The Return. Dinah McCall

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      Then he spat, as if the name alone had poisoned his tongue.

      Hank and Charles cursed, while John remained silent.

      “So this is where she got off to,” Jubal muttered.

      “Now, Pa. I don’t imagine no woman has been living in here,” John said, trying to add a bit of sanity to the moment.

      “Where the hell else would she be living, then?” Jubal asked. “Frank’s house is gone. Burned to the foundation…remember?”

      John looked away. The feud was a bone of contention between father and son, and had been for some time now. John was loyal to his blood, but of the opinion that a feud was something that belonged with the old ways, not the twentieth century.

      “Well, wherever she went is no concern of ours,” John said. “Come on, let’s go.”

      Jubal turned on his son, and in that moment the hate that burned in his heart was focused on John Blair’s face.

      “What do you mean, it’s no concern of ours?”

      John held his ground. “Just what I said. It’s over, Pa. Let it and her be.”

      Before Jubal could answer, Charles interrupted. “Well, I’ll be damned. Look at this.”

      They turned. Charles was holding up a baby blanket and a newborn-size gown.

      Jubal cursed, then spat again. His voice was shaking as he yanked the items out of Charles’s hand, then threw them in the dirt and ground them beneath the sole of his boot.

      “See there?” he yelled, pointing at John. “That’s what happens when you leave them alone. Females are the worst of the lot. Just when you think you’ve gotten rid of a pest, they’ll breed up another batch.”

      He grabbed the dress Hank had found and pushed his way past his sons toward the mouth of the cave.

      “Come on,” he yelled. “Bring the dogs!”

      John blanched. “Pa! What do you think you’re doing?”

      Jubal turned, and the smile on his face chilled John’s heart. “I’m goin’ huntin’, boy!”

      “No!” John yelled, then looked to his brothers. “Hank! Charles! Tell him!” he begged. “We don’t wage war on women.”

      Hank shrugged. Charles shook his head. “Pa’s right,” he said. “It ain’t over till it’s over.” Jubal whistled up the dogs, then thrust the dress into their midst.

      “Go get her, boys. Go get her.”

      Still antsy from being called off the hunt, the dogs took the scent of the dress and then burst out of the cave into the night like bullets out of a gun, with the hunters right behind them.

      John ran, too, with his heart in his throat, hoping that they’d been wrong, that it wasn’t Fancy Joslin after all.

      

      Fancy’s legs were numb. She couldn’t feel anything but the child in her arms and the thunder of her heartbeat slapping against her chest. One step, then another, then another, and suddenly she was on her back in the leaves and looking up at the sky.

      “No,” she wailed, and curled onto her side, sheltering the child in her arms in the only way that she could. Her heart was hammering against her eardrums, her breath coming in jerks and gasps. If only Turner could have seen their daughter. He would have been so proud.

      Suddenly someone was pulling at her shoulders and whispering in her ear. She screamed faintly, thinking they’d found her already, when she realized it was a woman’s voice she was hearing. She rolled over, then looked up, at first seeing only the silhouette of Pulpit Rock above her. And then she focused and sighed. It would seem that she’d found the witch after all.

      The woman’s hair was dark and long, braided into a single plait that hung over her shoulder as she knelt at Fancy’s side. Her hands were gentle, her voice soft as she urged Fancy to her feet.

      “Get up, girl, get up.”

      “I can’t,” Fancy whispered. “Something broke inside me. I’m bleeding.”

      The woman’s hands were swift and sure as she made a quick assessment of Fancy’s wounds. The shadows hid her shock at the pool of blood beneath the girl.

      “I can help you,” she whispered. “Just try to stand. My cabin isn’t far.”

      But Fancy’s world was already diminishing, and moving even an inch was beyond her.

      “Don’t let them get my baby,” Fancy begged, and thrust the child into the witch’s arms.

      The woman rocked back on her heels, shocked by the choice the young mother had just made.

      “I’ll stay. We’ll fight off the dogs together until the hunters get here,” she said. “I can’t leave you.”

      Fancy shook her head. “If it’s Jubal Blair, he’ll kill you, too, just to get to me.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “My name is Fancy Joslin. Turner Blair is my husband and the baby’s father, only Jubal doesn’t know.”

      The woman was shocked. Even in her isolation, she’d known of the families’ feud.

      “Surely he wouldn’t…”

      Fancy grabbed the witch’s arm. “I’m dying, woman, and please God, you’ve got to grant my last request. Save my child from this hell. Take her away from these mountains and love her as you would your own.” Fancy’s voice faded, then caught on a weak sob. “Her name is Catherine, and when it matters, tell her how much her mother loved her.”

      The woman bowed her head as she cradled the now crying baby close to her breasts.

      “I just can’t leave you here,” the woman cried. “Don’t ask me to do this.”

      With her last bit of strength, Fancy grabbed the woman by the wrist and raised herself up on one elbow to stare directly into her eyes.

      “Your name, witch…” Fancy gasped. “What is your name?”

      The woman hesitated, then touched the side of Fancy’s face in a comforting gesture.

      “My name is Annie Fane.”

      “Then go, Annie Fane. If you do nothing else on this earth in your time, for God’s sake, save my child.”

      The dogs were closer now, too close. By best estimates, less than a quarter of a mile away and closing fast. Fancy stared into the woman’s face until she was satisfied with what she saw; then she dropped back onto the forest floor.

      Suddenly the woman stood. Fancy blinked. One moment she was there. The next she was gone. At that point, Fancy shuddered with relief. It didn’t СКАЧАТЬ