Black Stump Ridge (23 page)

“Well, I certainly do thank ya, Granny.” Jake slipped off his gloves and laid them on the table as he sat down. “It’s a mite cold out there and hot coffee’d sure knock some of the chill off.”

“I got some crumb cake left over from yesterday.” Granny opened a cabinet and took out a plate draped with a red and white gingham towel. She placed it on the table before him and whipped the towel away as deftly as a stage magician revealing a bundle of paper flowers. Beneath was a stack of square-cut cake slices, each covered with cinnamon-sugar crumbles.

“That sure looks good, Granny. I think a piece o’ your cake would be right welcome ’long side that cup o’ coffee. I didn’t come over here for coffee an’ cakes, though. Got somethin’ more serious on my mind.”

Truly set the pot on the stove. “I figure’d that much when I seen you standin’ on my porch this mornin’. Since you got back from that Veet Nam war I don’t see you lessen there’s trouble o’ one kind or another. You got problems with your shine bidness? I don’t know what I could do ‘bout any o’ that. Maybe it’s got somethin’ t’ do with those strangers stayin’ over t’ Lawyer’s place?”

“It ain’t about th’ still, Granny. Might be th’ strangers. Leastwise, they might have a piece o’ what’s on m’mind this mornin’. I don’t think they’re all of it.”

Truly took a piece of cake from the stack, placed it daintily on a small plate, and set it on the table. Then she got one for herself.

Jake took a bite and smiled. “This is mighty good, Granny.”

“Be even better if y’wait for th’ coffee,” she replied. “Wish I had one o’ them microwave things so’s I could warm it up. That’d make it taste even better. ‘Course, I’d need some ‘lectricity t’ make it work, wouldn’t I?

“So, what’ve th’ strangers done that’s got you so tied up in knots that y’ had to come up here t’ see me?”

“Do I look that bad?”

“How long have I knowed you, Jake?”

“All my life.”

“Well, you might be able to shut out some folk, but Granny kin see right through you.”

“Well, I ain’t tryin’ t’ hide nothin’ from you.” Jake looked at the half-eaten cake on his saucer. “The other night – I guess it was Wednesday, same night th’ strangers arrived – I was down by Purdie’s store. Th’ strangers stopped by an’ talked with him an’ he gave one of’em th’ keys to Lawyer’s place. I think Purdie an’ th’ one he gave th’ keys to mighta had some words cuz when he left he didn’t look none too happy. Anyway, somethin’ come up about th’ ridge.”

Granny reached across the table and squeezed Jake’s wrist. “What kinda words?”

Jake tried not to flinch. She might be more than eighty years old, but she still had a grip. “I think th’ stranger mighta seen Purdie’s map on th’ back wall. You know how proud he is o’ that thing. Anyways, they was lookin’ at it an’ the stranger asked him about th’ ridge. I think Purdie handled it okay. Gave him answers enough t’ satisfy most folk without makin’em want t’ know more. One of’em’s colored, though, an’ I think th’ words might o’ been ’bout him an’ how he needed t’ be careful walkin’ round th’ woods hereabouts with a gun.”

Jake felt his wrist relax as Granny withdrew her hand.

“That was good. If’n they care ’bout their colored friend, they’ll prob’ly stick close to th’ cabin an’ keep their noses off’n th’ ridge.”

Jake resisted the temptation to rub his wrist or check it for bruises. “Once th’ strangers was gone I got t’ thinkin’ an’ decided t’ head up on th’ ridge t’ make sure everything was all right.”

“Check on yore still, y’mean,” the old woman cackled. “I know all about yore little bidness.”

“I figgered y’did, Granny. But, it’s th’ dark o’ th’ moon an’ that’s when
he
gets restive. I know he’s stuck in that cave cuz o’ the wards an’ all. But, this is when he likes t’ use his music an’ trick folks inta comin’ inta th’ cave – ‘specially those that don’t know better.”

“Hold onta that thought, Jake,” she said as she rose from the table. “I think th’ coffee’s done.”

She pulled two heavy mugs from a cabinet, filled them at the stove, and brought them to the table. She set one in front of Jake as she sat down. “Now, what was you sayin’? You was talkin’ ’bout
him
, right?”

“Sorta. I was talkin’ ’bout how it was his time an’ maybe I needed t’ go up t’ th’ cave an’ make sure everything was all right.” Jake paused to take a sip from the mug. The coffee burned his lips and tongue, but the bitter taste was ambrosial. “This is mighty fine coffee, Granny.”

“Salt an’ eggshells.”

Jake nodded. He remembered a mess sergeant that liked to do the same thing – add a pinch of salt to the coffee water and put eggshells in the grounds. He’d told her about it when he came home but didn’t know she’d taken it to heart.

“Anyway, I got up there an’ checked aroun’. Didn’t hear no fiddle music or nothin’ like that. ’Course, I didn’t really expect nothin’ fer another night or two. I went inside th’ cave an’ looked aroun’. Everything looked okay. I was getting ready t’ leave when it happened.”

“When what happened, Jake?”

He could hear the tension in her voice.

“I was lookin’ at th’ silver symbols you always check when suddenly they went dim. Then, they went out completely.”

“Are you sure?” The words hissed through her teeth.

“Yes, ma’m. I’m positive.”

“Shit!” That was it. That was the feeling creepin’ over her soul that she couldn’t shake. “’Scuse my French, Jake. Tain’t proper language, I know. It just kinda slipped out.”

Jake looked up. He’d never heard her use profanity before. “Are you all right, Granny?” he asked, knowing that she wasn’t. The color was drained from her face. Her dark eyes glittered like obsidian chips.

“I will be soon’s I get somethin’ stronger’n coffee in me. How ’bout you?”

“When in Rome…”

“…or in Granny’s kitchen,” she finished as she picked up both mugs and carried them to the counter. She pulled down a ceramic jug from a cabinet, uncorked the bottle, and poured a shot into each cup. She then re-corked the jug, but left it on the counter.

“I don’t usually hold much with drinkin’, but sometimes life deals you an unexpected wallop. Then, y’just gotta have some o’Jake’s finest corn squeezin’s to help steady things, to kinda put yer feet back under ya.”

Jake took the cup Granny held out to him and raised it. She clinked her mug against his and both took a sip. She set her cup on the table as she sat down.

“So, what does it mean, Granny?”

“You know what it means, Jake,” she replied. “It means trouble. It means blood on the mountain. It means he’s loose an’ free an’ we’re in for bad times.”

Jake leaned back. “Cain’t you fix it? Cain’t you put him back inside?”

Truly stared into the black depths of her coffee. To her it looked like the eternal night beyond the grave. “I don’t know,” she finally said without looking up. She took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. She looked up at Jake’s stricken expression. “I jus’ plain don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t know. I ain’t never done it before. Far as I know, it ain’t been done by anyone for a hundred years or more. Maybe a thousand.” Truly took a sip of her coffee and grimaced. “I think this needs more squeezin’s an’ less coffee.”

She walked to the sink and emptied the cup. She picked up the jug, uncorked it, and filled the cup with clear liquid. She took a sip and winced. “That’s more like it.”

She returned to the table. Jake sat looking at her, his mouth slightly agape.

“What? You want me to lie to you?”

“Uh, no. I don’t want that.” Jake took a sip of his coffee. “I thought…I mean, didn’t the…um, wasn’t this…” He finally stopped trying and just looked at her.

Truly sighed. “I know what you’re tryin’ to say. Yes, my granny passed it along to me just like hers did to her. Her granny got it from a Cherokee medicine man. Supposedly it goes way back to when there was ice up where Ohio an’ Pennsylvania are now. Might even be true, for all I know. Don’t matter none.”

“What do you mean it don’t matter none?”

“It don’t matter ’cause I’m a white woman. This takes Injun magick – Cherokee magick. I don’t do Cherokee magick. The magick I do is more like Old World magic. Some of it’s Christian, maybe. It’s like us – well, like our ancestors. It’s from Ireland and England; from Scotland an’ Germany an’ Wales an’ places like that. Places you only read about. It’s all mixed together.”

Jake shook his head. “I still don’t understand. Magic’s magic, ain’t it?”

“No, it ain’t. I don’t pray to th’ right gods, Jake. I don’t know anyone aroun’ here who does.”

“But, everyone aroun’ here’s part Cherokee or Creek or some kinda Indian.”

“That ain’t the same thing as bein’ brought up Cherokee. I don’t know nothin’ ’bout bein’ a Cherokee. An’ I sure as hell don’t know nothin’ ’bout bein’ a medicine man.”

“So, there’s nothin’ anyone can do?”

“I didn’t say I couldn’t do nothin’. I know the spells an’ the magick – the words, anyway. I got it all wrote down in a little leather book. I gotta study it an’ see what I have to do. I just don’t know if I can make it work’s all I’m sayin’. It ain’t like pickin’ up a cookbook an’ makin’ a cake.”

“Maybe I can help?”

“No!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean no, Jake. When – if – if I do this, I gotta do it alone. I might get Betty June t’ help.” She paused for a moment. “No. Prob’ly not. It’s too dangerous for her even though I been teachin’ her so she can someday take my place.”

“You sure, Granny?”

“Yeah, Jake. I’m sure. You run along, now. I’m sure you got things you gotta do. I got me a heap o’readin’ an’ studyin’ t’ do. I gotta figure out what I need – gotta figure out if’n I can even find what I need this time o’ year.” She drained the last of the liquid in her cup.

“If there’s anything you need …”

“You know any good prayers?”

“Well, I don’t go to church much. Mostly just fer marryin’ an’ buryin’.”

“That’s purty much what I thought. Tell you what. If there is somethin’ I need from you, I’ll send June Bug after it. Now, go on. Get on outta here. I got a powerful lot t’ do an’ you’re in m’ way.”

•

Truly looked inside her satchel. Candles, bottles of liquids and powders, the tools of her calling all nestled inside. A leather bound folio nestled along one sidewall. She snapped it shut and set it on the table next to a rolled up length of carpet. Within the fabric were the images of the Celtic goddess and god that she worshipped. Outside, the late afternoon sun was setting fast – too fast. She felt time slipping away from her.

“Lady, if ever I need you with me,” she breathed as she looked about the tiny kitchen, “tonight is the night.”

She jumped, startled by the rattling of the front door in its frame. “Only Jake hammers a door like th’ big bad wolf wantin’ t’ get th’ three pigs.”

“You in there, Truly?” Jake’s voice bellowed from the other side.

“It’s open, Jake!” she shouted back.

“It’s startin’, Granny,” he said as he stepped inside. He pushed the door closed as if he expected something to follow him. “He’s out an’ huntin’ an’ I don’t think he’s gonna stay up on th’ ridge t’night.”

She nodded absently while she looked around the kitchen. She was missing something, something important. Suddenly she spied the end of a black knife handle poking out from under a towel on the counter next to the sink. Her athame. How could she forget something so vital?

“Did you hear me, Granny?”

“Yes!” she snapped. “Half th’ holler heard ya, Jake.”

He stared at her, eyes wide in disbelief. Truly was one of the most even-tempered people he knew. Something must really be in the wind for her to snap at him that way. She glanced at him and saw his stricken expression.

“Ah’m sorry, Jake. I don’t mean t’ be cross. It’s just ah’m tryin’ t’ make sure I got everything I need. Once ah’m a-lookin’ him in th’ eye, I don’ need t’ suddenly find I forgot th’ thing I need most t’ put’im down.” Placing a hand on each cheek, she pulled his face down and kissed him gently on the forehead. “It won’t do nobody no good if m’guts gets scattered all over Lawyer’s front yard.”

“Lawyer’s? Why there? Why not th’ cave up on th’ ridge?”

“’Cause they ain’t nothin’ wrong with those marks, Jake.” She retrieved the knife from the counter and dropped it into her valise. “It’s the ones ’roun’ th’ sinkhole that somethin’ happened to. Ah’m thinkin’ one o’ th’ strangers mighta scratched one offa th’ circle down there.”

“Makes sense, Granny.”

She patted his shoulder. “Jake, if I tol’ you I needed a hick’ry switch t’ drive him back inta th’ hole, you’d believe me.”

“Do you?”

“See?”

“I’se jus’ funnin’ with ya,” he laughed. “Ah know you’d need somethin’ bigger’n a switch.”

“Yore right, but you don’ know jus’ how big what I need has t’ be.” She sighed. “I jus’ hope I got enough t’ do th’ job.”

Jake frowned. Granny never showed doubt when it came to her conjuring.

“So, why you here?” she asked. “’Sides beatin’ down m’door and yellin’ things I already know?”