WyndStones

by Wyndstone (lit)

  "You have to wonder how long it took to gather and paint each of the stones," she observed.

  "From what my granny once told us the menfolk of the Hill done it all in a week," Sam said, "and that was working ‘round the clock in teams, even by lantern light."

  "Why the hurry?" she asked.

  Sam snapped the reins again. "They wanted to keep the Mealladh out," he said.

  "I know Cail said he doesn't know what a Mealladh is but do you?" she asked.

  "I don't know no more than he does. The word means lure in the old language. Best to ask Father Danny about it. He learned the way of it not long after he came to the Hill," Sam replied. "He made the trek all the way up to Dyer's Knoll to speak to the Old One."

  "The Old One?" she repeated.

  "There's a lady what lives up there they say is over a hundred and ten years old," Sam told her. "She knows the history of the Hill like the back of her hand."

  "What's her name?"

  "Lady Belle McGregor," Sam replied. "That was one of the founding families around these parts."

  "Have you ever been up there to see her?"

  "Not by myself, I aint!" Sam said with a gasp. "I ain't that brave, ma'am!" He gave her a sideways glance. "She's a witch, or so they say. I went there with Cail a couple of times."

  "Ah," Lorna said, her eyes sparkling.

  It was another hour before the buckboard rolled onto level ground. Ten minutes after that, they were entering a wide clearing around which sat several one story buildings made from unpainted and weathered wood that had taken on a pale gray patina with age. The roofs were made of rusted tin and a porch ran around all four sides of the buildings.

  "Folks around here don't paint their places," Sam explained when she asked. "Costs too much and it would just have to be done again. Weather up here can be harsh and paint just peels right of’n the wood."

  “But apparently not off the wyndstones,” she observed.

  “No. We keep them painted,” he said. “Us menfolk, that is. Our women ain’t even allowed to touch one of them things once it’s painted.”

  Beyond the buildings Sam explained were a mercantile, the Healer's office and residence, the livery at the far end, the constable's office and a two-cell jail, and on the opposite end of the clearing, the church with its unmistakable steeple.

  "Where do the other residents live?" she asked.

  "Out beyond Deal's Acres," Sam said, pointing to the livery which also had a good-sized corral. "They're scattered around Lake Bristow and its falls, threaded throughout the woods."

  The mountain lake around which Tabor Hill had been planned shone in the early afternoon sun, its water sparkling like polished glass. It was a placid setting but the waters farther out from the shore were dark blue in color and Sam confirmed the lake was very deep in places as he drove the buckboard toward the church.

  “And the falls are something to behold,” he informed her.

  Cail was already at the church, his horse hitched out front and as the wagon came to a stop, Lorna's brother, Daniel, came out of the building.

  "Lorna!" Daniel gasped, his face draining of color. He rushed forward. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  Lorna hugged her brother and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I guess you didn’t get my letter," she said. “Lord, I’ve missed you!”

  When he released her, she gave him a quick once over. It had been five years since she'd seen her brother and he looked far too thin and pale for her liking. And there was something in his hazel eyes that had not been there when he left for the seminary.

  "I was about to sit down to supper," Daniel said, draping an arm around her shoulders. He held her tightly as though he feared someone might snatch her away from him. He looked at the men. "Cail, you and Sam come on in and join us."

  "Much obliged, Father Danny, but I've got chores to see to," Sam said as he helped Cail with Lorna's bags. "Ma would have my hide if I don't get 'em done a’fore sunset."

  "I understand," Daniel said with a nod. "Cail? What about you? Will you break bread with us?"

  "Thank you, Father," Cail said. "I'd like that."

  Lorna slipped her arm around her brother's waist and was alarmed to feel the bones protruding along his ribs. She looked up at him. "Have you been sick, Danny?"

  He waved a dismissive hand. "I got bit by a rattler," he said as he led them around the side of the church to the rectory out back.

  "A rattlesnake?" Lorna gasped, her eyes wide.

  "Happens around here," Cail said. He was balancing two of her bags under each arm while Sam struggled with her steamer trunk.

  "I'm fine now," Daniel said. "It just got me down there for awhile."

  "I told Father Danny the next time he decides to go hiking in the woods, not to," Cail said with a laugh and Daniel joined in, his face red.

  Daniel opened the door for them, ushered his sister inside then held the portal open for Cail and Sam to carry in her luggage.

  The interior of the rectory was cool but messy. Knowing her brother as she did, it would not have occurred to him to keep things neat. From the looks of the parlor, she'd have her work cut out for her with a thorough spring cleaning.

  "If you need help, just ask any of the women," Cail said as though reading her mind. "They'll be glad to help out."

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why the women hadn't taken it upon themselves to see to the rectory already but then she realized Daniel might not have wanted strangers looking after his things. He was a very private man and—truth be told—was more than a little afraid of women. That was one of the reasons it had not surprised his family when he'd announced his desire to join the priesthood.

  "The spare bedroom is through here," Daniel was saying, leading her down a short hallway. "Mine is at the other end of the house."

  The room to which he showed her was spacious but utilitarian. Placed on a threadbare carpet that had seen better days, were a double bed with a white hobnail cotton spread, a nightstand with a lamp, a chest of drawers, dresser, a desk and chair flanked by two bare bookcases, and what looked to be a very comfortable overstuffed chair sitting beside a small table with a kerosene lamp. Though cramped, the room was more than what she had expected.

  "I brought only a couple of books with me but at least I’ll have a place to store them,” she said.

  “You read a lot?” Cail asked.

  “She reads all the time,” Daniel said with affection then smiled slightly. “When she’s not writing in her diary.”

  "I make a trip to Dovertown at least once a month so if you want more books, just give me the titles and I'll have the lady down at the library there order them," Cail told her.

  "Thank you. I appreciate the offer," Lorna said, going to one of the two windows to look out. The window was open with a breeze laden with the scent of wisteria drifting through the room. A partial view of the lake could be seen through the stand of trees closer in.

  "Come on then," Daniel said. "Let's eat! Sam's mother sent over a veritable feast!" He gave Lorna a strange look. “I wondered why at the time.”

  Before Lorna could question that strange remark, Cail leaned down to tell her it was a good thing Sam’s mother had sent over food because her brother had trouble boiling water.

  Lorna laughed, nodding. "How well I know!" After bidding Sam farewell and thanking him, she followed the men back into the house.

  The dining room of the rectory was just off the parlor with the kitchen beyond. Daniel explained there was a bathing chamber with the only indoor plumbing to be found in the Hill between his bedroom and hers, flanked on either side by two walk-in closets for storage.

  "My office adjoins the parlor," Daniel told her.

  Cail pulled her chair out for Lorna to sit down and she could feel his knuckles grazing her back as he pushed it toward the table. It seemed to her that the touch lasted longer than it should have but when he took his seat across from her, he was looking at Daniel and not her.

&nbs
p; The aromas coming from the platters and bowls on the table made her mouth water. There was crisply fried chicken, sliced ripe tomatoes on a plate alongside sliced cucumbers and onions, a steaming bowl of creamed corn, and another of fried okra, a bowl of lima beans swimming amid chunks of ham, a plate of piping hot buttered cornbread, and a tall, frosty pitcher of sweetened tea.

  "We've got bread pudding with raisins for dessert," Daniel told her as he stuck a napkin into the collar of his white shirt. "I haven't had this much to eat since leaving home!"

  "The women don't bring food over from time to time?" she asked.

  Daniel's smile slipped. "Now and again," he said, and then looked down at his plate.

  One glance at Cail's face and Lorna knew that now and again was rare, indeed.

  Lorna could not help but be a bit put out that her brother was not being taken care of by his parishioners. It had always been her experience that priests were treated well—spoiled much of the time—by the people they shepherded. She wondered why the women of Tabor Hill were not providing him with home-cooked meals. She made a mental note to have a long talk with Daniel on the subject after Cail was gone.

  They made small talk for a few minutes then lapsed into silence, simply enjoying the wonderful food. By the time the dessert was finished, though, the atmosphere was a bit uncomfortable.

  "That was delicious," Lorna said. "Sam's mother is a marvel."

  "She is, indeed," Daniel agreed.

  Lorna scooted her chair back. "I'm just going to clear the dishes."

  "Can I give you a hand?" Cail asked, getting to his feet.

  "No," she said, waving his offer aside. "I've been sitting most of the day and I need to work the kinks out of my legs."

  "Would you care to beat me at a game of chess, Cail?" Daniel inquired as he rose.

  "As much as I would, I've got to be up early tomorrow. Euan and I promised Flight Mitchell we'd help re-roof his barn," Cail said.

  "Then we won't keep you," Daniel said. "We're glad you could have supper with us."

  "Thank you for inviting me. I enjoyed the meal and the company and I'll look forward to seeing you again, Lorna," Cail called out to her as she went into the kitchen

  Lorna stopped and looked back at him. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Cail," she replied. "You're welcome to visit any time."

  Daniel walked him to the door with a hand to his back, thanking him for bringing Lorna to the Hill. She heard Cail telling Daniel to be careful of her.

  "I will," Daniel agreed.

  "He's out there waiting."

  "I know."

  “Make sure she understands she’s not to cross the stones.”

  “I will.”

  Wiping her hands on a towel, she came into the dining room as her brother shut the door. "What was that about?" she queried.

  Daniel turned to face her. "What do you mean?"

  "Who did he mean? Who is out there waiting?" she asked him.

  A shadow fell over her brother's face. "Let's not discuss this tonight, Lorna." He walked past her and went into the kitchen. "How about I dry?"

  Lorna sighed deeply. She knew her stubborn brother all too well. “All right.” She gave him a long look. “Why aren’t the women here looking after you, Danny?”

  He ducked his head. “They do but you have to understand, Lorna. The Hill’s women are clannish and it takes awhile for them to get to know you.”

  “You’ve been here long enough to.…”

  “They’re afraid of me,” he stated bluntly. “Of all priests. Of any man other than their kinsmen and husbands.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “It’s complicated.” His gaze went to the window. “It has a lot to do with what went on here at the Hill hundreds of years ago. There was an incident in which a local man was burned to death by Tabor and his sons.”

  “What did he do to warrant such a gruesome death?” she asked.

  Daniel sighed. “Lorna, I really don’t want to get into this night,” he said. “Can we please not talk about it until tomorrow?” He gave her a stern look. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about the Hill as well as discuss why you came up here when I expressly asked you not to.”

  Sensing her brother’s growing annoyance with her, Lorna agreed her questions could wait but she knew she would be pondering his words all night.

  When the dishes had been washed, dried and put away, the kitchen cleaned, Lorna and her brother went into the parlor and sat down, chatting about friends Daniel had not seen in many years, catching up on things that had happened in the town where they had been born. As the clock ticked steadily on the mantle and the hour grew late, Lorna yawned and got to her feet.

  “I think I’ll take a walk outside to.…”

  “No!” Daniel said and his eyes flared with fear. “Never, never go out after the sun has set, Lorna! It is forbidden for women to do so!”

  Lorna’s brows drew together at her brother’s surprising response. “Forbidden? By whom?”

  “The Hill’s Elders,” Daniel replied. “It is against the law and you could wind up in the jail if you do not adhere to their restrictions.” He plied a trembling hand through his hair. “Promise me you will never venture out after sunset nor ever step over the wyndstones circling the village. Don’t even touch one of those heathen things.”

  “Daniel.…”

  “Promise me!” he shouted at her.

  Taken aback by his vehemence and the fear in his eyes, she slowly nodded. “I promise.”

  “You have no conception of the danger in the woods beyond the protection generated by the wyndstones.” He shook his head. “No conception at all.”

  “I said I won’t cross over them, Danny, and I won’t,” she said defensively, “but we will discuss this tomorrow.”

  “Yes,” he mumbled. “We will.” He glanced down the hallway. “You want to bathe before you go to bed?”

  “I’d love a bath,” she said. “I feel as though I have a pound of road dirt clinging to me.”

  “Then get your things and I’ll run a tub of water for you and set out some towels.”

  She knew he was all but dismissing her. Going to her room, she gathered her gown and robe, slippers and a fresh pair of underwear and went back to the bathroom, smiling to see her brother on his knees beside the old porcelain tub, checking the water. He didn’t look around as she came into the room.

  “The doors are bolted and the shades are pulled down as soon as the sun sets. You don’t go open the doors or windows and you sure as heck don’t go outside.” He glanced around. “Make sure you pull your curtains together and even if it gets stifling in there tonight, don’t open the window.”

  “Why ever not?” she asked, frowning.

  “Critters,” he said, having a hard time meeting her gaze. He looked back at the water. “Coons, possums, that kind of thing. They’ll come through the screen. Tomorrow I’ll have the smithy put some iron bars on your window so you can open it for fresh air.”

  “Iron bars?” she questioned.

  “Don’t argue with me, Lorna!” her brother snapped, getting to his feet. Without looking at her again, he went past her and into the hall. “Sleep well.”

  Bidding him a goodnight, shocked by his behavior, Lorna went into the bathroom and closed the door. She took off her clothes—mumbling to herself at Daniel’s odd behavior—and climbed into the tub, sighing as the warm water lapped at her aching flesh. Sliding her arms over the rolled edge of the old claw-foot tub, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The water felt too good to be quick with the bath.

  “Don’t get all pruny in there, now!” she heard Daniel mutter as he walked past the door.

  Rolling her eyes, she took the washcloth from the edge of the tub where he had draped it, plucked the soap from the dish on the wall and lathered it. With vigor, she began scrubbing at her flesh.

  Half an hour later, she walked out of the bathroom and into the room that was now hers. Pursing her lips, s
he strode to the window and drew aside the curtain her brother had pulled closed. She stared out at the gathering dark, wishing she could have taken a stroll outside, wishing she could open the window to let in the soft night air. The forest beyond was a black velvet blanket thrown across the landscape without a single light burning within. It was an oppressive darkness that sent a shiver down her spine and she turned away, letting the curtain close. Perhaps it was best she hadn’t gone outside after all.

  Alone in her room, she unpacked her trunks, found her diary and sat down to enter the day’s events. When she was finished, she closed the book, blew out the lamp and crawled beneath her cover with a heartfelt sigh. Within minutes she was sleeping soundly.

  * * * *

  “Lorna ….”

  Lorna sat up, the ghostly sound of her name having pulled her from sleep. She listened—thinking Daniel had called out to her—but there was only the sound of the old grandfather clock laboriously ticking in the parlor. As its chime struck, she flinched, putting a hand to her throat as she counted the strikes.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  “The demon’s hour,” she said softly.

  She was well-read on many subjects since reading was her one true pleasure in life so she knew the old folktales about three o’clock in the morning. It was that time between three and five of the clock when most deaths occurred, when the human body was at its weakest.

  “When the spirit is at its lowest ebb,” she thought aloud.

  A story she had read of young women being seduced each night by a handsome incubus came to mind and for some reason that made her shiver. She turned her face toward the window where a beam of moonlight showed through the space where the two curtains failed to meet.