Ten

Don’t know what you’re speakin’ of, Doctor MacNeill.”

“Put the gun down, Bob. We need to talk.”

“If’n you come here about them no-accounts, I got nothin’ to say to you. You come for socializin’, then you’re welcome.”

Doctor MacNeill pointed his own gun right at Bob’s chest. “I’ve come,” he boomed, “to warn you that if you go near those people again, I’ll—”

Christy put her hand on the doctor’s arm to silence him. “Bob,” she said sweetly, “I think I’ll take you up on your kindly offer. I haven’t seen Mary in such a long time. And how is Granny Allen doing?”

Without waiting, Christy marched up the front steps, walking right between the two guns each man had trained on the other. She brushed past a stunned Bob without even blinking.

At the door she spun around. “Coming, Doctor MacNeill?” she called.

“Might as well head on inside, Doc.” Bob gestured with his gun toward the door. “Confounded women! Don’t give no stock in argufyin’ the way we men does.”

Mary, Granny, and the Allen children were waiting in the cramped, dark cabin. “Come in, come in,” Mary said, taking Christy’s hand. She was a stooped, graying woman who looked much older than her years. “All this fussin’ and carryin’ on! Like to make a body plumb wore out.”

Christy took a seat at the table, and Della May and Little Burl gathered close. The doctor stood in the doorway, his face set in a stony grimace. Bob leaned against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest. In the corner, Granny Allen sat in a wooden rocker. She was a tiny woman, well into her eighties, with a toothless smile and hands gnarled by rheumatism.

Silence fell in the crowded room. “Where’s Creed?” Christy asked, to break the quiet.

“Mopin’ out by the creek,” Della May said.

“Moping?” Christy repeated. “Why?”

“Scalawag’s done disappeared. Can’t find him nowheres.”

“When did he disappear?”

“Oh, that’s hard to say,” Della May replied a little evasively.

“He’ll turn up,” Granny said loudly. She was slightly deaf and tended to yell. “Mark my word.”

Mary cleared her throat. “Could I fix y’all somethin’ to eat?”

“This isn’t a social call, Mary,” the doctor said firmly, eyes locked on Bob. “This is about what just happened at the Washingtons’ place. A young boy was shot.”

“Shame, ain’t it?” Bob said, with a hint of a sneer.

Della May and Little Burl looked at the floor, as if they were afraid to meet Christy’s eyes.

“You did it, didn’t you, Bob?” the doctor said.

“Prove it,” Bob challenged.

“Your horse was seen there.”

“That don’t prove nothin’.”

“Bob,” Christy said, “Curtis Washington was on his way over here to even the score. The doctor and I stopped him. But next time, you might not be so lucky. We need to stop this madness before it turns into a war.”

“That’s a war I’d win,” Bob grinned. “Purty much everybody’s on my side, ’ceptin’ you mission folks.”

“Haven’t you had enough fighting to last a lifetime?” Christy cried. “The Taylors and your clan have been feuding for generations. Why do you need another enemy? Look what you’re teaching your children.”

“Teachin’ ’em the way o’ the world, is all,” Mary said softly.

“But it doesn’t have to be this way,” Christy said. “The Washingtons are good people. Why can’t you give them a chance? I invited Margaret and Louise to our next Bible study. You’ll see then, Mary.”

“She ain’t goin’ to no Bible readin’, not if they be there!” Bob shouted.

“But I like goin’ . . .” Mary said. “I get so lonely here. And Miss Alice makes us tea and reads Scripture to us—”

“You ain’t goin’, woman!” Bob screamed.

“Hush, Bob,” Granny said. “You’re a-hurtin’ my ears, and I’m purt-near stone deaf. Let Mary go to the Bible study, if’n she wants.”

“Didn’t you hear? You want her near them two women that ain’t our own kind? I won’t have it, I’m a-tellin’ you!” Bob pounded his fist on the wall. He beat it so hard that a needlepoint stitching in a crude frame—the only decoration in the cabin— fell to the floor. The frame splintered and broke apart.

“My stitchin’!” Granny moaned.

Christy picked up the faded fabric. The alphabet was carefully embroidered on it. The date “1841” had been sewn into the corner. Instead of a signature, like the other needlepoints Christy had seen, Granny had stitched a tiny bluebird.

“This is beautiful, Granny,” Christy said.

“Made it when I was just a wee thing,” Granny said.

“I’m powerful sorry, Granny,” Bob said, hanging his head like a guilty child. “I’m sure I can mend the frame.”

Granny looked at him sharply through clouded blue eyes. “I’ll tell you what you can mend. You can let that wife o’ yours go to the Bible readin’, just like always. I’d go myself, if’n I was a little more spry.”

“But—”

“Hush! I’ve had mules with more sense than you, Bob Allen. Mary wants to go, she’ll go.”

Bob frowned. “Women!” he muttered.

“Bob, we haven’t settled this,” Doctor MacNeill said. “Next time I hear you’ve been near the Washingtons, I’ll be using my gun. And I won’t stop to socialize first. You understand me?”

“I understand you started this whole miserable mess,” Bob shot back. “And I understand one other thing. You, Miz Christy, Miz Alice, the preacher, maybe two or three others are on the Washingtons’ side. But I got me the whole o’ Cutter Gap on my side. Who do you think is gonna win that war, Doc? We’ll get you and those Washingtons. You started somethin’ you ain’t able to finish. You done forgot your roots, Doc. You’re as much a part of this place as the rest of us.”

In two great steps, Doctor MacNeill placed himself squarely in front of Bob. He grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him hard against the wall.

Della May cried out. Mary gasped, her hand to her mouth.

“Don’t you threaten me, Bob Allen,” the doctor said between gritted teeth. “That’s a fight you don’t want. And don’t you talk to me about my roots. Right about now, I’m embarrassed to be from this place.”

Christy touched the doctor’s shoulder. “Neil. Come on.”

Doctor MacNeill released Bob, who slumped against the wall, rubbing his neck. “Traitor,” Bob growled.

The doctor stomped out the door. Christy started to follow, then hesitated. “Come to the Bible study, Mary,” she said. “Please.”

When Mary didn’t answer, Christy knew there was nothing more to say.