A Visitation of Angels

by Carolyn Haines

  “Tell me what you’ve heard.”

  Reginald came in the door. “Your horse is tied at the rail. You should go and get back as quickly as you can, Raissa. Don’t go inside the house. Promise me.”

  “I promise.”

  Reginald checked his watch. “If you’re not back in two hours, Elizabeth and I are coming to find you.”

  That would put Reginald and Elizabeth in danger. “It shouldn’t take more than half an hour to ride there, an hour to search, half an hour to return. That’s enough time. I’ll drop the gelding by Hattie’s on the way.”

  “I don’t like this.” Reginald could be as stubborn as I was.

  “Reginald, I think we should visit Gaylen Brooks.” Elizabeth smoothly turned the conversation. She bent to pick up her baby and little Callie cooed with pleasure.

  “Who is Gaylen Brooks?” I got a glass of water and drank it down. It was hot outside and I had a solid ride in front of me.

  “Her husband is Welton Brooks, Lucais’s right hand man. A real brute if Gaylen’s bruises are a testimony. Gaylen may talk to us about Ruth. Maybe.”

  I wiped my hands on my skirts and walked out the door with Elizabeth, Callie, and Reginald. I liked to ride horses, but I didn’t relish this ride in the frying sun. No matter, it had to be done. Reginald retrieved Ruth’s gelding and handed me the lead rope. I untied the reins and stepped into Reginald’s laced hands as he boosted me into the sidesaddle.

  “Will you be able to mount on your own to come home?”

  The sidesaddle was tricky. “I’ll find a stump or use the porch. Mariah is a calm horse.”

  “Mariah can run like the wind,” Elizabeth said. “But she’s easy to stop and she doesn’t spook.”

  “I’ll be fine.” I clucked to the mare and we set out down the road at a trot. She was easy to sit, and when we’d cleared the yard, she broke into a rocking canter. The gelding followed easily behind and I was at Hattie’s before long. She came out and took the lead rope. She cast a concerned look at me but didn’t comment.

  “Thanks, Hattie. We’ll see you later.” I was off again. All I had to do was sit deep in the saddle, holding tight with my right leg. While I preferred to ride astride the horse, which was more secure, I’d learned sidesaddle and in the backward world of Mission, it was a lucky thing I had. My hand strayed to the place behind my ear where the red mark tingled. I loosened the reins a little more and let Mariah gallop. I couldn’t get out of Mission fast enough.

  Chapter 10

  I approached Ruth’s house at a walk. Mariah was blowing, and she needed to cool before I let her graze in the abandoned paddock. When it was safe to turn her free, I loosened the saddle’s girth but left it on her. I removed the bridle and put her in the yard beside the barn, then closed the paddock gate. She was secure but able to munch grass and get water from the trough. I hung the bridle on a post and headed to the woods, finding the path that Elizabeth had clearly described.

  It was mid-afternoon, and the shade of the woods was welcome. I trudged along the path, eyes peeled for the circle of stones and also snakes or other wild creatures that might not mean me harm—except I was invading their territory. The woods around me were home to bears, wolves, and some wild cats like cougars and panthers. They avoided human contact at all costs, unless they were provoked or couldn’t run. Every living creature had a right to protect their home. I just didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that fight.

  The chatter and activity of the wild creatures relaxed me. They’d alert me if anyone else was about, and that was my biggest worry. If my suspicions were correct, Lucais had come to Ruth’s before, searching for something. I had to take care that I didn’t lead him to what he sought.

  A limb snapped to my right and I dashed behind the trunk of a large white oak. Holding my breath, I tried to calm my pounding heart so I could hear better. I’d had a sense that eyes were on me. Watchful eyes. The woods suddenly went quiet. No birds or scuttling of small animals. The little creatures—the prey—knew someone dangerous was in their midst. I found a cedar limb the size of my arm and picked it up. It was better than no weapon at all. The stillness was more frightening than the sound of something rustling alongside me.

  “Ruth?” I called to her. “I’m here to find your killer.”

  The wildlife noises resumed, and I hiked along an incline for about a quarter of a mile before I saw the circle of stones. It was unmistakable, as Elizabeth had said. Twelve stones created a circle, with one large stone in the center. The area was clear of all grass and leaves, as if someone had swept it only moments before.

  The power of the place settled over me. This was an ancient gathering spot, a place where humans came to connect to nature and to spirit. My upbringing had been mostly traditional Protestant church, but as I’d begun to explore the spirit realm, I was learning that there were many ways to celebrate creation, many versions of the divine being I called God. And also many ways for religion to be used as a cudgel to batter people into servitude. Through the ages there had always been those who used religion to bully and belittle others.

  This place harkened back to a time and people who didn’t need the written word, interpreters, or buildings filled with riches and wealth. Here, the trees and stones were holy. Nature was the temple. The whisper of the wind contained a sense of a mighty creator. For the first time since we’d come to Mission, I was able to truly draw a deep breath. I was on sacred ground.

  The tension in my shoulders fell away, and I sat in the dirt, leaned against a sturdy rock, closed my eyes, and merely listened. Not for the sound of an interloper or danger, but for the whisper of the divine. A raw energy from the earth shifted up through my bones, and I could feel it pass out the top of my head. Whatever it was, it was powerful and warm.

  I realized that Ruth and Elizabeth shared more in common than I’d first understood. Yes, they were both outsiders in this strange community, but it was more than that. Both were connected to nature. Both walked outside the narrow worldview of Mission. Both were considered dangerous. Ruth had paid with her life. It was very possible that Elizabeth and little Callie would also.

  I kept my eyes closed and tried to focus on where Ruth might have hidden a journal or diary. It had to be a dry place. Anywhere outside wasn’t optimal. The heat and humidity, the almost daily rains, would quickly destroy paper. But if Ruth had reason to believe she was in danger, she might have found a temporary hiding place.

  A small giggle came to me, and the hair on my arms lifted in response. No child should be out in the woods alone. Grown men didn’t giggle, and if they did, I was in worse trouble than I’d anticipated.

  I opened my eyes a slit, forcing my body to remain relaxed. If I meant to survive this—if it was an attack—I had only the element of surprise on my side. My fingers wrapped around the cedar club I’d found. Movement came from the north side of the clearing. Whoever it was crept slowly closer. In the narrow slit of my eyelids, I couldn’t see anyone.

  A twig close by snapped and it took every bit of restraint to keep from reacting.

  “Hey, lady, are you okay?”

  The little girl’s voice held real worry. I opened my eyes to see a child in a blue gingham dress standing at the edge of the stone circle. She held a well-worn doll in one hand, her dark eyes wide open with fear and concern.

  “Who are you?” I sat up and brushed the dust from my back. She didn’t answer, and I tried again. “My name is Raissa. What’s your name?” She had to be about seven or eight. What was she doing wandering around in the woods by herself?

  “Hildy.”

  I recognized the name with a start. “You’re the little girl who was lost in the woods, aren’t you?”

  She nodded. “Where’s Mrs. Whelan?”

  This was going to be difficult. “Have you come to visit her?”

  She nodded. “We play dolls. She makes clothes for Lindy.” She held up the doll, which wore a blue gingham dress made from the same material as Hildy’s.
“She makes pretty clothes, but I can’t take them home. I’d get a strappin’ if my daddy knew.”

  “Why would he be mad about doll clothes?”

  “I’m not supposed to see Mrs. Whelan, but she’s nice to me. She tells me I’m smart. And pretty.” She picked at her doll’s sparse hair. “She tells me about places far away. Good places.”

  “She sounds like a good friend.” My chest tightened painfully. I could not tell this child that Ruth Whelan was dead. Hildy’s loneliness was visceral.

  “She is. But it has to be secret.”

  “I won’t tell.”

  She glanced toward the house. “Where is she?”

  “She can’t come today, Hildy. She’s…gone away.”

  Tears brimmed in the little girl’s eyes. “Gone away? Forever?”

  I didn’t want to tell her the truth. I’d not intended to. Should I lie or break her heart? There really was only one choice. “Yes, forever.” If Ruth Whelan was a forbidden friend, Hildy would eventually ask about her. And then she would face punishment.

  “Where did she go?”

  “To a place where she’s happier. You don’t worry about her. She sent me here to tell you goodbye because she didn’t want to leave without telling you how much she cared about you.”

  “I wish she hadn’t gone.” The child didn’t cry but her shoulders slumped in defeat. It was possible Ruth had been her only true friend. Life in Mission would be hard for any girl child, but for one as sensitive—and lonely—as Hildy, it would be hell.

  “Me too. But she didn’t really have a choice. She had to go.”

  “What about the doll dresses?”

  I wasn’t certain what she meant. “Where are they?”

  “Hidden. So no one will know. Mrs. Whelan put them in the rock with her precious things. That’s what she calls them. Precious things.” She held the doll out to me but I didn’t take it. She valued her dolly, that much I could tell. “Will you play dolls with me?”

  “Sure.” Hildy’s plight touched me deeply, but I couldn’t help a growing excitement. Did the child know Ruth’s secret hiding place? “Where did Ruth hide the doll dresses?”

  Hildy went to a mid-sized rock beneath a white oak with a number of gnarled roots. “Help me, please.” Hildy pointed at the stone, and I pushed it away, revealing a deep indention in the tree roots. I reached into it and found a bundle wrapped in waxed butcher paper. I pulled it free and put it on the ground.

  “That’s the dresses.” She smiled as she sat down beside them. “This one, the yellow, is the newest. My mother never let me have a yellow dress. She said it would show dirt too easily.”

  What possible difference could it make to give a child the color dress she wanted, dirt or no dirt? “You’d be very pretty in a yellow dress. Maybe when you grow up you can buy one for yourself.”

  She shook her head.

  “Just a minute.” I reached deeper into the hole and found something else, a slender book. It too was wrapped in the waxed butcher paper that would give at least a little protection from the damp. My heart pounded with the possibility that this was what I sought. “There’s something else here.” I pulled the bundle out and turned to show Hildy but there was no one there. The child had vanished.

  Limbs crackled just down the trail—someone was coming. I shoved everything back into the hole and put the rock in place. When Lucais Wilkins came stalking into the clearing with two bearded men carrying rifles, I was sitting in the dirt, leaning against a rock.

  “I told you once that you’re trespassing,” Lucais said. “What are you doing here?”

  I held onto the reality that it was a much better thing that Lucais had found me here instead of Reginald. “I’m thinking of buying Mrs. Whelan’s property,” I reminded him.

  “Women don’t own property.” He said it as if it were law, and possibly it was law in Mission.

  “Oh, it’s not going to be my property but my uncle’s.”

  “And who is your uncle?”

  “Brett Airley from down in Mobile. He runs a shipping company. His boats bring a lot of the supplies up the Alabama to the Tennessee for transport here.” I swallowed, aware that my throat was dry and I was deeply afraid. “Uncle Brett loves the mountains.” I was babbling and I forced myself to stop.

  The suspicion on Lucais’s face had lessened whatsoever. “What are you doing here? What are these rocks?”

  “I was looking for the property boundary and I turned my ankle. I was giving it a chance to stop hurting so I could walk back.” I pulled myself to my feet and hobbled a step or two before I sat down again. “Would you consider bringing my horse to me so I can get home? She’s just back by the house.”

  He motioned one of the men to fetch the horse before he stepped closer to me as if he could sniff a lie on me. “Home?”

  “I’m lodging with Mrs. Logan while I search for property for my uncle.” It was good luck Uncle Brett had given me that excuse for nosing around the country. “My uncle is determined to have a place to come to next summer to get away from the big storms down along the coast. We just had a bad one. Twenty-four people drowned along the Alabama coast. You see, Uncle Brett has done so much for me, I offered to find a property for him.” I continued to babble about Uncle Brett and the powerful people he knew and the parties he held. My goal was to let Lucais know that while he might control Mission, I had connections with people who had far more power in the outside world.

  “And you somehow decided to look at the property of a murdered woman, out of all the places you could look.” He drilled me with a penetrating glare.

  “I didn’t actually know that until I got here.” I gave him my most innocent look.

  “Then why this property?”

  “It’s the spring. I heard about the healing qualities of the water. Uncle Brett suffers from gout. I thought it might help him.” The lies tumbled out of my mouth.

  “I’m buying this property. You’ll have to find another place.”

  I didn’t have to answer because the man had returned with Mariah. I scrambled awkwardly on top of one of the stones, feigning my alleged injury. He brought the mare to stand so I could mount. When I had the reins in my hand, I thanked them for their help.

  “Tell your uncle to find another property.” Lucais was standing close to Mariah and he made the placid mare anxious. She danced and sidestepped to get away from him.

  “I’ll tell him, but you should know my uncle is a very determined man. With lots of money. I’ve never seen him set his cap for something and fail to get it. But I’ll tell him.” I nudged the mare into a trot and we left the clearing. I could only hope I’d left no traces of the hidey hole beneath the stone. And where in the world had Hildy Morse disappeared to? The child was there and suddenly gone. She’d probably heard the men coming since I’d been preoccupied digging in the hole. She was smart enough to know she couldn’t be caught in the woods with me—that would mean serious trouble for her. Thank goodness she’d made her escape before Lucais saw her. I had no doubt her punishment for even speaking to me, a stranger, would have been severe had she been caught.

  I passed the big touring car parked in front of Ruth’s house. In the motorcar, Lucais could overtake me easily if that’s what he decided to do. The idea sent a bolt of terror through me. Was he playing with me, like a cat with a mouse? Did he mean to let me get a ways down the road and then roar up behind me?

  When I was half a mile from Ruth’s cottage, I turned Mariah into a narrow dirt lane that wound through the woods. The thick, dense growth of trees wouldn’t allow the car to pass. Nonetheless, I rode deeper into the woods before I stopped Mariah. I’d give Lucais some time to do whatever he was doing at Ruth’s and then clear out.

  Half an hour passed before I set Mariah back toward Ruth’s house. I was torn between going back for the journal or riding back to Elizabeth’s, but the possibility of a storm decided for me. I’d grab the journal and the doll dresses. Hildy set a store by those dresses a
nd Elizabeth would know how to get them to her or leave them somewhere she could enjoy them. Much more pressingly, the journal might answer a lot of our questions. I had to retrieve it.

  As I hoped, the big touring car was gone from Ruth’s property, and I rode Mariah back to the circle of stones. She waited patiently as I got off and recovered the doll dresses and the journal. Any minute Reginald would be driving to look for me and I didn’t want to put him at risk, so I didn’t take time to look at the journal. I mounted using the rock again and pointed the horse toward home. I held one truth tightly—Lucais Wilkins might have been looking for the book, but he hadn’t found it.

  Chapter 11

  With the small leatherbound book and the doll dresses tucked into the bodice of my dress, I leaned into Mariah’s mane and let her take me back to Elizabeth’s at a pace much faster than I normally rode. I feared Lucais—or his helpers who, in my mind, had taken on the characteristics of the buzzards that had welcomed us to Mission—would step out of the woods and try to apprehend me. It was a dark fancy, and not a pleasant one.

  Uncle Brett’s car was parked in front of Elizabeth’s house, and I was glad they were back from their assignment. Being with Reginald made me feel safer, even if I knew logically that was not true.

  I rode into the front yard, dismounted, and quickly led Mariah to the barn where I unsaddled her and rubbed her down. She was as reliable as Elizabeth had promised. “Sweet, sweet girl.” I gave her a handful of grain when I knew she was cool. When I was certain she was fine to turn out, I let her go and settled on an old bucket to examine the journal. I opened it and stopped, so disappointed that I couldn’t even form a thought.