The troubled expression dissolved. “That’s my Cadi.” A smile spread across his face as he stood. “We’d best go now before Sim comes back. He’ll only try to talk us out of going.”
“He’ll worry when he finds us gone.”
“We’ll leave word with Bletsung.”
“Where are we going?”
“Miz Elda’s the oldest living soul in our valley. Maybe she can give us some answers.”
We were watchful but not afraid as we came down DeadMan’s Mountain and stood at the edge of the woods behind Bletsung Macleod’s house. Bletsung was at one of her hives, opening it.
“She’s gone clean out of her mind,” Fagan said. “She’s robbing that hive in broad daylight! She’s trying to kill herself.”
“No, she ain’t.” I caught his arm before he could barge out into the open. “She does it all the time. The bees don’t mind.”
We watched as the swarm rose like a cloud and then draped her like a shawl while she drained the amber honey into the jar. As she walked slowly away, the mass drifted away like a soft gray ist floating behind her. She saw us as she neared the cabin. Waving, she ran toward us. We met her on the path Sim Gillivray had worn going to his sitting place beneath her window.
“Is there no one with ye?” she said, eyes bright and eagerly glancing toward the trees.
“We’re alone.”
A faint frown crossed her face. “But where’s . . . where’s the sin eater? I have not talked with him in two days.”
“He went out this morning to check his traps. He’ll likely bring ye summat for supper this evening,” I said.
“I don’t care about him bringing me something. Is he all right? Did ye not tell him what the man told you?”
“Aye, we told him,” Fagan said.
“And?”
“He knows the truth.”
“What did he say? What did he do?”
“He accepted Jesus Christ as his Savior and Lord, ma’am.”
“Then where is he? Why hasn’t he come down off the mountain?” Deeply troubled, she looked between us. “What’s he going to do?”
“He didn’t say, ma’am,” Fagan told her. “Maybe he just needs more time to think.”
She couldn’t hide her disappointment. Forcing a smile, she patted Fagan’s shoulder. “Well, at least you look better than the last time I saw you.”
“Feeling a sight better, too. How’s Ma?”
“Not so good.”
“She sick?”
“At heart, I reckon. I told her everything you told me about Jesus, and she’s been crying off and on ever since.”
“Why?”
“She won’t say.” She looked from him to me. “Ye need a good hot bath and hair brushing, Cadi. Ye’re a sorry sight for such a pretty little girl.”
“I was in a cave and bats were a swooping down on me and we found—”
“We’d best get going.” Fagan drew me away. “Would ye tell Sim when ye see him that we’re all right? We’re going to my grandmother.”
“Elda? Ye’d best be careful.”
“We’ll keep an eye out for Pa.”
“Maybe you should wait a few more days.”
“She’s probably worrying about us, and we’ve things we need to ask her.”
Bletsung looked greatly perplexed, but asked no questions. She looked up at the mountain again, troubled. “I wish there was something I could do.”
I knew the answer plain as day. “Ye can pray.”
She looked ready to cry. “I’ve prayed long and hard over the years, darlin’. Maybe I’ve been doing it wrong.”
“Ye done it right,” Fagan said, grinning. “You and Sim’s saved, ain’t’ ye?”
“Reckon so, though it don’t feel like it yet.”
I tugged her sleeve. “Just tell Jesus ye trust him and ye’re waiting on him to tell ye what to do.”
She looked down at me and smiled faintly. “From the mouth of a babe I’m taught, eh?” Something flickered in her eyes and she grew still, tears surging. “So be it,” she said softly. I didn’t know what I’d said to bring that look of pain into her eyes.
“Come on, Cadi,” Fagan said and walked away.
I followed after him, though I kept looking back at her. We’d gone clear across the meadow, and Bletsung was still standing in the path where we’d left her, looking so forlorn, my heart ached. “Wait up,” I said and ran back to her. “I love you.”
She ran her knuckles lightly down my cheek. “I love you, too.”
I hugged her tight. “God loves you, too, Bletsung. I know he does.”
“I’ll hang on to that,” she whispered brokenly. Kissing me on the top of the head, she set me back from her. “Ye’d best go on now. Fagan isn’t waiting, and I’ve a strong feeling he’s going to need you.”
I wished he wasn’t in such an all-fire hurry to find the truth about everything. I couldn’t help wondering if some secrets were best left in darkness and some deeds done best forgotten.
Yet, something inside urged me to catch up to Fagan and press on.
T W E N T Y
Fagan and I followed the path on the north side of the forested stream. The rhododendrons had lost their clusters of rosebay and white, and the last of the summer cardinals, jewelweeds, and purple thistles were blooming along the bank and tucked into rocks and woodlands. A dozen swallowtail butterflies flitted from bloom to bloom. We reached the spot where the creek joined the river and followed along the bank to the stepping rocks. Fagan went first, and I stood watching him and wondering what he thought he was doing. We were heading across the river just east of Kai land. He paused on the table rock in the middle. “Come on.”
I came ahead, hopping from rock to rock, careless in my haste. I slipped once and sat hard on the rock, feet and legs getting wet.
“Careful!”
I glowered at him as I picked myself up, rubbed my backside, and kept moving. “I thought we was going the long way around.” He was taking us back by way of Kai Creek.
“We’re safe.”
“We’ll be going right by your place.”
“Take my word for it.”
“It’s too pretty a day to die,” I grumbled.
“Hush now. I can’t put the feeling into words. But Pa ain’t gonna see us. I just know it.” We made it to the other side. “Besides,” he said, watching me make the last jump, “Pa’d expect us to go the long way round. If he’s waiting, that’s where he’d be. Over there, on the north side where he can watch the trail along the river.”
“I hope you’re right.”
We headed up the hill into the hazels, holly, dogwood, and huckleberry with the canopy of great chestnuts spreading above us. It was cooler in the forest shade. A burst of flapping near stopped my heart as a turkey took flight from the leafy floor, startled from its foraging. Fagan grabbed his sling from his back pocket, loaded a stone, and stopped its flight.
“What’re ye doing?” I said, heart flapping within my chest like an echo of those wings before he wrung the bird’s neck.
Fagan picked the limp turkey up by the feet. “A beauty, ain’t he?”
How could he be so calm when I was expecting Brogan Kai to come charging out of the woods any second with those ham-sized fists of his? “What’re ye going to do with it?”
“Dress it.”
“Now? Give it to me.” I yanked it out of his hands with both of mine.
“Hold up, now. Miz Elda don’t like me bringing anything round to her unless I’ve dressed it first.”
Stopping, I turned round and glared at him. “We gonna hunt round and find a pot to scald it and then pluck its feathers, too?” Swinging around, I marched up the path, holding the bird by the feet while its head and body bounced against my back. “While we’re about it, why don’t we collect chestnuts and crack ’em so’s we can make stuffing?”
Fagan fell in alongside me. He was laughing! I wanted to swing that turkey and clobber him with it.
“Got yourself a turkey, did ye, Cadi?” Miz Elda said, sitting in her rocking chair beneath the porch shade. I’d seen the look on her face when she saw Fagan and his bruises. Something dark and fierce came into her eyes until she banked it.
Heaving the bird from my back, I whumped it down on her porch. “Fagan kilt it. Just like ye said, Miz Elda. A Kai can’t go anyplace without killing something.” I was sorry as soon as I said it, ashamed into my bones.
“And he wasn’t up to carrying it?”
“I was up to it.” Fagan just looked at me.
“He wanted to dress it first.” I sat down glumly on the bottom step, too tired and hot to go up yet. “I figured we could do the chore here and maybe live to eat it.”
“Stop grumbling,” he muttered under his breath. “I forgive you.”
“Well, now, I do thank ye for the bird. I ain’t had turkey in a month of Sundays. Go on in and stoke the fire, Fagan. There’s water in the barrel. Ye con fill up the pot while ye’re about it.”
“Yes, ma’am. Ye want him dressed?”
“Easier if we scald him first.”
Fagan lifted the turkey, went up the steps and into the house. I followed him part way, wishing I’d said I was sorry before he’d forgiven me. I sat down near Miz Elda and leaned against the post in the shade. She leaned around, looking after Fagan. “Ye can cut off those wings and spread ’em out good in front of the fire to dry. They’ll make right good fans.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She settled into her rocking chair again, tipping it back and forth for a minute, saying nothing, watching me. I was too tired to speak. The yellow-brown thrushes, purple finches, and juncos were singing in the trees.
“Ye’re in dire need of a bath, Cadi Forbes. If your mother got a look at ye, there’d be an end to your visits.”
“Ain’t been time.”
“Did ye find what ye was looking for, child?”
“Yes, ma’am, and more. We mean to tell ye all about it and ask ye some questions.”
Miz Elda leaned forward in her chair and put her hand on my head. “I was beginning to wonder if you and Fagan had been done in.”
I took her hand in both of mine and held it against my cheek. “Near abouts.” When I let go, she leaned back with a tender smile and rocked some more.
A hawk flew over, and three purple martins took wing so fast the gourds Miz Elda had hung from the barn swung back and forth. There was nothing like a family of martins to keep the hawks away from the barnyard chickens. Miz Elda didn’t have a one to spare.
She leaned around her chair again. “Don’t put that turkey in until the water’s boiling!”
He came out onto the porch. “Water’s on and the wings’re drying. I’m going to wash up.” Passing her by with a shy look, he went down the steps.
“Where ye going to?”
“The creek.”
“Stay here. There’s a wash pan inside ye can use,” Miz Elda said with decision. “Take some water from the barrel. When ye’re done, toss the water out the side window there. The black-eyed Susans’ll take it kindly.” Gripping the arms of the rocker, she rose with difficulty. “Come on, now, Cadi. We’ll do our talking inside where there’s none to see us.”
First thing she asked us was to repeat every word the man by the river said all over again. It was our pleasure to do so, though we was eager to ask our own questions.
“I ain’t never gonna get tired of hearing about Jesus,” she said, nodding. “Never in a million years.” The roiling water and steam drew her attention. Rising from her chair, she took up the turkey by its legs and eased it into the boiling water. “Now, what’s the question that’s so important ye’d risk life and limb to get an answer.”
“We was wondering about Indians, ma’am,” Fagan said, easing into it.
“Indians?” Miz Elda kept her back to us. “What do ye want to know about Indians?”
“Was there any living here when our people first come.”
“Well, now, boy, that was a mighty long time ago,” she said, still not looking at us. She kept dipping that turkey up and down so’s I figured she wasn’t going to tell us nothing unless we asked straight-out. So I did.
“We want to know about the Indians who was murdered.” Fagan shot me a look I’m sure he hoped would wither my tongue. I looked back at him. “We ain’t got all day.” And we had her full attention now.
“Who told ye such a story as that?”
To my mind, she didn’t look shocked or angry, just wary.
“No one told us, Miz Elda,” Fagan said gently. “Not in words leastwise.”
I leaned forward, resting my arms on her table. “There was pictures painted in a cave up on Dead Man’s Mountain, painted in blood.”
“Blood, ye say?” That did seem to shock her.
“Be quiet, Cadi. Let me do the talking.”
I ignored him. Next, he’d want us to pluck the turkey before he got to the point. “In the cave behind the one where Sim’s been living nigh on twenty years.” Let him roll his eyes in frustration. Sooner we got our answers, the sooner we could hightail it back to Dead Man’s Mountain and out of reach of his raging pa.
“Sim?” Miz Elda said.
“Sim Gillivray,” Fagan said. “The sin eater.”
She smiled at me. “So, he finally told ye his name. Or was it Bletsung done it?”
“He told us soon as he accepted Jesus as his Savior.”
“Glory be,” she breathed, eyes bright, and then, just as suddenly, a look of anxiety came down over her face.
I leaned forward. “What about those Indians, Miz Elda?”
“Ye’ve a fixed mind, girl,” she said, irritated. She lifted the turkey out of the boiling water, carrying it by its feet to the table. She took a basket and laid it and the scalded bird on the table and started working at it.
“I’ll pluck feathers, ma’am,” I said, grabbing the bird by the feet and dragging it closer to me. “You tell us what happened.”
“What makes ye think it’s summat I’d want to talk about?”
“Are ye saying ye won’t tell us the truth?”
“I dinna say that. Just don’t be in such a hurry. It ain’t a pretty story and it was a long time ago. I need to collect my thoughts.” She looked at Fagan and then closed her eyes and turned her head away. “I can’t tell it without speaking ill of the dead.”
“It’s all right, ma’am,” he said gently. “Don’t hold back on my account. I ain’t deaf and blind to the things my kin’ve done over the years. If they was part of what happened, it won’t surprise me none.”
“And it don’t mean Fagan’ll turn out like ’em, neither,” I said, yanking a handful of feathers and putting them in the basket.
“Never thought he would,” she said quietly.
“I’m hoping I take after Mama’s side of the family.”
Miz Elda raised her head and looked at him. “So ye know.” He nodded. “Did Sim Gillivray tell ye?”
“I knew from Mama.”
“Oh.”
I’d never heard one word so heaped up with pain. Pulling a few more feathers, I glanced at her as I put them in the basket. A tear was running down her weathered face as she looked at him. All the longing and loneliness she must have felt for all those years showed plain.
“I never dared hope . . .”
Fagan leaned forward and put his hand over hers. “I don’t understand why she never said nothing.”
“Reckon she couldn’t. Your father hates me.”
“But why? What’d ye ever do to him?”
“It ain’t got much to do with me, but I reckon it’s everything to do with those pictures ye found in the cave.” She patted his hand and then left her own on top of his as though she didn’t want to let go of him. “The truth ain’t gonna be easy for ye to hear.”
“The Lord is my comfort.”
She nodded and then let out her breath slowly. “It was your own grandfather Laochailand Kai who killed those
Indians, Fagan. But he didn’t do it all alone. Though I’m loath to tell of it, my own darlin’ Donal was part of it, except for the women and children. He was never the same after that day. Sick into his soul, he was, grieving like. So was the others, too. We thought to put it behind us and forget what happened, but I reckon it ain’t to be. Things done in dark come to light eventually.”
“Start from the beginning, Granny,” he said gently. “I don’t understand how it came to be.”
“I hate to speak of the dead, boy, especially when he’s your own blood kin, but Laochailand Kai was the hardest, coldest, and cruelest man I ever knew. First time I knew it for certain, we was already on our way up here to the mountains, and there was no turning back. He was sitting at the fire one night, drinking, and he boasted of taking vengeance on a landowner back in Wales. He said the man told him he wasn’t good enough to court his daughter. So he ruined the poor girl.”
“What do ye mean ‘ruined’?”
“I mean he took from her what she was only to give to a hus- band.” She looked at me and I looked back, still not understanding. “It don’t matter, Cadi. You’re too young to understand these things, but it was like this. Laochailand said if he wasn’t good enough for her, then she wouldn’t be good enough for anyone. And he made sure of it. When the deed was done, she begged him to bring her with him to America, but he said he’d had all of her he wanted.”
“Didn’t her father do nothing?” Fagan said, his face like thunder.
“The girl wouldn’t tell him where Laochailand Kai had gone. She loved him, ye see, and was afraid her father would kill him for what he’d done. I reckon she lived in the hope he’d change his mind and come back for her. It took her father two years to find out Laochailand had come across to America, and by then, the girl was dead.”
“Dead?” I looked up from my work on the bird. “What happened to her?”
“She bore Laochailand Kai’s child and then drowned herself and the wee bairn in a lake on her father’s estate. Her father promised two hundred pounds to any man who could bring proof Laochailand Kai was dead. One by one, four men hunted him down and tried to kill him, and all four died by his hand. Donal and I reckoned that was one of the reasons Laochailand Kai was so set on heading east and settling into these high mountains, that and wanting to be a landowner himself with power over other men.”