The Curse of Crow Hollow

by Billy Coffey

  “Isn’t it?” The Reverend stood and lifted his voice to all. “What say you, people of Crow Holler? Could Alvaretta Graves gain power over us if we truly stood under the Lord’s protection?”

  Murmurs was all David got.

  “And so who has failed us? That is the question we should seek, brothers and sisters, because that is the answer that will save us all.”

  The voices inside the church grew then, from murmurs to talk. A loud amen from the back, followed by another and another still. David Ramsay walked back behind his pulpit. He lifted his worn Bible high into the air, letting it catch a shaft of light from the ceiling.

  “‘If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and”—shouting it now—“turn from their wicked ways; then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.’”

  And then a great wave of applause and amens, so many as to not be counted, rising up from the back and the front and the sides, David saying, “So sayeth the Lord,” nodding, praising God, Belle standing to clap with tears falling from her eyes, girls caught in tremors and stutters and those whose tongues had been stolen crying out for their Savior, everyone shouting hallelujah except for those few in the front row—the mayor and the Fosters, the Hodges, and even Bucky himself—who’d come to church that night looking for hope but would leave knowing their pastor had damned them. And friend, Mayor Wilson Bickford wasn’t about to let that happen.

  -6-

  “Doublespeak!” Wilson shouted from his pew, and then he stood and turned to all gathered behind him. All that clapping stopped then and stopped quick. “How’s it a man of God can stand up here and speak out both sides of his mouth?”

  The Reverend said, “I don’t know what you mean, Wilson.”

  “Well then, that makes two of us, because I don’t know what you mean either, Preacher. I hear Alvaretta’s to blame, then I hear we’re to blame. I hear we’re battling the witch, I hear we’re battling ourselves. It’s the curse that’s struck our girls, it’s our sin. Well, you want to know what I think, David? I don’t think you know at all what’s going on.”

  “I know exactly what’s going on,” the Reverend said, “and you know I do. You of all people know, Wilson. Alvaretta has cursed us, but that curse was born in her hurt and her pain.”

  “It was born in the evil she embraced,” Wilson shouted, and now that sanctuary went all but silent. “Nothing more. You say it was her pain? We all know pain. Living is pain, Reverend, and the bad of the world visits us all the same. Was the witch’s choice to stay closed up on the mountain. Her choice to give in to hate. Not ours.”

  David said, “Mayor, this is my place to speak.”

  “You spoke enough. All you done here is stoke fires that were already fanning and flaming. I’m calling a meeting of the town.”

  “This is a church, Mayor. There’s no place here for town business.”

  “You ain’t ever said a word against mixing God and government before,” Wilson said. “Why you starting now?”

  The mayor stepped forward, right up onto the stage beside the preacher. He whispered, “You will burn us both with this nonsense, David,” then eased the Reverend aside.

  Sure weren’t many people in the church right then who had a good understanding of what was going on. First had come a revival that hadn’t really been a revival at all, now come a town meeting with what might end up being a fistfight between the preacher and the mayor. Say what you want about those few days back then, but they was exciting.

  Wilson faced the crowd. “I’ve no silver tongue like David here, but I can speak plain truth. Heard a lot of people give a lot of opinions on what’s happened these last days, and I’m here to say ain’t a one of them right. Now I got respect for David Ramsay. We come up together. Played ball together. I call him a friend, but that don’t mean I have to sit here silent as he bends circumstances to his own desires and calls it the will of the Lord.

  “Is it the will of the Lord my own daughter’s laid up at home because she’s too scared to go out in public? That we go about at each other’s throats casting blame? I ain’t no preacher, but I don’t think it is. David says look at all them poor girls back there. Well, I tell you the same. Go on, look at ’em. Now you all tell me what happened to any a them is your own fault. Any you poor children out there think you deserved to be struck down mute or no longer be the master of your own body?” He nodded. “I thought so. Yes, good people, I knew so. David Ramsay can blame us, but I say we’re the victims here. And I say the only guilty one’s named Alvaretta Graves.”

  Shouts now—Yes and Amen and I’m with you, Mayor. Wilson cocked his head toward David and winked, nearly sending the Reverend into a rage.

  Raleigh Jennings stood then, hand raised. He said, “That’s all well and good, Mayor, but I speak for most here when I say I want to know what it is you plan on doing about it.”

  Amens again. Lord a mercy, friend, you ain’t never heard so many amens as was uttered in the Holy Fire that night.

  “Reverend least has the beginnings of a plan. We ain’t heard nothing from you.”

  “You ain’t heard nothing from me because I been busy keeping this town together, Raleigh Jennings. But I’m glad you asked that question. It’s a good one, and I got an answer. Come on up here, Buck.”

  Bucky flinched at the sound of his name. He looked down the pew, past the Fosters and the Hodges. He looked at Angela.

  “Come on, Buck,” Wilson said.

  Bucky stood. When he took to the stage, he whispered, “Excuse me,” to David and walked straight into Wilson’s outstretched hand, feeling it grip his shoulder tight.

  “I’m sure most of you all know by now,” Wilson said, “but in case you don’t, last night the council voted to elect a sheriff. This was not an easy decision on any of our parts. I know as well as anyone the pride every citizen of Crow Holler takes in tending to its own troubles and responsibilities. But these are dark times. Pastor Ramsay might’ve been wrong on some things, but he was right on that, and in dark times we need good men to stand up for service. Bucky Vest has always been such a man.”

  Angela clapped twice and hard, sitting up tall in her pew. She looked at Chessie on one side of her and Landis on the other, coaxing them to join. Neither did. Wilson nudged Bucky with his shoulder, prodding him to the pulpit. Bucky wouldn’t dare—the mayor could stand there and talk all he wanted, but to Bucky Vest, that spot was for a preacher and nobody else—but he did find courage enough to speak.

  “All y’all know me,” he said. “You know my heart. I love this town and always will. It’s home to me just as it is to you, and that’s why I give my word right here in front of Jesus and everybody: I’ll work hard to keep y’all safe.”

  Angela had her hands clasped in her lap. Her chest heaved in and out in big breaths. Her eyes had turned to wide moons. A hand went up in back, easy to see because it was wrapped in white tape and gauze. Wilson nodded to the man raising it.

  Tully Wiseman stood and asked, “What you gonna do, Buck? You say you’re gonna keep us safe, that’s fine. Preacher says he’s gonna keep us safe, mayor says he’ll do the same, but I don’t believe none of it. We’re up agin more than we can bear here. Ain’t just the witch we battle, it’s others too. Some in this town are up to no good, and you know it.”

  Chessie leaned over and whispered into Briar’s ear. I’ve no idea what she said, friend, but I can near guarantee that woman mentioned Tully himself was chief among the no-gooders.

  “What you got planned to do, Bucky?” came another question from the other side of the room. “Or are you just somebody to carry out whatever Wilson wants?”

  Bucky got out, “Now that ain’t—” before others joined in, wanting to know how their girls was gonna get healed and when the grocery would be open and what was keeping Alvaretta from doing something like this again, and Wilson felt Bucky begin to shudder and shake and saw the way his throat hi
tched up against all those questions that wouldn’t stop coming.

  “Now wait,” the mayor said. He held his free hand up and gripped Bucky harder with his other, pinning him in place. “Y’all just hold on now.”

  But they wouldn’t wait, and they wouldn’t hold on. People kept wanting to know what Bucky was going to do with a badge and fearing deep down that he wouldn’t do anything at all, no one could. The crowd grew louder, hollering even as David demanded calm, and then Bucky shouted the worst thing he could.

  “I’ll go to Alvaretta.”

  Wilson’s hand dropped as the crowd went silent. Even Chessie looked dumbfounded. Bucky’s eyes started to glisten, probably because he’d just figured out what he said and realized he was a grown man standing on the stage at the Holy Fire where a promise couldn’t never be broken instead of a boy on the school playground where backsies were allowed.

  “I’ll go to Alvaretta,” he said again. There was a catch in his voice that was all fear, but that didn’t matter. “The witch did this all. Hurt my little girl. People are suffering in Crow Holler. That’s Alvaretta’s fault. I got fired from the dump. That’s Alvaretta’s fault. Grocery’s gone because of her, Doc’s so tired he can’t come to church because of her.” He took a deep breath. “So I’ll go have a word. I’ll tell the witch what she’s done and ask that she end it, and I’ll ask that she send her demon back into the mines. I’ll do it. That’s my job.”

  -7-

  Far from all the tumult at church, in a lonely spot four miles past what remained of his daddy’s store, Hays Foster had built a fire. It was a good fire, not as large as the one he’d built at the mines but still fair sized. He looked at Cordelia on the other side of the flames as though he’d forgotten she was even there, then stood next to her because he was supposed to. Cordy wouldn’t leave him now, not with the baby she hadn’t told him about yet, and I have to wonder if she’d leave him even without the baby.

  And Hays? Well, you could say that boy’d been stuck all his life. Now sure, what he’d been stuck with was what every other boy in the Holler would give his right eye to possess. Hays had the prettiest girl in town to snuggle with and a good-paying future waiting on him at the grocery (assuming his daddy ever got it fixed up again). He had it all really, everything that passed here for the American dream. But he wanted none of it. Wanted nothing of piddling away his life pondering what to put on the Tuesday special and how much to discount the day-olds, nothing of having to come home to a wife and (God forbid) children. He understood there was love on Cordelia’s part, or at least some thin film of it, but he possessed nothing in the way of tenderness toward her. He liked Cordy, yes. Hays liked Scarlett and Naomi too. But he did not love them, and for no other reason than love made no sense.

  “Had to be a big fire up on the mountain,” he said. “Mines being so close and all. And Alvaretta. Even before y’all got there, I felt something. Like, watching me.”

  Yet there was nothing watching in Harper’s Field that night, and none but the two of them for now. Cordy leaned a cedar branch against the side of the fire. Hays had used other wood already, a few sticks of pitchy pine to catch a spark and then some maple to get things going proper. Oak went on after, letting the flames burn long. Now the cedar. Hays liked cedar best. The flames were always even with cedarwood, with a color of wet gold and a sweet smell he found pleasant.

  “The others coming?” he asked.

  “Yeth.”

  “Good.”

  Cordy studied the fire. It cracked and hissed like a living thing. No, not like—living is what it was. Some sticks and pitch, a handful of bark, Hays’s lighter. Take them all separate, you had nothing. Put them all together, and that nothing sparked a life. Not unlike the one in her belly.

  She reached for his hand. “Hayth, I need to tell you thumthing.”

  “Later,” he said. “Here they come.”

  The first splash of headlights swept across the field, followed by another. Scarlett’s little bug bounced along the divots and rises and through all that blooming grass, followed by John David’s truck.

  “What’s he doing here?” Hays asked. He turned and looked at her. “Did you tell him to come?”

  “No,” Cordy said. Not a lie, at least not exactly. She hadn’t texted John David herself. She had, perhaps, suggested to Naomi that afternoon at the grocery maybe she should call her brother.

  Both vehicles parked near the fire. Scarlett and Naomi got out, as did John David. They all met in a circle around that fire in the middle of Harper’s Field, and nobody said a word. Just looking at each other. Wondering what had become of them and what would become of them still.

  John David said, “Hey, Scarlett,” making her flinch. “You look nice tonight.”

  Scarlett held the pad and pen in her hand but didn’t write. She gave a soft nod instead.

  “Thanks for coming,” Hays said to them all. “I know it wasn’t easy for some of you to get away.”

  “Everybody’s at the revival,” Naomi said. “Daddy said I had to go, but Momma told me to stay.” Her head and right shoulder jerked at the same time. Scarlett tried not to make a face. “I think Momma had it in her head Daddy was gonna try to chase the devil out of me.”

  “Ain’t the devil,” John David said. “Naomi?” He waited until she looked his way. “This ain’t the devil.”

  “They say the devil’s everywhere in Crow Holler,” Naomi said. “You haven’t been gone long enough from here to forget that, have you?”

  “Naomi’s right,” Hays said. “Me and Cordelia felt something up at the mines even before we saw those tracks. Now I’m starting to feel it again. Like something’s watching.”

  Scarlett scribbled down You didn’t feel anything and held it to Cordelia.

  “I did,” Cordy said. “I didn’t thay anyfing. I didn’t want to woo-in your pahty.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Naomi said. “Now. Now’s all that matters.”

  Hays nodded. “Something’s coming. Something else is going on here.”

  John David had stepped away from the fire, closer to the shadows. Watching. That man loves to watch. But what Hays said was enough to make him speak up. “How do you know something’s coming?”

  “Why are you here, John David? I didn’t send you a text.”

  “Naomi invited me,” he said. “Thought I’d tag along. Make sure y’all didn’t do anything else stupid.”

  “None of us meant for this to happen, okay? Look”—he paced the fire as Cordy followed him—“it’s up to us to stop this. Scarlett, your daddy thinks the best way is to just ride things out. We don’t get riled up, the witch might get bored and go away. The Reverend thinks this is somehow up to him to fix, else he wouldn’t have called revival. But that’s”—he paced faster now, trying to reach for the right words—“that won’t work.”

  John David’s hands went open and closed in that funny way again, like he expected shooting to start. “Hays,” he said, “why don’t you take a deep breath here. Tell us what’s going on.”

  “I went to Medric’s yesterday. To tell him I was sorry, and because . . . because there’s just stuff going on.”

  Cordelia looked away from Hays, toward Scarlett and Naomi.

  “Medric was acting all freaked out,” Hays said. “I thought it was just about that raccoon nailed to his door, but it wasn’t. He said people were gonna come after him, started talking all kinds of crazy stuff. And he wasn’t there. Medric wasn’t home at first when I went to see him. Where’d he go? And then he came in later and parked out back, went inside all quick-like. He wouldn’t open the door all the way to let me in. Like he was hiding something. So when I left I knocked over one of his flowerpots, thinking that would bring him out, you know, because Medric’s always been a neat freak. So he did. He came outside and he didn’t think I’d see, but I did. I saw, John David.”

  “Saw what?”

  “His boots. They were covered in crow feathers.”

  Scarlett look
ed so shocked that I don’t think that girl would’ve said anything even if she could. Cordy’s mouth fell open.

  “Oh my God,” Naomi said.

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” John David said. “You know how many crow feathers are in these mountains? Crying out loud, Hays. They call this Crow Holler. Now you stop this. All y’all. Somebody’s gonna get hurt.”

  Scarlett wrote Somebody already got hurt.

  “Listen to me,” Hays said. “Please?” He took hold of Cordelia’s hand.

  And when Hays looked up at his friends, Scarlett saw a look she had never believed possible upon his face—a grimace of both fear and torture that made Hays seem full alive instead of the half dead he’d always acted.

  “We used to have this shed in the backyard when I was a kid. I never liked it in there. It was dark and smelled like mold and dirt. Dad always kept his tools in there. Saws and blades, stuff like that. Momma never wanted me around there. I guess she thought I’d hurt myself or something. You know how she is.”

  Cordy glanced down—Oh yeah, we all know how your momma is.

  “Dad never wanted me in there either. I don’t know why. He’d go out there in the evenings and piddle around. I guess it was his way of winding down. He always told me to stay away from the shed because there was a monster in there that would eat little boys. Sometimes in the summer when the windows were open at night, I’d hear shuffling in there, like something trying to find a way out.

  “Shed caught on fire this one Saturday afternoon. Dad was at work. By the time he got there, it was too late to save anything. Mom called the store, out of her mind, screaming for help. Wilson and Medric were there and they came running. Medric said it was maybe a pile of oily rags that got hot and sparked. Took the lawn mower and the tiller and all Dad’s tools. Took the shed. But you know what? That fire took the monster too. I never heard anything out in the backyard again, and I listened. Every night, I listened.”

  Scarlett looked at Cordelia, who could only hold Hays’s hand tighter. The boy looked about two breaths away from tears. It had never felt right to Scarlett that Cordelia had kept news of her baby from Hays. But right there, I don’t think Scarlett felt that way anymore. Because Hays had been keeping a secret, too, and for far longer.