The Witch of Tin Mountain(22)

“Is something the matter?” he asked over the roar of the water. He faced her fully. The eerie shine faded from his eyes. A slight smile played on his lips.

“I . . . I thought I saw something.”

He raised a brow. “A trick of the light?”

“Yes,” Deirdre answered, nodding, “that’s all it was.”

She hurried the length of the bridge, eager to escape the shadows and Gentry’s presence. The longer she lingered near him, the more unsettled she became. As they rounded the curving slope, Deirdre caught sight of the cabin, a slender column of smoke threading from the chimney. An even more pleasing sight greeted her as they drew nearer—Pa’s worn leather boots outside the door.

He’d returned, weeks before he was due! They could speak of Robbie and make plans for a summer wedding. The sooner the better. Deirdre had her suspicions that Ingrid’s methods of preventing a pregnancy might prove untrustworthy, and she could no more deny Robbie’s attentions than she could her next breath.

“My pa is home!” Deirdre said over her shoulder to Gentry. “You can meet him. He’ll want to thank you for seeing me safely home.”

Gentry frowned, his eyes narrowing. “If it’s all the same to you, Miss Werner, I’d rather be on my way. I’ll call on you some other day.”

“Oh, we won’t keep you long at all.” Deirdre bounced up the porch steps. She flung open the door and burst inside. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the light. The kitchen was empty.

“Mama! Pa! I’m home. I’m sorry I worried you.”

From the back room, where her parents slept, came a soft whimpering. She heard the bed creak, then a hushed tangle of voices. Her folks were likely renewing their affections, and she was thankful she hadn’t walked in on them, as she had once when she was a girl. The memory was still too keen for her liking.

A few moments later, Mama came rushing down the hall, her hair loose around her shoulders. Her eyes were rimmed red, cheeks puffed and swollen. Pa followed, a tall gaunt shadow in her wake. Deirdre endured Mama’s patting and scolding, then ran to Pa, resting her head against his chest. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Deirdre Jane, you had your mother in fits. I raised you to have more sense than to run out in a storm.”

“I know, Pa, I know. I got turned around in the holler, and it was raining so hard I spent the night up in Garnet Cave. That pastor—Mr. Gentry—saw me home, Mama. He said you sent him and a few of the menfolk out to find me.”

Mama’s brow wrinkled. “I thought of such, but in this storm . . . well, I couldn’t have walked up to that lighthouse to ask for help all on my own, or down to town, neither. I spent the night praying and pacing the floor, until your pa come through at dawn. Perhaps the angels sent Mr. Gentry to find you, Deirdre,” Mama said. “Let’s see him in, husband, so we might thank him.”

“Did you say this man is a preacher?” Pa swore under his breath.

“Yes, a travelin’ healer,” Mama said, grasping his arm. “He laid hands on me and prayed. I haven’t coughed since, Jakob, even with this damp!”

“You might as well have let the devil himself through the door, Nola. I’d a feeling I’d tarried too long away.” Pa pulled away from Mama, strode to the hearth, and took down his long gun.

“Jakob!” Mama rushed toward Pa. Her expression shifted from confusion to fear. “Surely there’s no cause for your gun.”

A wash of panic flooded Deirdre. “Pa! What are you doing?”

“Deirdre, you stay in this house with your mother.”

“Jakob!” Mama screeched. “This is foolishness!”

Deirdre had never seen Pa so het up. He slapped his hat on his head and stormed out the door, his rifle cocked and ready. Deirdre rushed to the window and parted the lace curtains. As far as she could tell, Gentry had already rushed off on his long legs and was likely halfway to Sutter’s holler by now. Pa paced the garden, scanning the tree line, then disappeared around the side of the house, cursing the whole way.

“Lands, Mama, what’s got into him?”

“I’m not rightly sure.” Mama came to her side, twisting her garnet rosary. “All that man did was pray over me and see you home. I hope Jakob won’t do anything foolish. He has a reckless streak when it comes to you, daughter.”

A rifle shot cracked and echoed across the hillside. Deirdre flinched. A moment passed by, then another. Pa burst in the door, out of breath. “I saw him. Shot at him and missed. He ran, like a coward. He won’t be gone for long, though. That coat you’re wearing—is it his, poppet?”

Deirdre looked down at the wool greatcoat that had kept her modest and warm. “Yes, I reckon so.”

“Take it off and I’ll burn it. Anything else he gave to you, likewise.”

Though she was confused, Deirdre hurriedly shrugged the coat to the floor. Pa gathered it up and tossed it into the hearth. The heavy wool caught and flamed hot, sending a shower of sparks onto the floor.

“Jakob! What’s gotten into you?” Mama said, stomping them out. “You’re half-mad!”

“There are things you don’t understand, Nola. Things I’ve seen that you can’t know the half of.” Pa poured a mug of cider and topped it off with his flask before passing it to Deirdre with shaking hands. “Drink, poppet.” She took a warm swallow, tasting the bite of whiskey on its tail. “Did he touch you? Did he hurt you, in any way?”