Silent Superstitions

by Catherine Marshall

  “What is that awful odor?” Miss Ida had demanded.

  “I don’t smell nothin’,” Ruby Mae had said quickly.

  “You’d have to be missing your nose not to smell it,” David had said.

  But Ruby Mae had just smiled innocently. When she’d left the table, David had whispered, “Probably just some mountain remedy. A lot of the children seem to be wearing those obnoxious things around their necks. Just think of it as another teaching challenge!”

  Christy had laughed, but today, breathing in the horrible smell, she wondered how much longer she could stand it. Of course, at the rate her class was disappearing, she wouldn’t have to tolerate the smell much longer.

  The door opened, and Christy turned to see Mary O’Teale standing breathlessly in the doorway. Mary stared at all the empty seats, then smiled shyly at Christy.

  “Mary!” Christy cried. “What a nice surprise! We’ve missed you. Come on in. As you can see, there’s plenty of room.”

  “I missed you, too, Teacher,” Mary said, touching her neck self-consciously. She hesitated, then sat down on the girls’ side of the room next to Ruby Mae.

  “Were you unable to come because of the weather?” Christy asked hopefully.

  “Weather. Yes’m,” Mary said. Her cheeks were flushed and damp. “For certain that was part of it.”

  “And will Mountie and your brothers be coming today?”

  Mary shifted uneasily in her seat, scratching hard at her upper chest. “I can’t rightly say.”

  “Mary,” Christy said. “Are you all right? You look like you might be getting some kind of rash.”

  “Just some itchin’ that needs scratchin’ is all,” Mary assured her.

  Christy wondered again if the children were coming down with something. She knew that because the mountain people shared their drinking water and lacked the most basic hygiene, disease often spread like wildfire through the Cove. Typhoid, a particularly deadly disease, had hit the area many times. Christy wondered if she should have Doctor MacNeill take a look at the children. She’d seen him over at the mission house earlier today, talking to Miss Alice.

  “It could be you’re coming down with something contagious, Mary,” Christy said.

  “I reckon I don’t know what you mean by ‘contagious,’ ” Mary admitted.

  “That means a sickness that other people can catch,” Christy explained. “Creed looks a little under the weather—and so do some of the others, come to think of it. Do you mind if I check your neck, Mary?”

  Mary clutched at the string around her neck. “Oh, no, Teacher,” she cried. “I be fine, really I am.”

  Christy bent down. She could see a horrible, bumpy red rash making its way up the little girl’s neck. “Mary,” she said softly, “what is that necklace you’re wearing? I notice a lot of the children have them.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ special,” Mary said, looking away.

  Christy sighed. She was getting nowhere fast. Her class smelled like a medicine factory. Several of her students were growing peculiar rashes. Most of them were wearing strange necklaces they refused to discuss. And many had simply stopped coming to school at all.

  Christy had talked to Miss Alice and David about the diminishing student population. They were as mystified as she was, but both had reassured Christy that it was only a matter of time before the mountain people began to accept her. She just wasn’t sure she could wait that long.

  “I am going to ask you this just once,” Christy said, in her no-nonsense teacher tone. “Someone has to tell me the truth. John? Creed? Mary? Ruby Mae?”

  Ruby Mae leaned over and whispered something to Mary.

  Mary whispered back. Both girls locked their eyes on Christy.

  “Ruby Mae?

  “Yes’m?”

  “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

  Ruby Mae twisted a strand of red hair around her finger. “No, Miz Christy, I reckon there ain’t nothin’ I want to tell you.”

  “But you’re usually such a chatterbox.”

  “Yes’m, it’s true. My mouth don’t open just for feedin’ baby birds,” Ruby Mae agreed. “And I don’t mean to be ornery, but I reckon there’s not a solitary thing I want to be tellin’ you right now.”

  “Fine,” Christy said, struggling to rein in her anger. “At the noon recess, I’m going to have Doctor MacNeill and Miss Alice take a look at those odd rashes.” She opened her tattered history book. “In the meantime, why don’t I read you the story about George Washington and the cherry tree? Do you all know who George Washington was?”

  Creed raised his hand.

  “Yes, Creed?”

  “I reckon he was pa of the whole U-nited States.”

  “Father of our country. Very good, Creed. And one of the things he’s most famous for is saying he could not tell a lie.”

  She studied the anxious faces of her audience. “Perhaps that’s a lesson you could all learn from.”

  “I’m a-tellin you, these rashes is part o’ the curse,” Creed whispered in hushed tones behind the school during the noon recess. “I thought I’d be safe comin’, what with Granny O’Teale’s herbs and such.” He kicked at a pebble with his bare foot. “Truth is I kinda like comin’ to school. And Teacher seems so all-fired nice and everything, even if’n she is a flatlander and talks right peculiar. But now—” he scratched frantically at his upper chest— “now I ain’t so sure I’m ever comin’ back. I itch somethin’ fierce.”

  Ruby Mae leaned against the building, careful to avoid a brown tobacco stain. “I don’t know what to think anymore. These rashes is plumb unnatural. Factually speakin’, it makes me mighty nervous to be sharin’ the same roof with someone who might just have a curse a-hangin’ over her.”

  “Could be Teacher’s found out about Granny’s magic recipe,” Creed suggested, eyes wide with fear. “Do you s’pose she’s fightin’ back with spells of her own?”

  “Swear to Josh-way,” Mary said, “I’ve had rashes like this before from Granny’s potions. One time—” she lowered her voice— “she got to fussin’ ’cause Smith saw a pure black skunk. Not a stripe on that animal anywheres. Granny said it was an omen. Said we was all a-goin’ to come down with the typhoid. So she made up this mixture, with lard and bear grease and who knows what all else in it. Smelled to high heaven, it did. She made us smear it all over ourselves for three days solid. Thought I’d like to die from the stink of it.”

  “So what happened?” Ruby Mae asked.

  “Well, we’uns broke out with boils all over. You talk about itchin’? I tell you, I cried somethin’ awful, it itched so bad. Worse than this, even,” Mary said, pointing to her chest. “’Course,” she added, to be fair, “we never did come down with the typhoid, so maybe there was somethin’ to Granny’s potion, after all.” She sighed. “I feel all switched up inside, like there’s two whole Marys in there, argufyin’ over whether to trust Teacher or not.”

  “I might just have a way to figure out the truth of things,” Ruby Mae said. “You two can come if’n you want, but you gotta be quiet as mice.”

  “Will it tell us if’n Granny’s wrong?” Mary asked.

  “Could be. We’re a-goin’ to sneak into Miz Christy’s room and find out the truth.”

  Mary nodded. “Let’s do it, quick-like,” she said. “I have to know if I’m right about Teacher, one way or the other.”

  “Miss Ida, have you seen Miss Alice?” Christy asked as she stepped inside the mission house.

  Miss Ida looked up from the pie crust she was rolling out in careful, even strokes.

  “I thought you were upstairs,” she said, her brow knitted. “Didn’t I just hear you—” She shrugged. “I must be imagining things. Miss Alice is in her cabin, I believe. She’s meeting with Doctor MacNeill.”

  “Doctor MacNeill’s still here?” Christy said. “That’s wonderful. I need to have him look over some of the children.” She hesitated. “Actually, I was wondering if I could recruit you fo
r a minute or two . . .”

  “Me?” Miss Ida demanded. “I don’t know the first thing about teaching.”

  “I just need you to keep an eye on things while I go get Miss Alice and the doctor,” Christy explained. “There aren’t that many children to watch, actually.”

  Miss Ida sighed. “I’m right in the middle of an apple pie.”

  “How about this?” Christy said. “I’ll do all the cleaning up around here for the next couple of days, if you can just spare me ten minutes.”

  “No need,” Miss Ida said, wiping her hands on her apron. “My work is never done around here, anyway. What would you all do without me, I wonder?”

  “So do I,” Christy said with a grateful smile.

  As she headed across the main room toward the front door, Christy thought she heard whispering from the stairwell. She paused, listening. Nothing. But as soon as she started walking again, she was almost certain she heard a muffled giggle coming from the second story.

  Christy crept up the stairs, careful to avoid the one near the top that squeaked. Her bedroom door was half closed. She could hear the shuffle of feet, then whispering.

  “Ruby Mae?” Christy asked, pushing the door open.

  Someone screeched. Christy entered the room to see Ruby Mae standing near the bed, hands clasped behind her back. Mary O’Teale and Creed Allen were sitting at the foot of the bed.

  “What on earth are you three doing in here?” Christy cried.

  “We . . . uh, we was just a-lookin’ for . . .” Mary’s voice trailed off.

  “For somethin’,” Creed volunteered.

  “That much is obvious,” Christy said. She took a step forward and Ruby Mae instantly took a step back, tumbling onto the bed. “What’s that behind your back, Ruby Mae?” Christy asked.

  “Behind my back?” Ruby Mae repeated in a shrill voice not at all like her own. “Behind my back? Well, like as not, I ’spect that would be my fanny.” She offered Christy a weak smile.

  “Very funny, Ruby Mae.” Christy put her hands on her hips. “You three do understand that this is my room, and that you do not just go poking around other people’s property without their permission?”

  All three slowly nodded.

  Christy reached for Ruby Mae’s arm. “Come on, Ruby Mae,” she said gently, “hand it over.”

  “No!” Creed cried suddenly, leaping off the bed. “Don’t hurt her, Teacher!”

  “Creed, of course I wouldn’t—”

  Ruby Mae’s face was white as she reached out a trembling hand. She was holding a black leather book.

  “My diary?” Christy gasped. “You were reading my diary?”

  “We was just tryin’ to find out if you—” Ruby Mae seemed to lose her voice.

  “If I what?” Christy pressed.

  Ruby Mae looked at Creed. Creed looked at Mary. Their faces were pale, their foreheads beaded with sweat.

  Christy approached Mary. The little girl was trembling, but when Christy knelt beside her, Mary managed a small smile.

  “If I what, Mary?” Christy asked in a whisper. She held out her hand and Mary reached for it. Her fingers were like tiny icicles.

  “You know, Mary,” Christy said, “I miss seeing Mountie. I miss all the children, of course, but I’ve especially missed seeing you two. When you came back today, I was so happy that I said a little prayer of thanks. Do you think Mountie misses me?”

  Mary gave a tiny nod.

  “And have you missed me too?”

  The girl answered with another nod.

  “Whatever you tell me, Mary, you can trust me. I won’t let any harm come to you. I’m your friend. I came here to help you. Do you believe me?”

  Mary thought for a minute, working her small mouth. At last, she nodded again.

  “Then you can tell me, Mary. What are you afraid of?”

  “Don’t, Mary!” Creed cried. “If’n you tell her, then the secret recipe won’t work no more.”

  Mary bit her lip. She looked into Christy’s eyes as if she thought she could find something she needed there. “Granny . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “Granny says . . .” Mary cleared her throat.

  “Granny says what?” Christy encouraged.

  “She says you’re cursed,” Mary blurted. “She says you brought bad things to Cutter Gap and that we’uns shouldn’t go to school no more!”

  Christy blinked. So that was it. That explained the missing children. That explained the look of fear on the faces of the few students who still dared to come to school.

  She pulled Mary close and gave her a hug. The bitter smell of herbs made her eyes burn. Gently, Christy pulled on the yarn necklace around Mary’s neck. At the bottom was a small piece of old cloth, filled with what felt like dried bits of plants.

  “Did Granny make this necklace for you?” Christy asked.

  “Yes’m.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a curse chaser. To ward off your bad spell and keep us safe.”

  Christy frowned at the awful rash on the little girl’s neck. “Well, I’m not so sure she’s accomplishing that.” She looked over at Creed. “Are you wearing one too?”

  Creed nodded. “Most all of us are, Teacher. Ma said the only way she’d let me go to school was if’n I wore this and kept my distance. ’Course some parents just flat-out said no.” He cocked his head at her, a confused look on his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Well, I figured you’d be sore as a skinned owl when Mary done told you. You ain’t a-goin’ to put a spell on us, is you?”

  “Creed, of course not. That’s nonsense.” Christy could barely control the anger in her voice. “I don’t understand how you children could believe such a silly notion—” She stopped herself. It wasn’t the children who deserved her anger. It was Granny O’Teale and the other adults who’d allowed such superstitious foolishness to fill the heads of these poor children.

  “Thank you, Mary,” Christy said gently, “for telling the truth.”

  “You won’t tell on me to Granny, will you?” Mary asked in a quavering voice. “I weren’t even supposed to be here.”

  “Of course not.” Christy smiled. “Creed and Mary, I want you to come with me. Doctor MacNeill needs to take a look at those rashes.”

  As Christy started for the door, Ruby Mae rushed past, nearly knocking her aside.

  “What’s wrong, Ruby Mae?” Christy asked. “It’s going to be all right. I’m not mad.”

  Ruby Mae paused in the doorway, glaring.

  “Come on,” Christy said. “You’ve hardly spoken a word.”

  “Reckon I ain’t got nothin’ to say,” Ruby Mae muttered. “Reckon that’s the way you like it, anyways.”

  With that, she turned on her heel and ran down the stairs.

  “You won’t believe what I’m about to tell you!” Christy cried as soon as Miss Alice opened the door to her cabin. Christy stomped inside, motioning for Creed and Mary to follow.

  “Relax, Christy,” Miss Alice urged. “I can see you’re very upset.”

  “It’s just that—well, do you have any idea what people in the Cove are saying about me?”

  Doctor MacNeill was sitting in a rocker. “Hmm, let me see. That you’re the finest teacher they’ve ever seen in these parts?”

  Christy paced back and forth on the polished wooden floor, practically choking on her anger. “They—”

  “Let me try again,” the doctor interrupted with a grim smile. “They’re saying you’re cursed and that the only way to go near you is with a handful of foul-smelling herbs?”

  Christy stopped midstride. “You’re telling me you knew?”

  “Relax, Miss Huddleston,” he said. He paused to take a long puff on his pipe. “I only just heard myself.” He nodded to Miss Alice.

  “I stopped by the McHones yesterday evening to check on that broken arm of Isaak’s,” Miss Alice explained. “That’s when I first got wind of Granny O’Teale’s theory ab
out you.”

  “Theory!” Christy practically spat out the word. “Look at that rash on Mary, Doctor. Creed has one too. I think it’s from Granny’s herb concoction. I’ll bet half the population of the Cove is breaking out!”

  The doctor called Creed over and examined the little boy’s rash. “How long have you had this, Creed?”

  “I disremember exactly. Last couple days for sure.”

  “How about you, Mary?” Miss Alice asked gently.

  “It don’t bother me none, Miss Alice,” Mary said. She took a nervous step back. “You ain’t a-goin’ to tell Granny I told on her, are you?”

  “Are you afraid she’ll hurt you, Mary?” Christy asked.

  “No’m. Mostly I’m afraid she’d be a-thinkin’ I didn’t believe.”

  “Believe?” Christy echoed.

  “In her powers. Her second sight and such.”

  “Your secret is safe with us, Mary,” the doctor assured the little girl.

  “Why don’t you two run on out to the schoolyard?” Miss Alice suggested. “The doctor and I will be by with some medicine to make that itching stop.”

  As soon as Miss Alice opened the door, Creed ran outside. But Mary paused in the doorway.

  “Teacher?” she said softly.

  “Yes, Mary?”

  “I’m purty sure that Mountie misses you too. She can’t exactly say it just so, but I can tell.”

  Christy nodded. “Thank you, Mary.”

  Miss Alice closed the door, and Christy sank into a chair. “Where on earth did that old woman come up with such a notion?” she demanded.

  “Superstitions grow like weeds around these parts,” the doctor said. Carefully he placed some fresh tobacco in the bowl of his pipe. “You’ve still got a lot to learn about the mountain people. Granny is known in the Cove as a fine herbalist. Some of her knowledge is sound enough, and some of it is nonsense. But her word is still gospel.”

  “But what made her turn on me? Why me?”

  Miss Alice touched Christy’s shoulder. “There’s no use looking for a logical reason, Christy. Perhaps it was Bob’s accident, or Mary’s fall. Perhaps Granny just feels threatened by all the changes going on here in the Cove.”