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Then one of the other men interrupted. “Just the old witch’s cabin.”
The woman’s posture stiffened, and Luke could tell by the tone of her voice she’d been offended by what they’d said.
“I’m offering one hundred dollars to drive less than four miles. Are you going to help me?”
“Are you saying that’s where you’re going?” Maynard asked.
“Yes.”
Maynard’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t recall your mention of the deceased’s name.”
This time there was no mistaking the tension in the woman’s shoulders.
“My grandmother, Annie Fane.”
Luke winced. He hadn’t grown up here, but he knew the name, and he knew damned good and well that none of these men would go up that mountain with Annie Fane’s body in the back of their truck.
Maynard took off his cap and swiped a hand through his hair, then jammed it back on his head.
“I’m sorry, Missy, but I can’t help you after all.”
When the young woman’s chin began to quiver, Luke sighed. Damn. He never could stand to see a woman cry.
“I have to get my grandmother’s casket up the mountain to be buried. Are you saying you don’t want the job?”
“Yes, ma’am, I reckon I am,” Maynard said.
Before she could ask any of the other men present, they bolted out the door to their trucks and drove away.
Luke was torn between sympathy for the woman and understanding for the men. Superstition was as much a part of these people as the air they breathed. Although he didn’t believe in such gossip, he’d heard plenty of stories about the witch, and the curse she’d put on Jubal Blair and his sons. He watched the woman, wondering what she would do next.
“Is there anyone in this place you could recommend to me?” she asked.
At that point Luke knew she wasn’t going to quit. A part of him admired her persistence, while the rest of him worried what kind of hornet’s nest she was bound to stir up. With the rash of thievery that had been going on in the mountains above Camarune, he already had more trouble than he cared to cope with, but he had always been a sucker for a woman in need.
“Hey, Maynard, can I borrow your truck for about an hour?”
Maynard looked startled, but not as much as the woman, who pivoted suddenly, unaware there had been another man at the back of the room.
“Well, sure, I reckon so,” Maynard said, and started digging out his keys. “But Pete will be through changing the oil in your Blazer pretty soon.”
“Yeah, I know,” Luke said softly, staring intently at the fear on the young woman’s face. “But the patrol car isn’t long enough to hold a casket.”
Maynard cursed beneath his breath as he handed Luke the keys.
“You wash it out before you bring it back,” he muttered. “I don’t want no death marks on it.”
Luke pointed out the window. “You haven’t washed it since the day you bought it. Thanks to the rain, I can guarantee it’ll come back cleaner than when we started.” Then he tipped his Stetson to the woman. “Ma’am, my name is Luke DePriest, sheriff of Taney County. I’ll be glad to help you.”
He felt her relief as her expression softened. “I’ll pay you after we’re there.”
“No charge, ma’am. Consider it part of my job.”
“My name is Catherine Fane,” she said quietly, then took a shuddering breath. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“No need, and I’m sorry for your loss.” Then he put his hand under her elbow and guided her out the door. Within minutes, the transfer had been made from hearse to truck.
“I’ll follow you,” Catherine said, and started to get in her car.
“I’m not sure you’ll be able to drive all the way up,” Luke warned.
“I’ll take it as far as it will go,” she said. “I’ll need a way to get off the mountain when I’m done.”
For the first time since he’d made the offer, Luke wondered how he would get the casket out of the truck. It had been fairly simple to get it from the hearse to the truck bed. He’d just backed the truck up the open door of the hearse and slid it from one to the other, but there was no way he and this slender young woman could lift it out on their own.
“We’re going to need some help unloading,” he said. “And there’s the grave. What about digging the grave?”
Her gaze was steady, her voice confident. “Help will be waiting.”
His eyes rounded. “Are you sure you know what—”
“Just get me and my grannie there and leave the rest up to me.”
He shook his head at the foolhardiness of it all, gave his cargo one last check to make sure it was safely in place, then crawled into the cab of Maynard’s truck. Moments later, he was on the way out of town with the woman not far behind.
As they passed by the city limit sign, the rain began to lessen, and by the time they were out of sight of Camarune, it had stopped.
The relief Catherine felt was overwhelming, but she was starting to shake. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten, and sleep had been scarce this past week. But she’d made her grannie a promise, and she wasn’t about to quit on her now. She’d come this far. She could hold out a little while longer.
And there was another thing—something that had happened to her when she’d seen the man’s face. It had been a true but quiet knowing that he would matter.
“Grannie, do you believe in love at first sight?”
Annie tried not to laugh. It was a pretty serious question from a girl who’d just turned ten.
“Well, now, I suppose that I do,” she said.
Catherine giggled. “Did you know you were in love with Grandpa Billy when you saw him?”
“Lord, no, girl,” Annie said. “But you have to remember that I knew Billy Fane all my life. You don’t fall in love with a boy who puts frogs down your shirt. That comes after he becomes a man.”
Lord, where had that come from? Catherine thought, and then caught herself staring at the breadth of the sheriff’s shoulders in the truck in front of her. Nerves tightened, knotting her belly and bringing tears to her eyes. Oh, Grannie, she thought. I would like to believe in such things as destiny, but I don’t think I do.
It was only after they drove out of town and started up the mountain that she began to take note of her surroundings. The trees over the road were tall and dense, often forming heavy canopies that prevented both rain and sun from getting through. The bare ground that was the road was heavily rutted and in places quite rocky, making her thankful for the durability of her Jeep. The pain between her shoulder blades was moving toward her neck. She took a deep breath, rolling her head to loosen the muscles and hoping it went no farther. She’d had a few migraines before. This wasn’t a day to have one.
The truck ahead slowed down for a pothole. She hit the brakes, waiting while he negotiated the obstacle, and again caught herself focusing on the back of his head and the set of his shoulders. She squinted her eyes, trying to remember what he looked like.
His eyes had been dark, probably brown. And what she’d seen of his hair was thick and short, but she couldn’t remember if it was brown or black. His face was something of a blur, but she had an impression of strong features. What she did remember was his voice. It had been kind. So kind.
Tears spiked, but she blinked them away. She was so tired of crying. But after what Annie had told her, would she ever be able to let go of the pain?
Suddenly, she realized that he’d made it on through. She straightened her shoulders and followed. Gradually, the incline began to steepen. She downshifted once, then again, until she was driving in first gear, bouncing in and out of rock-laden ruts and often just missing being stuck on high center. The forest around her now was so thick it was impossible to see more than a few feet past the trees at the edge of the road. It was daunting to realize how far away from civilization a mere four miles could be. But before she could panic, the truck ahead of her pulled over. She followed suit, wondering if they were already there.
Catherine got out. “What’s wrong?”
Luke was already out and shuffling through the jumble of objects in the truck bed.
“There’s a tree down in the road. Surely Maynard has a…oh, good…here it is.”
Catherine stepped backward, her eyes widening as he hauled a chain saw over the rim of the truck bed.
“What are you going to do?”
He paused, giving her a slow, curious look, then pointed past the truck with his chin.
“Move the tree, ma’am,” he said.
Catherine nodded. As he started to walk away, she hesitated, then spoke.
“Call me Catherine.”
He stopped then turned, giving her the full force of a dark, silent stare. Then he smiled, and she caught a quick flash of white teeth and what looked like a small dimple to the right of his mouth.
“Catherine it is.”
She clasped her hands in front of her stomach to keep them from shaking as he disappeared around the front of the truck.
Grannie, do you believe in love at first sight?
Ignoring her flight of fancy, she stood out of the way, watching as he bent to the task. Moments later, the chain saw roared to life. She leaned against the hood of the Jeep and thrust her hands through her hair, massaging the muscles at the back of her neck. After a bit, the pressure eased. Curious now, she surveyed the area, trying to picture her grandmother traipsing about these woods gathering her herbs.
To her right, a large projection of rock was visible above the tops of the trees, and in the same moment she saw it, she knew it had to be Pulpit Rock. The skin at the back of her neck suddenly crawled. She needed to see—to stand in the place where it had all ended.
But how?
She couldn’t just walk away without telling the sheriff where she was going, yet she needed to do this alone. She stood for a moment, trying to decide what to do, then tilted her chin and headed toward Luke DePriest.
The chain saw vibrated the length of Luke’s arms as the saw blade ate through the wood. The tree was large and would have to be cut in several pieces for him to be able to move it aside. The roots were gnarled and dry. The tree had been here for some time.
The piece he was cutting off suddenly dropped to one side. He grunted with satisfaction and was setting the chain saw aside when Catherine Fane walked into his line of vision.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
She pointed toward Pulpit Rock. “I’m going over there to take a look.”
He frowned. The idea of her wandering off in any direction bothered him, never mind that she was pointing toward Pulpit Rock.
“If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, I’ll go with you,” he said, then wondered at the way her expression blanked.
“No. This is something I’d rather do alone.” Without waiting for him to agree, she walked away.
Luke watched her go, taking careful note of her direction—just in case. The last thing he needed was to have to instigate a search party, especially up here, and especially for her. He doubted if he could round up a half dozen people who would be willing to set foot on this side of the mountain to look for the lost granddaughter of Annie Fane.
Then he remembered what he’d been doing and turned back to the tree. The quicker he got it out of the road, the quicker he could deliver her to the cabin.
The trees were alive with sounds, from the insistent squawk of a blue jay to the chatter of squirrels as they leaped through the leafy branches, using them like a highway as they moved from tree to tree. On another day, this would have been charming, but everything inside her was in knots. Even now, she could hear the echo of her grandmother’s shaky voice, relating the events that had led to her being orphaned.
A couple of minutes passed as she continued to move toward the looming promontory. The closer she got, the denser the trees became. Tension knotted in her belly, and her legs began to shake. Less sunlight filtered through the canopy, which in turn meant less undergrowth beneath the trees. In places she could see bare rock showing through the earth, and the forest was silent, absent of life.
Suddenly she was standing in the clearing and looking up, trying to imagine what freak of nature had created this natural pulpit. It stretched out from the face of the mountain, as if defying gravity, to overlook a spacious meadow. The natural resonance of sound must be amazing in this place. Then her gaze fell to the shadow below the rock, to the place where Grannie had seen her mother die. Sorrow moved through her like a wave.
She walked closer, needing to see—to touch—to be in the place where her parents had died, and as she did, she saw that what she’d taken for shadow was actually barren ground. She knelt, fingering the thick, dark earth and then stood, letting it filter through her fingers, and wondered why nothing grew in earth this rich.
Then she spun, suddenly aware of faint whispers, but there was no one there. In spite of the heat, she shivered as she searched the area for signs of life, but it was as empty as her heart. In the distance, she could see leaves moving in the tops of the trees, and convinced herself that was the source of the sounds. Yet as she turned away, a powerful urge to run overwhelmed her. She didn’t believe in ghosts, but there was a miasma here that had no earthly roots.
“Cath…rine.”
The faint sound of someone calling her name made her jump. She spun, subconsciously expecting to see the specter of Fancy Joslin, but when the sheriff walked out of the trees instead, she silently scolded herself for the fantasy.
“I’m here,” she called back, and as she started toward him, she realized she was glad to see him.
He met her at the edge of the clearing.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “I’ve been calling you for several minutes.”
“Sorry,” she said. “I suppose I was lost in thought.”
He hesitated, then touched her shoulder. “Do you know about this place?”
She hesitated, unwilling to reveal her identity to anyone. “Just what my grannie told me,” she said. “Something about some people dying up here because of a feud.” Then she turned, pointing toward the pulpit. “Isn’t that odd?”
He looked in the direction in which she was pointing, trying to decide what she meant. “Isn’t what odd?”
“That bare spot beneath the pulpit. It’s not rocky like some of the other places up here, and yet nothing grows.”
Luke sighed. What he was going to tell her would only add to the legend, yet the truth of it was there for the world to see.
“It didn’t used to be,” he said. “Story goes that after they carried away all of the bodies, the grass began to die. Supposedly, nothing has taken root there for almost thirty years.”
Catherine blanched as she spun around, looking at the place with new meaning. Unwilling for him to see how the news had upset her, she took a deep breath and turned, and for the first time since she’d walked into the woods, realized that her grandmother’s casket had been left unattended.
“We should be going. I apologize for the delay. Please lead the way. I’ll be right behind you.”
A short while later they were back at the truck. Relieved that her grandmother’s casket was still intact, she ran her fingers along the fine finish on the cherry-wood casket.
“Sorry, Grannie. I didn’t mean to leave you alone.”
“I’m the one who should apologize,” Luke said. “I didn’t think.”
