The Princess Club / Family Secrets / Mountain Madness

by Catherine Marshall

  “It just plumb popped outa my mouth,” Clara admitted.

  “I understand,” John said. He frowned, scratching his head.

  “Stop scratchin’ your head,” Clara teased, “or someday you’ll wake up and be bald as a turkey buzzard.”

  “Hurry up, you slowpokes!” Zady called.

  “We’re comin’!” John yelled.

  Clara gazed upward. Through the dense layer of leaves, she could just make out the towering peak of Boggin Mountain. They passed it every day on the way to school. She used to think it was beautiful. Like a fancy blue-green party skirt, the kind she could only dream about owning.

  Now, with all the latest scary signs, it was hard to walk past it without shivering, just a little.

  “Clara, John! Come quick!” Zady cried.

  Zady and Lulu were standing next to a tall tree, staring at something.

  “It’s proof, I’m a-tellin’ you,” Zady said when Clara and John reached the spot.

  She pointed nervously. There on the tree were huge, long gashes. It was as if a giant bear had scratched his claws deep into the bark.

  “The Boggin left it as another warnin’ to us,” Zady said.

  Lulu clutched at Clara, hugging her close. “He’s goin’ to eat us all for supper!”

  “Hush, Lulu. He ain’t goin’ to eat us, not for supper or breakfast, either,” Clara said.

  “How do you know?” Zady demanded.

  “’Cause you’re too bony for eatin’,” Clara replied.

  “It ain’t like you’ve ever seen him. Besides, you heard Ruby Mae a-talkin’—”

  “Ruby Mae ain’t seen him, either. And you know she just likes to hear the sound of her own voice,” Clara said. Ruby Mae was one of Clara’s very best friends, but Clara knew her friend had a way of talking on and on without thinking things through.

  “Look,” John said.

  Clara followed John’s gaze. Hanging from a branch high overhead was a man’s shirt—or what was left of a shirt. It was shredded into strips and stained with what looked like blood.

  Clara shuddered. “It’s just more tricks,” she said, trying to sound calmer than she felt.

  “I’m not never comin’ this way again,” Zady vowed in a trembling voice. “I don’t care if I have to walk clear over to Wildcat Hollow and cross the creek. I don’t care if it takes me four hours to get to school. I ain’t never comin’ past Boggin Mountain again.”

  Clara put her hands on her hips. “You can’t take the long way around. Besides, even if this is the Boggin leavin’ warnings, he ain’t mad at us.”

  “Maybe he don’t want us goin’ near the mountain. He figgers it’s his, and that’s that,” Zady replied.

  “That’s just plain stupid, Zady,” Clara said, rolling her eyes.

  “I’m a-tellin’ Ma you called me stupid!” Zady cried.

  “I wasn’t callin’ you stupid, I was callin’ what you said stupid.”

  “Same thing.”

  “Is not.”

  “Is too.”

  John cleared his throat. “That’s enough, you two. You sound like a couple o’ hens cacklin’.”

  Lulu’s eyes went wide. “Maybe . . .” she whispered, “maybe he don’t want the telephones and all. Maybe he figgers this is his mountain to haunt, fair and square.”

  “That’s silly, Lulu,” Clara said. She met John’s worried gaze. “Now, come on.” She gave Lulu a gentle push. “Ma’s goin’ to be worryin’ somethin’ fierce if ’n we don’t get home soon.”

  As Zady and Lulu ran ahead, Clara turned to John. “How will we ever know for sure and certain what’s behind all this?”

  “If it’s the Boggin,” John whispered, “there’s only one way to find out.”

  Clara gazed up at Boggin Mountain, looming above them. Today it certainly didn’t look like the pretty party skirt she dreamed about. Today, it looked like a place where an evil creature lived, hovering in the darkness, waiting to pounce.

  She tried to smile at John. “Come on,” she said, swallowing past a lump in her throat. “I’ll race you the rest of the way home.”

  Seven

  I’d hoped to see a better turnout today,” Christy said on Saturday morning.

  “So had I,” said Miss Alice.

  “I’m sure the reverend did, too,” said Doctor MacNeill with a shake of his head.

  “Don’t they know how important this telephone is?” Christy asked with a sigh. “I guess my telephone lesson with the children didn’t have much effect on their parents. And this rain didn’t help, either.”

  She peered out the living room window. Half a dozen men sat on the mission house porch, waiting for David to start the meeting. The day was gloomy. An early morning downpour had been replaced by gray drizzle.

  Jeb Spencer, Fairlight’s husband, poked his head in the doorway. “Howdy, Miz Christy, Miz Alice,” he said, removing his damp, broad-brimmed hat. “Howdy, Doc. If it ain’t no trouble, I was wonderin’ if I might have a glass of water. As wet a day as it is, you’d think water’d be the last thing on my mind!”

  “Come on in,” Christy said.

  “I’m glad you were able to come, Jeb,” Miss Alice said as they headed to the kitchen.

  “Wish more coulda come,” Jeb said. “Puttin’ up them poles and wires is goin’ to be a heap o’ trouble, I’m afeared. Hope the preacher knows what he’s gettin’ hisself into.”

  “It’s my fault,” Christy said as she poured Jeb a mug of water out of a white enamel pitcher. “I’m the one who asked for the telephone equipment. I guess I didn’t realize how much trouble it would cause. Of course, this Boggin nonsense isn’t helping.”

  Jeb took a long sip of water. “My kids saw another warnin’ yesterday on the way home. Nothin’ much—just some marks on a tree and a shredded-up ol’ shirt. Still, little Lulu and Zady were mighty upset. Swore they’d take the long way to school from now on. Matter of fact—” Jeb shook a finger at Christy. “Weren’t you headin’ on out to my place today to see Fairlight? Maybe you should wait till I can walk you there, Miz Christy.”

  Christy gave a wave of her hand. “Don’t tell me you believe in this nonsense, Jeb.”

  “I believe someone’s tryin’ to get our attention,” Jeb said. “But that’s all I know for sure.”

  “Jeb’s right,” said Doctor MacNeill. “These Boggin rumors come up from time to time, but nothing as persistent as this.”

  “Have you ever seen him, Neil?” Christy asked with a grin. “Or should I say it?”

  “No.” The doctor smiled back. “But I’m keeping my options open. I’ve certainly run into plenty of people in Cutter Gap who claim to have seen him . . . or it.”

  They walked out onto the porch. David was dressed in his old work clothes. He’d just placed on the porch floor a rough map he’d drawn. “I guess we can get started,” he said, looking a little disappointed.

  “There’s some more a-coming’,” said Jeb, pointing across the clearing past the church.

  “That’s Bird’s-Eye Taylor and Lundy,” Christy said.

  “You sound surprised,” said Jeb.

  “I am. Lundy said his father isn’t exactly enthusiastic about the telephone.”

  “And let’s face it,” the doctor added. “Bird’s-Eye is not the first person you’d expect to volunteer.”

  “Unless you need help drinking down a jug o’ moonshine!” Jeb joked.

  “We’ll take any able-bodied man we can get,” David said. “We’ve got our work cut out for us.” He pointed to the map. “We have to connect up to the nearest existing phone line. That’s way over in Centerport.”

  “Three miles from the mission as the crow flies,” said Bob Allen.

  “Now, we can’t fasten insulators and pins to live trees,” David continued. “That means we have to cut tall, straight trees. Then we have to skin them and smooth them, lug them into place, and plant them up and down the mountains along the route. We’ll have to hack off branches of any liv
ing trees that might swing against the wires, too.” He stroked his chin, staring doubtfully at the map. “It’s going to be slow-going, unless we recruit more men.”

  “We’d have more help,” Bob said, “if it weren’t for goin’ over Boggin Mountain. Ain’t there another way, Preacher?”

  “Not without going miles out of our way.” David shook his head. “Not to mention having to cross Dead Man’s Creek. No,” he sighed, “crossing Boggin Mountain is the only way.”

  “Only a fool lookin’ for an early grave’ll take that way,” Bird’s-Eye said as he approached. He had a shotgun slung over his shoulder. A big felt hat shaded his eyes from view. Lundy hung behind him, arms crossed over his chest, his wet hair plastered to his forehead.

  “It’s the only way, Bird’s-Eye,” Jeb said.

  “Can I assume you’re here to volunteer, Mr. Taylor?” David asked.

  Bird’s-Eye answered by spitting on the ground. “Not on your life, Preacher. You’re a-lookin’ for more trouble ’n you seen in all your born days, if’n you build that telephone contraption.”

  “Why are you here, then?” David asked tersely.

  “Come to tell you what my boy done saw this morning.” Bird’s-Eye poked at Lundy with the muzzle of his shotgun. “Tell ’em, boy.”

  Lundy shrugged. “I was a-walkin’ along, payin’ no never mind, when all of a sud-den—”

  “Tell ’em where you was, fool,” Bird’s-Eye interrupted.

  “I was over yonder.” Lundy pointed toward Boggin Mountain. “With ol’ Killer, my coon dog. All o’ a sudden, Killer starts yelpin’ and carryin’ on like he’s treed the biggest coon in all o’ Tennessee. I look up, and hidin’ on a rocky ridge is the Boggin. Big as all get-out, with eyes on fire. He aimed a rock as wide as that piano in the mission house right at me. Tossed it like it was the size of a pea. I jumped out o’ the way, just in the nick o’ time. Then I run home fast as I could and told my pa.”

  “And here we is to warn you, proper-like,” Bird’s-Eye added.

  “Lundy,” Christy said, “couldn’t it have been your imagination? Maybe the fiery eyes belonged to an animal. Maybe the rock just broke loose. It’s been raining a lot lately. Mr. Pentland said he’s come across some rock slides between here and El Pano.”

  “Nope,” Lundy said defiantly. “I saw him, clear as day.”

  “Take my advice, Preacher,” said Bird’s-Eye. “You’d best be thinkin’ twice before you head up that mountain.”

  “Thank you for the warning,” David said. “But the mission is going to have a phone, if it takes my whole life to get it done.”

  “You keep this up,” Bob Allen said ominously as Bird’s-Eye and Lundy marched off, “you may not have a life.”

  “You’re not scared, are you, Bob?” David asked.

  “I ain’t scared o’ nothin’, Preacher,” Bob said. He reached for his hat and started down the stairs. “But I ain’t no fool, neither.”

  They watched him leave. For a moment, nobody spoke.

  “Well,” David said with a grim smile, “I guess that makes the rest of us fools.”

  “What’s that saying?” said Doctor MacNeill. “‘Fools rush in where angels fear to tread’?”

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Christy said firmly, but she didn’t sound quite as convincing as she’d hoped.

  Eight

  John? Clara? Is that you?”

  Christy paused on the forest path. She was halfway to the Spencers’ cabin and hadn’t seen a single person on the long walk until now.

  The two children hesitated, whispering to each other. After a moment, they ran to greet her.

  “I’m on my way to your cabin,” Christy said. “Your mother was going to give me another lesson about mountain herbs and wildflowers today. But the weather’s so miserable, I guess we’ll have to postpone it. Where are you off to?”

  John and Clara exchanged a glance.

  “To look for mushrooms,” John said.

  “To visit Louise Washington,” Clara said at the same moment.

  “Um, first we’re gathering mushrooms, then we’re going to the Washingtons’,” John corrected, “if there’s time.”

  “I saw your father at the meeting about the telephone this morning. He said you and your little sisters came across some more odd signs on your way home yesterday.”

  “Up ahead aways, on the right.” Clara nodded. “You can’t miss ’em.”

  “Still, here you are. I’m pleased to see you weren’t frightened off by this Boggin superstition . . . unlike most of the men in Cutter Gap.” Christy shook her head. “Only a few people volunteered to help Reverend Grantland.”

  “Are you at all scared, Miz Christy?” Clara asked.

  “Of course not.”

  “Not even a teensy bit?”

  “Lots of things scare me, Clara. But the Boggin isn’t on the list.”

  Clara chewed on her thumbnail, her thin, pale face tight with worry. “What are you afeared of, Miz Christy? If’n it’s all right to ask.”

  “Well, that’s a good question.” Christy considered for a moment. “I suppose I’m afraid of not being as good a teacher as you all deserve, for one thing.”

  “But that’s plumb crazy!” Clara exclaimed. “You’re the best teacher in the whole, wide world!”

  Christy patted Clara’s shoulder. “Thank you, Clara. It makes me feel so good to hear you say that. Still and all, it’s something I worry about. I suppose in a bigger way, it’s a question we all face—are we strong enough to do God’s work? That’s something Miss Alice and I talked about when I first came to Cutter Gap. She said, ‘If we’re going to work on God’s side, we have to decide to open our hearts to the griefs and pain all around us.’”

  “So you’re sayin’ you’re afeared of stuff inside you?” Clara asked, frowning.

  “I suppose that is what I’m saying. Does that make any sense to you?”

  “A little bit.” Clara shrugged. “It’s sorta like when we’re learnin’ arithmetic. I can see the numbers on the blackboard fine and dandy. But I can’t always see what they add up to.”

  “Clara,” Christy said with a laugh, “sometimes I feel that way about life in general.”

  John cleared his throat. “We’d best be gettin’ on to the Washingtons’, Clara,” he said, a little tersely.

  “You mean to the mushrooms,” Clara corrected.

  “Oh. Yep, that’s what I meant, all right.” John started down the path at a brisk pace. “See you later, Miz Christy,” he called over his shoulder. “Tell Ma we’ll be home soon.”

  Christy waved. That’s odd, she thought as she resumed walking. Clara and John are both acting a bit strangely. But then everyone is lately, it seems.

  She came to the deep gashes in the tree Jeb had told her about. Christy knew there was nothing to be afraid of. But she shivered just a little in spite of herself.

  Since the weather was so damp, Christy and Fairlight spent the afternoon in the Spencers’ tiny cabin, reading together from the Bible. When Christy had first come to Cutter Gap, she’d taught Fairlight how to read. Fairlight had caught on quickly, and now she read almost as well as Christy herself.

  Fairlight was a beautiful woman, in a plain, simple way. She had a sweet, musical voice that reminded Christy of silver bells.

  “Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer?” Fairlight asked.

  “I really should be going,” Christy said, gently closing Fairlight’s worn family Bible. “Miss Ida’s baking pies all afternoon, and I promised I would help.” She laughed. “Although my baking skills are so bad, she usually just shoos me away after a few minutes.”

  “It is getting late,” Fairlight agreed. “Clara and John should be home by now.”

  “When I ran into them, they said they were going to gather mushrooms, then visit the Washingtons. But now that I think of it, they didn’t have anything to carry the mushrooms in.”

  Fairlight tapped her fingers on the worn ta
ble. She looked as if she were about to say something, then seemed to reconsider.

  “Fairlight? Is anything wrong?”

  “Nothin’ much. I s’pose these Boggin stories have everybody a mite on edge, is all.”

  “Do you believe in the Boggin?”

  “Nope. Them’s just pranks, I figger.” Fairlight gave a gentle smile. “And if there is a Boggin, I like to think he’s just one o’ God’s wild critters, tryin’ to get by, like everyone else.” She shrugged. “Anyways, if you do run into Clara and John on the way back to the mission, tell them I need them to come home and chop me up some firewood and kindling. And I need it today, not tomorrow!”

  Christy grinned. “Yes, Ma.”

  “I do sound a bit cantankerous sometimes, don’t I?” Fairlight said with a laugh. “Just you wait till you have young ’uns of your own, Christy Huddleston! You’ll see.”

  “But Fairlight, I already have seventy!” Christy joked.

  Almost as soon as Christy set out for home, a light, cold rain began to fall. She hurried along the shadowed path, anxious to make it back to the mission before a real downpour began. The sun was hidden behind thick, gray clouds. Off in the distance, thunder rumbled, low and ominous.

  On a day like today, the sweet peace of the forest seemed to vanish. It became a dark, frightening place, full of strange noises and leaf whispers. It was a place that made Christy long for the warm, cozy comfort of the mission house kitchen. She couldn’t wait to get home, change out of her wet clothes, and warm herself in front of a crackling fire.

  She passed the tree with the deep gashes cut into it. This time, she didn’t let her gaze linger. Boggin Mountain loomed above her. Somewhere in the forest, a branch cracked. Trees rustled. Thunder grumbled, a little closer this time.

  Christy forced a grim smile. It suddenly occurred to her that when Clara had asked what she was afraid of, maybe Christy had left something out. Perhaps she should have added hiking alone through a dark, rainy forest, full of unfamiliar, creepy noises.