Aunt Jinny had been right; aside from a few oddities, like stuffed animal skins on the floor to sit on, colorful patterns painted on the side of the stove, not much furniture, and more furs than blankets, this cabin could not have been told from the one she lived in. The walls were as full of shelves with things stored on them as Jinny’s walls were. Except that none of the windows had glass. But then, she knew plenty of houses in Soddy that didn’t have glass either.
In fact, now that she thought about it, she should have been surprised that Aunt Jinny’s cabin did.
The cabin held five people: Old Raven, a woman who looked about the same age, a young woman who Anna assumed was Young Raven’s wife, and two children, a toddler and a baby. The old woman was fixing something at the stove, the young woman assisting her with the baby slung on her back, and the toddler was being amused with a carved figure of a horse by Old Raven, with both of them on the floor on a bearskin. Anna paused in the doorway, not exactly sure what to do now, and not wanting to offend anyone. Because suddenly that seemed to be the most important thing, that she not offend any of these gracious people who were hiding her from someone who was dangerous to them all, not just her.
“Be welcome to our house,” said Old Raven. “Please come in, and sit down. If your aunt does not manage to rid herself of McDaran in a reasonable length of time, we would be pleased if you would share our evening meal and rest with us through the night. And, indeed, you may stay as long as it takes your aunt to be rid of the wretched creature.”
“Thank you, grandfather,” she said. She came in and gingerly took a seat on a stuffed deerskin. The toddler turned to look at her, but found his horse much more interesting.
Young Raven went to a shelf and came back with an actual glass mirror. “This will do reasonably well for all of us to watch with the eyes of an eagle,” he said, laying it on the floor where all three of them could look at it. “It is made of sand, which is earth, forged in fire, which is my power, and Father can use anything he cares to. So let us all see what we can see.”
She assumed that meant she was to contribute to the effort by using the magical tools she knew to add to the scrying session. So she felt for one of those lines of power—and without any surprise found one running right under the village. She felt the shield that Young Raven had spoken of, and that it was using some of that power, but there was plenty more to spare. She teased a little magic away from it, drew it up through the earth into her hands, let the power fill the mirror, then wrote the glyph for “seeing” over it, keeping her Aunt Jinny firmly in her mind as she did so.
The mirror misted over, and then suddenly filled with an image. It was as if she was a bird above her aunt’s cabin; her aunt was down at the stile, and facing off against her, on the other side of the stile, was Billie McDaran.
He had dismounted and was holding his horse by the reins, but tightly, just under the poor thing’s mouth, grinding the bit down into the lower jaw. As Anna concentrated on them, it was as if the “bird” swooped closer to land just above her aunt’s head, and thin voices came into her head in such a way that she couldn’t tell if she was actually hearing them or if they were in her mind. Her excitement at finally being able to master scrying to this extent was tempered by what they were saying.
“ . . . we both know y’all didn’t come up here fer potions, McDaran,” her aunt was saying.
McDaran laughed. It sounded mocking, and it grated on her nerves. “A’course not, ole woman,” he replied rudely. “I heerd y’all got a visitor. Damn shame y’all didn’ let me know so’s I could pay a visit. Reckoned as how I’d make her welcome anyway.”
“Iffen y’all mean m’half-sister’s gel, she ain’t here,” her aunt said shortly.
“Oh, be careful, Virginia,” Old Raven muttered. “A word of falsehood and he will have power over you.”
“Where is she, then?” McDaran countered.
“Dunno.” Aunt Jinny’s face was giving nothing away. “Had her here t’mend her up. She was sickly. Now she’s well, an’ she ain’t here.”
“Wall, thet may be true,” said McDaran. “But I heerd y’all was a-settin’ her up like y’all was her own Ma.”
“Her own Ma ain’t got a pot t’piss in,” Jinny said rudely. “Am I s’pposed t’let her look like a scarecrow? What would folks thank iffen I didn’t do right by my kin? So while she was here, I set her up with some stuff fer new close, on account’a she ain’t niver been provided for proper. Gel did her own sewin’, so it weren’t like it was work fer me.”
Old Raven let out a sigh of relief. “The exact truth, and just enough of it,” he breathed.
“Reckon y’all heerd about it from Abby at th’ mercantile,” her aunt continued. “Wall, let me tell y’all, Billie McDaran, this is the damn truth. Her Pa was dead set against her comin’ here in the fust place. He figgers a gel b’longs with her own fambly, helpin’ her Ma as God intended. Must’a taken her Ma movin’ Heaven’n earth t’ allow her t’ come in the fust place. An’ he wanted her back soon’s she was well.”
That was all true too. Anna found herself nodding her head. The fact that she hadn’t returned home had no bearing on what Pa wanted.
“So, ’fraid y’all come all this way fer nothin’, McDaran,” her aunt said, sounding very final. “She ain’t here. Y’all might as well go back t’ yore dinner.”
“Somehow I don’t b’lieve y’all is tellin’ me the whole truth, Jinny,” the big man replied, eyes narrowing. His fist tightened on the poor horse’s reins, and it froze in pain. He looked at Jinny as if he would have liked to beat her, if he could just get the chance.
“Ain’t one word I tol’ y’all thet’s a lie,” Jinny said flatly. “An’ y’all know thet’s a fact.” She glared back at him, challenging him. “I knows y’all been a-testin’ thet, an’ y’all knows I ain’t lied. Not one word.”
“And what if I decide t’stay here an’ see if the gel turns up?” he challenged in his turn.
“Y’all c’n stay on thet side’a the stile till hell freezes over iffen thet’s what y’all wanter do,” her aunt countered with a shrug. “Y’all ain’t a friend, so I ain’t ’bout t’ go outa my way fer y’all. Mebbe I’d call y’all a customer. I don’ let jest any old person crost my threshold. An’ I didn’ make ’nuff supper fer a guest.”
He guffawed at that. “I et good beefsteak an’ taters fer dinner an’ supper ev’ damn day! Y’all thank I’m a-hankerin’ fer beans an’ hoecake?”
“When y’all’s been a-standin’ there till th’ sun goes down, an’ yore belly’s plumb up agin’ yore backbone, an’ yore a-smellin my good cornbread, I reckon y’all’d beg on yore knees fer a chitlin’,” she retorted. “An’ I ain’t a-feedin’ y’all, an’ I ain’t lettin’ y’all over the threshold. So y’all c’n stand there an’ wait an’ starve, an’ then stand there in th’ dark till dawn, an’ then figger out how y’all is gonna excuse yerself t’ the mine boss when y’all ain’t there on time.” She smirked. “It do git cold up here at night. An’ y’all don’ seem t’ hev brought yoreself so much’s a blanket.”
McDaran’s face turned almost purple with rage, and his free hand clenched and unclenched spasmodically. For a moment, Anna was afraid that he was somehow going to get past the shield and to hit her aunt anyway. Jinny just stared at him fearlessly, not moving an inch.
“Y’all ain’t heerd th’ last of this, Jinny Alscot!” he roared, shaking his fist in the air. “Don’t think y’all hev!”
And with that, he wrenched the poor horse’s head around, flung himself into the saddle, and spurred the beast so viciously that it leapt into a gallop from a standing start.
They watched as Jinny watched him disappear into the distance, then strode up the path between her garden plots up to the cabin.
The mirror misted over, and Anna thought that was all there was going to be. But neither Raven moved, and after a
while it misted again, and her aunt’s anxious face peered up at them. The anxious look cleared immediately.
“You got Anna,” she said in Cherokee. “Good. Did you see McDaran?” she asked.
“Most of it, I think.” Old Raven was the one to answer.
She shook her head. “I wish I hadn’t made him angry, because he holds grudges, but maybe he’ll concentrate on his anger and not on looking for Anna.”
“I think we should keep her overnight, just to be sure he does not return,” Young Raven suggested. “I would not be surprised that he should tie the horse up halfway down the lane, and come creeping back in the dusk to see if Anna returns to your home.” Then Young Raven smiled. “But if he does that, he will either have to beg transport of Matt Holcroft, or walk, because the Little People would enjoy untying his horse and sending it back to its stables.”
Jinny cackled. “I do reckon that the horse would be right pleased if that were to happen. You don’t mind keeping Anna for the night, then?”
The old woman, who up until this moment had not spoken, leaned over Old Raven’s shoulder. “And are you insulting my hospitality and manners, Virginia Alscot?”
Aunt Jinny finally laughed, if weakly. “No, Dawn Greeter. I most certainly am not. Thank you kindly.”
“We will bring her back to you in the morning. And if he does stay, we will keep her with us for as long as it takes for him to tire of waiting fruitlessly,” said Old Raven, and waved his hand over the mirror. It became a mirror again, and Anna became aware that every muscle in her body was taut with tension.
“Now you will discover if you like Cherokee food,” the old woman said to her, conversationally.
“I will be grateful and thankful for Cherokee food, grandmother, and you are generous to share with me and make me your guest,” Anna replied.
The old woman cocked her head at her husband. “She has good manners,” she said, and went back to the stove.
A few moments later, she and the younger woman served the three of them a wooden platter, which had some round fried dough-balls and some fried rabbit on it, with some fried squash to fill out the meal. Under other circumstances, she’d have been eager to try it, but right now all she could think about was Billie McDaran, and that he was out there, trying to find her. And for no good purpose, she was sure.
17
IN the end, she stayed three anxious days with the Cherokee, because the Little People came to warn them for three days in a row that McDaran was lurking around her aunt’s home. Fortunately the piskies were still willing to carry notes between her and Josh, so she managed to tell him what was going on. The Raven family didn’t have any paper, nor anything to write with, but Dawn Greeter suggested the ingenious solution of sewing a few words into a cornhusk with bits of colored thread unraveled from the edges of thriftily saved rags. Cornhusks there were in plenty, and Josh’s equally short replies came back on paper she saved to use later if she needed to. Those replies made her worry, because things like Stay safe, can’t tawk now were not exactly reassuring.
Dawn Greeter and Young Raven’s wife Moon Daughter found plenty for her to do, and she was not backward in doing as many chores as they set her, but she was anxious the entire time. If she hadn’t been so anxious she probably would have enjoyed the novelty of some of it—weeding in the garden was the same, and so was preparing harvested vegetables and drying them—but she learned how to grind corn in a stone bowl, learned how to make the corn-and-bean balls she’d been served the first night, and learned how to sew leather. Night-times were very different—everyone in the family, including her, was expected to pile together on skins and under blankets, on the floor, fully clothed. If anyone woke during the night, they often chatted to one another, or told stories, or sang to soothe the children. Old Raven told many stories in the evenings, anyway; some of them just seemed to be for the benefit of the children, but others were clearly tales with magic lessons, meant for her.
But her anxiety ramped up the longer she was kept away, and it was with great relief that the Little People finally reported that McDaran had abandoned his watch on the cabin and had returned to Ducktown. Young Raven volunteered to guide her home, and she could never have imagined she’d be so happy to see her aunt’s weathered face as they came around the side of the cabin and climbed over the stone wall.
In fact, she practically flew the last few yards and threw her arms around Jinny in a spontaneous embrace, much to Jinny’s consternation—and, if the look in her eyes was to be believed, pleasure.
“I missed y’all so much!” she cried.
“Huh. Reckon y’all missed my cookin’. Hello, Young Raven,” Jinny replied, around Anna’s hair.
“Greetings, grandmother,” Young Raven said, gravely. “I bring Anna back. Now I must return. But if the evil one should come back, do not hesitate to send one of the Little People to warn us, and you, Anna, flee further into the Holler. It does not matter where you go, the Little People will be able to find you and bring us to you.”
“I will,” they said at the same time. “Thenkee kindly, nephew,” Jinny concluded. Anna didn’t hear him leave, but the next time she looked, he was gone.
“Y’all reckon McDaran’s a-comin’ back?” she asked, letting go of her aunt.
“Don’t rightly know,” Jinny said, clearly worried. “There’s somethin’ a-goin’ on thet I cain’t fathom. Dunno why he’d come all the way out here, then set down thar in the lane, waitin’ fer three whole days. I ain’t niver seed him stir his stumps fer nothin’ afore, an’ now, thar he is, jest waitin’ fer a gel he ain’t niver seed an’ knows nothin’ ’bout.” She shook her head. “Wall, let’s git yore bath an’ some clean close on y’all, since I knowed y’all been a-sleepin’ on th’ floor.”
“It weren’t ’xactly on th’ floor,” Anna temporized, but she was glad enough of the offer. Not that she’d gone unbathed—the women and children would go for a splash in a little pond that managed to get less-than-freezing by mid-afternoon. That was where they beat the dirt out of their clothing with rocks, then lounged in the water until their clothing dried. But it wasn’t the same as a bath with soap, and she’d gotten used to Jinny’s cleanliness regime.
As her hair dried in the sun, she was able to send a message to Josh via a piskie that she’d come see him the next day, and was relieved to get his almost immediate reply that he couldn’t hardly wait. In the back of her mind there had been a fear that after having her there so much, he’d have found he missed his privacy, but it appeared that wasn’t the case. But once that worry was out of the way . . . her stomach started to knot up again. What did McDaran mean by coming here? Did he think he could just snatch her out from under her aunt’s protection?
“Who d’y’all reckon tol’ McDaran ’bout me?” she asked Jinny over supper. Jinny just shook her head.
“Dunno. Mebbe Abby at th’ mercantile. Mebbe Cooper at th’ Company store. But I wouldn’t’a thunk Cooper, on account of I reckon he’s still tore up ’bout losin’ thet baby, an’ likely ain’t thinkin’ of anythin’ else.” She shook her head. “Ain’t no use worritin’ ’bout it. Makes more sense t’figger out what we’re a-gonna do ’bout it if he keeps comin’ ’round. An’ figger what in tarnation he wants. He’s gotter know I ain’t a-gonna let him meddle with y’all.”
Jinny had made hoecakes with honey, and Anna sucked the honey off her spoon while she considered that. “Mebbe he figgers he’s sech a handsome feller, it won’t matter what y’all want, on account’a I’m likely t’ take a shine to him?” she suggested.
Jinny hesitated. “I’m afeerd there’s more to it then thet,” she said finally. “He’s a powerful strong magician. Prolly a Marster. An’ when Marsters turn t’the bad, like as not they start lookin’ fer people with the Glory thet they c’n use. Thet might could be th’ answer. He might reckon y’all’s here as my ’prentice.”
“So you reckon he�
��s done figgered out I got magic all on his own?” she asked.
Jinny shrugged. “Makes sense thet he’d show up now—it’d take his thick haid this long t’figger thet out fer his own self. An’—wall, thet’s where my figgerin’ sorta falls apart. ’Cause there’s a lotta mebbes. Mebbe he reckons t’offer t’take y’all as his ’prentice—’course thet’d end bad fer y’all, but he’d reckon y’all wouldn’t know thet. An’ he’d figger he could use thet power of his’n t’ jest twist y’all round his liddle finger even if I’d tol’ y’all ’bout him.”
“Reckon mebbe he figgers I’d jest go, ‘Oh, she’s a old biddy, she’s jest jealous he’s a-payin’ court t’me’?” she ventured.
“Thet do sound like his thankin’,” Jinny agreed darkly. “He’s a snake, an’ he do thank there ain’t a female critter can resist him. But thet’s th’ prollem. Like I done said, he’s powerful strong. He might could get y’all a-dazzled and bewildered, an’ I wouldn’ be able to pertect y’all.”
Anna hesitated, then said what she was thinking. “Jolene says I’m a-gonna be powerful strong too. Mebbe I c’n keep him off . . .”
“All th’ more reason why he’d come sniffin’ ’round here now. He’s figgerin’ t’ git his claws inter y’all afore y’all can defend yoreself,” her aunt said bleakly. “We gotter figger us out some plans.”
“Mebbe there’s somethin’ in Great-Granpappy’s book I c’n use,” she said after a moment.
Her aunt blinked, as if that had not occurred to her. “Mebbe. I ain’t one fer readin’ so I niver done more’n glance a bit at it,” she admitted. “Y’all take it up on th’ stove an’ hev a read. I’ll call out the Domovoy an’ see iffen he c’n thank of anythin’.”
She skipped over the part she would really rather have read—about how Pavel had met with Eagle Sight and the Cherokee up in the Holler for the very first time, how they had forged an alliance, and how the entire band had worked together to raise a cabin and make a garden for him in two days in return for his help in designing and building their new stone stoves. She even (mostly) skipped over the part where, no sooner had the mortar cured and the first fire lit in his stove, the Domovoy from his destroyed house back in Roosha crawled out from under it and made itself known to him.
Jolene Page 29