest.
Christy rubbed her eyes. Had she imagined him? Was she going crazy?
The creature she’d seen had been camouflaged by leaves and mist and trees. Christy thought she’d seen a man’s face, buried in a mane of long, white hair. She thought she’d seen eyes, shining like tiny white moons. She thought she’d glimpsed a figure taller than any man she’d ever met.
She thought she’d seen it. But had she, really?
She tried in vain to brush the mud off her skirt. She peered into the woods one more time.
Nothing.
Just as she’d convinced herself she was a victim of her own imagination, Christy heard more footsteps.
But this time, she knew she wasn’t imagining things.
“Clara! John!” Christy cried. “What a surprise! Am I glad to see you!”
“Miz Christy!” John called. He rushed to her side, with Clara close on his heels. “We thought we heard someone screamin’. Was that you?”
“I saw . . . I mean, I thought I saw . . .”
Christy hesitated. After all her talk about the Boggin being a silly superstition, what could she say? I saw the Boggin?
“You look like you seen a ghost, Miz Christy,” Clara said, taking her hand. “You sure you’re all right?”
“I tripped and fell. Then something startled me,” Christy said. She could feel her cheeks burning. “I suppose it was just an animal, watching me from the trees. But still, it did unnerve me for a moment.”
“Was it the Boggin?” Clara whispered. She cast a nervous glance at John.
“I’m not sure what it was,” Christy said.
“This thing, whatever it was . . . it didn’t try to hurt you, did it?” John asked gravely.
“No. It just seemed to be watching me. When I screamed, it vanished.” Christy tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear. “Chances are it was just some poor, wild animal. I probably scared him a whole lot more than he scared me. I’m sure he didn’t mean me any harm.”
Clara stared off into the woods. “I hope so, Miz Christy,” she said softly. “I truly do.”
The next day after church, Christy retrieved her diary and pen and went outside. The day was overcast, but at least the rain had stopped for a time. All of the congregation had headed for home by now, and the mission yard was empty and still. David was in his bunkhouse, Miss Alice was in her cabin, and Ruby Mae and Miss Ida were in the main house. Christy had the yard to herself.
She went to the chair swing under an old oak by the school. David had installed it a few weeks ago. He’d looped two long ropes over a thick branch, then attached the comfortable wooden swing.
Swinging gently back and forth, Christy opened her diary. It was so peaceful here, so calm. Her panic in the woods yesterday seemed silly now. And yet the experience had disturbed her more than she liked to admit.
Christy paused to gaze at Boggin Mountain, a silent, looming presence on the horizon. Slowly, she began to write:
I haven’t told anyone here at the mission about my experience yesterday in the woods.
I suppose I’m embarrassed to admit how afraid I was. Or maybe I’m embarrassed to admit how quickly I assumed that the Boggin—something I’d dismissed as a figment of Cutter Gap imaginations—was real.
Today, during his sermon, David talked a little about fear—about how, with God’s love, we can overcome it. One verse in particular has stayed with me since this morning: “Perfect love casteth out fear.”
I know that he was directing his words to the people of Cutter Gap. I know he was trying to convince them not to let their own fears and superstitions overpower them.
But as I listened, I felt as if he were talking right to me. I, too, fear the unknown. I fear what I can’t understand. I fear that I won’t be as strong as I want to be—as strong as God needs me to be to do His work.
And now, as ridiculous as it sounds, I have a new fear to add to my list.
As much as I hate to admit it, I’m even afraid of a creature lurking in the mountains I’ve come to love so much. The creature everyone insists on calling “the Boggin.”
Ironic, isn’t it?
Christy closed her diary. She smiled at the mountain she’d begun to fear.
She was going to have to go back, of course, just to prove to herself that the Boggin was nothing more than a superstition. It was an illusion—a trick of the eyesight and nothing more.
Ten
Boggin or no Boggin, it looks like you’re making some progress,” Christy said to David.
A few days had passed. David and his small group of volunteers had begun making telephone poles, cutting down trees, then stripping and smoothing them down. It was dirty, difficult, sweaty work. But slowly and steadily, they were making strides.
Most of the work was taking place in a clearing, not far from the base of Boggin Mountain. Christy had come to the site after school to deliver sandwiches Miss Ida had prepared for the men. At the last minute, Ruby Mae had decided to come along.
The truth was, Christy was glad for the company. It was the first time she’d been back to the area since her scare last Saturday. But just as she had promised herself, she had returned. Surrounded by the sweet scent of wildflowers and the merry discussions of warblers and tanagers, it was hard to believe she’d ever been so afraid.
“We’ve got a lot of the poles done, at least,” David said. He paused to wipe his brow. “Today we’ve got seven men. Yesterday, we had three.”
“Of course,” Christy pointed out, “this is the first day it hasn’t rained in a while.”
“True. If the weather holds, I guess there’s some hope we’ll get this telephone of yours working before I’m old and gray.”
“What’s this I see?” Doctor MacNeill strode up, an axe slung over his shoulder. “Refreshments?”
“Miss Ida made sandwiches,” Christy said.
“I helped a little,” Ruby Mae chimed in.
Christy grinned. “Eating one of them doesn’t really count, Ruby Mae.”
“Doctor, any sign of . . .” Ruby Mae lowered her voice, “you know who?”
“No you-know-whats, no you-know-whos, no nothing.” The doctor winked at Christy. “Sorry to disappoint you, Ruby Mae.”
“Oh, I ain’t the least bit disappointed!” Ruby Mae exclaimed. She shook her finger at him. “And I’m bettin’ you wouldn’t be actin’ so sassy if’n you’d seen the Boggin for your own self, like some have.” She gazed around the little clearing. “You ain’t seen Clara Spencer, have you? I coulda sworn I caught a glimpse o’ her on our way over here.”
“No Clara sightings, either,” the doctor sa
id.
“I’m goin’ to take a look around. You keep a sharp eye out for you-know-who.”
“Clara or the Boggin?” the doctor asked, but Ruby Mae was already halfway across the clearing.
“You shouldn’t tease her so, Neil,” Christy said. “She really is frightened. And who knows?” She paused. “Maybe there’s more to this Boggin thing than we realize.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds like Christy’s been bitten by the Boggin bug,” said the doctor. “It’s turning into an epidemic.”
Christy looked away. “I’m just saying we should respect people’s fears.”
“No,” David said firmly. “We should help them fight their fears. After all, if Lundy Taylor can do it, anyone can.”
“Lundy’s here?” Christy exclaimed.
“Two of your students just got here.” David pointed to two figures at the far edge of the clearing. Sure enough, Lundy Taylor and Wraight Holt were sawing away at a tall pine.
“Amazing,” Christy said. “Especially after his run-in with the Boggin . . . or what he thought was the Boggin.”
“He said he wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t afraid of anything,” David explained.
Christy smiled sympathetically. It was the same reason, she realized, that she was here.
“Perhaps your lesson on telephone etiquette inspired him,” Doctor MacNeill suggested.
“I doubt—” Christy stopped in mid sentence.
Something was flying through the air at high speed toward the middle of the clearing.
“What on earth is that?” David cried.
“Well, it’s not a bird, that much is for sure,” said the doctor.
“It’s a bag,” Christy said. “A burlap sack!”
The sack landed with a soft plop. It was loosely tied at the top with an old rope, leaving a small opening.
“It came from over yonder,” said Jeb. He pointed toward a stand of trees at the edge of the clearing.
“I’ll bet the Boggin sent it,” Wraight said. “I’d bet you my last dollar, if’n I had one.”
“I hear somethin’ powerful funny,” Lundy said, taking several steps back. “Somethin’ that sounds like—”
“Hornets!” somebody screeched.
First one, then two, then dozens of yellow and black hornets buzzed free of the burlap sack.
“Hornets!” Ruby Mae cried. “It’s a nest o’ hornets! And they is mad!”
In an instant, the air was alive with the angry insects, swooping in wild circles.
Everyone scattered in terror. The doctor grabbed Christy’s hand and pulled. “But the sandwiches—” Christy began.
“Come on, city-girl. When their nest is disturbed, hornets want revenge.”
Christy and the doctor ran several hundred yards before coming to a stop. A few seconds later, a winded David and Ruby Mae caught up with them. A nasty red welt was already forming on David’s right arm.
“Let me take a look at that,” said Doctor MacNeill. “Anyone else get stung?”
“Not that I know of,” David said, wincing.
“You know why this happened, don’t you?” Ruby Mae said as she struggled to catch her breath.
“Because the Boggin’s mad at us?” the doctor asked with a hint of sarcasm.
“Yep,” Ruby Mae replied. “But the preacher went and made it worse by walkin’ around in the kitchen with one boot on. I told you it’d bring you bad luck, Preacher.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” David said gloomily, glancing back toward the clearing. “It’s the telephone lines. No one’s going to help me with this project now. Not after this.”
“Anyone coulda done it,” Clara said.
She was perched on a fallen log in the woods, not far from the spot where David and the men had been working. John was pacing back and forth in front of her.
“Sure, anyone coulda done it,” John agreed. “But who do you think really did toss that hornet’s nest into the clearing?”
Clara crossed her arms over her chest. “How should I know?”
“You’re thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, aren’t you?”
“Don’t you go tellin’ me what I’m thinkin’, John Spencer. I got my own mind and you got yours, and that’s that.”
“You’re thinkin’,” John continued, “that he did it.”
“I’m not thinkin’ any such thing.”
John kept pacing. “You’re thinkin’ he’s mad about the phone lines comin’ over his mountain, and people trespassin’ and all. You’re thinkin’ he’s so mad he just up and started doin’ mean things to scare people off.”
“You may be thinkin’ that way, John. But I ain’t!” Clara cried in exasperation.
John narrowed his eyes. “Then how come we came here today after school, sneakin’ around like spies? We were lookin’ for clues, Clara. Lookin’ to see if he’d do anything suspicious. And sure enough, he did.”
“I don’t want to believe that,” Clara said softly. Tears burned her eyes. “I can’t believe it, John. It makes me afraid. And I don’t want to be afraid of him.”
“I know,” John said. “Me neither. But facts is facts.” He sighed. “Truth is, I think Ma’s right, Clara. I don’t think we should go back no more.”
A tear slipped down Clara’s cheek. “I reckon you two is right.”
For a long time, John didn’t speak. He sat down next to Clara on the log and draped his arm around her shoulder.
“Of course,” he said at last, “we could ask Ma about goin’ up the mountain once more. Just to be sure we’re right about him. She could come, too. We got to know the truth.”
“We could go tomorrow after school.”
“Tomorrow it is.”
Clara wiped her cheek and nodded. “All right, then. One last time,” she said softly, “just so we know the truth.”
Eleven
Well, that’s over and done with,” David said the next afternoon.
Christy looked up from the papers she was grading. David was standing in the open doorway of the school. She’d just dismissed school for the day, and all the children were gone.
“What are you talking about, David?”
David strode in, leaving muddy footprints in his wake. It had started raining again that morning and hadn’t stopped all day. The mission yard was full of deep, muddy puddles.
David sat on one of the desks in the front row, a scowl on his face. “The telephone. I’m sorry to report you can forget about having one.” He combed fingers through his wet hair. “Nobody showed up to work today. Not even Jeb Spencer. Nobody.”
“It could be the bad weather. Besides, after the incident with the hornets, I’m not surprised, are you?”
“I guess I’d hoped the men would find a way to see past it.”
“It was all Lundy and Wraight could talk about today,” Christy said. “Give it some time, David. Things will calm down in a few weeks.”
“Maybe. But I doubt it.”
“Who knows? Maybe it’s for the best. I know the phone is important, but these incidents have been awfully frightening for these people.” She gave a rueful smile. “Even for me, I have to admit.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for these Boggin stories, too?” David cried.
“Well, you have to admit there have been some strange goings-on.”
David waved his hand dismissively. “Pranks. Probably one of our own students, just out to make mischief. Remember when you first started teaching? This same sort of thing happened.”
“I don’t know, David.” Christy stared out the rain-spattered window. “The truth is, when I passed Boggin Mountain on my way to Fairlight’s last week, I saw something . . . or someone. Whatever it was, it frightened me.”
David leapt to his feet. He looked at Christy with a mixture of frustration and amazement. “I cannot believe you, an intelligent woman— a teacher, no less—are buying into this, Christy!”
“I know it sounds crazy, David. And it was probably jus
t a wild animal. All I’m saying is that if I can be scared, as skeptical as I was about the Boggin, can you blame the men who were helping you? They grew up hearing horrible stories about him.”
“I guess I’d hoped my sermon last Sunday and your talk with the children about the telephone would have some effect.” David gave a resigned shrug. “Sometimes I overestimate the influence I have.”
“It was a wonderful sermon, David,” Christy assured him. “It gave me a lot to think about. It affected me.”
David smiled wearily as he started for the door. “Not enough, I guess.”
“David—” Christy began, but he was already gone.
She looked at the stack of spelling tests. She’d only graded half of them. Besides that, she still needed to work on her lesson plans for tomorrow.
Again she gazed out the window. She could just make out the dark expanse of Boggin Mountain. She’d always loved this view. On days when she’d feared she couldn’t handle the challenge of teaching these needy mountain children, one glance at that mountain had always steadied her. It had been her source of courage.
And now she was afraid of it. She’d stay afraid of it, too, unless she confronted her fear.
In her heart, she knew the Boggin was a myth, a silly story, a figment of her imagination. But there was only one way to prove it to herself.
She wanted her calming view returned to her. She wanted her mountain back.
It would be hard, climbing on a day like today, but no matter.
She could do the lesson plans tonight. First, there was something else she needed to work on.
“Slow down, John!” Clara complained. “I can’t keep up. I keep slippin’ and slidin’.”
They’d climbed this route up Boggin Mountain many times, but today, the constant rain made every step hard.
John held out his hand. “Just a little farther.”
The Princess Club / Family Secrets / Mountain Madness Page 19
