Duggin knelt by the bank and grabbed the wet fabric. “It’s Ruby Mae’s, all right. Her ma made this skirt fer her last Christmas.”
Christy stared at the raging creek. She knew Duggin was thinking the same thing she was. What if Ruby Mae had fallen in? What if she had drowned? And if she hadn’t fallen in, where was she?
“Ruby Mae!” Duggin called out. “Ruby Mae! Is you here, gal?”
Bird’s-Eye cocked his gun again. “We got better things to worry about, Duggin. That gal o’ yers is fine. She’s a tough ’un. Now, let’s git to where we’re a-goin’.”
Duggin stood slowly, his own gun pointed directly at Bird’s-Eye’s chest. “I’ll tell you where we’re goin’,” he said fiercely. “We’re lookin’ fer my Ruby Mae.”
The two men stood a few feet apart, their guns trained on each other. Christy shuddered. One wrong word, and those guns could go off. That was the way of Cutter Gap.
“Mr. Taylor,” Christy said gently. “What if Lundy were lost right now, instead of Ruby Mae?”
“My boy ain’t that stupid.”
Duggin answered by cocking his gun.
“Maybe I don’t understand much about these mountains,” Christy said, her voice trembling, “but I do know one thing. Family counts more than anything here. Isn’t that true, Bird’s-Eye?”
Bird’s-Eye took a long, slow breath. His mouth twitched, but he didn’t answer.
“Send Jubal to check the still,” Christy urged. “You and Duggin and I will look for Ruby Mae.”
Bird’s-Eye blinked at her in disbelief. “You even know what a still is, teacher-gal?”
“I know.”
“Well, I never. Cain’t say as I thought I’d ever hear such words from the likes of you.”
“Neither did I,” Christy admitted.
Bird’s-Eye jerked his head at Jubal. “Do what the teacher-gal says and go check the still. Duggin and me’ll go searchin’ for that dang-fool stepdaughter o’ his.”
“What about her?” Jubal demanded, pointing to Christy.
“Her, we’ll deal with another day. Blood ties come first in these parts. Teacher-gal’s got that much right, at least.”
With a sigh, Jubal headed off, weaving and swaying along the muddy bank.
“Now what?” Duggin asked. “She could be anywheres. Even . . . ” He stared at the raging water mutely.
“You know, Ruby Mae told me once about a cave she goes to near this creek,” Christy recalled. “Do you know where it is?”
“Sure,” Duggin said. “Just down a ways yonder, on the other side o’ the crik.”
“It’s worth a try,” Christy said. “Maybe she went there with Prince to take shelter from the rain.”
Christy followed Duggin and Bird’s-Eye along the bank. The rain was still coming down hard, and it was difficult to keep up with them. For two men who’d consumed a great deal of moonshine, they were surprisingly nimble.
After a couple hundred yards, Duggin paused. “Cain’t see that cave from here, but it’s over yonder, behind that brush.”
“Ruby Mae!” Christy called. Duggin and Bird’s-Eye joined in. After a few moments, they paused to listen.
“Ain’t in that cave, I’m afeared,” Bird’s-Eye said at last. “We’re yellin’ loud enough to wake the dead.”
“You haven’t seen Ruby Mae sleep,” Christy said.
“True enough,” Duggin agreed. “Gal can snore somethin’ fierce.”
“I’ll go see,” Christy said.
“Ain’t no way yer a-crossin’ that creek,” Duggin said. “I’m her pa. I’m a-goin’.”
“Duggin, you old coot,” Bird’s-Eye said. “Yer older than the hills. I’ll go. ’Sides, yer drunker’n I am.”
Duggin cocked his gun again. “Old coot, ya say?”
“Mr. Morrison,” Christy said, pushing away the gun. “We don’t have time for this.”
Duggin hung his head. “Yer right. And so is Bird’s-Eye, I’m afeared.”
Bird’s-Eye handed Duggin his gun. “Here goes nothin’,” he said.
Slowly Bird’s-Eye made his way across the raging creek.
Halfway across, the water came all the way to his chest.
“Careful, you mean old buzzard,” Duggin called.
They watched as Bird’s-Eye crawled back up the far bank and disappeared into the brush, where the cave was hidden.
“Mr. Morrison?” Christy said.
“Yep?”
“Are you the one who shaved Prince?”
The old man paused. “Naw. Jubal did that.
Me, I ain’t never seen any point in pickin’ on critters. It’s men I got my feudin’ with.” He shrugged. “’Sides, I would never a done somethin’ to hurt Ruby Mae that way.”
“Maybe you should tell her that,” Christy said. “When we find her.”
“If’n we find her.”
They heard Bird’s-Eye’s cry from the far bank.
“Ya think?” Duggin asked hopefully.
A moment later, the thick brush parted to reveal a sleepy-eyed Ruby Mae on Prince’s back. Bird’s-Eye came running out behind them.
“Sound asleep they was, in the cave, snorin’ away just like you said!” he called.
“Miz Christy?” Ruby Mae yelled. “Pa? What’re you doin’ out here in the rain? You’re soaked to the bone!”
“Come on, Ruby Mae,” Bird’s-Eye said, “yer goin’ straight back to the mission, where you cain’t get into any more trouble.”
Christy looked over at Duggin. “Are we?” she asked. “Going back to the mission, I mean?”
Duggin nodded. “I reckon so.”
He went to the edge of the bank, waiting for Bird’s-Eye to return Ruby Mae safely. Christy thought she saw him wipe away a tear. Of course, she realized after a moment, it might just have been a drop of rain. After all, there was no telling what was going on in the hearts of these mountain men. Not long ago, they’d had her fearing for her life. Now, she didn’t know whether to fear them, or pity them.
Maybe, she thought sadly, that’s how it would always be.
ppp
Late that night, Christy sat by the fire in the mission house. Everyone had long since gone to bed. Only she and Doctor MacNeill were still awake.
“If only I hadn’t left,” the doctor said for the hundredth time. “None of this might ever have happened. If you hadn’t sent David to fetch me, if the rain hadn’t slowed down our return . . . ”
“Ifs,” Christy said as she watched the embers in the fireplace glow. “There’s no point in doing this again, Neil. Everything turned out fine.”
“This time,” the doctor said darkly.
“I feel badly, too, actually,” Christy admitted. “I wanted David to bring you back here because of your fever, but getting soaked in that rain couldn’t have helped you any.”
The doctor smiled. “Come to think of it, I am feeling a bit light-headed. Could be delirium setting in.”
Christy reached over to feel his forehead. “You do feel hot.”
“Strangest thing. I’m hearing music, too.
Think I’m hallucinating?” He stood, grinning down at her, and reached out his hand. “You do still owe me a dance, you know.”
“Now that you mention it,” Christy said as she got to her feet, “I seem to be hearing music, too.”
She gave a little curtsy and the doctor pulled her close, using his good arm. Together, they swept slowly around the parlor, dancing to the music of the rain drumming on the roof.
“I’m so glad you’re all right,” the doctor whispered.
Christy lay her head on his broad chest. Memories whirled in her mind—frightening memories. The doctor’s blood-soaked shirt. The sound of the parlor window shattering. The cold muzzle of Bird’s-Eye’s gun between her shoulders.
She closed her eyes. The doctor was humming an old mountain tune. The fire crackled softly.
Slowly, one by one, other memories came to her. Miss Alice’s graceful smile at her birthday party. Starlight, spilling over Prince’s coat that night in the shed. Ruby Mae’s musical laughter. Christy’s class at recess, filled with high spirits and spring fever—filled with love for these beautiful, dangerous, complicated, God-given mountains.
The doctor paused. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I was thinking,” Christy whispered, “that I don’t want this dance to ever end.”