The Elementals (22 page)
Authors: Morgan Llywelyn
How long? How deep? How cold?
Daniel Foster knew.
How?
Did the stone do things to him, as it had to Annie?
She had to make herself keep going toward it. At every bend, she
was tempted to turn and run back. When she climbed the stile between two fields she teetered at the top, a breath away from going back down the steps she had just come up.
was tempted to turn and run back. When she climbed the stile between two fields she teetered at the top, a breath away from going back down the steps she had just come up.
But she was Henry McDonnell's daughter and she kept going.
At last she saw the grim grey stone on the slope of Pine Hill, waiting for her.
But this time the stone was not alone.
Daniel Foster glanced up guiltily when Annie Murphy materialized on the crest of the hill above him. “What're you doin' here?” he called out, knowing she could see him.
She hesitated before answering. She must be very careful. She could not simply turn and run away; that would make him very suspicious. But she was dismayed to discover him there, and more dismayed by the fact that he carried yet another burlap bundle.
Foster was equally astonished. No local had surprised him here in all the years he had visited the place.
Of course, Annie Murphy was not really a local. Perhaps that was why she had not been sufficiently intimidated by the legends that kept others away and allowed Foster sole use of the stone.
She angled down the slope toward him. “I have as much right to be here as you. This isn't your land.”
“Ain't yours neither,” he pointed out. “And folks don't usually come here nohow.”
Annie assumed a wide-eyed innocence. “Oh? Why not?”
“You know. You've heard the stories.”
“You mean the local superstitions? My father raised me to pay no mind to superstition.” She did not add that her mother had been a most superstitious woman.
“Ain't superstition,” Foster insisted. “Sâtruth. There's a lotta death happened at this rock. Band o' dirty savages was killed here when my pa was a boy. That's why the Injuns in these parts are still hostile. Conway men killed a pack of'em here, same as some men down in Albany once killed an Injun chief called Chocurua. Chased ole Chocurua to the top of his tribe's sacred mountain and killed him dead,” Foster added with relish.
“I know that story,” Annie interjected. “Chocurua was a gentle man who'd done the white settlers no harm, but a band of hunters killed him for the sport of it. As he was dying he pronounced a curse on his killers and their descendants. That was long ago, but my
father still used to go all the way to Albany to treat people down there. They suffered from a strange complaint of the abdomen that eventually killed them. He used to make a long journey down there in his buggy, once or twice a year. The malady intrigued him. But he refused to credit it to the curse of Chocorua.”
father still used to go all the way to Albany to treat people down there. They suffered from a strange complaint of the abdomen that eventually killed them. He used to make a long journey down there in his buggy, once or twice a year. The malady intrigued him. But he refused to credit it to the curse of Chocorua.”
“Then your pa wasn't as smart as he shoulda been.”
Annie bristled. “He was the smartest man I ever knew! He would have been smart enough to wonder why you're here, Daniel Foster. And just what sort of offering you bring to this pagan stone!” she burst out, too incensed to guard her tongue.
Foster hugged the burlap bundle against his chest. “None o' your business,” he said sharply.
There was a recklessness in Annie Murphy. Side by side with her studied sensibility was a wild recklessness that had once made her thrust her hand into Liam Murphy's trousers as they sat courting in her father's parlor. In all his life, Liam had never imagined a woman would do such a thing. Not a nice woman. He had caught fire from Annie's fingers.
Now the fire was in Annie. As always, it surfaced when she least expected it. This time it made her grab for the burlap bundle.
Shocked, Foster tried to fight her off. But her small body concealed a wiry strength he did not expect, and an agility abetted by desperation. She wrenched the burlap out of his grasp and dropped to her knees with the bundle cradled in her arms, almost at the foot of the boulder.
Before Foster could stop her, she unwrapped the package.
Then she sat back on her heels and stared.
“Maize?”
“Corn. Injun corn,” Foster verified, bending to rewrap the bundle.
“But ⦠I don't understand ⦔
“âCourse not. Ain't
none of your business.” As Annie stared up at him, Foster tucked the end flaps of the burlap neatly under the lengthwise fold until the package was secure again. Then he carried it a step or two, and set it down against the base of the stone.
none of your business.” As Annie stared up at him, Foster tucked the end flaps of the burlap neatly under the lengthwise fold until the package was secure again. Then he carried it a step or two, and set it down against the base of the stone.
“Selah,” he said.
Annie was still sitting on her heels, watching him in bewilderment. “You give corn? To a rock?”
“A bowl of milk to the good people, the fairies, to keep them from doing us harm,” her mother had once explained. Her mind made the leap from milk to maize.
“I think I understand,” she said slowly.
“No you don't. And like I told you,'tain't none of your business.”
“But it is. I mean, I thought ⦔
Foster's eyes narrowed. “What did you think?”
“I thought ⦠your wife said the stone eats babies.”
To her embarrassment, Daniel Foster laughed. “âCourse she did! I tell her to say that, same as my ma said it, and her ma afore her. Keeps people away. But you thought ⦔ He glanced at the burlap. It was Daniel Foster's turn to be shocked. “Lordy, you thought I was bringin'
babies
to this thing ⦠?”
babies
to this thing ⦠?”
Confounded, Annie dropped her eyes.
“Well, I never,” the man muttered. “Is that all you think of me, Annie Murphy? And I've alluz had admiration for you, with your book learnin' and your hard work and all. Now I come to find out you think I steal babies and give them to the Injun rock.”
“I'm sorry,” Annie said in a strangled voice. “I don't know what got into me, thinking something like that. I don't know how to apologize.” She had made a dreadful mistake, she knew. Daniel Foster was the most important man in Conway. Directly or indirectly, almost everyone depended on him in some way, including her Liam.
Conway Feed & Grain was the only such store within twenty miles. If he refused service to anyone, they were effectively ruined. And if Annie Murphy was any judge of character, Foster was mean enough to refuse service to someone who insulted him as badly as she had just done.
How am I going to explain this to Liam? she wondered, sitting there with her head down and mortification burning through her body.
Daniel Foster was equally uncomfortable. He had spoken the truth; he had always admired Annie Murphy. Every man in Conway admired Annie Murphy. She was a breath of fresh air, a bright and laughing spirit. A sharp tongue, but a light foot and a twinkling eye that a man could not help responding to. Foster was horrified to think she believed him capable of so monstrous a crime.
“Ain't necessary to apologize,” he muttered. “I can see how you thought what you thought, I suppose.”
“But if it isn't true ⦠I mean, why the corn?”
“You've found out my secret,” Foster admitted. “The weather. You alluz wanted to know, didn't you? Well, now you do.”
“The weather?” Annie was baffled.
Leaving the burlap bundle where it was, Foster came back and sat down beside Annie on the cold ground. He did not feel the cold. It was a warming experience, sitting close to little Annie Murphy. From this distance he could see the way her dark hair pulled loose of its bun and clung in tiny tendrils to the pink shell-shape of her ear. For the pleasure of sitting beside herâalone in the country, far away from prying eyes and wagging tonguesâhe would trade his secret. For that pleasure and more, perhaps.
“It started with my grandfather's grandfather. He was granted the township in return forâ”
“One ear of Indian corn annually!” Annie interrupted. “I read it in my Gazetteer.”
“A-yuh, that's it. But it was a funny sort of rental. The corn was to be paid here, at the Injun rock. Brought here and left.”
Annie raised her eyebrows. She was aware of Daniel Foster's intense gaze on her, but his words were more interesting. “Paid to the Indians, is that what you're saying? But I thought the rental was paid to the local authorities, orâ”
“Paid to the true owners of the land,” Foster said. “We took their land, yâsee, and we give'em their own back for it. It was somethin' worked out in Conway long ago, and as long as my family abided by it, the Injuns never attacked us the way they did other places. But then there come a day when we forgot or the man who was supposed to deliver the corn to the rock got waylaid, or somethin'. Nobody knows what. Anyway, the rental wasn't paid. And the Injuns come outta the forest and attacked the town.
“The men got muskets and drove âem off, finally. Chased'em all the way back to this rock. And killed âem here. Legend has it that the redskins' blood splashed on this stone.
“After that there were no more Injun attacks, but people didn't forget about the corn rental again either. In fact, my grandfather started bringin' more than just one ear, to be sure. And one day, after he delivered the rental, he came back sayin' he knew what the weather was goin' to do. He warned of a great storm fixin' to blow in on us. He begged people to get all their stock into their barns and prepare themselves, though there wasn't a cloud in the sky at the time.
“And he was right, Annie. A terrible wind blew up. Took roofs off cabins, blew down the front of the hotel, did all kinds of damage. But no one was killed, âcause he'd warned people to hide in their root cellars and the storm blew over'em.
“After that, people started comin' to him reg'lar to learn what the weather was likely to do. They were willing to pay money for it, and he was willing to take their money. But afore he could give a prediction he alluz had to visit this rock, and he alluz had to bring a gift of Indian corn.”
Annie's eyes were fixed on his face. They were as bright as two stars. “Well, I never,” she breathed. “And you still do it. You come here and leave the corn, and then ⦠then what? How do you learn about the weather? Do the Indians meet you here and tell you?”
“Mebbe I ain't willin' to say,” he replied. “Man should keep some of his business to himself, if he's anyway smart.”
But she had to know. How could she bear it if she didn't know?
“I won't tell anyone,” she promised.
“What'll you give me for it?” he countered with heavyhanded playfulness.
There was no mistaking his intention. Annie stiffened. “My thanks,” she said coolly. “And the gratitude of my husband, who, as you surely remember, is a very large and powerful man.”
Foster understood well enough. Her sudden icy dignity, combined with the implied threat, meant he had got all he was going to get from her unless he forced her.
Had she been a different woman in a different setting, he might. But the proximity of the rock restrained him. Its presence,
glowering over them, drained his audacity. The thing always had scared him, he thought resentfully. And not because of the wild stories Foster womenfolk circulated about it either.
glowering over them, drained his audacity. The thing always had scared him, he thought resentfully. And not because of the wild stories Foster womenfolk circulated about it either.
The situation called for caution. Liam Murphy would beat any man to a pulp for molesting his wife. Foster did not want Annie carrying a tale back to her husband. He bargained with what he had. “If it'll make you happy,” he said ruefully, “I'll tell you about the weather. But remember you promised not to let it go any further.”
Annie nodded agreement. But she stood up and put a bit of distance between herself and him, just in case.
Foster observed without comment. “The Injuns held this rock sacred because they said it talked to them,” he related. “It was part of the earth, which in their way of believing things was also part of the sky and the weather, everything all mixed together. I don't understand it, heathen gibberish. But they believed it for centuries. They came here to touch that rock and have visions. In those visions, they saw what the weather was going to be like, and they arranged their lives accordingly. Bad winter comin', they went south. Mild winter, they stayed put. That sorta thing.
“My grandfather discovered by accident that when he touched the stone he had visions too. Sometimes, not all the time. He was afraid to tell anybody, afraid he'd be accused o' witchcraft. So he passed the secret down only to his eldest son, my pa, and he passed it on to me.”
Annie asked, “Is it witchcraft?”
Daniel Foster shook his head. “I'm no witch, Annie. I can't do no magic. All I can doâsometimes, like I saidâis see a vision. Kinda cloudy and far away, hard to see, but when it comes to me it shows me ⦠it's hard to explain. It just shows me. In return for the corn.”
“The Indians don't tell you about the weather?” she asked, unsure what he was saying.
“Not the Injuns. It's the rock, their sacred rock. My pa figgered bein' able to see visions from the rock was something passed on in the blood. Like inheritin' a good singin' voice. He figgered mebbe it came easier to Injuns than to whites, but us Fosters had a little bit of it. The visions ain't clear, but we can see'em. Sometimes.”
“Did you see a vision the last time you came to the rock?”
Annie's question surprised him. “Ah ⦠no. I laid my hand on the rock but I couldn't feel nothin'. Like it was empty, somehow.”
“Empty? What did you expect to feel?”
“What there alluz is afore a vision comes. A sort o' hum. You can feel it more'n hear it.”
“Can you feel it now?” Annie wanted to know.
“I ain't touched the rock yet. I was just fixin' to when you come over the hill.”
Annie gave the man a penetrating look. She would have dismissed his tale as foolishness, had she not received a mighty jolt from that same boulder. “I don't believe a word of it,” she said emphatically, knowing how he would respond. “You're storyin' me, Dan'l Foster.”
“I am not!”
“Then show me. Show me now.”
“I cain't do it with you here,” he muttered.
“Why not? Are you afraid it won't work? Are you afraid I'll know it's a lie?” she taunted.
Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. “It ain't meant for any but the Foster men, it's our secret.”
Your profitable secret, Annie thought to herself. Maybe it is witchcraft. A lie is a poor substitute for the truth, but it's the only one anybody's found so far. If it is witchcraft, of course you'd lie about it to save your skin.
Memories of witchcraft lingered in New England, even in enlightened 1855. Annie was not certain she believed in witchesâthere was too much of her father in her for thatâbut she was not certain she disbelieved either.
Her mother would have believed.
And there was
something
. That boulder had thrown Annie through the air as if she were a piece of chaff.
something
. That boulder had thrown Annie through the air as if she were a piece of chaff.
Annie had to know.
“You've told me so much already,” she said to Foster, “you might as well show me the rest. I promised you I wouldn't tell, and I won't. My word is as good as my husband's. What is it you do, Dan'l? Do you put your hand on the stone like this ⦔
She reached out as if to touch the boulder, encouraging him. She had no intention of making actual contact, however. The memory of the last time she touched that rock was sharp within her.
But Foster did not know she was only pretending. The stone was his, his secret, his family heritage though dark and filled with
mystery. He would not share. With an inarticulate cry, he grabbed for her hand to stop her from touching the boulder.
mystery. He would not share. With an inarticulate cry, he grabbed for her hand to stop her from touching the boulder.
Foster's sudden move startled Annie, causing her to dodge to one side. She slightly lost her balance, and inadvertently put out a hand to save herself.
Her hand touched the stone.
Later, thinking back, she would be able to recall the very peculiar sensation she had felt in that fraction of a second before her skin made contact with the boulder's surface. This time there was no jolt, no shock. Instead, she had felt her hand being irresistibly drawn as if by a powerful magnetic force.
Then the world as she knew it disappeared.
Other books
The Ivy: Scandal by Kunze, Lauren, Onur, Rina
The Expendable Few: A Spinward Fringe Novel by Randolph Lalonde
Be My Texas Valentine by Jodi Thomas, Linda Broday, Phyliss Miranda, Dewanna Pace
Midnight's Song by Keely Victoria
Prosecco Pink by Traci Angrighetti
Unwillingly Yours (Warning: Love Moderately) by Tee, Marian, Lourdes Marcelo
The Barbed-Wire Kiss by Wallace Stroby
Cadillac Couches by Sophie B. Watson
Hero Bear: BBW Paranormal Bear Shifter Romance by Zoe Chant
Chase Wheeler's Woman by Charlene Sands
