The Princess Club / Family Secrets / Mountain Madness Read online

  “One thing. When we get close, you let me go first. My family ain’t goin’ to be none too happy to see this horse show up again.”

  Fourteen

  Let me just say this,” Doctor MacNeill said as he wrapped a bandage around Bob’s arm. “You’re a very lucky man that Curtis and John and Margaret came to your aid.”

  Bob gave a terse nod. The Allen family was gathered by his bedside—all except Granny, who was sitting in her rocker, watching the proceedings. The Washingtons—John, Curtis, Margaret, and Hannah—stood by the door. Louise had stayed home with the baby.

  Christy patted John’s shoulder. “You saved his life, John, you and your family. I’m so proud of you.”

  “We come ’cause Hannah begged us to,” John muttered. “That’s the only reason.”

  “It must not have been easy, pulling his arm free,” Doctor MacNeill said.

  “Pa stuck a log in the gears to make ’em stop,” Hannah explained. “Then everybody just yanked and yanked. For a thin man, Mr. Allen, you shore do weigh a heap.”

  Her remark was met with tense laughter.

  “You’re going to have to think about getting some help at the mill, Bob.” Doctor MacNeill cut another length of bandage. “You can’t be losing consciousness that way.”

  “Boys’ll help me. Rob, Festus, Creed. They’s old enough.”

  “But their schooling—” Christy protested.

  “Schoolin’ ain’t nothin’, compared to the mill,” Bob said.

  “Well,” Curtis said abruptly, “we’d best be goin’.”

  “I . . .” Mary hesitated, glancing at Bob. “I want to thank you kindly for helpin’. You bound up his wound right proper, Margaret.”

  “She certainly did,” the doctor said. “Bob would have bled to death without her.”

  “Had some practice not long ago,” Margaret said sharply.

  All eyes turned to the bandage on John’s arm. Nobody spoke.

  “Bob,” Granny said sharply, “ain’t there somethin’ you want to be sayin’?”

  Bob winced as Doctor MacNeill tied his bandage into place. “I said all I want to say.”

  “Ain’t surprised,” Curtis said. “Wouldn’t ’spect no more from the likes of you.” He strode over to Bob’s bedside. “That horse o’ yours. It’s just like the one Hannah saw when John was shot. Now, I ain’t sayin’ for sure you shot my boy, ’cause I don’t know. But if I ever catch you near my place with a gun in your hand, you’ll be dead before you know what hit you.”

  The Washingtons filed out the door. Della May ran to the doorway. Nervously, she glanced over her shoulder at her father. “Bye, Hannah,” she called softly. “Thank you.”

  “What’s got into you, gal?” Bob shouted as soon as Della May shut the door. “What did I tell you about goin’ near them folks?”

  “Bob,” Christy said, “those people just saved your life.”

  “I’ve just about had my fill with your meddlin’, Miz Christy,” Bob said, falling back against his pillow.

  “Bob!” Mary cried. “Miz Christy and the doc are just tryin’ to help you.”

  The doctor closed his bag. “I think we’re just about done here, anyway, Mary,” he said with barely concealed disgust. “You remember to change that bandage like I showed you.”

  “I will, Doctor.”

  “Before we go,” Christy said, “we were wondering if we could have a word with you, Granny. It’s about the Washingtons.”

  Granny narrowed her eyes. “I’m afeared I didn’t hear you.”

  Christy smiled. She knew Granny had a way of not hearing when it was convenient.

  Christy picked up the needlepoint she’d seen the other day. “This is some fine needlework, Granny. I was wondering why you didn’t sign your name to it.”

  Granny shrugged. “No room, I reckon.”

  “But you had room to stitch a pretty little bluebird.”

  Granny yanked the needlepoint out of Christy’s hand. “That’s from another time, gal. Don’t you be a-pesterin’ me about such things.”

  “It’s interesting,” Christy continued, “because when I was looking at the Washingtons’ family Bible, I saw an unusual signature. The woman’s name was ‘Birdy.’”

  Granny studied the needlepoint, head lowered, ignoring Christy.

  “Did you have a nickname as a child, Granny?” Christy asked.

  “Can’t hear you, child.”

  “‘Birdy,’ wasn’t it?” the doctor said loudly.

  “Pshaw.” Granny waved him away. “Talkin’ nonsense, the both of you. Crazy as March hares.”

  “I know it was Birdy,” the doctor continued, “because I can remember my own grandma saying it. When Christy mentioned it today, it all came back to me.”

  “You’re not sayin’ that Granny is the woman . . .” Mary gasped. “The woman Mary Washington was speakin’ of at Bible study?”

  “What in tarnation are you fools cacklin’ about?” Bob demanded from his bed.

  “Tell him, Granny,” Christy urged gently. “Tell him what that young woman nicknamed Birdy did.”

  Granny just stared at the needlepoint in her lap, running her gnarled fingers over the needlework.

  “Would somebody please tell me what all this nonsense is about?” Bob cried.

  “Miz Christy’s sayin’ that Granny helped save one of the Washingtons’ kin, Bob,” Mary said. She was staring at Granny with a bewildered look. “A . . . a slave. Before the war. A long time ago.”

  “Long time,” Granny whispered.

  “It’s true, isn’t it, Granny?” Christy said.

  Granny looked up at Christy. Her eyes were damp. She shook her head slightly.

  “You can’t squeeze milk out of a rock, Miz Christy,” Bob said defiantly. “And you can’t make what ain’t true a fact. Why, Granny’s the one who was all in a tizzy when she heard the Washingtons were movin’ in! You got your stories all backward. But then,” he added bitterly, “you got a lot o’ things backward lately.”

  Doctor MacNeill knelt beside Granny. He took her hand and held it gently. “Granny,” he said softly, “my own granny often spoke of you with such respect. She used to say you were tough as a laurel burl and braver than any man. Now, at last, I think I understand what she meant. I know you were afraid to admit it before. But now’s the time. Tell them, Granny. Tell them what you did. Maybe it will help heal the wounds in this place. Maybe it’s not too late to change things.”

  Della May put her arm around her great-grandmother’s frail back. “Is it true, Granny? Is it true what the doctor is sayin’?”

  Granny gave a resigned, faraway smile. “I can’t hear you, child,” she whispered.

  Fifteen

  That evening, Christy wrote in her diary before going to bed, hoping to rid herself of the heavy feeling in her heart. But she wondered if anything could really ease the pain.

  Where are the answers when I need them? So much seems to be going wrong, and nothing I do helps. Doctor MacNeill says he’s thinking of leaving the Cove for good. Granny Allen refuses to acknowledge her courageous act of so long ago. And I can’t seem to get through to anyone.

  Every day at school the hatred toward the Washingtons simmers. The accusations of stealing get more intense, but when I try to soothe my students, they ask me for an explanation. Why have things been disappearing from school? Why did it start right around the time John and Louise and Hannah arrived?

  I know there must be an explanation. They’re such good children. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out what it is.

  Today, after we left the Allens’ cabin, Neil told me that some people will never change. That there will always be feuding and racism and hatred in people—especially the people of Cutter Gap.

  Never have I seen him so cynical. So dark. Or so unhappy.

  I told him that there is goodness in people. I told him how Fairlight had moved her chair at the Bible study. I told him how I’d seen Della May and Hannah playing together, d
espite all the risks.

  I told him we just had to wait and work and pray.

  And all he did was laugh.

  Christy put her diary away. There was nothing more to say or do. Except, perhaps, to cry. And pray.

  Late that night, Christy awoke suddenly, feeling anxious. She sat up, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. Something was wrong. Was that smoke she smelled?

  She ran to the open window. The smell of burning wood was in the air. Far up on Kildeer Mountain, red flames flickered against the night sky.

  Christy’s heart leapt into her throat. That was where Doctor MacNeill lived! It could be his cabin burning, or the Allens’, or . . .

  No.

  Please, God, Christy silently prayed, don’t let it be the Washingtons’ cabin. Let it be a forest fire, a campfire out of control, a woodpile . . .

  She threw on a dress and her shoes and raced down the stairs, just as David burst through the front door. Miss Ida was already up, dressed in her nightgown and robe.

  “Looks like Kildeer,” David said breathlessly. “I’m taking Prince up.”

  “I’m coming, too,” Christy said. “Let me ride with you.”

  “Could it be a forest fire?” Miss Ida asked.

  “Woods are pretty damp. No lightning,” David replied. “But I suppose it could be.”

  “Do you think it’s the Washingtons’ place?” Miss Ida asked.

  “I fear it is,” Christy replied, “but I’m praying it isn’t.”

  David urged Prince on as fast as he dared, but in the dark, every tree root and hole in the mountain path was treacherous. The closer they got to the fire, the larger it seemed to grow.

  Red-gold flames licked at the stars. The air grew acrid with the smell of burning wood. In the stillness of the night woods, the sound of the crackling fire grew ominous. Before long, they could hear the sound of desperate shouts.

  Soon it was clear that the fire was located at the Washingtons’. “The flames are going higher,” David said grimly, “but they’re not spreading, the way they would with a forest fire. It must be their cabin.”

  “We should have kept this from happening,” Christy muttered. “Surely there was something we could have done.”

  David glanced over his shoulder. His face was barely visible in the moonlight. “We tried, Christy.”

  “Not hard enough. And that makes me feel almost as guilty as the people who did this.”

  For the rest of the ride, neither spoke. There was nothing more to say. It was too late for words.

  Just let them be all right, Christy prayed. They can build another cabin. Just let the family be all right.

  Sixteen

  By the time they reached the clearing where the Washingtons’ cabin was located, the fire had quieted. It was more smoke than flame, but the damage was already done.

  Doctor MacNeill was there, tossing buckets of dirt on the dying embers. His face and hands were darkened by soot. Curtis and John were still fighting the fire, too. They’d saved a few things—a chair, an iron pot, a photograph. But the cabin itself was nothing but charred logs, glowing an eerie red in the night. Christy ran to the spot where Margaret and the girls stood huddled together. Margaret was clutching their worn Bible.

  “Margaret, I’m so sorry,” Christy said, hugging the trembling woman. “Are you all right? Was anyone hurt?”

  “We’re fine. Curtis, he got some burns on his hands. Doc, too.” She let out a soft sob. “The children’s all right. That’s all that matters.”

  Doctor MacNeill came over. His brow was damp with perspiration. “Neil,” Christy asked, “are you hurt?”

  “A few burns. Nothing much.” He shook his head at the dying embers where the little cabin had stood. “Do you see now why I want to leave this place? Tell me this, Christy. Can you look at this and still tell me there’s good in the people of Cutter Gap?”

  “You can’t blame everyone, Doctor,” David said. “This isn’t the work of the whole Cove.”

  “No,” the doctor said bitterly. “It’s the work of Bob Allen. But there’s plenty more where he came from.”

  Hannah tugged on the doctor’s shirt. “Truth to tell, Doctor MacNeill,” she said in a teary voice, “it weren’t Bob.”

  “Hannah?” Margaret asked. “Did you see who done this, child?”

  “I heard a noise, Ma, right before it started. Saw three men outa the window. All of ’em on horses, dark ones. Not gray like Bob’s.”

  “She’s right. With Bob’s arm in such sorry shape, he’d be in no condition to ride,” the doctor said wearily. “I shouldn’t have assumed as much. But it doesn’t help to hear there are others like him out there. Not that it’s exactly a surprise.”

  Curtis came over, wiping his face with the back of his arm. “Well, I guess they’re gettin’ their way,” he said grimly. “I can fight words, maybe even bullets. But I can’t fight fire.”

  “Yes, you can, Bob,” Christy said firmly. “You fight fire with fire. When someone burns down your house, you build it up again. That way you don’t let them win.”

  “It’s too late for that, Miz Christy. I gotta think o’ my children.”

  “Pa?” Hannah said softly. “What if we move on and they just burn us down all over again?”

  “What if we stay,” Curtis said, “and they do it again right here?” He knelt beside Hannah and held her close. “Sweetie, ol’ Grandpa William was wrong about Cutter Gap. He said he felt closer to God here. But the truth is, I ain’t never felt Him further away.”

  “Granny?” Della May said after school the next day. “I got me a question for you.”

  She sat next to her great-grandmother on the dusty wooden porch outside the Allens’ cabin.

  “What is it, girl?”

  Della May checked over her shoulder to be sure her pa and ma weren’t around. “Where’s Pa?” she asked.

  “Out to the mill, the old coot. He ain’t got a lick o’ sense. His arm bandaged up and his head a-swimmin’.”

  “Well, it’s like this. You know how the Washingtons’ cabin done got burned down last night?”

  “Could see those flames for miles.”

  “Well, Hannah weren’t in school today. Her brother and sister, neither.”

  Granny looked up from her knitting. Her old fingers always moved very slowly, but now they stopped.

  “Teacher said they was stayin’ at the mission house. Said they might be a-movin’ on soon, and it were all our faults for not bein’ more friendly.”

  “Miz Christy’s full of notions,” Granny said softly.

  “Granny, I have a confession to make. It’s a-burning up my soul somethin’ fierce.”

  “Speak your mind, then.”

  Della May took a deep breath. “Hannah Washington . . . well, she’s the best friend I ever had, ’sides Creed. I don’t want her to go, Granny. Is that wrong?”

  Very slowly, Granny set her knitting aside. She reached for Della May’s hand and grasped it tightly. “You’re a fine girl, Della May. And it’s a fine thing to have a friend, no matter what color she is.”

  “Is it true, Granny?” Della May asked. “What Miz Christy said about you savin’ that slave way back when?”

  Granny rocked back and forth. “What if it was? What would you think o’ your ol’ granny then?”

  Della May thought for a while. “I know how hard it’s been to be Hannah’s friend. Us always dodgin’ from people and sneakin’ in the woods and all. So I guess if’n you really was Birdy, I’d have to say I’d be powerful proud. Considerin’ how brave she musta been.”

  For a long time, Granny didn’t reply. She had thinking spells like that a lot, and Della May knew better than to bother her. She sat quietly on the porch by her great-grandmother, waiting and wondering and feeling sad. She felt like someone had torn a hole right out of her middle. She felt empty and smaller and very lonely.

  “Child,” Granny said suddenly. “I want you to go fetch your pa.”

  “He
don’t like it when I trouble him at the mill, Granny. What if he asks how come?”

  Granny took a long breath. “Just tell him Birdy wants to see him.”

  Seventeen

  We sure can’t thank you enough for givin’ us a roof over our heads,” Curtis said in the mission house dining room the next morning. The Washingtons had just finished breakfast, along with Christy, Miss Ida, and Ruby Mae. Miss Alice, Doctor MacNeill, and David were there, too.

  “We were glad to help,” Christy replied. “I just wish you would stay a little longer. There’s plenty of room. Why do you have to leave so soon?”

  “I got to find me some work as soon as possible, Miz Christy,” Curtis replied. “There’ll be somethin’ in Knoxville. It’s a big city.”

  “So Doctor MacNeill tells me,” Christy said, sending a meaningful look at the doctor.

  “Maybe we’ll run into each other, Doctor,” Curtis said. “If’n you decide to move on, too.”

  “I certainly wish we could convince you and the doctor to stay put,” said Miss Alice.

  “So it’s true, Doctor?” David asked. “You’re really leaving Cutter Gap?”

  “I’m seriously considering the possibility. It feels like it’s time to make a change.” The doctor gave a wry grin. “Was that a note of hope I heard in your voice, Reverend?”

  David grinned. “Not at all. I’ll certainly miss you . . . professionally, anyway. This Cove needs a good doctor. Miss Alice has too much to take care of as it is.”

  “We’ll get by,” Miss Alice said. She sipped at her tea, then gave the doctor a sad smile. “Neil needs to do what’s best for him.”

  “We’ve got plenty of work to be done around the mission, Curtis,” David said. “You could stay for a while, work off your room and board that way.”

  “That wouldn’t really solve the problem, now, would it?” Curtis shoved back his chair. “Come on, children. We’ve got a long walk ahead of us, if’n we want to make El Pano today.”