Some Dark Holler

by Luke Bauserman

  The reverend trailed off as he saw the group entering at the rear of the church.

  Ephraim’s heart knocked against his ribs. All those eyes, eyes of folks ready to hang him. He swallowed hard and stepped up next to Reuben. Murmurs rippled through the congregation.

  “Well, well,” the reverend said. “A witch, a vagabond, and a murderer. And you, Miss Coleman?”

  Nancy raised the fire poker and jabbed it toward the pulpit. “The day ye ran me out of this church, I told everyone the whirlwind was a-comin’. Well, now it’s here! Your undoin’ is at hand, preacher man!”

  Ernest Williams and several other men got to their feet and started toward the granny woman, pulling pistols out of their belts.

  Nancy closed her eyes and waved the poker. A fierce gust of wind whooshed into the church, rattling the open doors. “Ye wrongdoers, I conjure ye!” she said, her voice filling the chapel. “I seek refuge beneath the tree that bears twelvefold fruit, and conjure ye with the curse of the trotter head!”

  Isabel looked at Ephraim, eyes wide.

  “I bind your eyes that ye may hear, but not see! I bind your ears that ye may see, but not hear!” The wind blasted again, turning the pages of Boggs’s Bible on the pulpit.

  A shudder rocked the congregation. The standing men swayed as if caught in an earthquake. Ernest Williams convulsed, and a dazed look entered his eyes.

  Reverend Boggs staggered, clutching the sides of the pulpit. His nostrils flared, and he bared his teeth.

  “I cast your minds into darkness,” Nancy finished quietly, lowering the poker. She nodded to Reuben.

  He upended the contents of the pot on the poker’s glowing tip, filling the air with a hiss.

  Nancy groaned and doubled over. The poker dropped from her hand and hit the floorboards with a clang.

  The standing men, including Boggs, collapsed to the floor. The others slumped forward and backward in the pews, eyes wild, mouths agape. But no one made a sound. The church was filled with an awful silence.

  Ephraim felt weak in the knees. “I thought you said the curse would just confuse ’em.”

  “I did,” Nancy said, still bent over, breathing deeply. She took her head in both hands.

  “But they look like they’re dead!” Ephraim said.

  “What?” Nancy looked up at the still congregation and took a step backward. “Must’ve boiled them hackberry leaves a mite too long,” she said, then gave a dreadful moan. “I got to clear out now. Remember, leave me be till sunrise!”

  She stumbled out the door and disappeared.

  “Get the book and let’s go,” Reuben said. “There’s no tellin’ how long this curse will hold.”

  Ephraim walked up the aisle to the pulpit. Reverend Boggs lay facedown on the floor behind it, arms reaching over his head. The muscles in Ephraim’s stomach tightened; he imagined the man’s head jerking up from the floor, his hand closing around Ephraim’s leg. He shook his head to clear the image. The almanack, he thought. I’ve got to get the almanack.

  It was on a shelf under the pulpit. Ephraim examined the stars embossed on its cover. “I’ve got it,” he said, holding the volume aloft so Reuben and Isabel could see.

  “Good,” Isabel said. “Let’s get out of here!”

  They ran back through the graveyard. As they crossed the creek, a roar of rage echoed from the church behind them, setting a startled flock of crows skyward.

  Ephraim glanced over his shoulder, and to his horror, he saw Boggs stumbling through the tombstones. Just as Ephraim had feared, the preacher had overcome the curse.

  Boggs stopped and lifted his arms to the sky, chanting something. The heavens began to darken as gray winter clouds gathered. Boggs then pointed toward Ephraim and the others. A lightning bolt ripped out of the sky and struck a tree to Ephraim’s right. Shards of bark and splinters of wood sprayed. Ephraim, Isabel, and Reuben covered their faces as they ran.

  Isabel cried out, and Ephraim turned to see that she had fallen behind, her skirt caught in a mess of briars. He ran back to her, Reuben on his heels.

  “I think we should split up,” Ephraim said as he tore the hem of Isabel’s dress free. “Boggs can’t track everyone.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Reuben said. “Where should we meet up?”

  “At Nancy’s place, tomorrow mornin’,” Ephraim said. To Isabel he added, “It’ll be cold tonight without fires, but as long as you keep movin’ you’ll stay warm. Only lay low if you have to.”

  “I’ll run all night if I have to,” Isabel said. She gathered her torn dress in her hands. “Looks like I won’t be wearing this thing to any more funerals.”

  Ephraim grabbed Isabel by the shoulders. “I’m awful sorry ’bout gettin' you mixed up in this, Isabel. You and Nancy are the only friends I’ve got left around Sixmile Creek. I appreciate everythin’ you’ve done to help me.”

  Isabel looked down. “I think the best of you, Ephraim Cutler. I don’t want you to turn into a haint.” She wiped her eyes with her hand, and Ephraim saw the gleam of tears. “If anyone deserves a second chance, it’s you.” She looked up and leaned in suddenly. Her lips pressed against Ephraim’s.

  A buzzing sensation filled Ephraim’s brain. When Isabel released him, he felt warm in spite of the chill air.

  “We’d best get going,” Isabel said.

  “Right,” Ephraim said. “Get goin’.”

  Reuben tipped his hat and flashed Ephraim a grin. “See y’all at sunup,” he said, and slipped off through the trees.

  Ephraim found it hard to leave Isabel. “Why don’t we stick together?”

  Isabel shook her head. “You were right to begin with. We’ll be harder to track if we take separate paths.” She dabbed her eyes and smiled. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  “All right. I’ll see you in the mornin’.”

  “See you in the morning.”

  They set off in opposite directions.

  27

  A Couple of Sinners

  Isabel had kept moving all day, never staying in one place for too long. She hadn’t seen Boggs since they’d split up, which was both a relief and a concern. If the reverend wasn’t chasing her, he was probably going after Ephraim.

  Now the woods were growing dark, and despite her earlier determination, she doubted she could stay on the run all night. Her feet were numb from traipsing through the snow. She was exhausted, and she would need to rest soon.

  Isabel gasped as her leg shot down a hidden groundhog hole. Her ankle twisted, sending a sharp pain up her leg. She pulled her foot out and dusted off the dirt and snow. Gently, she took another step—and winced. She’d sprained her ankle. She could hobble along, but there’d be no more running for her tonight. It was a good thing Boggs was busy elsewhere.

  As if summoned by the thought, a light bobbed through the trees, piercing the darkness like an oversized lightning bug. A lantern. Isabel felt her heart being squeezed by fear’s cold fingers. Boggs.

  She looked around desperately for someplace to hide, and spotted a dense thicket. She crawled over to it and forced her way inside, heedless of the scrubby branches scraping her skin and the disturbed snow showering down. She struggled to pull her dress in behind her. In the center of the thicket she found a little hollow. She curled up within it and did her best to calm her beating heart.

  A minute later, she heard footsteps approaching, and then Boggs came into view, carrying a lantern and a whip. Only a few feet from her hiding place, he stopped. He held up the lantern and searched the trees. Then he whispered a few words, his hand tracing a pattern in the air. A small light, a spark, formed over his hand. Boggs blew on it, and it drifted away from him.

  It moved toward Isabel.

  Boggs looked toward the thicket.

  Isabel covered her mouth, not daring to breathe.

  The reverend walked to the thicket, lantern raised. He leaned down and parted the brush with his rifle barrel. He smiled.

  Isabel tried to scramb
le away, but froze when she heard the hammer on the rifle click back.

  “It’s no use, Miss Coleman.”

  Isabel spun around. The reverend’s left eye gleamed red in the lantern light. “If you touch me, my pa will have your hide!”

  Boggs grinned. “Really? Your pa is none too happy about you gallivanting around the woods with a murderer and a thief.” He let the whip uncoil. Several tails dangled from its end, each tipped with a small iron spike. “And after what you did at the church this morning, I doubt anyone in Sixmile Creek will come to your defense. That is, when they wake up. They’re all still unconscious—including your pa.” Boggs motioned with the lantern. “Now get out of there, turn around, and put your hands together behind your back.”

  Isabel’s pulse raced. She felt around behind her. Something sharp pricked her finger, and she gripped it. It was a broken branch of thorns. She held it tightly as she crawled out of the thicket and slowly got to her feet.

  Before the reverend could react, Isabel swung the thorn-covered branch at his face with all her might.

  The thorns raked across Boggs’s eyes. He howled and threw up his arms. The lantern fell to the ground and broke. Oil spilled out, igniting the briars of the thicket.

  Isabel ran.

  But not fast enough. Something sliced the air behind her, and she felt Boggs’s whip wrap itself around her legs. As the iron spikes buried themselves in her calves, she screamed in pain. Boggs yanked on the whip, pulling her feet out from under her. Isabel’s head connected with the ground, and stars blossomed in her vision as she rolled onto her back.

  The thicket blazed behind the reverend as he walked toward her, casting him in a hellish yellow glow.

  “Get up,” he spat.

  Summoning her remaining strength, Isabel kicked at him.

  Boggs sidestepped her easily. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s do this my way.” He knelt down and flipped Isabel over onto her stomach, pinning her to the ground with his knee. She struggled and screamed as he wrenched the whip from her legs and used it to bind her hands. When he’d cinched the knot tight, he hauled her to her feet.

  “Where’d your friends go?” he asked.

  Isabel glared at him, nostrils flared. But inside, her heart skipped a beat. He hasn’t found Ephraim or Reuben yet. They’re still alive.

  “No matter, you’ll serve nicely as bait,” Boggs said. He reached into his coat and pulled out a tomahawk. “We need to get you back to my house… after one other stop. It would seem that this preacher has need for a couple sinners.”

  In the dark, Isabel couldn’t tell where Boggs was taking her. The preacher kept her ahead of him, prodding her with the tomahawk, and pausing every so often while he got his bearings. They continued like this for what seemed like hours, moving deeper into the snowy woods and uphill, until they came to a clearing. At its center sat a whiskey still.

  Boggs stepped in front of Isabel for the first time, jerking the whip as he towed her behind him. “Where are they?” he muttered under his breath.

  “Stop right there!”

  Isabel looked up, trying to spot the source of the voice.

  A length of rifle barrel gleamed in the moonlight, and then Jake Fletcher stepped out from behind a tree. Clabe followed him, holding a club.

  “Reverend Boggs, is that you?”

  Isabel’s heart filled with dread.

  “It is,” Boggs said, turning to face the brothers.

  “Well, it ain’t every night we catch a preacher man stumblin’ around in the dark,” Clabe said. He motioned for Jake to keep his rifle trained on Boggs. “There something you want, Reverend, or did you just stop by to give us a temperance lecture?”

  “Keep quiet, missy, or you’ll regret it,” Boggs whispered to Isabel.

  He bent down and laid his tomahawk on the ground, then stood up, raised both hands in the air, and smiled broadly. “Hardly. I came up here to see if you boys want to make some money.”

  Clabe glanced at Jake. “What’d you have in mind?”

  Boggs pushed Isabel forward. “I have an old enemy in town. I won’t bore you two with the details, but this enemy of mine has allied himself with Ephraim Cutler, and the two of them, along with this young lady, broke into the church earlier today and stole something very valuable. As you can see, I’ve caught her, and I’d like to keep her under guard until I get my belongings back. In fact, I think Ephraim will turn himself in when he learns that I have the girl.”

  Clabe sniffed. “We’ve been huntin’ Cutler ourselves. In fact we had him a couple days ago. What’s the benefit if we help you?”

  “I’ll pay you each five dollars for every day you stand guard. I’ll keep a tab and give it to you at the end. As far as the bounty on Ephraim’s head, you two can keep it for yourselves if he turns himself in. I just want my possessions back.”

  Clabe folded his arms. “Ten dollars each, paid out every day, Preacher. That’s our rate.”

  “Do you both have guns?” Boggs asked, eyeing Clabe’s cudgel.

  “No, only the one Jake’s holdin’. We lost the other one a while back in the Hurricane Timber.”

  Boggs raised an eyebrow. “It’ll be five dollars a day then.” He held out a hand to Clabe.

  Isabel’s legs felt weak. She was trembling so much, she couldn’t even feel the scratches and cuts from the briars and the whip. Boggs was right: if Ephraim heard that she’d been captured, he’d turn himself in. And the last thing she wanted was to be left alone with the Fletcher boys.

  “Listen, Clabe, Jake,” she said, “if it’s money you’re after, I’m sure my pa will—”

  Boggs backhanded her in the mouth. She cried out, tasting blood on her tongue.

  Jake and Clabe glanced at each other and grinned.

  “Well, looky there. Reverend Boggs knows how to treat a mouthy woman. I like that.” Clabe rubbed his chin, running an appraising eye up and down Isabel. “Now, when you say stand guard over her, you mean all we got to do is keep her alive and make sure she don’t go nowhere, right, Reverend? You ain’t opposed to anythin’ else.”

  Behind her back, Isabel clenched her fists and strained against the whip. If Clabe laid a hand on her, she would find a way to hurt him.

  “Just don’t let her wander off, boys. Do that, and you’ll get your money.”

  28

  Evil Eye

  Ephraim had lost his way in the woods, something he never did. Isabel’s kiss, the blanket of snow, and darkness all served to disorient him. He’d been traveling toward Flint Ridge since he’d left Isabel, but he couldn’t identify his exact location.

  A faint sound echoed through the still forest. Ephraim stopped walking and listened. Off in the shadows someone laughed. There was an eerie quality to it. Ephraim felt a shiver in his innards.

  The cackling continued. Ephraim spun around, trying to pinpoint its source. It changed directions with inhuman speed—one second coming from the treetops above him, the next echoing from the forest to his left.

  Ephraim crouched low to the ground. He wasn’t sure if he’d been spotted yet. It’s dark. Maybe if I stay low and don’t move…

  “I see ye!”

  The voice chattered down Ephraim’s spine like nails on slate. A moon shadow shifted among the trees—the slanting shadow of a woman. Ephraim saw bare feet in the snow. Nancy.

  Ephraim cursed silently. He had been so preoccupied that he’d unwittingly wandered too close to the Laura. And now he’d found Nancy, still in the throes of the Black Madness, and still hours before daybreak.

  Nancy stepped forward into the moonlight. Her hair, usually tied into braids, was loose and sticking out at odd angles as if she had just violently shaken her head. Deep shadows pooled in the hollows of her cheeks, and her eyes looked cavernous.

  The granny woman cocked her head and fixed Ephraim with her gaze. He felt paralyzed. He could no more turn away than a bird could shun the cold-eyed stare of a rattlesnake.

  “Ye have the book,” Nancy said
. Her voice was a broken croak. She held out a hand. “Give it to me.”

  “N-no,” Ephraim stammered. He’d faced a hellhound and a Devil-bound preacher over the last few days, but none of that was as unsettling as evil wearing a friend as a mask.

  “Give it to me!”

  Nancy vaulted into the air and flew straight at him, her tree-branch fingers extended like gnarled spears.

  Ephraim dove out of the way, rolling through the snow. Nancy landed on all fours, snarled in his direction, and shot flealike into the air again.

  Ephraim bolted like a scared rabbit. He zigzagged through the trees, trying to throw Nancy off his trail. Her cackles and shrieks echoed through the woods behind him, not gaining, but not falling behind either.

  I need a place to hide.

  Ephraim dodged an oak and nearly tripped over a log. He was about to carry on when he was halted by a thought. He turned around and investigated the log. At one end, he found what he was hoping for: the log was hollow. Adjusting the almanack under his shirt, he squirmed inside.

  The log smelled musty. Ephraim’s fingers sank into a layer of decayed wood and leaf mold along the bottom. His head scraped the rough roof, and a shower of debris fell around his ears. He wriggled onward until the space grew too tight for him to continue. Were his feet all the way inside? He drew them up for good measure.

  Seconds later, he heard Nancy’s muffled cackling. “Where are ye, boy?”

  Ephraim could hear her feet dragging through the dry leaves outside. She sprang onto the log with a dull thump. Ephraim took a deep breath and held it.

  “I ain’t foolin’, boy! Give me that book!”

  Nancy shifted around on her perch, then climbed down. Ephraim slowly released the breath he’d been holding. He listened hard, trying to tell if she was gone. A minute passed, maybe more; he wasn’t sure. Outside the log, nothing stirred. He tried to slow the crazed beating of his heart. After another minute had passed in silence, Ephraim reached up and dislodged a piece of rotten wood from behind his ear.