The Witch of Tin Mountain(15)

Hannah gripped Deirdre’s shoulders and bore down with all she had. She took two panting breaths, gave a hearty cry, then pushed again.

Mama shouted in victory. The baby’s head popped free, covered in masses of dark hair. A moment went by. Thunder shook the walls of the Bledsoe mansion. As if startled to life by the sound, the baby gave a lusty cry. His face filled with blazing color. “You’ve a perfect baby boy, Mrs. Bledsoe,” Mama said, laughing. “He’s even got your husband’s hair.”

“Oh, praise be to God!” Hannah sobbed, reaching for her hard-won infant.

Deirdre laid the babe across Hannah’s chest while Mama worked at massaging Hannah’s belly as deeply as if she were making Sunday bread. The afterbirth slipped free with a wet slop into the basin between Hannah’s feet. They’d fry it up with beaten eggs and serve it to Mrs. Bledsoe to renew her strength and help her milk come in fat and rich.

Mr. Bledsoe burst into the room, his eyes wild. He caught sight of Hannah, then the baby nuzzling at her breast. He rushed to his wife’s side and bent to kiss her cheek.

“You’ve a healthy baby boy, sir,” Deirdre said, smiling wide.

“Praise Jesus. What shall we call him, Hannah?” Mr. Bledsoe asked, his voice quavering.

“Collin Peter, after your father and mine.”

“Yes, my own love. Collin Peter Bledsoe. It’s a strong name, for a strong boy.” Mr. Bledsoe kissed Hannah full on the lips then, so deeply that Deirdre blushed and had to turn away. With kisses like that, she and Mama would be sure to deliver a whole passel of Bledsoe babies in the years to come. She couldn’t help but want the same thing for herself, someday. She imagined the babies she and Robbie might have. The thought cheered her, even through the fog of her aching head.

Mama stood, swaying slightly. A rattling cough tore through her. She turned away, but not before Deirdre saw the fresh spatter of scarlet on her sleeve. “Come along, Deirdre. Let’s finish our work and head on home. It’s fixin’ to come a flood.”





FIVE

GRACELYNN





1931




I wake from the dream, sweat slicking my neck and my heart skittering so fast it might burst. It’s the same dream I’ve had for weeks. Two women in a clearing, before a burning tree. They turn to me as one, their eyes lit with fire, beckoning me. Then the flames burn me up from the inside, blazing with an unearthly heat that lingers even after I wake.

I wipe my brow with the corner of the quilt, careful not to disturb Caro, sleeping next to me in the brass bed. A stir of sound comes from across the room. It’s Morris, rocking back and forth on the floor, trying to pull his britches on without standing up.

“I can hear you,” I rasp. I prop myself up on one elbow. “Better hope your ma’s sleeping deeper than me. She’ll skin you dead.”

Morris smirks in the narrow blade of moonlight coming through the only window. “She ain’t here, so I reckon it’s all right if I sneak out for a spell.”

“What? She ain’t never come home from that revival?”

“Nope.”

Sure enough, there’s no snoring from the loft. The cabin’s silent as a grave. Moonlight shines across the floor in a scatter of pale silver. It must be well past midnight by now. Val had shooed me on home after Bellflower was all finished up with his healing train. It didn’t take a wise man to figure out what was going on. “She’s smitten with that new preacher man. I’d bet she’s already laid up with him.”

“Good. Maybe she wouldn’t be so mean, iffin’ she had somebody.”

“Yeah, but he ain’t just somebody. There’s dark all around him. I had a vision tonight. One like Granny gets.”

“Now don’t you start in with all that horseshit, too.” Morris stands up and stretches. “Them visions ain’t nothin’ to worry over. Half of Granny’s never come to pass.”

“Yeah, but that means half of them do.”

Morris sighs. “You need to stop worryin’ so much and have some fun. Why don’t you come out with me and Seth?”

“What if Caro wakes up and finds me gone? She gets scared if she’s alone.”

“We’ll be back before she gets up. Come on. We’ll go out through the kitchen, so we don’t wake Granny.”

Granny was still sleeping when I got back from Bellflower’s revival. She sometimes slept for a whole day with one of her headaches. She’d likely never know we were gone. “All right.” I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. The springs squeak, and Caro rolls over, smacks her lips, then resettles. I lift myself real slow off the mattress, then pad across the floor on bare feet, following Morris.

We go out into the night, the fog wrapping around our ankles. Morris whistles like a robin. “Y’all need to pick a different bird call,” I rasp. “Somethin’ that actually flies at night. Like a hoot owl or a whip-poor-will.”

Morris chuckles. “You’re probably right, Gracelynn.”

“You know I always am.”

The branches part and Seth comes striding out, all skinny legs and arms. “Brought that lil’ woman, I see.” He runs a hand over his close-cropped fuzz of hair. I look away as Morris leans in to kiss him, fast on the lips. My cheeks flame hot, and I focus on the way the moon slides down low, waxing full as a town whore’s purse. I ain’t used to seeing two men kiss, but I reckon I’d like to do the same with Abby. The thought of her lips on mine warms my blood. Makes my pulse drum in my ears.