The Witch of Tin Mountain(75)

Sheriff Murphy jerks on my cuffs hard enough to make me stumble. The crowd of masked men jeer. Caro breaks free of Val and runs to me. I try to push back the tears as I lean down and whisper in her ear. “Now, you go on up to Ebba and let her take care of you. Stay away from your mama, you hear? No matter what she says. She’s not right in the head these days. And you stay far away from that Josiah Bellflower. Promise me. He’s rotten to the core.”

“I will, Gracie, I promise.”

“I love you, kid.”

The sheriff jerks my arm, pulls me away.

“Gracie!” Caro hollers again, and the sound of her little voice is almost enough to do me in.

Murphy leads me right past Val on the way to the patrol car. She won’t look me in the eye, but I speak to her anyway. “I hope you’re happy, whorin’ yourself out for that devil,” I hiss. “Because that’s what he is, Val. He don’t care a lick about you.”

Val smirks at me, then starts twisting and yelping, pulling at her dress. “Oh, Lord, she’s burning me up! Just like she burned Harlan!”

And then it’s on. They’re all shouting and carrying on. Somebody throws a handful of pea gravel, and it glances off my forehead. Blood trickles into my eye, but I can’t wipe it away, so it just flows like water from a tap until it turns my vision red and runs over my lips. Sheriff Murphy pushes my head down and shoves me into the back of his car. The seats still smell like Aunt Val’s cheap rose perfume. It makes me gag, and I vomit on the floorboards.

Their ways may have changed, but everything else is the same.

They’ll find a way to burn me, just like Anneliese.

Just like Bellflower wants them to.



I swim up from sleep, my back aching from the razor-thin scrap of mattress. I smell fresh-baked biscuits. My belly claws with hunger. The vomiting has passed, but they ain’t given me hardly anything to eat in four days, only a few crackers and tiny sips of tepid water from a ladle shoved through the bars. Sheriff Murphy’s deputy, Jimmy Adams, sits at his desk, eating biscuits and gravy, staring at me as I go to the corner of the cell and piss in the coffee can they’ve given me as a chamber pot. I’ve seen circus animals treated better than this.

“You gonna feed me today?” I ask, wiping myself with a scrap of newsprint. “Can’t have your accused dying of starvation before you get the satisfaction of your hillbilly trial. Skinny as I am, it won’t take much longer.”

The deputy stops chewing and squares me up with his eyes. “You hush your mouth, girl. You’ll eat when the sheriff says you can eat.”

I shake my head and stalk back and forth. The scent of ashes and smoke comes through the tiny, barred window above my head along with the oppressive, relentless heat. “They finally get that fire out?”

“Not ’fore it got to town. Barely spared the Bledsoe place.”

My trial is in two days. I’m imagining most of the witnesses will be against me, and Bellflower will be judge, jury, and prosecution.

The door to the jailhouse swings open. I blink at the sudden intrusion of light. Abby steps into the jail, dressed in black. She never wears black. She smiles at me sadly, then approaches the desk.

Adams shoves in another mouthful of food. “Mornin’, Miss Abigail. Ain’t your daddy’s funeral today?”

“I’m on my way to the cemetery now. I just came to check in on Gracie. I mean . . . Miss Doherty.”

“She ain’t supposed to have no visitors.”

“I brought her somethin’ I been meaning to give her. That’s all.”

“What is it?”

I peer through the bars as Abby pulls a rolled-up piece of paper from her dress pocket. She unrolls it and hands it to the deputy. “It’s just a star map. I reckon she can see a scrap of night sky from her cell. Might help her pass the time.”

Adams rolls it back up and hands it to Abby. “Fine. You got two minutes, girl. Lemme pat you down, though, first.”

Abby raises her arms as Adams pats her up and down, taking his time around her bosom. I glare at him.

“That’s enough, Jimmy,” Abby says, crossing her arms over her chest.

Adams gives a stiff nod. “Two minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

She rushes toward me, her eyes shining with tears. “Gracie, ain’t they feedin’ you?”

“Nope. Hardly a crumb.” Adams has gone back to his breakfast, his back to us, fat rolls hanging over the top of his pants.

Abby follows my gaze and shakes her head. She leans close to the bars, and I take her hand, just long enough to squeeze her fingers. “I’m real sorry about your daddy.”

She nods. A tear breaks loose and traces down her face. “It was peaceful as it could be.”

“Still . . .”

“Yeah.” She swipes at her eyes.

“I wish I could have been there with you. Wish I could be there today when they lay him under.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be all right.”

“I know you will be. You’re a mountain girl, Abby. We’re made tough.”

Her lip trembles. “I reckon.”

“How’s Granny? Caro?”

“Aunt Ebba’s still there, keepin’ watch. I called on them yesterday. Doc Gallagher came up, checked on your granny while I was there. She’s doing good. Still asleep, but stable.”