Foxfire Light (7 page)

“You may have a point,” Reece chuckled at the piece of Ozark wisdom. “But you also have to admit she is an attractive girl.”

“A very attractive woman,” Linc agreed on a thoughtful note, then appeared restless, a little irritated. He drained his cup and set it on the tray. “Thanks for the coffee, Reece.”

“You aren't leaving already,” he protested as Linc pushed to his feet.

“Yes. Give my goodbyes to your niece. I've done enough damage for one night,” he said.

“Come by again,” Reece issued the long standing invitation again.

“Thanks, I will.” Taking his hat, he carried it with him to the door and put it on as he walked out.

When the truck motor started up, Reece saw the doorknob to the study turning slowly. “It's safe to come out now, Joanna,” he called to his niece, a faint light gleaming in his dark eyes. “He's gone.”

It was several seconds before the door actually opened and Joanna emerged. Reece pretended
not to notice the way her glance went immediately to the place where Linc had been sitting. “Linc said to pass along his goodbye. He wasn't able to stay longer. By the way, did you reach Elizabeth?”

“No.” Actually she hadn't tried, but she didn't tell her uncle that. It would be akin to admitting cowardice. “It's just as well. It would take too long to mail the things to me anyway. I'll go shopping tomorrow in town and pick up the few things I'll need while I'm here.”

“That sounds sensible,” he agreed.

“Why did you tell me it was safe to come out just because Linc Wilder was gone?” She wanted to know.

“It was obvious the two of you had been exchanging blows,” he stated. “You wanted to avoid him. That's why you decided to call your mother.”

“I couldn't help it. I know you like him and if I had stayed in the room—” she began tightly.

“Yes, I was aware of the sparks flying,” he smiled gently. “What happened yesterday?”

“He started giving me a lecture on my manners.”

“Which you needed?” Reece suggested with a raised eyebrow.

“Even if I did, he had no right to tell me about it, and I told him so,” she retorted.

“Joanna.” He shook his head at her with affection. “Hasn't it occurred to you that you aren't the only one with a lot of pride?”

“Yes, a couple of times,” she admitted grudgingly,
then smiled. “How about a game of backgammon?”

“Get the board and I'll pour some more coffee.”

They played until nearly midnight with neither one winding up a clear-cut winner although Reece did have the advantage.

Upstairs in the loft, Joanna undressed for bed. A cool breeze was whispering through the trees outside her window where a whippoorwill was making its plaintive call. After pulling on a nightgown, she folded down the bed's coverlet and used only the sheet. She switched off the bedside lamp to send the room into darkness.

Her thoughts roamed over the evening's events, spending too much time on Linc Wilder and the way his presence had unnerved her. Joanna turned on her side and punched the pillow beneath her head. She couldn't seem to get comfortable. Maybe it was her conscience that was troubling her. On that thought, she closed her eyes.

J
oanna leaned her head out of the opened car window to call to her uncle. “Are you sure you don't want to come with me? It might not be smart to trust me with this car. I could run into a mule.”

“I trust you.” Reece laughed from the doorway of the cabin. “I have some notes to go over. Later on this afternoon I plan to do a little fishing.”

“You just don't want to be dragged around from store to store while I try on clothes,” she accused.

“You're right.” He waved to her and she waved back before shifting the luxury car into reverse to back out of the driveway. “Enjoy yourself!”

The big car made better going over the rough
road. As she neared the fork in the road where a lane turned off to Jessie Bates's cabin, she chewed her lip thoughtfully. It had been at the back of her mind since last night that she really should apologize to the man. She slowed the car and made the sharp turn onto the track leading to his cabin.

It was set a quarter of a mile back, deep in the woods that grew thickly all the way to the lake. All the buildings looked ancient—the log cabin, a shed, and a small barnlike structure, yet there was an absence of litter in the yard. It had a tidy and neat appearance, not at all what she had expected.

The two mules were standing head to tail inside an enclosure fenced with rough cedar posts. One turned its head to look at her, its big ears flopping at the flies, but it lost interest when she stepped out of the car. She was about to decide the owner wasn't home. Just then the barn door squealed open and the man emerged.

Nothing about him had changed. He appeared to be wearing the same pair of baggy overalls—or a pair just like them—and a faded blue work shirt. His dark hair was just as straggly and in need of a combing, yet he looked clean. When he saw her standing there, his bony face assumed a closed expression.

“I would have come to pay you for the repairs to your car,” he declared tightly. “There was no call to come collectin'. I told you I pay ma' debts.”

She had offended him again. “I didn't stop
because of that/' she said quickly. “I always pay my debts, too, and I owe you an apology.” When she paused, he tipped his head back and gave her a long, considering look.

“I'm sorry for the things I said about you and your mules the other day. I wish I could take them all back, but I can't change the fact that I said them. But I am sorry.”

“I reckon I can overlook it. 'Course I can't speak for my mules,” he said but there appeared to be a suggestion of a twinkle in his eyes even though his stern expression didn't change.

“Thank you.” She smiled, a little relieved. “I want you to know that my uncle speaks very highly of you.” She realized that she hadn't introduced herself, not formally. “My name is Joanna Morgan.” She extended her hand to him.

He self-consciously wiped his on the back of his overalls before pumping her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Morgan.”

“You have a very nice place here—quiet and secluded.” Joanna felt she should say something favorable about his place as she let her glance sweep around the surroundings once more.

“Well, it's home,” he drawled. “I ain't interested in the luxuries of life but I shore wouldn't mind havin' some of the necessities, like indoor plumbin'. I'm getting tired of takin' a bath in the spring behind the house. That water gets awful blasted cold at times.”

Her eyes widened slightly, noticing that his hair was damp and there was the smell of pine-soap clinging to his skin. He had just come from
taking his bath. She was a little dazed to discover he was serious about not having running water. In these modern times, it sounded so unlikely that she had to ask.

“Do you mean you really don't have indoor plumbing?” Unconsciously her gaze swept the buildings again. She noticed the path worn through the trees leading behind the cabin. To an outhouse?

“No,” he confirmed her suspicion. “I been thinkin' about gettin' some electricity. But I get to thinkin' that after that I'd be wantin' a stove, a refrigerator, and a television. Right now I don't want none of those things 'cause I don't have electricity. I decided I'm probably happier without it, 'cause I'm not wantin' those other things that I can't afford.”

“How do you keep your food from spoiling?”

“I gotta springhouse. It keeps everythin' chilled just right an' you don't have to defrost it. Folks have been keepin' food in a springhouse for years,” he explained.

“Oh.” She had thought they had vanished with the advent of television. It was becoming clear what Reece had meant when he'd said Jessie Bates enjoyed being eccentric.

“Excuse me a minute, while I go in the house and get the money I owe ya'.” He started to turn away to walk to the porch steps.

“Wait.” Joanna caught at his arm, feeling the tensile strength of his wiry muscles beneath the thin fabric of his shirt sleeve. “I really would
rather that you didn't pay it because I feel so badly about the way I behaved. Besides, there virtually wasn't any damage to the car—just the paint scratched in a few places. It doesn't amount to anything.”

“It was my fault for pulling out on the road like that. I gotta pay,” he insisted.

She was about to argue when she remembered her uncle's comment last night that other people had pride, too. “All right,” she gave in. “Ten dollars should cover the damage.”

“It won't take me but a minute to fetch it,” he said. His spindly legs carried him swiftly over the ground and up the steps to the cabin's door.

Alone in the yard, Joanna studied the clearing and its primitive buildings. The rocky ground was scattered with clumps of grass stubbornly forcing their way through the inhospitable earth. Most were thin, spindly blades, but some grew tall and defiant.

There was a quiet here that wasn't really silent. The buzz of the flies and the stomping of a mule's hoof, the soft swish of its tail intermixed with the distant chatter of a squirrel in the woods and the trilling calls of birds. But all of them were subtle sounds, in harmony with the surroundings. Therefore, it was the quiet solitude of the place that made the strongest impression on Joanna, rather than its many inhabitants.

The slam of the screen door hit a strident note and her glance swung to the cabin and the
scrawny man descending the porch steps. She noticed the several bills clasped between his long, bony fingers.

“Here you go.” He handed the money to her. “Now we're square.”

“Yes.” Joanna wasn't about to insult him by counting it. So she folded the curling and age-worn bills and slipped them in the side pocket of her slacks, trying not to think about where it might have been stashed in his cabin. No doubt he had some secure and obscure hidey-hole for his valuables. “It's very quiet here. Doesn't it bother you not to have any neighbors living close by?”

“If I wanted people livin' on top of me, I'd have a place in town.” He seemed to find her question a little foolish.

“How much land do you have here?” As soon as she asked, Joanna wondered if she was being too nosy, but her curiosity was quite innocent.

“Thare's no way of tellin' just how much land I got,” he explained with a serious frown. “The homestead papers say I got forty acres. But forty acres of this hill land ain't like forty acres of any other land. If you was to roll it out flat, I might have three, four times as much land.”

She tried to hold back a smile until she noticed the definite twinkle in his eyes. He had meant the remark to be amusing. The Line of her mouth curved in obliging response.

“You do have a point,” she agreed, the smile broadening. “I wouldn't want to walk it.”

His head was tilted to the side in a gesture of
disagreement. “Now thare's advantages to walkin' in these hills. Walkin' on flat land would be just plumb borin', not to mention how tirin' it would be without a downhill to spell ya'.”

Joanna laughed openly this time at his pearl of Ozark wit. “I hadn't thought of that,” she admitted.

“It's hard for some people to look and see at the same time,” Jessie Bates stated.

Joanna sobered, because she knew she was guilty of that. The other day on the road, she had looked at Jessie Bates and judged him to be poor and ignorant without taking the time to
see
his worth as a man.

“Yes, it is.” She didn't add more because they both understood what was meant. Instead, Joanna made the initial move to take her leave. “I'm on my way into town. Is there anything I could pick up for you?”

There was silent approval in his look. “That's right neighborly of you to offer but I got all I need to hold me for a spell.”

“I'd better be leaving. Thanks for being so understanding, Mr. Bates.” Joanna spoke as she began to turn to walk to the Chrysler.

He walked along side her. “like I said, we're all squared.”

A cardinal swooped out of the trees, flying directly in front of Joanna. The sudden flash of red startled her. She took a half-step backward, laughing at herself when she realized it had only been a bird. Continuing toward the car, she glanced sideways at her companion.

“These woods seemed to be filled with cardinals,” she remarked.

“Thare's a few,” he nodded. There was the smallest pause before he continued. “Some hill-folks believe that when a redbird flies across a girl's path, it means she's gonna be kissed twice before nightfall.”

She turned her head to look at him, wondering if he was pulling her leg. “Why would they believe that?”

“They tend to be a superstitious lot.” He shrugged. “ 'Course, it's foolishness. I don't put any stock in such things myself.”

“Neither do I,” she agreed on a more decisive note, then lightly mocked the belief. “Besides, I don't even have a boyfriend here.” Or elsewhere, at the moment.

“The superstition just says you're gonna be kissed twice. It don't say who's gonna do the kissin'. 'Could be someone you know, or someone you don't.”

She paused as she opened the car door to look at him closely, a tiny frown creeping across her forehead. He had disclaimed any belief in the superstition, yet he was defending it. It seemed very contradictory to her. A little confused, she laughed it off and slipped behind the steering wheel.

“I'm supposed to be kissed twice before nightfall, huh?” Her wry smile was taunting with skepticism. “I'll let you know what happens.”

There was a trace of a smile in his expression
as he shut her car door—an expression that appeared to contain some secret knowledge. She shook her head slightly as she started the car, unsure what to believe about the man. She turned the car around in the yard to drive out the lane, waving to the man.