DISCLAIMER: Catherine Marshall's beautiful story of
Christy is owned by the Marshall- LeSourd Family. I am
in no way seeking profit or credit for her story; I am
simply continuing it for my own enjoyment. Similarities
to other works of fiction are purely coincidental,
and I have invented any additions to the story line or
itscharacters. The contents of this story are not to be
distributed, archived, or posted in any form without the
explicit permission of the writer.


Sweet Harmony by DJ

Rachel McDaniel walked the seven miles from El Pano to
Cutter Gap.  She carried a bundle of her belongings.
They were heavy and she stopped to rest often.  The walk
was a long one, but she was a highlander, a mountain woman.
She was used to walking.

Hoisting the bundle off of her back, she scooped a cup
of cold branch water into the tin cup she had tied to her
apron string.  She took a long draught.  The water was cold
and clear, but not quite pure.  She detected a hint of the
tell-tale bite of sour mash, a sign that moonshiners were
at work somewhere upstream.  She grinned ruefully, partly
because she knew what was going on, partly because some
things never changed.

It had taken her three days to get here.  She had managed a
ride on a couple of farm wagons, but most of the journey
from Black Bear Ridge had been on foot.  Luckily she
had shoes, something of a luxury for a logger's wife.
The shoes were plain and sturdy, if old, and they kept
her feet from being scratched and bruised or infected by
the poison ivy which grew in abundance everywhere along
the trail.

The heat and humidity of late August was oppressive,
but the higher she went, the shade became cooler and the
air fresher.  As she followed the branch-side trail up
the mountain, some places began to seem familiar to her.
It had been a good twenty years since she had been in this
cove.  Twenty years since her father had quarreled with
his elder brother.  He had moved his family out of Cutter
Gap in a fit of stubborn Scottish pride.  As she neared her
goal, she hoped that her uncle's widow would remember her
and that she would not be blamed for her father's faults.

Rachel pondered these things as she trudged on.  She was
near her aunt's cabin now.  She rounded a kudzu-enshrouded
outcropping of rocks that she remembered from childhood
and found herself in front of the McCabe cabin.  It was
a nice tidy little place.

Rachel smiled, and summoning up her courage, she put
down her load and timidly knocked on the door.  There was
no answer.

"Aunt Hattie?"  she called out.  "Aunt Hattie, it's
Rachel McDaniel, used to be McCabe.  I'm Lonny's daughter.
She listened intently, but again there was no response,
only silence.  She peered through the windows and saw, to
her dismay, that no one was home.  No one had been home
for a long time.

Sweet Harmony Chapter 2


Jeb Spencer awoke to the early morning sounds that
delighted his musical soul.  This first consciousness
was followed by the daily ache of longing, of missing
Fairlight in the bed beside him.  He sighed deeply and lay
motionless for an extra minute, eyes closed, summoning up
the vision of Fairlight's deep-pool blue eyes.  He had
often told her that he could get lost in those eyes.
Jeb opened his own eyes and forced himself to sit up.
He swung his feet to the cold wooden floor.  There used to
be a rag rug here, but it had been soiled in Fairlight's
last illness and he had burned it sometime in those first
few horrible days.  He couldn't even remember doing it.
He ran his fingers through is graying brown hair and
reached out for his pants.

"Morning Daddy,"  came a voice from above.  Zady peeked
through the opening to the loft.

"Mornin'Young'un,"  he smiled up at his eldest daughter.
"Get your brothers and sisters up.  Tell John to meet me
in the barn."

A sleepy voice called out, "I'll be there directly."

Jeb nodded at Zady whose head popped back into the loft.
He heard the stirrings of his awakening children.

He stopped to wash his face in the cold water in the enamel
bowl by the door.  He knew that Zady would soon be fixing
breakfast and that Lulu and Least 'un would be sent to
the creek to fetch water.

Zady had become a good housekeeper since Fairlight's
death.  He knew that it was the custom among mountain
people for the eldest unmarried daughter to take over
the responsibility of daily housekeeping when her mother
passed on.  He also knew deep down that she should continue
to go to school.  If he were to keep her at home, he would
be guilty of a kind of neglect that he had only recently
become aware of.  It had been the coming of Miss Christy,
now Mrs. MacNeill, that had made him realize that this
daughter might be destined for something besides keeping
house for a husband and children.  School would be starting
soon and he would have to decide what to do about Zady
when it did.  He had promised Fairlight to make sure that
all of their children got a good education, but he wasn't
sure how much education that was.

John joined him in the barn and the two worked side by
side caring for the few animals, including the two mules
that were Jeb's pride and joy.

"Sir?"  began John.

"John," replied Jeb soberly, but with a twinkle.

"I've been thinking'.  When are you going to take the honey
down to sell?"  asked John, his eyes concentrating on the
rough mane of one of the mules.

Jeb thought a moment before he answered.  " I haven't had
time to sit down and think about it."

John's face brightened with excitement.

"Pa, I could take it down.  I can handle the mules near
as well as you.  That way you'"

He was cut off by a look from his father.

"Son, I know you can handle the mules and the wagon.
It ain't a question about that, but it can be a long
dangerous trip to the lowlands.  There's a lot of people
you can't trust. You ain't never been in a city before,
and you never sold anything before.

He watched as John's face fell.

"I know you mean well boy."  he said feelingly, "But the
truth is, you know more about managing this place than
you do about selling honey.  If I do go, I'll need you
here to take care or your brother and sisters."

"Yes, sir."  said John with disappointment in his voice.

Jeb smiled.  "Now come on.  I'll bet your sister has a
pile of flapjacks waiting for us."  He put his arm around
the still narrow shoulders of his eldest son, hoping that
they wouldn't have the burden of too much responsibility
too soon.

Sweet Harmony Chapter 3


Neil MacNeill slowed his horse to a slow walk.   A recent
wind storm had blown branches across the trail and
many had only partially broken and hung at crazy angles
overhead waiting for the next gust of wind to blow them
to the ground.

He was exhausted.  It had been a long night.  Some boys up
in Raven Gap had gotten into a dispute over the ownership
of a still and had tried to resolved the issue with knives.
The result had been several belly wounds and bruised heads.
One man was still touch and go, but he had done all that
was humanly possible.  Neil hoped the man would live, or
there would be more blood shed and more trips to Raven
Gap for him.

Right now, however, having done all he could do, he was
on his way home to a pretty wife, a good meal and a long
sleep.  The trail he was following took him near Aunt
Hattie's cabin, and tired as he was he thought he might
as well have a look at the place and make sure everything
was alright.

The neat little cabin was his now.  Since her death
several months before he had made a trip up here about
once a week to check for squatters.  He was, as far as he
knew, Hattie's only living relative.  He had no idea where
Henry McCabe's people were.  He hadn't decided yet what
he was going to do with the cabin.  He thought vaguely
that it might do for a wedding present when John Spencer
and Bessie Coburn married.

With a pang he remembered the sweet woman whom he had
loved.  She had been his only living kin for many years.
The blight of trachoma and blindness had not dampened her
sweet spirit.  She remained a good and giving woman until
the end.  She had succumbed to a sudden heart attack,
and her passing had been quick and relatively painless,
but Neil felt the loss deeply.  The only thing lacking at
his and Christy's wedding had been that beautiful voice.
How he wished she could have been there.

As he came in sight of the cabin, he realized that there
was something laying near the front door.  Cautiously
dismounting, he tethered Duke to a nearby bush and
approached the leaf strewn porch.  The thing was a person
wrapped up in a quilt.  A bundle of goods lay beside her.

Neil cleared his throat.

"Can I help you?"  he said in his professional voice,
quiet, but firm.

The woman started and sat up.  She was about thirty, with
dirty strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes.  Her eyes
were heavy with sleep, her cheeks pale with fatigue.
She stared up at Neil in confusion.

"I'm sorry if I'm trespassin'.  This cabin used to belong
to kin of mine.  McCabe was their name.  I reckon it ain't
theirs anymore.  I'd be obliged if you could tell me where
Hattie McCabe is livin' now.  It's been a long spell since
I've been here in the cove."

"Who might you be?"  asked Neil, perplexed.

"Name's Rachel McDaniel.  Used to be McCabe.  Henry McCabe
was my uncle on my father's side." she answered.

It was Neil's trun to look startled.  "You're Lonny
McCabe's daughter?  Rachel McCabe..." he cast his mind
back many years and nodded.  "I remember you.  I used
to carry you around piggy back when you were little."
He chuckled at the memory.

Rachel peered closely at the tall ginger-haired man
before her.  In his twinkling blue eyes she saw the clear
blue-green of Aunt Hattie's eyes that she remembered well.

"Are you a MacNeill?"  she asked.

"Neil MacNeill  It's been a long time.  Last I heard
your people moved out of the Cove what, twenty years
ago?" he said.

"We moved over to Black Bear Ridge.  Papa had a quarrel
with Uncle." She nodded toward the cabin.

"And you're married now?"  he asked, eyeing the bundle on
the porch.

"Was.  I married Sam McDaniel.  He was a logger.  He got
killed.  Crushed.  About a month back."  She replied,
obviously not wanting to go into detail.

"What are you doing here?"

She sighed.

"Sam's folks never did take to me, and my folks are all
dead now, except for my sister Kate.  She's in Knoxville.
I reckoned I'd see if Aunt Hattie would take me in, but..."
Her voice trailed off.

Neil glanced at the cabin door tenderly.

"Aunt Hattie passed away several months ago.  It never
occurred to me to try to send word to your side of the
family, even if I had known where you were.  I'm sorry."

Rachel sighed again and looked thoughtfully at the ground.

"Well, that's that then.  I reckon I'll have to move on
to Knoxville and get one of them factory jobs like sister
Kate's got.  Never figure to live down in the lowlands
though.

Neil gazed at this rediscovered cousin.  He had thought
himself bereft of relations.  Now, like a gift from above,
a kinswoman had appeared.  She was family, and couldn't
be turned away.

"Well, you can't do anything tonight.  Why don't you come
home with me.  My wife would be delighted to meet you.
We have a spare bed.   Perhaps you can stay until you
decided what you want to do?"  Said Neil warmly.

Rachel looked up at him gratefully.

"I won't say no, if you're sure it wouldn't be no
bother." she said.

"None whatsoever.  Christy will welcome you with open arms.
Come on, let's put your things up here."  He lifted her
bundle over the front of his saddle.

"Do you ride?" he asked.

"I can, but I don't mind walking if it's not a far piece."
Rachel demurred.

"Nonsense," he said preparing to give her a boost.
"I'll warrant you've been walking all day.  You'll ride
and I'll lead."

He helped her mount the horse and took hold of the
reins while she balanced her bundle in front of her.
Slowly, they picked their way down the trail toward home.