We’re almost there now,” Edward said.
They were halfway down the mountain. It had been slow going for Christy. But hobbling along with John and Edward for support, she felt certain she could make it all the way down.
After a few more minutes, Edward led them through thick underbrush to a spot by a tiny stream. “There,” he said, pointing. “That’s why I was packin’ my ol’ Colt forty-five.”
“A still?” Christy cried.
“And there’s plenty of moonshine to go with it,” Edward added. “It’s hidden under those bushes, mostly.”
“How long has this been here?”
“Couldn’t have been here long, I reckon. I know this mountain like the back o’ my hand.” Edward stroked his long beard. “First time I seen Bird’s-Eye was a few days ago. Sneakin’ ’round here like a low-bellied snake, he was.”
“How can you know for certain it was Bird’s-Eye?” Christy asked.
“Edward knows just about everybody,” Clara explained. “On account o’ we described ’em all.”
Edward chuckled. “I’ll bet I’ve heard more tales about the folks in Cutter Gap than they’ve heard about me.”
“So you were out with your gun today lookin’ for Bird’s-Eye?” Fairlight asked.
“He comes just around nightfall mostly, near as I can tell. I was goin’ to stake out a hidin’ place, maybe shoot a couple rounds into the air to scare him off. I only want just to scare him,” Edward said, his face suddenly grave. “You know how I feel about usin’ my gun anymore.”
“Edward was an Indian fighter, way back in the eighteen-seventies, Miz Christy,” Clara said. “That’s how he lost his ear and got all scarred up. He fought with—”
“That’s enough, Clara,” Edward interrupted sternly.
Clara bit her lip. “Sorry, Edward. I sorta forgot you don’t like talkin’ about it.”
Christy considered pressing him for more information, but she could tell from Edward’s icy tone that now was not the time.
“Well, I guess when I get home, I’ll have to tell David and the others about this still,” she said. “Then they can confront Bird’s-Eye. There’s no point in trying to scare Bird’s-Eye off with some gunshots into the air, Edward. It would just start up a little war on this mountain. Bird’s-Eye Taylor’s spent his whole life feuding.”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe the mission folks can fix things better than I can. But you won’t go tellin’ ’em about me,” Edward said softly. It was more of a question than a demand.
“I suppose not, Edward. Not if you don’t want me to. But I don’t see—”
“Look, I just want my mountain back,” Edward said. “I just want my peace. I’ve been here so many years . . .”
“How long have you been here?”
“So long, to tell you truthful, I can’t remember.”
“That must be how the rumors started so many years ago,” Christy said. “People would catch a glimpse of you now and then, and one thing led to another. . . . Of course, that doesn’t explain all the recent incidents.”
“That still tells you all you need to know about the culprit.”
“Bird’s-Eye? Yes, that thought crossed my mind, too,” Christy said. “But then I remembered that Bird’s-Eye’s son—”
“Lundy,” Edward interrupted. “He’s the meanest bully in Tennessee.” He winked at Clara and John. “Am I right?”
“You’re right as rain,” Clara said. “See, Miz Christy? He knows everybody.”
Christy smiled. “Yes, he certainly does. Anyway, Lundy was helping the men work on telephone poles when somebody threw a hornet’s nest at them. If Bird’s-Eye were the one doing the pranks, I’m sure Lundy would have been in on it. So why would he have put himself in harm’s way like that?”
“He was one o’ the first to run, Miz Christy,” Clara pointed out. “Maybe he was just tryin’ to make him and his pa look innocent.”
“I don’t know,” John said. “That’s awfully smart for ol’ Lundy.”
“Wait a minute,” Christy said. “How come you knew Lundy was the first to run away?”
“We was watchin’,” Clara admitted. “Pokin’ around, tryin’ to figger out who was causin’ all the Boggin trouble.”
John met Edward’s gaze. “Truth is, Edward, we was afeared it was you. But we was always a-hopin’ we was wrong.”
Edward nodded. “I s’pose that’s all I could ask for from a friend. And then some.” He gave a little smile. “I just want you to know I don’t mind the telephone wires comin’ over the mountain. Wires don’t scare me. People do. I don’t want no Bird’s-Eye Taylors and their like disturbin’ my peace. But the preacher and his telephone-makin’ . . . well, that don’t matter to me, I s’pose. That’ll come and go, soon enough.”
As they neared the main path at the foot of the mountain, Edward hung back. “Can you all make it the rest o’ the way?” he asked. “This is as far as I should go.”
“We’ll be fine,” Christy said.
“You’re welcome to come a-visitin’ again. As long as you don’t bring nobody with you but John and Clara and their ma.”
“I just might take you up on that offer. And thank you, Edward, for all your help.”
“I didn’t mind so much,” Edward said. “I ain’t helped nobody but the birds in so long . . . it was kinda nice.”
Christy and the others watched him weave back through the trees. Funny, Christy mused, the way Edward thought of Boggin Mountain as his own. Just the way she felt the soothing sight of it was somehow “hers.” Peculiar as he was, he clearly loved this quiet place.
“I wonder if he’s right about Bird’s-Eye,” Christy said.
“I figger Edward’s a good man, Christy,” Fairlight said thoughtfully. “He’s a gentle soul. I don’t think he’d ever try to scare anyone.”
“No, that’s the kind of behavior you’d expect to see from Bird’s-Eye Taylor,” Christy agreed.
“And Lundy,” Clara added.
“You know,” Christy said, “if it really has been Bird’s-Eye behind these incidents, what he needs is a dose of his own medicine.”
“I’d give anything to see him and ol’ Lundy scared silly!” Clara exclaimed.
Suddenly, Christy had a very clever, very interesting, very amusing thought.
“John,” she said, “run on back and get Edward. Tell him I have an idea that just might interest him.”