Midnight Rescue / The Proposal / Christy's Choice (10 page)

Suddenly, the muzzle of a hunting rifle poked through the broken window. A shadowy figure was lit by another burst of lightning. The hate-filled, grizzled face of Bird's-Eye Taylor came into view.

“Another time, preacher-ladies,” he said with a dark laugh. “I promise you fer sure and certain we'll be back.”

The voices vanished, and silence fell over the house. The lightning and thunder quickly faded, and the only sound was the steady drum of the rain on the tin roof.

Christy ran to Miss Ida and hugged her close. “We're safe,” Miss Ida whispered, trembling. “We're safe, Christy.”

“We are,” Christy said grimly. “But Ruby Mae may not be. I'm going to find her.”

“But those men—”

“You stay here and wait for David and the doctor. I'll be back before you know it.”

“There must be something more I can do,” Miss Ida said, wringing her hands.

“Do something about that window,” Christy advised. “And pray. It certainly helped just now.”

“Ruby Mae!” Christy called as she made her way through the woods at the edge of the mission property. By now she'd grown hoarse, waiting for an answer.

She had to face the truth. Ruby Mae had run off. Christy had searched all the mission buildings, hoping Ruby Mae might be hiding from the moonshiners. But after seeing the fence knocked down in the pasture, Christy knew all too well what had happened— Prince had run away, and Ruby Mae had gone to find him.

Christy slogged on through the black forest. The pine needle floor was soggy, and even with the thick canopy of trees overhead, the rain poured down without mercy. She was soaked to the bone, and her long, wet skirt clung to her legs, making a swift pace impossible.

It wasn't as if she knew where she was going. She knew that Ruby Mae often took Prince down to Blackberry Creek, so that seemed as good a goal as any. But it was just a hunch. Prince could have gone anywhere.

David had said the stallion had been acting strangely today. And as for Ruby Mae . . . well, who knew where she'd have decided to start looking?

There was just one problem with Christy's hunch. She'd heard one of the moonshiners talk about a still on Blackberry Creek. Obviously, she was heading in the same direction they were, and she did not want to run into those men again—especially not all alone, in the dark woods. At least in the mission house, she'd felt some tiny bit of security. But out here, with the wind howling and the rain pelting down, she was in their territory. Those men knew these woods in a way she never would. And they were drunk and very angry.

Christy paused to catch her breath near the top of a wide ridge. With her skirts weighed down, she was already exhausted. Her feet were cold, her shoes caked with mud.

The icy rain had chilled her to the bone. She could not stop shivering.

Near as she could tell, Blackberry Creek was down the steep incline to her left, another quarter-mile or so. She could make it that far, then decide her next move. Perhaps she might even find some tracks, although that seemed hard to imagine, in this rain.

She started down the ridge. The forest floor was slick, and she had to use trees to support her. Twice she fell. She was climbing to her feet the second time when she heard the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked.

Christy froze. She scanned the darkness, but all she could make out were the dark ghosts of the nearest trees.

“Well, well, well. What have we here? If'n it ain't the teacher-gal!” came Bird's-Eye's voice from somewhere to her right. “Lookin' fer us, was you?”

“Changed her mind about the likker, I'll wager!”

She heard the shuffle of feet through leaves and pine needles, and suddenly the men came into view—Bird's-Eye, Jubal, and Duggin Morrison, Ruby Mae's stepfather. So
he
had been the third man on the porch.

Bird's-Eye came closer. Rain dripped off his felt hat. Christy could smell the sharp tang of tobacco and moonshine. Her stomach lurched.

“Ain't so purty now, is she?” he said. “Looks more like a drowned rat than one of them citified wimmin.” He poked at her shoulder with the end of his rifle, but Christy stood tall. “Let me pass,” she said.

The three men hooted. “Let her pass, she says!” Jubal cried. He put a jug to his mouth and guzzled down some liquor.

“Boys, we got business to tend to,” Duggin Morrison said.

“The still!” Jubal said, his voice slurred. “I plumb forgot! Let's take the teacher-gal with us. We'll make sure the still's all right. Then there'll be plenty o' time for sweetheartin'.”

Bird's-Eye nudged Christy with the barrel of his gun. “Git a move-on. We got business by the crik.”

With Duggin in the lead, the four of them started down the steep incline. Christy could hear the roar of the swollen creek, not far below them. Bird's-Eye kept his gun trained on her back, poking her along when she stumbled. It was almost impossible for her to keep up, even though they were clearly very drunk.

“Imagine a blossom-eyed gal like her, out in a gully-washer storm like this 'un,” Jubal said thickly. “Wonder what she were up to.”

“Lookin' fer some jollification, I reckon,” Bird's-Eye cackled.

“Since you're interested,” Christy said, loudly enough to be heard over the steady rain, “I was looking for Ruby Mae Morrison.”

Duggin spun around. “I hear you right? Yer a-lookin' for Ruby Mae?”

“She's lost, Mr. Morrison. I think Prince ran off and she's searching for him.”

“Aw, don't listen to her, Duggin,” Jubal said, taking another swig from his jug. “She's just a-pullin' yer leg.”

“It's true, Mr. Morrison,” Christy said. “I swear it is.”

Duggin paused for a moment, stroking his long beard.

“Could be, I reckon. Ruby Mae do love that preacher-horse somethin' fierce.”

“That stepdaughter of yers is as twitter-witted as they comes,” Bird's-Eye said. “Wouldn't be a-tall surprised if she's wanderin' round in the dark lookin' for some no-tailed horse!”

A few feet below them, Blackberry Creek rushed furiously.

Duggin paused near the bank, scratching his head.

“You say she run off tonight?” he asked Christy.

“Quit yer frettin' over that no-good gal,” Bird's-Eye snapped. “Ruby Mae ain't been nothin' but trouble and woes fer you since the day she first took breath and squalled. Ain't never shut up since, neither.”

“Spring's swolled up somethin' fierce,” Duggin said softly. “Ruby Mae told me and her ma she come down here with that preacher-horse. Said she liked to think thoughts.”

“Actual thoughts,” Christy said with an affectionate smile.

“Ruby Mae Morrison?” Bird's-Eye scoffed. “Much as I hate to admit it, the gal can ride. But think? Ain't likely.” He poked Christy hard with his gun barrel. “Git movin', teacher-gal.”

Just then, Christy gasped, but it wasn't because of Bird's-Eye's threat. She pointed a trembling finger at a bush near the creek's edge.

A swatch of yellow cloth was caught on one of the branches overhanging the rushing creek.

“That piece of fabric,” Christy cried. “That's from Ruby Mae's skirt!”

Ten

D
uggin knelt by the bank and grabbed the wet fabric. “It's Ruby Mae's, all right. Her ma made this skirt fer her last Christmas.”

Christy stared at the raging creek. She knew Duggin was thinking the same thing she was. What if Ruby Mae had fallen in? What if she had drowned? And if she hadn't fallen in, where was she?

“Ruby Mae!” Duggin called out. “Ruby Mae! Is you here, gal?”

Bird's-Eye cocked his gun again. “We got better things to worry about, Duggin. That gal o' yers is fine. She's a tough 'un. Now, let's git to where we're a-goin'.”

Duggin stood slowly, his own gun pointed directly at Bird's-Eye's chest. “I'll tell you where we're goin',” he said fiercely. “We're lookin' fer my Ruby Mae.”

The two men stood a few feet apart, their guns trained on each other. Christy shuddered. One wrong word, and those guns could go off. That was the way of Cutter Gap.

“Mr. Taylor,” Christy said gently. “What if Lundy were lost right now, instead of Ruby Mae?”

“My boy ain't that stupid.”

Duggin answered by cocking his gun.

“Maybe I don't understand much about these mountains,” Christy said, her voice trembling, “but I do know one thing. Family counts more than anything here. Isn't that true, Bird's-Eye?”

Bird's-Eye took a long, slow breath. His mouth twitched, but he didn't answer.

“Send Jubal to check the still,” Christy urged. “You and Duggin and I will look for Ruby Mae.”

Bird's-Eye blinked at her in disbelief. “You even know what a still is, teacher-gal?”

“I know.”

“Well, I never. Cain't say as I thought I'd ever hear such words from the likes of you.”

“Neither did I,” Christy admitted.

Bird's-Eye jerked his head at Jubal. “Do what the teacher-gal says and go check the still. Duggin and me'll go searchin' for that dang-fool stepdaughter o' his.”

“What about her?” Jubal demanded, pointing to Christy.

“Her, we'll deal with another day. Blood ties come first in these parts. Teacher-gal's got that much right, at least.”

With a sigh, Jubal headed off, weaving and swaying along the muddy bank.

“Now what?” Duggin asked. “She could be anywheres. Even . . . ” He stared at the raging water mutely.

“You know, Ruby Mae told me once about a cave she goes to near this creek,” Christy recalled. “Do you know where it is?”

“Sure,” Duggin said. “Just down a ways yonder, on the other side o' the crik.”

“It's worth a try,” Christy said. “Maybe she went there with Prince to take shelter from the rain.”

Christy followed Duggin and Bird's-Eye along the bank. The rain was still coming down hard, and it was difficult to keep up with them. For two men who'd consumed a great deal of moonshine, they were surprisingly nimble.

After a couple hundred yards, Duggin paused. “Cain't see that cave from here, but it's over yonder, behind that brush.”

“Ruby Mae!” Christy called. Duggin and Bird's-Eye joined in. After a few moments, they paused to listen.

“Ain't in that cave, I'm afeared,” Bird's-Eye said at last. “We're yellin' loud enough to wake the dead.”

“You haven't seen Ruby Mae sleep,” Christy said.

“True enough,” Duggin agreed. “Gal can snore somethin' fierce.”

“I'll go see,” Christy said.

“Ain't no way yer a-crossin' that creek,” Duggin said. “I'm her pa. I'm a-goin'.”

“Duggin, you old coot,” Bird's-Eye said. “Yer older than the hills. I'll go. 'Sides, yer drunker'n I am.”

Duggin cocked his gun again. “Old coot, ya say?”

“Mr. Morrison,” Christy said, pushing away the gun. “We don't have time for this.”

Duggin hung his head. “Yer right. And so is Bird's-Eye, I'm afeared.”

Bird's-Eye handed Duggin his gun. “Here goes nothin',” he said.

Slowly Bird's-Eye made his way across the raging creek.

Halfway across, the water came all the way to his chest.

“Careful, you mean old buzzard,” Duggin called.

They watched as Bird's-Eye crawled back up the far bank and disappeared into the brush, where the cave was hidden.

“Mr. Morrison?” Christy said.

“Yep?”

“Are you the one who shaved Prince?”

The old man paused. “Naw. Jubal did that.

Me, I ain't never seen any point in pickin' on critters. It's men I got my feudin' with.” He shrugged. “'Sides, I would never a done somethin' to hurt Ruby Mae that way.”

“Maybe you should tell her that,” Christy said. “When we find her.”

“If'n we find her.”

They heard Bird's-Eye's cry from the far bank.

“Ya think?” Duggin asked hopefully.

A moment later, the thick brush parted to reveal a sleepy-eyed Ruby Mae on Prince's back. Bird's-Eye came running out behind them.

“Sound asleep they was, in the cave, snorin' away just like you said!” he called.

“Miz Christy?” Ruby Mae yelled. “Pa? What're you doin' out here in the rain? You're soaked to the bone!”

“Come on, Ruby Mae,” Bird's-Eye said, “yer goin' straight back to the mission, where you cain't get into any more trouble.”

Christy looked over at Duggin. “Are we?” she asked. “Going back to the mission, I mean?”

Duggin nodded. “I reckon so.”

He went to the edge of the bank, waiting for Bird's-Eye to return Ruby Mae safely.

Christy thought she saw him wipe away a tear. Of course, she realized after a moment, it might just have been a drop of rain. After all, there was no telling what was going on in the hearts of these mountain men. Not long ago, they'd had her fearing for her life. Now, she didn't know whether to fear them, or pity them.

Maybe, she thought sadly, that's how it would always be.

Late that night, Christy sat by the fire in the mission house. Everyone had long since gone to bed. Only she and Doctor MacNeill were still awake.

“If only I hadn't left,” the doctor said for the hundredth time. “None of this might ever have happened. If you hadn't sent David to fetch me, if the rain hadn't slowed down our return . . . ”

“Ifs,” Christy said as she watched the embers in the fireplace glow. “There's no point in doing this again, Neil. Everything turned out fine.”

“This time,” the doctor said darkly.

“I feel badly, too, actually,” Christy admitted. “I wanted David to bring you back here because of your fever, but getting soaked in that rain couldn't have helped you any.”