The Witch of Tin Mountain(51)

I roll my eyes. “I ain’t interested in him that way, Penny.”

The words leave my mouth before I think. Penny’s wide-set brown eyes go a little wider. If I can hear someone’s thoughts whenever I touch them, I’m gonna need to be more careful about what I say in front of people. She moves to the back of the mercantile and tosses a wary glance over her shoulder, like she’s afraid I’ll walk off with half the store while she’s in the other room. When she comes back, she uncaps the bottle and hands it to me. Our fingers brush again. Whole family’s nothin’ but a bunch of inbred corncob hillbillies.

I smile and choke back a laugh. If she knew what I knew about her family tree, she wouldn’t be so proud. Midwives hold more family secrets than a priest at confession. “Was Bellflower with anyone when you saw him?”

“He was with your aunt Valerie.”

“I think they’re courtin’. Seems to be pretty serious.” I take a swig of my cola, enjoying the way it burns a sweet path over my tongue. It’s a rare treat, one I’d normally feel guilty about indulging, but seeing as I just gave Morris all my savings, I don’t feel too bad.

“Ain’t Val a little old for him?”

I smirk. “I do believe he’s much older than he looks.”

Penny huffs and crosses her arms. “You need any other groceries? You were just here the other day.” That’s her not-so-subtle hint for me to get on down the road.

“No, I sure don’t. But thank you anyway.” I raise my bottle and down the rest of the soda, slamming the empty bottle on the counter. “Mighty obliged.”

I step back onto the porch, ignoring the dry-leaf rasp of the old codgers in their rocking chairs, and barrel right into Harlan Northrup. Goddammit. The last person I want to tangle with today.

“Whoa there, Gracie. What’s your rush?” He grins at me with his crooked yellow teeth, steadying me with a hand on my arm. His thoughts tunnel through my brain, unbidden. Look at the sweat runnin’ between them little titties. Bet they’re pink as a pig’s nose.

I gotta figure out a way to control this mind-reading thing. Find a way to turn it off. There’re some folks’ thoughts I never want to hear, and Harlan Northrup is one of them. “What do you want now, Harlan?”

“I was just wonderin’ about your cousin. Heard he got into a fight the other week.”

I feel the color drain from my face. He’s taunting me. I think over my words, knowing whatever I say next could make the difference for Morris. I decide to go along with what I told the marshal. “I ain’t seen him. Last I heard he was headed to Blytheville. He’s seein’ a girl there.”

Harlan smirks. “A girl, huh?” His fingers squeeze my arm. She thinks I don’t know Morris Doherty’s queer as a two-dollar bill?

Bile crawls up my throat. Just then, I wonder if Morris got beat up because he didn’t give the Northrups their full cut of money from the still—or because he likes boys. One is just as likely as the other.

“You and me both know he ain’t in Blytheville.” Harlan grabs me hard by the elbow and marches me under the mercantile’s eaves. He boxes me in, hands on either side of the wall behind my shoulders. The cedar shingles dig into my back. My eyes frantically scan for help, but everyone has disappeared. I could scream, but it’s likely no one would come. Northrups get to do whatever they want in this town.

“You sure are pretty, Gracie,” Harlan hisses, his oily dishwater hair swinging forward as he leers over me. “But you’re stupid. I saw you put Morris on the train this morning. Can’t mistake the sound of Seth’s old truck. I was at the Bakers’ house. Heard it go past. Followed you.”

Oh, shit.

Harlan revels in the panic on my face. He grins and licks his dry, chapped lips. “I think I can keep quiet about Morris, though. For a price.” His hand snakes down and runs up my skirt, grabbing at the flesh above my knee and pinching. Bet she’s such a cocktease ’cause she’s still a virgin.

I shut my eyes, willing myself not to hear the flood of his filthy thoughts. His thumb wanders toward the hem of my necessaries. The world behind my eyes goes a dizzying shade of red and I freeze. Not this. Not again. “I won’t say a word to anyone,” Harlan says, panting in my ear. “No one has to know a thing, not even my pa. We can just tuck away, right over here behind the mercantile, and take care of things real quick.”

Anger and disgust flood through me. No, he’s not going to have me. Not here. Not now, not ever. I can’t believe that Abby’s daddy wants her to marry this slobbering fool. My eyes snap open. I’m ready for a fight. Ready to pull the trump card I’ve been holding close to my chest for months now. “You were at the Bakers’ place, huh? At four o’clock in the morning? You’re still sneakin’ in little Corinne’s window at night, aren’t you? She’s just thirteen, Harlan. She’s too afraid to tell anyone, lessen her daddy lose his job.”

His lips peel back. “You little bitch.” He pulls his hand from under my skirt, and I let out my breath. “You don’t know nothin’ about me or my business.”

“I know lots of things about you. Know you jumped Morris and know your daddy murdered my uncle Rebon, too. If I ever find out where his bones are, I’ll call the real law and you and your gang’ll have hell to pay.” The fire surges through me and I don’t hold it back this time. It curls in my fingertips and slows my heartbeat until my blood pulses like a low, wet wave in my ears. “You best stay away from Corinne, and you damned well better stay away from Abby. You ever touch her the way you just touched me, I’ll kill you, Harlan. Real slow.”