The Girl Named Mud: A Gripping Suspense Novel

by Ditter Kellen

  Mud had trusted no one but her mama. And yet… She wasn’t terrified of Grace. Was Grace controlled by the Devil like the others? According to Flora, they all were. But the Devil was dead, wasn’t he? Mud had buried him.

  Well, Mud didn’t plan on sticking around to find out. She would run the first chance she got. She needed to bait her traps and bring the rainwater in before the animals got to it.

  The van came to a stop outside a large white house. Mud remembered seeing the house when she’d slipped into the village in search of food.

  The driver of the van got out, took a few steps, and then slid the side door open. Her dark brown eyes warily assessed Mud. “We’re here.”

  Mud’s heart began to pound hard enough she was sure the driver could hear it.

  And then, Grace stepped from the house, a soft smile on her face, and some of Mud’s apprehension dissipated. Some. Not all.

  “Hi, Mud. I’m so glad you’re here.” Grace held out a hand.

  Part of Mud wanted to accept the hand offered to her, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. Her mama wouldn’t have wanted her to.

  Lowering her gaze, Mud slid off the seat and dropped to the ground next to Grace. She kept her attention focused on a rock lying close to the woman’s foot and waited to see what would happen next.

  “Okay then,” Grace gently whispered. “Well, let’s go inside, shall we? I cooked us a nice dinner.”

  Mud’s stomach growled on cue.

  Keeping her head down, she followed alongside Grace and entered the house behind her.

  The smell of food hit Mud instantly. She wanted to run through that place until she found the source of that smell. But she didn’t. Grace would probably be horrified.

  Of course, what did she care if Grace were horrified? But she did. A small part of her did.

  Grace slowly crouched down until Mud was forced to look at her. “I bought you some things in town. We can go through them as soon as you’ve eaten. You must be hungry.”

  Man, was she ever, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to admit it. She simply stood there, unmoving.

  “Okay. The kitchen is this way.” Grace rose to her full height and made her way into the next room.

  Mud hesitated, her gaze touching on everything around her, from the clean furniture scattered throughout the room to the large stones against the far wall. From the ashes residing in the bottom, Mud knew it to be where Grace built her fires.

  And then, she noticed the wooden-framed faces resting along the top of the stones as well as hanging on the wall.

  Mud’s mama had shown her pictures before, when she would return from the village with a few stolen newspapers. But Mud had never seen any as lifelike as the ones she looked upon now.

  One of the pictures showed a man standing behind Grace, his hand resting on her shoulder. Mud wondered who he was. More importantly, where he was. She shivered.

  “Hey,” Grace softly called, her face appearing in Mud’s peripheral. “I made you a plate. Would you like to come eat with me? I’m awfully hungry.”

  Mud was hungry as well. She nodded sharply and moved in the direction Grace indicated.

  The kitchen was a spacious, brightly lit area, with pots hanging from the ceiling, and pictures of roosters hanging on the walls. A tall silver box stood across the room, similar to the one Mud had stolen the meat from at the eatery. Only, that box had been glass.

  Grace stopped next to a large, round table and pulled out a chair. “You can sit here.”

  Mud did as Grace instructed, mostly because she was too hungry not to. A plate rested in front of her, containing some kind of delicious-smelling meat, potatoes, and carrots. And potatoes were her favorite.

  There was also bread. Mud recognized it as a biscuit. Her mama had made them on special occasions when she would bring back flour from the village.

  “If you’ll bow your head, I’ll say the blessing over the meal,” Grace softly suggested, taking a seat across from Mud.

  More confusion settled inside Mud. If Grace were a bad person, why would she pray over the food? According to Flora, God was good, where the Devil was bad.

  Though Mud lowered her head, she kept her eyes open. She would never close her eyes in the company of strangers. No matter how nice they appeared to be.

  Grace began her prayer. “Heavenly Father, we thank you for this food we are about to eat and for bringing Mud into our lives. We also thank you for seeing to it that she’s on her way to recovery. In Jesus’s name we pray. Amen.”

  More than a little puzzled by Grace’s actions, Mud kept her head down until she heard the woman pick up her drink.

  Unable to wait a minute longer, Mud snatched up her piece of meat and tore into it with her teeth.

  She glanced up to find Grace smiling back at her. “I knew you were hungry.”

  Mud didn’t comment. Mostly because she didn’t know how to respond.

  Chapter Nine

  Grace watched Mud eat as if she were a starving animal. It broke her heart to think that she could be that hungry. It also puzzled her that Mud ate with her fingers, bypassing her fork and spoon. Surely the girl knew how to use utensils. Didn’t she?

  “Mud?”

  Mud stopped chewing but didn’t look up from her plate, her tangled and matted hair hiding her eyes.

  “Would you like me to show you an easier way to do that?”

  That brought the girl’s head up. She stared back at Grace with a curious yet wary expression.

  Grace slowly picked up her own spoon and scooped up some mashed potatoes. She then brought it to her mouth and took a bite. After swallowing, she said, “See? Much easier. Now, you try.”

  Mud picked up her spoon. She adjusted it in her hand, obviously attempting to hold it the way Grace held hers. After a couple of tries, she seemed to have it down.

  More than a little stunned by the knowledge that Mud didn’t know how to use utensils, Grace took another drink of her tea and then went back to her meal.

  Once Mud finished her plate, Grace offered her a second helping, only to be surprised when the young girl shook her head. Of course, with Mud being as thin as she was, her stomach undoubtedly couldn’t hold any more.

  “Would you like some ice cream, Mud?”

  Flicking a glance in Grace’s direction, Mud asked, “What’s ice cream?”

  Grace’s heart cracked. She cleared her throat and stood. “Only the best thing you’ll ever taste in your life. I’ll show you.”

  Taking the chocolate ice cream down from the freezer, Grace dipped them both a bowl and moved back to the table.

  She placed Mud’s down in front of her and handed her a clean spoon. “Take small bites, else you’ll get brain freeze.”

  “What’s brain freeze?”

  “Something you definitely don’t want,” Grace responded with a chuckle.

  The look of sheer joy on that girl’s face when she took her first bite of ice cream nearly choked Grace up once more. But she pretended not to notice.

  Once their bowls were empty, Grace loaded their dishes into the dishwasher and motioned for Mud to follow her through the house.

  She stopped outside the room Mud would sleep in and pushed the door wide. “This will be your bedroom while you’re here.”

  Mud stood there in the borrowed clothes the hospital had discharged her in. Probably thanks to Beulah. “This is mine?”

  “Yes. Come on, I have a few things for you.” Grace entered the room ahead of Mud, understanding that the child was scared and insecure.

  She opened the closet, took down a pretty pink dress, and held it up for Mud to see.

  Mud’s eyes grew large. She took a hesitant step forward, stopping just inside the door. “That’s mine?”

  Again, Grace’s heart cracked. “It sure is.” She hung the dress back up and took down a yellow one similar to the first one. “Do you like this one?”

  Mud inched closer, her palms now running up and down the sides of her thighs. “It-it’s
like the sun.”

  Grace turned back to the closet, afraid that Mud would see the tears no doubt swimming in her eyes. “I’m glad you like it. There are several more, but we can look at them once you’ve had a shower.”

  “A shower?” Mud whispered, fear and uncertainty in her voice.

  Grace realized that the child had no idea what a shower was. And from the looks of her, she’d never had one in her life. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  She inched by Mud, careful to stay a good distance so as to not frighten her, and trailed slowly across the hall to the spare bathroom.

  Bending next to the tub, Grace started the water, adjusting it to a nice, warm temperature, and then straightened to find Mud still standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

  “It won’t hurt you,” Grace patiently explained, motioning the terrified girl forward.

  Mud glanced up and down the hall before cautiously crossing over into the bathroom.

  Grace showed her the workings of the shower, explaining how the shampoo was to be used, as well as the soap and a washcloth.

  Mud only stood there, obviously confused by it all.

  “Would you like me to help you?” Grace offered, being sure to stand back far enough that Mud wouldn’t feel threatened by her presence.

  After a long moment of silence, Mud finally nodded. “Okay.”

  Chapter Ten

  Mud nervously stripped out of the clothes she’d gotten from a nurse at the hospital, all the while watching Grace from the corner of her eye.

  She inched closer to that tub, fascinated by the water spraying down from the roof area.

  Knowing that the water would be cold, Mud held her breath and stepped over the side of the tub.

  Warmth hit her shoulders, nearly scaring her back to the floor of that bathroom.

  “Is it too hot?” Grace rushed out, quickly stepping forward.

  Mud shook her head. “It-it scared me. I ain’t never seen water coming from a roof. And it ain’t cold.”

  Grace turned away to busy herself with something behind her, but not before Mud noticed the sadness that sprang into her eyes. Why would Mud’s words make the woman sad?

  Clearing her throat, Grace spun back around. “Okay, would you like me to help you wash your hair?”

  Flora had shown Mud how to remove the dirt from her hands and face, using one of the bowls they’d used to catch rainwater. But Mud couldn’t remember her ever washing her hair. “Why do we have to wash my hair?”

  Grace paused, seeming to choose her words. “Well, because it gets dirty just like the rest of our bodies. Haven’t you ever washed your hair before?”

  Mud shook her head.

  “May I show you how?”

  “Okay.”

  Grace nodded toward a bottle resting on a shelf on the wall of the shower. “Will you hand me that shampoo?”

  Mud reached for the bottle, only to still when Grace murmured, “Not that one. The one next to it. That one is conditioner.”

  Having no idea what conditioner meant, Mud handed Grace the correct bottle.

  “Okay, Mud, back up under the water until your hair is completely wet.”

  Doing as Grace instructed, Mud wet her hair. It felt amazing.

  “That’s good. Now step forward so I can apply the shampoo. You must keep your eyes closed because the shampoo will burn them if it gets in them. Do you understand?”

  Mud stepped forward, keeping her eyes tightly shut. Odd that she wasn’t afraid of Grace. Maybe Grace was one of the only ones in the village not controlled by the Devil.

  The feel of Grace’s fingers in her hair felt foreign but good. Mud’s mama had never done such a thing.

  Too soon, Grace asked her to step back under the spray of the water. “Now, you can move forward a bit and open your eyes.”

  And on it went, with Grace teaching Mud the proper way to bathe and then turning off the shower and handing her a towel to dry herself with.

  Once Mud was completely dry, Grace sprayed something in her hair. “This is detangler. You have lots of knots we need to work out.”

  Mud stood very still, staring at herself in a large mirror that held her reflection. She had seen a piece of mirror that Flora had brought back from the village, but it wasn’t nearly as big as the one she gazed into now.

  After what seemed forever, Grace blew out a frustrated-sounding breath. “We’re going to have to cut some of the knots out, Mud. Are you all right with that?”

  Mud jerked back. Grace was going to take a knife to her hair. She wasn’t sure about the woman being too close to her face with a blade. She might trust Grace a little but not that much.

  “I won’t hurt you,” Grace softly assured her. “Here, let me show you.”

  Mud watched Grace open a drawer and remove a strange-looking contraption. It appeared as if two blades had been pressed together.

  Grace sent her a smile. “They’re called scissors.” She lifted the contraption to her shoulder, picked up a small lock of her red hair, and then snipped off a piece. “See? No pain at all.”

  Staring in wonder, Mud inched back to her previous position of looking at herself in the mirror.

  Grace stepped up behind her. “Hold as still as you can, and I’ll be done momentarily.”

  A short time later, and Grace was done. “There. Now let’s get dressed.”

  Mud knew she was to follow Grace back to the bedroom, but she couldn’t seem to look away from her reflection. “I wish Mama could’ve had a warm bath like that. She woulda loved it so much.”

  Grace had stopped at the bathroom door and now stared at Mud in the mirror. “Tell me what happened to your mother, Mud.”

  “I told ya. The Devil killed her.”

  Grace grew quiet for a moment. “How did the Devil kill her?”

  Mud’s stomach rolled over, just as it did every time she thought of that fateful day. She swallowed around the nausea threatening to come up. She didn’t want to talk about her mama dying, or the Devil, for that matter. But Grace was expecting an answer. She could see it in her eyes. “He killed her with…a knife.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Grace was horrified by Mud’s admission. If what the young girl said was true, then she’d witnessed a murder. And not just any murder, but the slaying of her own mother. “You saw the Devil kill your mother?”

  Mud nodded but lowered her gaze.

  Grace couldn’t help but stare. The transformation a shower produced was astonishing. Underneath all the dirt and matted hair, Mud was actually a beautiful young girl.

  “Why do you think it was the Devil who hurt your mother?” Grace hated to ask, but given the circumstances, she had no choice.

  Mud lifted her gaze. The hard look in her eyes took Grace by surprise. “’Cause Mama said he was coming. He was looking for me.”

  Grace’s heart began to pound. She motioned for Mud to follow her across the hall to the bedroom.

  Opening drawers, she began to pull out a pair of underwear and a nightgown she’d bought before Mud’s arrival.

  Handing Mud the items, she casually asked, “How long ago did your mother die?”

  Mud pulled on the underwear and tugged the nightgown over her head. “I ain’t sure.”

  Confused, Grace asked, “You don’t know how long ago your mother died?”

  Mud shook her head. “I can’t tell time.”

  Grace’s heart ached even more. “I’ll teach you how to tell time.”

  “You will?” Mud asked in a small voice.

  “I will. I promise.” Broaching the subject of her mother’s death once more, Grace tried to keep her voice as casual as possible. “Can you tell me about the Devil? Maybe what he looked like?”

  Mud tugged the T-shirt over her head. “His hair was dark like mine. Mama taught me some colors, so I know his eyes was green.”

  Grace filed that information away. She also noticed the girl’s speech. She spoke as if she’d had very little schooling, if any at all. “You to
ld me before that you killed the Devil. How did you manage to do that?”

  “With my knife,” Mud stated proudly. “I stuck him in the back a bunch of times until he stopped moving.”

  Swallowing with more than a little difficulty, Grace whispered, “Then what happened?”

  “I rolled him off Mama so I could drag him outside. He had something on his body I ain’t never seen before.”

  Grace’s breath momentarily hung up in her lungs. “What did he have on his body?”

  Mud pointed to the juncture of her thighs. “It was ugly like his innards had come out.”

  Grace knew exactly what Mud referred to. She only prayed the man who’d killed her mother hadn’t hurt Mud as well. “He didn’t…touch you with it, did he?”

  Mud’s gaze turned inward. “He had it on Mama. I don’t know what he was doing to her with it. It don’t make no sense. And all the blood that was coming from her neck…”

  Everything came together in Grace’s mind in that moment. Mud had walked up on a man raping her mother. And she’d killed him.

  Hoping to bring Mud out of the horrific scene she was no doubt caught up in, Grace moved to kneel before her. “What was your mother’s name?”

  “Flora,” Mud whispered, her gaze now locked on Grace. “Mama’s name was Flora.”

  Something about that name triggered a memory in Grace’s mind. And then it hit her. The woman who’d burned down their church all those years ago. She wondered if that had been Mud’s mother. Grace sure hoped not. The Flora who’d destroyed their church had been completely insane and wanted by the tribal police, since the church had legally belonged to them.

  Grace sent Mud a reassuring smile. “That’s a pretty name. How about a last name?”

  Confusion was instant. Grace could see it in Mud’s eyes.

  “Last name?” Mud asked in a quiet voice.

  Grace nodded. “Everyone has a last name. Take mine for instance. My name is Grace Holloway.”

  Mud shook her head. “I ain’t got no last name. Mama didn’t neither.”

  “That’s okay, Mud. I’m only asking so that we can do some research and hopefully find your family, if you have one. Do you remember ever meeting any of your mother’s relatives?”