I’m tellin’ you, Miz Christy, that was the Boggin’s doin’,” Ruby Mae said that afternoon.
School was over, and Ruby Mae and Christy were the last to leave the schoolhouse, which also served as the church on Sunday. The teacher and student were walking the short distance to the mission house. Ruby Mae was the only student who lived at the mission. She’d had some problems getting along with her stepfather, and Miss Alice had suggested she stay in one of the spare bedrooms at the mission house.
“I’m not sure who did it, Ruby Mae,” Christy said. “But I refuse to believe in some mythical creature who’s been haunting a mountain for years and years.”
They paused in front of the house, a large, wooden building set in a big yard. David Grantland, the mission’s young minister, was perched on a ladder, painting the frame around a second-floor window. His dark hair was splattered with white flecks of paint.
“It looks great, David,” Christy called.
David wiped his brow with his shirt sleeve. “Yes, I’m quite the artist. I don’t suppose you two would like to help?”
“But Preacher,” Ruby Mae protested, “you’re doin’ such a fine job all by your lonesome. Me and Miz Christy, we’d just mess up your fine art work!”
David rolled his eyes. “Somehow I had the feeling that’s what you’d say. Toss up that rag, would you, Christy?”
Christy retrieved the rag, careful not to walk under the ladder, and threw it to David. “Ruby Mae was just kidding, David. Is there something we can do to help?”
“Actually, I’m just about done. Although there is one thing—”
“Just name it.”
“Promise me you’ll never, ever send out letters requesting donations to the mission again!” David cried.
Some time ago, Christy had written several companies about the mission’s desperate need for supplies. She’d asked for mattresses, paint, soap, window shades, cleaning supplies, food—anything she thought might make the lives of the mountain people a little easier.
To her surprise, she’d gotten plenty of responses. Week after week, Mr. Pentland had arrived at the mission with huge boxes brimming with supplies. Several months ago the Lyon and Healy Company had actually sent a grand piano. And the Bell Telephone Company had come through with wires and equipment for a telephone. That had been an especially exciting gift, since no one in the area owned a telephone. Most people had never even seen one before.
“So far,” David said, “I’ve had to learn how to tune a piano and paint a house on account of those donations. Pretty soon, I’m going to have to figure out how to string telephone wires across a mountain. When I came here to Cutter Gap, I thought I was going to be a minister.”
“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” Christy said, grinning.
As soon as she was inside the house, Ruby Mae ran straight to the kitchen and began jabbering at high speed about the strange sights the children had discovered that afternoon.
Miss Ida, David’s sister, was stirring a pot of soup. She was wearing a calico apron and her usual stern expression. Miss Ida was tall, almost gaunt, with sharp features and thin, graying hair. Sometimes it was hard to believe she was related to David, with his warm, brown eyes and friendly smile.
Miss Alice was also there sitting at the table, looking over the budget ledger, where she recorded every penny the mission spent. She was dressed in a simple blue skirt and a crisp white linen blouse. As always, she looked beautiful, with her clear, regal features and lovely gray eyes. Her hair was swept up in an elegant bun. Christy pulled a twig out of her own hair self-consciously. She probably looked a mess, after her adventure in the woods today.
“What are you babbling about, Ruby Mae?” Miss Ida said, clucking her tongue. “What’s this about a bobbin?”
Ruby Mae sneaked a piece of carrot off the cutting board. “Boggin, Miss Ida,” she corrected.
“Not that again,” Miss Alice said, sighing. “I’d really hoped we were done with him.”
“He left a footprint the size of a house,” Ruby Mae exclaimed. “And a big ol’ skinned animal head.”
“You’re exaggerating just a bit, Ruby Mae,” Christy said. “Besides, I’m sure it was just a prank.”
The screen door swung open and David stepped in. Paint splatters covered him like huge snowflakes. On the tip of his nose was a big white splotch.
“Looks like you painted more than the house, Preacher,” Ruby Mae teased.
“David!” Miss Ida scolded. “I just washed this floor. Look at those boots! They’re covered with paint!”
“Do any of you remember the story about the Little Red Hen?” David asked.
Ruby Mae frowned. “Is that in the Bible, Preacher?”
David bent down to unlace his boots. “No, Ruby Mae. It’s the story of a hen who asks for help while she’s baking bread. Nobody’s willing to help her.” He grunted as he yanked off one boot. “But everybody’s willing to eat the bread after it’s made.”
“So you’re sayin’ you’re the hen?” Ruby Mae asked.
“Exactly.”
“But that don’t make a lick o’ sense. If you had feathers, Preacher, like as not you’d be a rooster, I’m a-guessin’.”
David sighed. “Never mind. I can see my story is going to be wasted on you chickens.” With one boot still on, he started toward the table.
“Preacher, stop where you are!” Ruby Mae screeched. She plowed into him, nearly knocking him down.
“What’s wrong now, Ruby Mae?” David asked.
“Your boot!” Ruby Mae cried. “Don’t you know nothin’ about nothin’? It’s bad luck to step around with one shoe off and one shoe on! Every step is a day o’ bad luck for you, sure as can be.”
“That’s nonsense, Ruby Mae.” David gently moved her aside and proceeded to the table.
Ruby Mae watched in disgust. “I declare, you sure can be ornery, Preacher.”
David took a chair across from Miss Alice and yanked off his other boot. “Where on earth do you get these notions, Ruby Mae?”
“Same place she learned to leave her old, tattered socks in the yard,” Miss Ida said. “I was all set to throw them into that pile of rubbish you were burning the other day. But Ruby Mae would have none of that.”
“Everyone knows if’n you burn a piece o’ clothing, your body’ll burn where the clothing was coverin’ it. You didn’t want me runnin’ around with blisters on my feet, now, did you, Miss Ida?”
“Who tells you these things, Ruby Mae?” Christy asked. “I mean, things like the shoes and the socks and the Boggin stories?”
“They’re just there, plain as the nose on your face.” Ruby Mae glanced at David and giggled. “Or I guess I should say plain as the nose on most people’s faces.”
“Stories like these are passed from one generation to another,” Miss Alice said. “I’ve heard the legend of the Boggin from dozens of different people. Many actually claim to have seen him.”
“Where did they get that name, I wonder? It’s not as if they’ve ever met him,” Christy said. She rolled her eyes. “Listen to me! I’m starting to talk like this creature really exists!”
“But he does exist. You saw the signs yourself, Miz Christy,” Ruby Mae protested.
“The name comes from the mountain people’s Scottish background,” Miss Alice said. “It refers to a ghost or goblin—a scary creature of some kind.”
“And is he ever scary!” Ruby Mae let out a low growl, like a hungry wildcat. “That’s how he sounds. Granny O’Teale done told me.”
Christy laughed. “I can see I’m not going to get this superstition out of your head any time soon.”
“You shouldn’t act so high and mighty, Miz Christy,” Ruby Mae said. “You’ve got your own superstitious side, after all.”
“Me?” Christy cried.
David winked at Ruby Mae. “She has a point, Christy. Didn’t I see you go out of your way to avoid walking under my ladder?”
“That . . . that’s different,” Christy said to David. “For one thing, I was just trying to avoid the possibility of your spilling paint all over me.” She winked at Ruby Mae, turned back to David, and added, “I didn’t want to end up looking like you!”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” David demanded.
“Go look in the mirror, Preacher,” Ruby Mae said. “You look almost as scary as the Boggin.”