Legal Disclaimer: The story and characters of Christy are the property
of the LeSourd family.  This work of fan fiction is for personal
amusement only and no infringement of their rights is intended.  The
writer seeks no profit or credit from this story.  Any additions of
story line and characters were invented by the writer.

Title:  See the Light 
Author: Greer



Setting:  This story begins in mid-August, the summer after "Road
Home."  This story is not a resolution of the ending of that episode. 
You may assume whatever you like happened in the intervening ten
months, but suffice it to say that Christy is not engaged to anyone,
and MtMW is MIA (may be alive, may be dead – who cares?).  Moreover,
this story is completely independent from Crisis of Courage and is NOT
a sequel.  

**********************
Chapter 1

        “That’s all we can do.”  David tossed aside a bucket and surveyed the
surrounding devastation.  The small barn on the Allen's property had
burned to the ground.  Charred carcasses of chickens littered the soggy
blackened dirt.  Two horses, saved by the quick actions of Bob and his
sons, roamed aimlessly, their singed manes attesting to the speed of
the spreading fire.

        Efforts to save the structure had failed.  Although neighbors
responded quickly to Bob's appeal for help, the summer drought left the
land like kindling.  The bucket brigade had finally succeeded in
dousing the flames, but only after the barn and many of its occupants
had been destroyed.  The quick and determined action prevented the
blaze from spreading to the surrounding woods.

        “Reckon it’s a total loss.”  Tom McHone picked up a shovel and scooped
up clumps of charred wood.  “A real shame.”  

        “Sure is.”  Jeb Spencer kicked a few piles of smoldering ash to ensure
no fire remained.  “Bob built this barn not a year ago.”  He grabbed
for another shovel.  “Here, lemme give you a hand.” 

        David was exhausted, his hands were raw, and his eyes weeped from the
smoke.  He’d heard the men talking.  The Allens had spotted Taylors in
the area only a short time before the blaze.  They were convinced this
was no accident and he had to agree.  Rumblings of renewed feuding had
been circulating for weeks.  He was thankful that Christy had recently
returned to Asheville for vacation and had been spared this.  

        David momentarily abandoned the men and made his way toward the cabin,
where Bob’s wife huddled on the porch with her younger children.  David
reflected on the many hardships the Allens had endured.  He often found
himself at a loss to understand how this family maintained faith in God
in the midst of their suffering.  As he climbed the porch steps, his
eye was instinctively drawn to Creed, who coughed uncontrollably.  

        "Mary,” he called out, “is Creed all right?" 

        "Dunno."  Mary’s eyes took in the scene, her expression a
mixture of exhaustion and resignation.  "Went runnin' into the fire ta
git one o' his critters.  Been coughin' ever since."

        “Had to git Monty,” the boy said between coughs.

        “Monty’s his pig.”

        "Have you sent for the doctor?" 

        She shook her head.  "Gone to Raven Gap.  Meg Lawson's having
twins."

        David frowned.  Creed obviously needed medical attention.  "What about
Dan Scott?"

        "Rob’s gone ta git ‘im."  Mary did not sound enthusiastic.  

        David’s face reflected his impatience and frustration.  Dan Scott had
yet to be accepted and the feuding had yet to stop.  This act of arson
was merely the latest round.  Joseph Allen, cousin of Bob and Ault, had
recently built a barn on land claimed by the Taylors.  It didn’t matter
that no Taylor had lived on or near the disputed property in over
thirty years or that no official deed existed.  Joseph's refusal to
relocate had sparked yet another pitched battle between the opposing
clans.  

        "Preacher, why'd God let them burn down our barn an' kill our
animals?"  The voice of Little Burl interrupted his thoughts.

        David frantically searched for an answer.  It was difficult to
convince the people of Cutter Gap of the existence of a loving God when
they were surrounded by hate and suffering.  "I don't know, Little
Burl.”  It was the truth.  He’d run out of answers a long time ago and
didn’t understand why God seemed to forget the little corner of the
world called Cutter Gap.  “We don't always understand why bad things
happen.  But it doesn't mean that God doesn't love us.  Perhaps he’s
testing us, testing our faith."  

        "But why, Preacher?"  Burl was not satisfied.

        David was saved from replying by a wracking cough from Creed. 
He placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder.  "How are you doing?”

        "I'm okay."

        Creed sounded anything but okay.  “I’m sure Mr. Scott will be
here soon.”  Raised voices from the area of the destroyed barn
distracted his attention.

        "This is it."  Halfway between the house and the barn, Ault threw down
his shovel.  "Couple weeks ago, five of my chickens was stoled.  Then
there was the tree done fell on Jacob's house.  I know that weren't no
accident."

        "What about my corn?" another voice asked.  "Someone come at night an'
picked it clean.  I know it was one of them Taylor boys."

        Within a few minutes, Ault had assembled an angry mob.  "I say enough.
 We Allens ain't standin' fer this.  Bird's Eye an' his kin will pay! 
I say we go over there right now.  Who's with me?"

        "I'm with ya."

        "Lemme git my gun."

        "Let's do it."

        "Just what are you planning to do?"  The men turned at the sound of
David's voice. 

        "Ain't none of yer business, Preacher," Ault said.  "Why don't
you jes do yer preaching an' let us take care of our problems."

        "More violence won't solve anything."

        "Who said anything ‘bout violence?"  Ault's companions laughed at
this remark.

        David would not be deterred.  "You admitted this started with a
few stolen chickens.  Now we have a destroyed building."

        "We didn't start no fire here."

        Out of the corner of his eye, David observed Dan Scott approach on
horseback and head toward the injured Creed.  "I know that.  But
someone has to stop the feuding.  It was the grace of God that no one
died today.  If you seek revenge for this, what happens next?  Someone
will be killed.  Is that what you really want?"

        "If it's a Taylor."  Again there was laughter.

        "How many times have I preached to you about turning the other
cheek?"

        Bob spoke for the first time.  "Ain't God said 'an eye fer an
eye?'" 

        "That's for God to do, not us."  David sensed his line of reasoning
was having no impact on the mountain men.  "Tom, isn't Opal waiting for
you and Isaak at home?"

        He saw the man nod.  "And Toot and Vincent?  Shouldn’t you go home and
let them know you're all right, that Bob and his family are safe?”  He
looked next at Bob.  “What about Creed?  Is it more important to chase
after the Taylors than to care for your own son?"  

        Bob's eyes studied the ground, then sneaked a look toward the porch.  

        One by one, David challenged the men.  “Go home all of you.  Go
home to your families.  Thank God that the damage wasn’t worse and pray
for His help in cleansing the anger from your heart."  His words were
rewarded with a mumbling from the group.

        "It's gittin' dark.  I'd bes git on," Tom McHone said, tossing aside
his shovel.

        Jeb Spencer sighed.  "Yeah, Fairlight will be worried fer me."

        Slowly the men began to drift away.  Ault was the last to
leave.  

        "I won't fergit this, Preacher."  He gave David a hard look.  "Bird's
Eye knows one thing an' that's a gun.  We mean to stop him.  You think
you won here today.  But it ain't over."  He shook his head.  "It ain't
over."  Without waiting for a reply, he stalked away.

        Dan approached David.  "That's one angry man."

        "How's Creed?"

        "He took in a fair amount of smoke, but his lungs sound clear.  I’ll
have Doc MacNeill check on him when he gets back."  Dan nodded in the
direction of Ault's receding figure.  "What do you think he'll do
next?"

        "I don't know."

        "There's some mean folks around here.  It might be best to
steer clear and let them work it out for themselves."

        "Sometimes I wish I could."  As David pulled a handkerchief from his
pocked to wipe the soot from his face, a crumpled envelope fluttered to
the ground.  

**********************


 Chapter 2

        Christy pushed open the heavy wooden door to her bedroom.  To her
surprise, it looked exactly as she had left it nine months ago.  Only
the lack of dust testified to her mother’s presence.  The bed and its
voluminous quilt dominated the room.  Against the opposite wall stood
her dresser, covered with a few possessions she’d not taken to Cutter
Gap.  Everything about this room was the same, everything in it
belonged to her.  But it no longer felt like her room.  Her room was in
a mission building miles away.

        She crossed to the bookcase and ran her hands along her collection of
porcelain-faced dolls.  Mentally she counted them, though she didn’t
need to.  Seventeen in all.  Her eyes glazed over as she thought of her
children in Cutter Gap who would never own a single doll so fine.  

        “So how’s it feel to be home?”

        George Huddleston stood in the doorway, bracketed by Christy’s trunks
that he’d carried up the stairs.  His disheveled clothing and grimy
appearance suggested a recent hard-fought game of baseball.  Despite
the sweat and dirt, Christy rushed to hug him and was startled to
discover how much her younger brother had grown.  Her head only reached
his shoulders.

        “It’s wonderful.  Seeing you and mother and daddy is the best part.”

        George freed himself from her embrace. “It’s been so long, I’d
almost forgotten what you looked like.”

        Christy laughed.  “I’ll have to have a photograph taken while
I’m home.  You can set it on your dresser and think of me every day
when you wake up.”

        “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever come back.”

        Christy stepped back and stared with wide eyes.  “What do you mean? 
Of course, I’d come home.  I told you at Christmas and in my letters.”

        “How long this time?”

        She noted the sarcasm in his voice.  “Several weeks.  School
doesn’t start until mid-September.”

        “I wish you were staying longer.”

        “I’ve missed you too.”

        For a moment Christy and her brother were silent.  George picked up
the small trunks and carried them into the room.  

        “You can put that one here.”  Christy watched her brother easily lift
a trunk onto her bed. 

        George plopped down on the quilt and absently tossed one of her
pillows into the air.  “As long as you’re going to be here awhile,
you’ll have to come to my games.  I’m playing catcher.”

        “You know David’s been teaching the children to play baseball.”

        “Really?  Well, maybe if I come visit, I can give him a hand.” 

        “Will you come?” Christy’s face brightened at the thought.  “I’d like
that.”  She opened trunk and carried a small stack of blouses to her
armoire.  Inside, her finest dresses and linens hung in a neat row. 
There were hats of various shapes and colors, and shoes with pointy
toes and dainty heels.  These were clothes she’d not worn since she
left for Cutter Gap.  As she fingered the delicate garments she
wondered if she would ever wear them again. 

        “I know Mother’s planned more than a few activities.”  George again
interrupted her thoughts.  “You’ll be lucky to have any free time at
all.”

        “I hope she doesn’t keep me too busy.  I’d rather spend my time
here.”

        “Have you told Mother you’re going back to Cutter Gap so soon?”
 George surprised her with the question.

        “Yes.”  She turned back toward the bed.  “Well, no, not really.  But
she must know that I can’t stay long, what with school starting.” 
Christy couldn’t read her brother’s expression.  “Why, has she said
something?”

        Her brother shrugged.  “Not exactly.”  He stood up from the bed. 
“Well, I’ll let you get settled.”  At the door, he turned back. 
“You’re not even going to stay for three weeks, are you?”

        “Of course I am.  What makes you say that?”

        George shrugged.  “I dunno.  Guess I can’t quite see you on
mother’s social circuit.  Just do what you think best, Christy.  You’ve
made the right decisions up to now.”  

        After George left, Christy gazed into the large mirror over her
dresser, expecting to see the face that had stared back so many times. 
Instead, she saw features both unfamiliar and unmistakably hers.  She’d
aged.  But it was her eyes that transfixed her, eyes that had now seen
joy and victory and suffering and death.  Eyes that would never again
call this room home.

****

        David forced himself to focus on his prayer.  He tried to shut out the
thoughts that swirled through his mind – thoughts of Christy, Miss
Alice, the charred barn, the small boy with a racking cough, the
poverty, the loneliness.  They created a hazy mist, a fog that
prevented him from figuring out what God was trying to tell him.  The
answer must exist, he simply couldn’t see it.  

        His life had been reduced to stepping through the hours of the day. 
Preparing the sermon, holding Bible study, repairing the church,
delivering the sermon.  Days folded into weeks, and two years of his
life were gone.  What did he have to show for it?

        The Cove was no different than when he’d arrived.  The feuding
continued and threatened to envelop a new generation.  The poverty was
overwhelming and the mountain people refused to accept even the minimal
assistance the mission could offer.   Illegal liquor might now be
hidden, but families still produced, sold, and drank as much as ever. 
And he was no closer to bonding with the mountain men than the day he'd
stepped off the train.

        He thought too about Ida.  She’d been gone nearly a year and he missed
her.  They still wrote, but the letters seemed less frequent now.  His
sister sounded happy, and he envied her that contentment.

        He’d done his best, hadn’t he?  And what was his reward?  Christy saw
her students read and spell and add.  How could he measure his
progress?  Or was there any progress to measure?  

        "Preacher, whattya doin?"

        David turned at the sound of the voice, his body twisting in
the wooden pew.  Little Burl Allen stood only a few feet away.  David
had been so engrossed in his meditation that he’d failed to hear the
boy approach.  "I was praying."

        "Whattya prayin' about?"  Burl took a few steps closer.

        "I'm praying for a friend, Little Burl."

        "Miz Christy?"

        David offered the boy a rueful smile.  "No, not Miss Christy."  

        "Ain't she yer friend?  Ya pray fer her don't ya?"

        "Of course she's my friend.  And yes, I pray for her often and for you
too.  But just now I was praying for a friend of mine from seminary
who’s coming to visit.”

        The boy's eyes widened in confusion.  "What’s seni--?"

        David fingered the crumpled envelope in his pocket.  The letter inside
had arrived four days ago.  He’d memorized its contents.  Stephen Byrne
was coming to Cutter Gap.  

        "Seminary is like a school for preachers."  David saw the boy's
eyes light up with understanding.  "So you see, my friend Stephen and I
went to school together."

        "He’s a preacher too?"

        "He's a preacher in a big church in Boston.  Massachusetts," David
explained.  

        "What’s he comin’ here for?"

        "To visit."   Though he and Stephen corresponded regularly, David had
been surprised by his recent letter.  Stephen had mentioned something
about evaluating missions for his home church.  But in truth, David had
no idea why his friend was coming to Cutter Gap or how long he planned
to stay.  Only that he’d be here soon.

        Staring at the youngster, David remembered the blaze at the Allen
barn.  “How’s Creed?  All recovered from the fire?”

        “Doc came round and made him stay in bed for two whole days.  Creed
weren’t real happy til momma fixed him sweetbread and Pa made me do his
chores.  Doc says he’s okay now.

        “And your father?”

        “I reckon he’s still sore.  Uncle Ault done come over last night and
he and Daddy gone off together.  I don’t know what they be talkin’
about but it looked mighty important.”
        
        David had a good idea what the Allen brothers were planning.  As he
stood up from the pew, he noticed shadows creeping across the Cove. 
"Little Burl, what are you doing all the way out here?  It's nearly
dark.   How will you get home?"

        "It’s okay.  Rob brung me.  He's seein’ Ruby Mae," he added in
a whisper.

        "Oh?"  David’s eyebrows arched.

        "Ain’t the first time neither.  Ma makes him take me along.”

        "I see.” 

        “I think Rob’s sweet on Ruby Mae, Preacher.  What do you
think?”

        “I think, Little Burl,” David scooped the small boy in his arms, “that
we ought to head back to the mission and find Rob so that you can get
home before dark.”


**********************

Chapter 3

        Alice dunked her arms into the tub and pulled out a
large white sheet.  Her sleeves were rolled up well
past the elbows and sweat covered her forehead.  Every
few minutes, she stopped to brush her hair out of her
face.  It was a warm day and she’d stood over the
steaming tub for more than an hour.  The laundry had
piled up during her absence.

        “Here, Mrs. Spencer.”  She swept her free hand around
the tub once again.  “The last one.”  She twisted the
cloth, squeezing out the excess water.

        Fairlight carried the sheet to the line and started
to hang it.  “Thank goodness.”  She turned to her
eldest daughter.  “Zady, you kin pull those things
from the line and start folding.”

        “Yes mama.”

        “Mrs. Spencer, thee and Zady are most kind to help.” 


        “With Miz Christy gone, it’s too much for any one
woman.  Zady, you stay and help Miss Alice while I git
started on the bread.”

        “There is no need for thee to cook as well,” Alice
said.  “I dare say Ruby Mae and I can manage.”

        Fairlight laughed softly.  “I’ll fix it anyway.”
        
        “Good morning, ladies.”  Hat in hand, David ran down
the steps of the mission porch, passing Fairlight on
her way up.  

        “You’re in quite the hurry this morning, Reverend,”
Fairlight said.

        “Off to meet a friend at the station.”

        “I heard about your preacher friend comin’ to visit.”


        David stared after her before turning back to Alice. 
“I should be back in several hours.”

        Alice rolled down her sleeves and washed her hands in
fresh water.  She grabbed a large canvas bag from
which she pulled several ears of corn.  “Has thee
given any more thought to our conversation last
evening?”

        Since her return from Cataleechie, Alice had sensed
uneasiness in David.  At first, she assumed it was due
to Christy’s absence.  Last night, however, David had
confessed that Stephen’s impending visit was like an
open wound, rekindling his uncertainty about ministry
in Cutter Gap. 

        He stopped in front of her.  “Yes, I prayed about
it.” 

        “I take it thee did not find the answers thee
sought?”

        “No.” 

        “Then thee must keep praying.”

        “I will.”  He looked toward the barn.  “I’d best be
on my way.  I still have to pick up the wagon from
Jeb.” 

        A few moments later, David waved as he rode off.

        Alice and Zady worked in silence.  “Thee seems
unusually quiet this morning, Zady.”

        The girl did not look up from her task.  “Jes
thinkin’.”

        Alice ripped the husks from an ear of corn.  “Would
thee like to share thy thoughts?”

        The girl remained silent and Alice assumed she
wouldn’t answer.  Finally, she faced the older woman. 
“I hate this!”

        Alice’s eyes widened in surprise.  “What does thee
hate?”  She had to stop herself from smiling at this
last word.

        Zady looked up from her folding with a stern
expression.  “Cleaning and cooking and sewing.  It’s
all I do.  It’s boring.  Boys don’t do it.”

        “Boys have their share of chores.”

        “But they ain’t gotta do this.”  She pointed
dramatically to a growing pile of sheets and towels.

        “Perhaps I can give thee a hand.”  Alice stood up
from her chair and grabbed the loose ends of the sheet
Zady was folding.  “What would thee like to do
instead?”

        “Go to school.”

        “School will start when Miss Huddleston returns from
her vacation in Asheville.”

        “Why does she need a vacation?  Why can’t she stay
here and teach us?”  Zady ripped another sheet from
the line.
        
        Alice smiled.  “Thee knows Miss Huddleston’s family
is in Asheville.  Were thee away from thy mother and
father for such a long time, thee would want to
visit.”

        “I guess so.  But I still wish I could learn.”  Zady
took a few steps toward Alice.  “If only somebody’d
teach me.”

        “Zady Spencer.” Alice had a twinkle in her eye. 
“Does thee have something in mind?”  

        “Well, I got me this idea.”  She looked away for a
moment.  “But it won’t work.  It’s stupid.”

        “I am certain that if thee has an idea, it is far
from stupid.”

        Alice listened as Zady explained her plan.  When the
girl had finished, she said, “Zady, that is certainly
an interesting idea.”

        “You think it’s stupid.  Grownups always say
something’s interesting if they think it’s stupid.”

        Alice laughed softly.  “On the contrary, I think thee
is quite clever.  And that thee should proceed.”

        “But what if he says no?”

        “Thee will not know until thee asks.” 

****

        It was late that afternoon when Stephen Byrne stepped
down from the wagon and slowly took in the scenery. 
His eyes roamed first the mountains and then the
buildings that dotted the hillside.  “It’s
magnificent!"

        "What?"  David looked around and saw only the same
church and mission house that he'd seen for nearly two
years, both in need of repair.  

        "The church, how it stands on top the mountain
overlooking the whole Cove, its steeple reaching up to
God."  Stephen pointed to the sky.  "Look at the rays
of sun.”

        David followed his friend’s gaze and saw brilliant
beams of light streaking toward the mountains.  He had
to admit the sight was beautiful.  

        “When I was a small boy,” Stephen said, “my
mother told that each ray of light was an angel coming
down from heaven."

        David smiled at Stephen's enthusiasm.  "My mother
told me that too.  But she also said that I'd go
straight to hell for even thinking about girls."   He
looked at his friend, dressed in his traditional black
suit.  Stephen had changed little in the past two
years.  He stood a few inches shorter than David, with
the stocky build of an athlete.  He had a strong face,
which had filled out, and deep brown eyes, but was
otherwise unremarkable in appearance, except for a few
errant freckles and a shock of blond hair. 
        
        But more than anything, to David his friend
represented success.  From the first day in seminary,
Stephen had been focused, determined, sure of what he
wanted.  Nothing had changed; his letters proved that.
 He had a successful ministry, a fiancée who adored
him, and an unbroken faith in God.  It was more than
David could have hoped for.
 
        Stephen raced across the field and threw open
the doors of the church.  "Oh look!  It's a school."

        David was right behind him.  "Yes, I couldn’t see
building a separate church that we use only once a
week."

        "Perfect.  To think these young children are
never far from God.  Every moment in school they're
reminded of His presence in their lives."

        "I suppose."

        Stephen fingered some of the children's drawings,
yellowed from the sunlight, that were tacked on the
wooden walls.  "Do you teach school as well?"

        "The Bible classes."

        "And that teacher, the one you write about all
the time, she teaches everything else?"

        David sighed.  Christy had been gone for over a week,
and he missed her desperately.  The mission seemed
empty without her.  "Yes.  Christy's home on vacation
now in Asheville.  She's due back in a couple of
weeks.”  David hoped Christy would be refreshed by her
trip.  She’d looked so tired when he’d left her at the
station.  “I hope you’re here when she returns.  I
can't wait for you to meet her."

        "Asheville, you say?"  Stephen came around the
benches at the front of the room. "That's right, I
remember now your telling me she's a city girl.  Must
be rough on her living here."  

        "She loves it.  Loves the people, especially
the children."

        "I can't wait to meet them myself.  How many
are there?"

        "Children?  About seventy in the Cove.  But they
don’t all come to school.”

        "Oh?  I'd think folks here would jump at the
chance for their children to get an education."

        "There are lots of reasons," David said in a tired
voice.  "It’s a long walk for many of them, especially
when the weather turns bad.  And the feuding.  Two
families have a forty-year blood feud.”

        Stephen's eyes reflected his shock.  "You mean
people actually kill each other?"

        "Well, no one's died since I've been here, though
we've come close."  David's expression clouded. 
"Now's a bad time, though.  It’s picked up again.  A
week ago, a barn was burned to the ground.  It's a
miracle someone wasn't hurt."

        "It has to be stopped."

        "Don't you think I've tried!”  David looked at his
friend in frustration.  Stephen had spent far too long
in Boston, he obviously didn’t understand what life
was like here in Cutter Gap.  “But these people hated
each other long before I got here and they'll keep on
hating each other long after I've gone."

        Stephen’s expression was bright.  “Hey, cheer up. 
Your old friend Stephen’s here now.  And I’d like to
meet some of these folks – feuders and non-feuders.”

        “Believe me, you’ll get your chance.  You can come
with me to the Allens’ tomorrow.  They’re one of the
families involved in the feud.  I promised to help Bob
clear land from the fire.”  He took a few steps toward
the door.  “But for now, let’s head over to the
mission.  We can get some lunch and I’ll introduce you
to Miss Alice.”

*************************

Chapter 4

        "I simply cannot decide what to wear to the Magnolia
ball," Charlotte said.  "Mother says I should wear my
blue dress.  You know, the silk one with the roses
across the back.”

        “Oh, I love that one, Charlotte!”  Laura Ann
sat on the divan sipping her iced tea.  

        “But I wore it to the Tea Dance last fall!  And the
very same people will be there.  Can you just
imagine?"

        Charlotte's companions nodded knowingly.  For her
part, Christy tried hard to understand this major
dilemma.  It was a sunny afternoon that she found
herself at the home of Charlotte Rae Majors, her
oldest and dearest friend in Asheville.  Upon hearing
Christy was in town, Charlotte had insisted on
bringing together her childhood friends for afternoon
tea.  

        "Will you be attending the ball, Christy?"  Laura Ann
carefully fanned herself in the stifling North
Carolina heat.  She was a tall, elegant blonde,
unquestionably the prettiest of the group.  

        "Um, I-- When is it?"  Christy hated herself for
having to ask, but she was no longer in tune with
Asheville social circuit.  She quickly swallowed her
tea so as to avoid eye contact with her friends.

        "It's next weekend, of course," Laura Ann replied. 
"John Wolloch is taking me."  Her triumphant look
suggested she knew the effect this announcement would
have on her friends.  

        "No!" Edna squealed.  "I thought for sure he
was taking Clara Whitleigh."

        "He was." 

        "Why you!"  The women burst into laughter as Edna and
Laura Ann excused themselves to fetch more
refreshments.

        Charlotte wiped her glistening eyes. 
"Christy, you must go." 

        "I’m not much for balls.  Besides, I don't have
anyone to go with." 

        "Nonsense.  I hear Edward Mayfield is looking for
someone to take.  A certain someone," Charlotte said
with a sly smile.  "He always did have a fancy for
you."

        Christy blushed at the comment.  She recalled
Edward as a striking but shy young man from a
prominent Asheville family.  She’d last seen him about
a year ago at a church social, where he’d mentioned
something about heading north for law school.  "I
doubt he remembers me." 

        "He remembers you.  I know more than a few young men
who’d give their right arms to take you to the ball. 
Just tell me you'll go and I'll spread the word. 
They'll be lining up at your door by sunrise.”  She
gave Christy an odd look.  “Unless you’ve met someone.
 Christy, you haven’t met that special someone without
telling me, have you?”  Charlotte leaned forward in
her chair.

        Christy returned her friend’s stare.  “No, no
one special.”

        Laura Ann and Edna entered the room balancing
pitchers and a plate of sandwiches. 

        “Then you simply must go,” Charlotte said. 
“All of the eligible men of Asheville will be there.”
 
        Christy smiled inwardly.  Charlotte had always been
their leader, and Christy had no doubt that her friend
would not only find her a date for the ball but would
do her best to ensure she had fun.  Still, she had
little interest in going.  When she’d left for Cutter
Gap, she was sure she’d miss all of the social
activities that had consumed her youth.  But her life
now seemed fuller, more interesting, more meaningful. 
She had no idea how she’d ever again make polite party
conversation about subjects that didn’t interest her. 
"I'll think about it,” she said lamely.

        Charlotte surveyed the group as she refilled their
glasses.  "All right, let's not talk about the ball. 
We can do that anytime.  Christy is here for the first
time in nearly a year.  Let's hear about her
adventures.  

       "Oh yes, do tell us!  It all sounds so
exciting," Edna said.

        Expectant eyes turned toward her.  Where to start? 
"Well, I teach sixty students, reading, penmanship,
history, science – every subject.  I’ve got almost
everyone doing basic reading and spelling, though the
grammar needs work.”  Christy described her initial
difficulties as well as the elation she felt at even
the smallest sign of progress.

        “The first year nothing seemed to work.  More than
once I thought about quitting.  But now I know that I
am making a difference, that God sent me there for a
reason.  It’s the best feeling.”  Her eyes shone
bright.  

        "What do you do for -- entertainment?" Laura
Ann asked.

        "I have lessons to prepare.  And there's plenty to do
around the mission -- milking the cows, feeding the
chickens and horses, making butter and soap,
washing--"

        "Oh stop!" Charlotte cried.  "Surely you don’t
do it all yourself?"

        "Miss Alice is there some of the time.  And Ruby Mae,
the girl I told you about."

        "It sounds like Ladies' Auxiliary," Laura Ann said. 
"I'm organizing a clothing drive this fall.  I can't
bear to think of those poor children without coats for
the winter." 

        "Edna, aren’t you working at the flower shop?”
Charlotte asked.

        "I wanted to.  But father wouldn't hear of it.
 Can’t see any reason for a woman to work.”

        "That's horrible!" Laura Ann spoke in her distinctive
accent.  

        For a time, Christy listened to their conversation. 
Eventually, however, she found herself tuning out the
voices around her.  Her thoughts wandered back to
Cutter Gap and to Mountie.  She’d left the girl ill
with measles.  Dr. MacNeill had assured her it was
nothing to worry about, but she knew how frightening
any illness could be to a small child.  And would John
Spencer seek a job in Knoxville?  She hated for him to
leave school but hoped that her teaching would help
him find work.  

        "Christy!"

        "Huh?" 

        Charlotte was speaking to her.  "Well, do
you?"

        "Do I?  I'm sorry, what did you say?"  

        "I asked whether you agreed that the hemlines
will come up an inch or two this year."

        How did they ever get to this topic?  Christy had
played with these girls as children, attended school
with them, and shared every confidence for as long as
she could remember.  Yet now she found herself unable
to carry on even the simplest conversation.  Hemlines
and teas and balls.  Seeing her friends expected some
sort of answer on the subject of dresses, she made a
noncommittal response and returned to her musings
about Cutter Gap.

****

        “Doctor MacNeill!  Doctor MacNeill!”  

        Zady Spencer rushed out of the cabin as Neil
prepared to mount his horse.  At the sound of her
voice, he pulled his foot out of the stirrup and
turned back to the young girl, the horse's reins still
in his hands.

        “Yes, Zady.”  He had just finished checking on her
brother Least'un.  The boy had a hernia that would
require surgery.  Jeb and Fairlight were unusually
apprehensive and repeatedly begged him to postpone the
operation.  But he’d convinced them of the need for
surgery and planned to operate as soon as the boy
recovered from a slight cold.  

        As she approached, Zady seemed to lose her resolve. 
“I, uh, wanted to ask you somethin’.”   She stood in
front of him, hands clasped in front of her, looking
up with hope and trepidation.

        When Zady faltered, Neil prodded her.  “Was it a
medical question?  About Least'un?"  Zady had seemed
unusually attentive while he’d examined her brother. 
Perhaps she had concerns she was afraid to voice in
front of her parents.

        “Oh no,” she said quickly.  “Well, not exactly.”

        The doctor waited patiently, then tried again.
 “Zady, you can ask me anything.”

        “Well . . . there’s no school in the summer.” 


        Neil nodded, a quizzical expression on his face.  

        “And, Miz Christy, she sometimes has lessons
anyways.  But she ain’t here now.”  

        Again Neil nodded.  Christy was not expected
back from her summer vacation for at least two weeks. 
School would resume shortly thereafter.

        “I was wonderin’ if, if you might give me lessons.” 
The young girl blurted out the last sentence with her
head hung down, then squinted to gauge his response.

        His eyes locked on hers.  “Lessons?  What sort
of lessons?”

        “Science, mathematics, anything.  I git so
bored when there’s no school.”

        Neil could see that Zady was pleased he had not
immediately said no.  “What does your mother say? 
Doesn’t she need your help around the house?” 

        “Momma says it’s okay, so long as I git my chores
done first.”

        The girl had clearly given this idea a great deal of
thought.  “You know I’m already giving lessons to Mr.
Scott?” 

        Zady nodded.  “I could listen.  I wouldn’t bother ya
none, I promise.”

        Neil started to laugh at the thought of Zady
participating in Dan’s medical training.  But she
obviously took the notion very seriously. 
Nevertheless, he was tempted to turn her down.  Giving
a few lectures to the children under Christy’s
supervision was one thing.  And he had to admit he
enjoyed teaching Dan about medicine.  But tutoring a
young girl on basic science?   

        He studied her.  The eagerness in her eyes and the
enthusiasm in her voice reminded him of another young
child many years ago with an insatiable curiosity for
learning.  What if no one had helped him?

        “All right, Zady, I’ll see about giving you a few
lessons.  But only a few, mind you -- until Miss
Huddleston returns.”

        “Oh that's fine, Doc.”  Zady’s eyes opened wide. 
"When kin I start?" 

        “Why don’t you come by my cabin tomorrow
afternoon.  Can you get there by yourself or should I
have Dan ride you over?”

        “I’ll git there.  No callin' to worry ‘bout
me.”

        Neil smiled.  “All right then.  Until tomorrow.”  He
remounted his horse.  Despite his initial reticence,
he could not help but be inspired by Zady’s eagerness.
 However, he also realized he had no idea what he had
let himself in for and no earthly clue what he was
going to teach this fourteen-year-old girl.  

        As he rode off, he could hear Zady shouting at
the top of her lungs.  “Momma, momma, guess what?”

***********************

Chapter 5

        “Don’t worry, Doc’ll fix ya up.” Bob Allen pounded on
the cabin door.  “He fixed me and Little Burl real
good.”

        Stephen stood on the cabin stoop, grasping his
right shoulder.  The injury was painful enough, but
the ride along the uneven trails to this cabin had
been excruciating.  It was only his third day in
Cutter Gap and he was not off to a great start.

        The door swung open to reveal a tall mountain man
dressed in tan corduroys and a dark plaid shirt
buttoned to the neck.  His sandy hair was tousled and
his reddened eyes suggested the man was either drunk
or hadn’t had much sleep.  Was this the doctor?

        "Bob, what is it?” the doctor asked.

        "Stephen here caught a hook in the back."

        Stephen stepped forward and reached out his uninjured
hand.  The movement caused him to grimace with pain
and he saw the doctor’s eyes narrow.  “I'm Stephen
Byrne, David's friend from seminary.  Bob and his boys
were showing me the finer points of fishing.  Guess a
city boy like me needs a few more lessons."  

        Bob shook his head.  “Don’t let ‘im fool you. 
Preacher here did real fine.”

        The doctor scrutinized him carefully.  "Let’s get you
inside."  Two sets of strong arms helped him into the
cabin and settled him on a chair at the kitchen table.

        "Do ya need me to stay, Doc?" Bob asked.

        "No, I'll see that he gets back to the mission.  You
might stop by and let the preacher know he's here."

        While the men were talking, Stephen’s eyes
roamed the cabin.  He wasn’t sure what he’d expected,
but this cluttered room didn’t resemble any doctor’s
office he’d ever seen.  Nearly everyone he’d met had
regaled him with stories of the doctor’s skill.  Could
this be the same man?

        The doctor turned his back and washed his hands. 
“We’ve not been properly introduced,” he said without
turning around.  “I’m Neil MacNeill.” 

        “I’ve heard a lot about you.  Wish we’d met
under better circumstances.”  As he took another look
around the cabin, Stephen observed that the room was
cluttered but spotless.  And though personal
possessions were strewn about, the medical equipment
was neatly arranged.

        The doctor cut away the bloodstained shirt and ran
his fingers over the injury.  "That's a nasty wound. 
I’ll wager it hurts."

        "Not too bad." 

        MacNeill gave him a disbelieving look and crossed to
his instrument table.  A minute later, he returned
with a syringe and small bottle.  "I don’t think
there’s any nerve damage, but the barb of the hook is
imbedded deep in the muscle.  I'll need to push it
clear through."  He slowly drew the contents of the
bottle into the hypodermic.

        Stephen forced a smile.  "Don’t trust me to
sit still?"

        "Just a little insurance." 

        Stephen watched the doctor meticulously lay out his
supplies, again noting the precision and care.  Even
so, he felt a touch of panic at the thought that this
stranger was going to use those ominous looking
instruments on him.

        The doctor sat down behind him.  “So you’re a friend
of Grantland?”

        “We met the first day of seminary – about five years
ago.  Been friends ever since.”  As the doctor began
to work, Stephen was surprised by the gentleness of
his touch.  He could feel a slight tugging on his
back, but no pain.  “I was assigned to a church in
Boston and David came here.”

        Dr. MacNeill’s hands were a flurry of movement,
picking up and discarding various tools. Stephen was
frustrated that he couldn’t watch.  “How long have you
been practicing medicine in Cutter Gap?" 

        "Nearly ten years."  

        Stephen took in the answer without comment.  He’d
seen the diplomas on the cabin walls and heard the
stories.  This man was obviously a skilled physician
who could practice in a large hospital in any major
city.  What kept him here?  After a moment, he heard a
soft clink and saw the bloody hook in a metal basin on
the table.

        “I’ll need to put in a few sutures,” MacNeill
said.  “Any pain?"

        His answer was interrupted by pounding on the cabin
door.

        “Come in.”  The doctor’s voice had barely rung out
before the door flew open.  

        A short, bearded man burst into the room.  His gaze
fell on the room's occupants.  "Sorry Doc.  Didn't
know you was busy."  The man tried to look calm but
his manner betrayed extreme urgency.  

        "What can I do for you, Jeb?"  The doctor’s voice
remained calm and measured.

        "It's Least'un.  He's hurtin' real bad."  It
seemed like the man wanted to say more, but he only
shuffled his hat nervously between his hands.

        The doctor looked up briefly and sighed.  He didn’t
seem surprised by the news or the intrusion.  “I'll be
along as soon as I finish here.  You'd best get Alice.
 I'll need her help.

        Jeb turned to Stephen.  “Didn’t mean to disturb ya.” 
He gave the doctor a quick nod then dashed out of the
cabin.

        “Jeb’s youngest son, Least’un, has a hernia,” the
doctor explained after Jeb had departed.  “He needs
surgery but Jeb and Fairlight have been resisting it.”
 

        “Why?”  Stephen twisted in the chair.

        The doctor’s response was immediate.  “Don’t move.” 
He picked up a curved needle.  “They’re a bit
frightened – as you were a few moments ago.”

        Stephen found himself reddening at the truth of the
remark.  “From what I’ve heard, they trust you.  Very
much so.”

        The doctor paused briefly, then returned to his
suturing without comment. 

        Stephen broke the silence.  "David said you were born
here, grew up in these mountains.  Surely that makes
it easier to be accepted."

        "Sometimes."

        MacNeill was obviously a man of few words.  Stephen
tried again.  "From what I’ve heard, your being here
is -- oohh!”  He felt a stab of pain and flinched
slightly.

        The doctor touched his other shoulder.  “The
anesthetic I gave you should be holding.”

        “I’m all right.”  Stephen tried breathing
slowly and deeply.  "As I was saying, you’re being
here is a godsend.  But I hear you don’t believe in
God.”

        “Is that important?”

        Stephen heard the annoyance in the doctor’s
tone and felt the need to explain himself, to reassure
this man that he wasn’t trying to convert him on the
spot.  “No, it isn’t.  I suppose I’m just curious. 
Granted I’ve only been here a few days, but everyone
I’ve met seems so religious.  Yet they tell me that
you’re not.”

        The doctor seemed to relax slightly.  "I don’t see
much evidence of a god.  Not here."

        "Surely you’ve had patients recover for no
reason science can explain?"

        "Yes,” the doctor said slowly.  “But maybe I don't
yet understand the science that saved him."

        "Or maybe you don't understand the miracles of
God."  Stephen's voice was soft.  He’d already
realized that Dr. MacNeill carried great influence in
this community and didn’t want to anger the man.  But
he desperately wanted to know why he spurned religion.

        The doctor bandaged his injured shoulder.  "Then why
does your God allow children to suffer, like Jeb’s
boy?”

        "That same God sent you to help him.” 

        “And when I fail?  Is that my failure or God's?" 
MacNeill stood up from the table and again washed his
hands. 

        Stephen turned in the chair.  “There are mysteries
of God just as there are mysteries of science.  Maybe
one day, we’ll understand both.”

        “Maybe.”  The doctor scooped up the soiled supplies.
“That’ll hold for now.  Try to rest your arm as much
as possible.  And no fishing.”  He gave the slightest
grin then turned serious again.  “I’ll stop by
tomorrow to check on you.”

        “Thank you, Doctor.”

        MacNeill tossed him a clean shirt.  “Put this on. 
You can ride back if you’re careful.”  He began to
place fresh equipment in his saddlebags.

        Stephen slowly eased the shirt over his
injured shoulder.  He suspected that the doctor had
heard enough religious debate for one morning and
couldn’t help but wonder if he’d enjoyed their
repartee, had enjoyed baiting him.  His curiosity was
piqued – he wanted to learn more about this elusive
Dr. MacNeill.  “Are you going to take care of that boy
now?  Least’un?”

        The doctor nodded.  “The surgery can’t wait. 
The hernia is likely strangulated.”

        “Mind if I come along?  You said the parents were
worried.  I could wait with them.  I won’t get in the
way.” 

        A frown creased the doctor’s face.  “Are you
sure you’re up to it?  I don’t need two patients on my
hands.”

        He offered a wry smile.  “Let me worry about
that.”

****

        “Why won’t he let me watch?  He lets me when I go fer
my lessons.  Blood don’t bother me.”  Zady and Stephen
sat side by side on the Spencer porch a short distance
from her parents.  Stephen had huddled with the family
for over two hours as Dr. MacNeill and Alice
operated on Least’un inside.

        Stephen spoke softly.  “Zady, anyone can help Doctor
MacNeill in surgery.  Only you can be here to help
your family.”

        “You’re here.”

        “But with John gone, you’re the eldest.  Clara and
Lulu need you.”  He nodded in the direction of Zady’s
younger sisters, playing absently in the yard and
trying to look brave.  “They look pretty frightened.”

        “I ain’t scared.  I seen Doc operate.  He’ll won’t
let nothing bad happen.”

        “If you talked with your sisters, I bet they’d be
less scared.  What do you think?”

         Zady considered this for a moment.  “I guess so.” 
She stood and walked towards the younger girls.  

        Stephen crossed the porch to Jeb and Fairlight.  They
were worried and exhausted and he’d run out of
consoling words.  On the ride over, MacNeill had told
him that the surgery was straightforward and, barring
complications, the boy should make a complete
recovery.  But nerves were raw from John’s decision to
go to Knoxville.  His parents hadn’t heard from their
son in two weeks and, despite their confidence in the
doctor, the Spencers were unprepared for another
crisis.

        “He’s so little to be cut open,” Fairlight said,
burying her head in Jeb’s shoulder.

        “Don’t worry.  Doc’ll make ‘im better.  Then he won’t
hurt no more.”

        “He’s been in there so long—I wanna be with him.” 
Fairlight started to stand.

        As Jeb gently pulled her back down, Stephen eased
himself onto the step beside them.  “I know it seems
like a long time, but Doctor MacNeill’s got a lot to
do in there.”

        “Least’un needs his mama.”

        “He also needs our prayers.”

        “But what if somethin’ happens—“

        Three heads jerked up at the sound of the cabin door
opening.  Dr. MacNeill stepped onto the porch, wiping
his hands on a rag.  “The surgery’s over and
Least’un’s fine.”  His face broke into a tired smile.

        “Thank God,” Jeb whispered, clutching Fairlight
tightly as the two slowly stood.  In the yard, the
three girls sprinted toward their parents.

        “Is he awake?”  Fairlight asked. 

        “He woke up from the ether, but he’s sleeping again
now.  Alice will stay tonight and I’ll check on him in
the morning.” He raised his voice to include the young
girls.  “You can sit with him for a while if you’d
like.”

        As Fairlight followed him into the cabin, Jeb
lingered behind.  He turned to Stephen, arm
outstretched.  “I want to thank you fer staying with
us.  It was a mighty fine thing to do.”

        Stephen took his hand but gasped when Jeb shook it
heartily.  

        “Something wrong?” 

        He shook his head and forced a smile.  “No, I’m glad
everything turned out well.  You take care of that
boy, and be sure to give thanks to God.”

        Jeb returned the smile.  “I will, Preacher.  You can
count on that.”

        In a few moments, Dr. MacNeill, saddlebags in hand,
joined Stephen outside.  

        “Where to now?” Stephen asked.

        “You,” the doctor said, “are going back to the
mission.  Now.”  He cut off Stephen’s protest. 
“You’ve had more than enough activity today.  How’s
the shoulder?”

        Stephen tentatively rolled his injured limb and
grimaced.  “A bit sore.”

        The doctor delved into one of his bags.  “I’ll give
you something for the pain, then ride back with you.” 


        After the doctor had finished and repacked his
supplies, the men strolled toward their horses. 
Stephen voiced his concern.  “Will the boy really be
all right?.”  

        The doctor threw his saddlebags over his horse.  “If
we can keep him from rupturing his sutures, he’ll be
good as new in a few weeks.”

        Stephen gingerly mounted the mule and brought it
around to meet up with MacNeill.  The two men started
down the winding trail.  He knew the doctor was
setting a slow pace and watching him carefully.  “You
do this every day?” Stephen asked.  “Ride all over the
mountains visiting patients.”  The distances between
cabins, let alone communities, was daunting.  Even
short treks along these trails had left him tired and
sore. 

        “Yes.  Sometimes they come by my cabin, but as you
saw it’s rather out of the way.”

        “Could I go with you tomorrow?”

        The doctor gave him a surprised look.  “You want to
go with me on calls?”

        “I could help those who are sick, like I did with the
Spencers.”  Unsaid was that he could also learn more
about Dr. MacNeill.

        “We’ll see.  But not tomorrow.  You – and that
shoulder – need rest.”  The doctor’s oice was firm. 
“I don’t want you pulling out those sutures.  We’ll
see how you’re doing in a few days.”

        “I’ll be ready.”

***********************

Chapter 6

        "And the garden show is next week.”  Julia Huddleston
sat on the parlor sofa, measuring a length of orange
thread.  She daintily inserted it into a needle and
tied a small knot at the end.  On her lap rested a
small square of cloth, partially filled with
brightly-colored needlepoint.  

        It was late afternoon, but the overcast skies made it
seem closer to twilight.  A summer downpour was only
moments away.  Inside, the electric lights bathed the
room in shadows.  

        Julia plunged the needle into a tiny hole.  “You must
see Mrs. Adams' prize orchids.  They are a sight to
behold."

        At the other end of the sofa, Christy held a book in
her hands but her eyes glazed over the words and she
had yet to turn a page.  She had been wrestling with
this moment for days, rehearsing exactly what to say. 
And now the moment had arrived.  She took a deep
breath.  “I won't be here for the garden show.  I'm
leaving on Friday."

        "The Millers will be there," Julia said.  "You
remember Agnes--"  Suddenly Christy's words seemed to
register.  The needle hung in the air as she raised
her eyes to face her daughter.  "What did you say?" 

        Christy met her gaze.  "I said I’m going back
to Cutter Gap on Friday."

        “Of course you’re not.”  Julia again inserted the
needle into the cloth and slowly drew it out.  “You've
barely been home for two weeks.”

        “I’m taking the Friday train.”  Although
Christy’s voice sounded strong and sure, her insides
were in turmoil.  Once again, her mother refused to
take her words or plans seriously.  She’d prepared for
a confrontation, but this calm denial infuriated her. 
  

        Julia turned around.  This time she put down the
needlepoint.  “For goodness sake, Christy?  Haven't
you had a good time at home with your family?"

        Christy cringed at the scorn in her mother's
voice.  "I've had a wonderful time.”  Outside it had
begun to rain and she could hear the droplets pelting
the windows.

        “Is there something we haven’t done?  Something else
you wanted to do?

        “No, mother.  Everything has been fine.  But I
need to -- get back."

        "Get back to what?  You told me yourself school
doesn't start for weeks.  And you haven't been home
since last Christmas.  We hardly ever see you any
more.  We miss you terribly."

        "I know."  She paused as thunder rumbled in
the distance.  Her mother had tried so hard to make
her stay pleasant.  A smile crossed her lips as she
thought about the delicious meals, the chats with her
father after dinner, cheering George at his game.  But
it wasn’t enough.  She’d tried telling her mother more
than once about leaving early, but Julia had her own
ideas.  "I told you school’s starting in less than two
weeks and I have to get ready.”

        “I thought you did that before you left.  You said
that’s why you couldn’t come home earlier.”

        “I did.  But there are so many last minute
things—“

        “And there are so many things for you to do here. 
Why, we’re supposed to have dinner with the Hendersons
this weekend.  They’re so looking forward to seeing
you.  I do hope you won’t disappoint them, Christy.” 
Her mother’s tone warned that she would be the person
most disappointed if her daughter failed to attend the
dinner.  

        “It’s not that I don’t want to see them.  But–“

        "You want to see Cutter Gap more."  Christy’s father
entered the room, his large frame filling the doorway.
 The look in his eyes caused her immediately to stare
at her hands.  

        "William, our daughter has informed me she intends to
return to that place on Friday.”  There was silence. 
“Well, aren't you going to say something?"

        "Julia, why don’t you check on dinner."   Her
father’s voice was smooth.

        Julia stood, glanced pointedly at Christy and her
husband, and left the room.  William crossed to his
daughter in a few strides.  He sat down next to her,
reaching for one of her hands and placing it in his
own.

        Christy found herself trembling.  Maybe she should
have spoken to her father first.  He’d supported her
decision to go to Cutter Gap and to stay after his
stroke.  Surely he wouldn’t change his mind now.  But
this was different.  This wasn’t a few months, this
was potentially forever.  

        "Christy, you know how much your mother enjoys having
you home."  He spoke quietly, his voice barely above a
whisper.

        She nodded numbly.   

        "It's hard on her, with you away all these months. 
It's hard on all of us.  We love you so much.  You
light up this house the way nothing else can."

        Christy's eyes began to fill with tears, and her
father lightly brushed her cheeks with his fingers.  

        "But I suspect we’ll have to get used to your
being away.  You intend to stay in Cutter Gap for a
long while, don’t you?"

        Christy was not surprised by her father’s perception.
 He had always understood her, sometimes better than
she understood herself.  She nodded again.  "I feel so
important there, so needed.”  She finally met her
father’s eyes.  “Oh, Daddy!  It's not that I don't
love you and Mother and George.  There's nothing more
important--"

        "Hush now, Little Miss.  You don't have to
convince me."

        The rain continued to fall softly, and they could
smell dinner cooking as they talked.  She reminded him
about Rob and Mountie and Little Burl and how she
treasured her friendships with Miss Alice, David, and
Dr. MacNeill.  At the mention of this last name, her
father gave Christy a sharp glance but said nothing.  

        “If I leave now, there’s no one to take my place.” 
She had to make him understand why she wanted to stay
in Cutter Gap.  “All the work I’ve done up to now
would be for nothing.  I can’t quit, just when I’m
starting to make real progress.”

        “I don’t want you to quit.  And neither does
your mother.”

        “I know, Daddy.  But she treats me like a child.  I’m
not her little girl anymore.  I’m a grown woman.”

        “You’ll always be her little girl, Christy.  And
mine.  Sometimes it’s easy to forget you’re all grown
up now and make your own decisions.”

        “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

        “You’re never a disappointment.  Your mother
and I are so proud of you.  We always have been.”

        “Then let me stay in Cutter Gap.”

        “Are you sure that’s what you want?”  Her father’s
eyes bored into her own.  She knew that he was not
questioning her decision but demanding that she
question herself.  But she’d already given this far
too much thought to change her mind now.

        “Yes, Daddy.”  Her voice sounded strong and sure.

        “All right, then.  I said you could make your own
decisions and I meant it.”  William squeezed her hand
as he rose from the sofa.

        Christy’s voice stopped him at the door. 
"You'll talk to Mother, won't you?”

        He turned back.  "Your mother is a strong
woman.”  He gave her a crooked smile.  “I'll do my
best."

****

        Later that night, after she'd gone to bed, Christy
heard the raised voices of her parents filtering up
the staircase. 

        "But William, she can't live in Cutter Gap. 
You saw it.  It's fine for a year, but Christy has
already spent two there.  How long can this go on?"

        Christy could not make out her father's reply.  A few
moments later, her mother's voice again exploded. 
"And how will she ever find a husband?  I mean that
young minister is nice enough, but she'll never be
exposed to proper men in a place like that.  Soon,
she'll be too old, all of the eligible men will be
taken."

        "I don't think Christy is worried about suitors."

        "Well she ought to be!  How will she support
herself?"

        Again, her father's reply was muffled.

        "What do you mean?"  Julia spoke again.  "Surely, you
can't be serious."  A moment later, she continued,
“But that would mean spending the rest of her life in
those mountains."

        "Julia, have you considered it might be what
Christy wants?  She's a young woman now.  She has the
right to make her own decisions."

        "And her own mistakes?"

        "We’ve always trusted her.  Let’s not stop
now."  

        A short time later, her parents came upstairs.
 After a few moments, there was silence from their
bedroom.  Christy, however, lay awake for hours.

*********************

Chapter 7

        By the time Alice Henderson pulled into the Spencer
yard on her mare, the sun had started its slow descent
over the looming Smokies.  It had been an exhausting
day of visits to cabins across the mountains.  Some
were medical cases – mothers who either were about to
deliver or had recently given birth.  But more often,
Alice merely stopped to talk, to hear the concerns of
her mountain neighbors.  She enjoyed these outings,
but it seemed that they became a bit more arduous with
each passing year. 

        She slowly dismounted and tied up the horse, which
had already buried its head in the tall grass. 
Grabbing a large sack from her saddle, she headed
toward the cabin.  A few feet away, she spied Zady
sitting in the shade of a large elm.  The young girl
was surrounded by a pile of massive books, several of
which lay open.  Every few seconds, Zady would consult
one of the books then scribble on a sheet of paper in
her lap.  

        Alice knelt down beside her.  “That’s quite a
collection, Zady.”  She picked up a book from the top
of the pile.  “Medical Chemistry.”  She glanced at
some of the others.  “Practical Biology, Gray’s
Anatomy, Physical Science.  Do these perchance belong
to Doctor MacNeill?”

        Zady greeted her with a contented smile.  “Yes’m,
they’re his all right.  He’s letting me borrer them
for my lessons.  Said he didna have any books fer
young sci-entists like me.”

        Alice was sure he did not.  But she had trouble
imagining Zady trying to decipher such advanced texts.
 She only hoped Neil knew what he was doing.  “So what
is Doctor MacNeill teaching thee?”

        “I’m learning the periodic table,” Zady said proudly.
 

        Alice smiled with pleasure at the precision with
which the young girl pronounced the technical term.

        Zady flipped quickly to a page in the chemistry book.
 “See.  All the elements are listed here.”  She
pointed to the open page.  “Doc showed me some – like
lead and iron and mercury.  But others ya can’t touch
– like ni-tro-gin.”  

        “I see.”

        “He even let me in his lab--, laboratory.”

        Alice tried not to let her surprise show.  She
wondered if young Zady realized what a high compliment
she’d been paid.  Until now only she, Christy, and
probably Dan knew about the doctor’s trachoma
research.  

        “Doc MacNeill said that maybe, if I do real good in
my lessons, he’ll let me help with his ‘speriments.” 
A faraway look came into her eyes.  “I’d like that.”  

        Alice grunted as she stood up.  The day of riding had
left her joints sore.  “Zady, thee will astound the
doctor with thy performance.”

        “I dunno, Miz Alice.  I reckon I ain’t doing so
good.”

        “I expect that Doctor MacNeill is a demanding
teacher.  But do not let him fool thee.  Not so long
ago it was he who had to learn all of what he is now
teaching thee.  And I have no doubt he found these
lessons equally – challenging.”

        “Do you really think so?”

        “I do indeed.”  She picked up her sack and looked
towards the cabin.  “Now, is thy mother at home?”

        “Oh yes’m.  She’s inside with Least’un.”

        “How is thy brother?”

        “Doc says he’s doing real fine but’s gotta stay in
bed another week.  Momma’s ready ta tie him down.”

        Alice laughed softly.  “I shall go inside and see her
– and leave thee to finish thy lessons.  We wouldn’t
want thee to disappoint the doctor.”

        The front door to the cabin stood wide open in a vain
attempt to capture any breeze in the midst of the
August heat.  Fairlight stood at the kitchen table
slicing apples into a large bowl.

        “Good afternoon, Mrs. Spencer.”  Alice set the bag
she had been carrying on the kitchen table.  “I have
brought thee some beans, carrots and snap peas.  We
had more than enough at the mission.”

        Fairlight shook her head.  “Oh no, ma’am, I can’t be
taking those.  I ain’t got no right.”

        “Mrs. Spencer, I seem to recall that thee and Zady
have helped me at the mission on several occasions
since Miss Huddleston left.  These vegetables do not
even begin to repay thy many kindnesses.  Thee will
not take charity and neither will I.  If thee does not
accept these vegetables, I shall no longer be able to
accept thy services at the mission.”

        Fairlight started to renew her protest then seemed to
think better of it.  “I’m obliged.”

        In the far corner of the room, Least’un was trying to
slip out of his bed.  Fairlight reacted quickly. 
“Leeson, git back into bed, ya heard what the doctor
said.”  Her voice sent him scurrying under the covers.

        Alice’s expression was one of amusement.  “Thy hands
are full.”

        “Yes ma’am.  That boy won’t stay in bed.  Doc said if
he runs about, he’ll pull out his stitches.  But Jeb’s
out with the bees, and Zady’s with her books and what
with John gone . . .” her voice trailed off as she
continued to peel and slice apples, tossing them into
the bowl with increasing force.

        From the minute she entered the cabin, Alice had
sensed a sadness about Fairlight.  The mountain woman
was normally one of the most optimistic people in
Cutter Gap, but today she was unusually quiet and
withdrawn.  “Has thee heard from John?”

        Fairlight turned with a start, as if suddenly
remembering Alice’s presence.  “Ain’t heard a thing. 
I try not to worry . . .”

        “A mother never stops worrying about her child.”

        “We ain’t heard from him fer three weeks.  No letter,
nothing.  Don’t know if he got himself a job.  Don’t
know if he’s even alive.”

        “Sometimes, much as we want to help our children,
there is nothing we can do.  We have to do the most
difficult thing of all – put their lives in God’s
hands.  It is never an easy thing.”

        “Jeb won’t talk about it, says John’s a man now and
kin fend fer himself.  But he’s still my baby.”

        “Has thee considered that Jeb is worried as well but
believes he needs to be strong for thee?”

        “Oh, I know he’s worried,” Fairlight said.  She
reached for an empty pie shell and ladled the apples
into the crust.  “Sometimes I jes want to run out of
the house an’ take the first train to Knoxville and
find my boy.”

        Alice pressed her lips together in a rueful smile. 
“It seems I have been forever chasing Margaret.  But I
have learned that even if I catch her, I cannot bring
her back.  Any more than you can force young
Least’un,” she nodded toward the boy, who again was
clambering out of bed, “to stay in his bed.  Children
– and adults – need to discover the world for
themselves, whether that world is outside this cabin
or outside Cutter Gap.  We cannot stop them and our
efforts only bring sadness to our own lives.”

        “Then what do I do?  How do I stop fearing for him?’

        Alice lightly touched her arm.  “Thee cannot.  He
will always be thy son and thee his mother.”
        
*************************

Chapter 8

        The two men picked their way through the trees,
keeping a watchful lookout.  Although the moonlit
night made travel possible without a lantern, passing
clouds occasionally plunged the forest into darkness. 
The men tried to avoid the protruding roots and small
bushes along their path and remained alert for any
sign that they were not alone in this stretch of
woods.

        “Quiet tonight,” Rob Allen said.

        Bob nodded.

        Father and son had set out from their cabin after
dinner.   The mill workers had spent the day loading
flour into bags but when it turned dark Bob sent the
men home.  Now he and Rob were heading back to finish
sealing the bags before the morning dew.  

        “You gonna take what we got to El Pano?” Rob asked.

        “End of the week if we git done.  You coming?”

        Rob was glad his father could not see his pained
expression in the darkness.  “Pa, I gotta be gittin’
ready for school.  You know I’m helping Miz Christy. 
You said it was okay.”  Up ahead, he saw the vague
outlines of the mill.

        “I said it was okay so long as it don’t be meddling
with your work.”

        “I ain’t missed none.  But I gotta be there the first
day or I reckon Miz—“

        “Sshh!”  Bob stopped short, and Rob nearly ran into
his father’s back.  “I heard something.”

        “Where?” Rob’s question was barely a whisper.  His
throat was dry and he could hear his heart pounding in
his chest.

        “Up ahead.  At the mill.”

        The two men stood rooted to the spot, straining to
see movement.

        “Hear it?”

        Rob listened intently.  “No,” he said slowly. 
“Wait!”  Again the men froze.  “There.”

        “Dang, and I ain’t got my gun.”  Bob’s eyes searched
the surrounding woods.  “Git yourself a stick or
something.”

        As he searched for a suitable weapon, Rob felt his
heartbeat racing.  They’d been stupid to come this far
at night without their shotguns, especially with the
recent feuding.  It was asking for trouble. 
Brandishing pieces of wood, the men silently advanced
toward the mill.  They heard sounds of human voices
that became more distinct as they approached. 

        Through the darkness, Rob saw two men and knew that
at this time of night, they could only be
tresspassers.  He had little doubt they were armed. 
In muted voices, he and his father debated what to do.
   

        “Maybe I should run for Ault,” he suggested.

        “No time.”

        “Wait Pa, I got an idea.”  

        After Rob explained his plan, they backed off a short
distance and again approached the mill.

        “Ault, where are those boys of yours?”  Bob’s voice
rang out loudly.  “They’d best hurry.  We’ll be
needing every man.”

        They moved purposefully through the woods, no longer
caring whether their presence was detected.  In the
dim light, they saw two forms scurrying around the
mill.  They quickened their advance, continuing to
talk loudly.

        Rob crossed the tree line and, at the clearing, broke
into a run.  His father followed but couldn’t keep up
with Rob’s pace.  “Hey!  What are you doing?”  Rob saw
Lundy Taylor first, knife in hand, bent over a sack of
flour.  He looked up and their eyes locked.  “Lundy!”
Rob headed straight for him.

        Lundy turned to his accomplice.  “Let’s go!”  In his
haste, Lundy tripped over the edge of a flour sack,
sending him sprawling in one direction and the knife
in another.

        “Get up!  They’re coming!” 

        Rob recognized Lundy’s cousin Mick.  

        Lundy scrambled to his feet, his eyes scanning for
the knife.  

        “Come on!”

        The young man looked down once more, then took off
after his friend.

        By the time Rob reached the spot where Lundy had
stood, both vandals had disappeared into the trees. 
He wanted to give chase but realized Lundy was at home
in these woods and following without a shotgun was
foolhardy.

        Bob Allen arrived next to him, panting.  “Did ya see
‘em?  It was Taylors, weren’t it?”

        Rob surveyed the damage.  Almost every bag had been
ripped open, dripping flour into small mountains of
white that littered the floor.  Countless backbreaking
hours had been undone in minutes.  He considered not
revealing what he’d seen.  His father would tell Ault,
who would seek revenge and Rob feared what might
happen to his own family.  But his father would not be
fooled.  “Yeah, Lundy and Mick.”

        “Ain’t surprised.”  Bob slowly turned in place,
shaking his head. 

****

        The three boys strolled aimlessly through the woods. 
Sam Houston scooped up a stick and tossed it into the
river.  Not to be outdone, Creed Allen picked up a
larger stick and threw it even further across the
water.  Sam Houston stared at him for a moment, then
jumped up and ripped a handful of leaves from the
nearest tree.

        “Wanna go fishin’?” Creed asked.

        “Nah, too hot.  Fish ain’t biting."  Vincent
McHone kicked a rock into the water.

        “We could make us a fort and play cowboys and
Injuns.”  Sam Houston said.  

        “We done that already.”  Creed’s tone reflected his
boredom.  They rested on logs near the river, drawing
circles in the dirt with sticks.  The mid-July sun was
blistering and the boys struggled to find relief from
the intense and unrelenting heat. 

        “Well, we gotta do something," Sam Houston said. 
"Cain't sit here all day."  

        The boys remained silent for several minutes. 
Occasionally one tossed a stick or rock toward a tree
or even at one another.  

        “I know something we could do,” Creed said.  The
other boys looked eagerly at him.  “Nah, we cain’t.”

        “What’ya talkin’ 'bout?” Sam Houston asked.

        “Cain’t tell ya.”

        “Come on, tell us.”

        “Ain’t we your friends?”

        “Alright, alright.”  Creed looked around and motioned
for the boys to move closer.  Once they were within
whispering range, he addressed them in a
conspiratorial tone.  “Was a couple days ago my daddy
sent me to pick up an axe from the Spencers.  Coming
home I seen Bird’s Eye drinking moonshine.”  He
glanced around again.  “I seen where he hid it.”  

        The eyes of the other boys opened wide.  “Tain’t
far,” Creed said.  “You ever tried that stuff?”  They
shook their heads.  “Reckon it must be good, seeing as
all them grown-ups be fightin’ over it.  We could try
us some.”

        “Creed Allen, we cain’t touch Bird’s Eye’s
stash.  He’d kill us.”  Vincent had fear in his eyes. 
Sam Houston nodded in agreement.

        Creed struggled to regain the initiative.  “He won’t
catch us.”  He leaned in closer.  “Ya ain't skeered,
are ya?”

        Sam Houston stood up.  “I say let’s do it.”

        Creed and Sam Houston had risen to their feet,
leaving only Vincent seated.  “Ya comin’ or what?”
Creed challenged him.

        “I dunno.  If my daddy catches me, he’ll tar me
something good.”

        “He ain’t gonna.  We’ll only have ourselves a little.
 Don’t be a fraidy cat.”

        “Fraidy cat.  Fraidy cat.”  

        “Stay here then,” Creed said.  “We’ll go without ya.”
 The two boys set off through the woods.  

        Vincent hesitated only a moment.  “Wait!  I’m
comin’.  Wait for me!” 

*******************************

Chapter 9

        "Howdy, Mr. Allen."  Ruby Mae was still yards from
the mill when she shouted out the greeting.

        Rob's father squatted on the ground next to several
sacks of opened flour.  His clothing, hands, face and
hair were covered with the white powder.  He squinted
at her.  "Hello, Ruby Mae.  What brings you here?"

        "I'm lookin' for Rob.  He comes by the mission nearly
every night to—"  Suddenly, Ruby Mae couldn't think of
any reason for Rob to visit the mission except to see
her.  That thought made her smile.  But Mr. Allen was
looking at her expectantly.  "He comes by the mission
but he didn't come last night.  And ya see I made this
cornbread specially for him."  She thrust a small
package in front of her.  "More than we could eat,
what with Miz Christy gone an' even with Mr. Byrne—"

        "Rob's out back."  Mr. Allen gave her a slight smile
as he cut off her rambling and returned to his work. 
As he lifted another sack of flour, the rip in the bag
split wider, causing more flour to spill onto the
ground and Bob's clothing.  "Terrence, give me a
hand."   A man came running over.

        Ruby Mae carefully stepped around the piles of flour.
 Although the mill usually seemed like controlled
madness, today it looked a complete mess and she
wondered what had happened.  In the distance, Rob was
hauling a large sack from one corner of the mill to a
tall pile some fifty yards away.  The load was
obviously heavy.  "Rob!" she called loudly.  "Rob!"

        He slung the bag onto the stack and turned, smiling
when he recognized her.  "Ruby Mae, what are you doing
here?"

        A lock of hair had fallen onto his forehead and mixed
with beads of perspiration.  Ruby Mae decided he
looked even more handsome than usual.  She explained
about his absence the previous night.  "I missed you,"
she finished with a coy smile.

        "I'm sorry, Ruby Mae, but I was here all night."  Rob
leaned against the pile of bags.  "Lundy and his
friends came after dark and ripped open most of the
bags.  Pa and me ran ‘em off.  Still," Rob's eyes
wandered the lot, "look what they've done."  

        She glanced around again.  That explained the mess. 
But she was more worried about Rob.  "You mean you
took on Lundy Taylor?  What if Bird's Eye was with ‘im
with his gun?  You coulda been killed."  Her eyes were
wide with admiration and terror.

        Rob shrugged off her concern.  "Nah, it was just
Lundy and Mick.  Didn't see no guns."

        "But why?  Why'd they do all this?" 

        "'Cause of what Ault and his boys done to the
firewood."

        Ruby Mae remembered that it was the talk of the Cove
a few days ago.  Late at night, Ault and his sons had
destroyed most of the wood Bird's Eye had chopped and
stacked for the coming winter as revenge for the
burned barn.  The Taylors were furious and had vowed
retribution. 

        "But you and yer pa ain't done that."  Ruby Mae
didn't completely understand the passions that lay
behind the feuding.  Rob had told her that he wanted
to avoid getting caught up in this family war.  But
events like the vandalism at the mill angered him and
she wondered how long he could hold out against family
pressure to join in the feuding.

        "Don't matter.  We're Allens."  Rob pulled out of his
slouched position.  "It was good of you to come, but I
need to be gittin' back.  We got a lot to do before
dark."

        Suddenly, Ruby Mae remembered the cornbread.  "I
forgot to give you this.  It's cornbread.  I baked it
myself this morning so it's real fresh.  Mrs. Spencer
done showed me how."

        "That's mighty fine of you, Ruby Mae."

        She beamed at the compliment.  "Would you like some
now?"  She started to unwrap the food.  

        Rob looked at it longingly.  "Reckon pa could spare
me for a few minutes."

****

        The three young boys lay sprawled on beds of pine
needles, an empty bottle of moonshine on the ground
between them.  Another half-filled bottle rested in
Creed's hand.  "Dis stuff sure makes ya feel funny." 
He took another swallow.  "What'abud ya, Sam Huesman? 
Want some?"

        Sam Houston burped loudly.  "Nope.  Had me fill."  He
handed the bottle to Vincent.

        Vincent's eyes were glazed.  "Reckon I had enough." 
He stood up, took a few steps and stumbled.  "I gotta
git home.  My ma'll be wonderin' for me."

        Creed caught him by the leg.  "Best wait a
spell.  Don't want yer ma to see you like that." 

        Vincent nodded in agreement.  "Whatta we gonna do? 
Cain't jes' sit here.  It's gittin' hotter."  He
slowly drew his hand across his sweaty forehead.

        The boys tried to focus on this crucial decision. 
They looked at each other, at the bottle, at the sky
and, finally, their eyes fixated on the river.

        "I know," Creed said.  "Let's go swimming."

        "We can't swim here.  Ain't ‘nuf water.  We'd only
git our feet wet."  Sam Houston deflated their
enthusiasm. 

        "I know where's we kin swim."  Four eyes turned
toward Creed.  "The pond at the mission.  It's real
deep."

        "'Sey won't let us," Vincent said.

        "Ain't no one there."

        "What about the preach?"  

        "Don't reckon he'd pay us no mind.  Let's do it." 
Creed stood up and almost fell over.  "Whoops."  He
fought for balance.  "Come on."  

        "Aw right.  I'm coming." Sam Houston struggled
to his feet and stumbled after him.  Vincent quickly
followed. 

****

        "Wheeee!" Creed, clad only in his pants, splashed
into the water.  

        "Wait fer me."  A few yards to his right, Sam Houston
stripped off his clothing and followed him into the
pond.  They repeatedly submerged, allowing the water
to flow over their faces and heads.  Vincent remained
on shore, standing among discarded shoes and shirts.

        "Hey, Vincent.  Ain't ya comin'?  It's nice an' cool
in here."  Creed rolled onto his back, floated
briefly, then dunked his head, completing a reverse
summersault.  "Come on."

        "I can't swim no good.  Is it real deep?"  Vincent
gazed apprehensively at the water.

        "Nah.  Come on in.  We'll help ya."  Creed
floated closer to the shore.

        Vincent pulled off his shirt.  Sweat ran down his
forehead and back, mixing with the grime that covered
his body.  In the water, his friends looked clean and
refreshed.  He hesitated only a moment.  "Okay, I'm
coming."  He tentatively stepped into the pond and
paddled towards them, trying to keep his head above
the surface.  After taking in a mouthful of water, he
managed to join the melee.

        "Ain't it great?" Creed splashed water onto his
friends.

        "Feels cool."  However, it was becoming
difficult for Vincent to stay afloat.

        "Gotcha."  Creed grabbed his shorts.  Vincent's head
was drawn under, his mouth again filling with water.

        "Help," he gasped, flailing his arms.

        Sam Houston splashed more water at Vincent before
turning back to Creed who had now grabbed his leg. 
"Lemme go!"

        "Help.  Can't swim."  Vincent drifted toward the
center of the pond.  His head was bobbing up and down,
his hands and legs fighting to stay above the surface.


        Engaged in their horseplay, Creed and Sam Houston
paid Vincent little attention until they spied him
struggling in the water.  "Vincent, you okay?" Creed
swam toward him.

        "Help." 

        "Hold on.  I'm coming."  He paddled as quickly as
possible, but the moonshine slowed his mind and
exhaustion slowed his body.  As he reached Vincent,
Creed called back to Sam Houston, "Git help.  Hurry." 
His voice was now filled with terror.

****David and Stephen were repairing a section of
rotted porch rail.  David was taking full advantage of
his friend's presence – it wasn't often that he could
count on assistance with construction projects. 
Although Stephen's injury limited his mobility, he was
still able to pass supplies and do light carpentry. 

        The men sawed new boards and pounded nails into the
wood.  At some point during the afternoon, they'd
noticed the three young boys enter the pond across and
heard the splashing and laughter.  At first, David had
been tempted to scold them but Stephen quickly
intervened.  "Don't tell me you didn't take a
forbidden dip or two when you were their age."

        David smiled at the memory.  The heat was
oppressive and the boys were doing no harm.  Sweating
profusely himself, he envied them. 

        A short time later, they heard a change in the sounds
from the pond.  David stopped work and listened
intently.  Suddenly Sam Houston came running toward
them, waving his arms and shouting.  David dropped his
hammer and sprinted towards the water, Stephen on his
heels.

        "Preacher, come quick. Vincent's drownin'."

        David ran past the boy, who was close to
tears.  As he dashed onto the small wooden pier, he
saw two forms struggling in the water.  It was
immediately apparent that Vincent was in distress.  

        "I take care of Vincent," he said to Stephen.  "You
get Creed."  David kicked off his shoes and plunged
headfirst into the water.  By the time he reached the
spot where he'd seen Vincent, the boy was no longer on
the surface.  David took a deep breath, said a quick
prayer, and dove beneath the water.  

        He opened his eyes, but might as well have been in a
cave.  In desperation, he groped around in the
darkness.  His air nearly exhausted, David prepared to
surface when his hand touched something -- clothing. 
He held on and used his legs to kick himself upward. 
His head broke the surface, and he gulped in fresh
air.  At the same instant, Vincent's head bobbed up
next to him.  He was unconscious.

        Keeping the boy's head above water, David swam toward
the edge of the pond.  "Stephen, go get Doc MacNeill."

        Once on dry ground, David rolled Vincent onto his
stomach.  As he lifted the boy's midsection, water
trickled from his mouth.  Without warning, Vincent
coughed and vomited more water.  David turned the boy
onto his side, relieved that he was now semi-conscious
and breathing.  

        Despite the heat, after a few minutes, Vincent began
to tremble.  David carried him into the mission house,
lay him on the sofa, and covered him with blankets. 
He tossed additional blankets to the other boys, who
sat contritely in the dining room.  

        "Is he okay?" Creed called out.

        "I don't know."  David gave him a frosty look.
 

        "Preacher," Vincent gasped, reaching for
David.  The effort to speak resulted in a deep,
hacking cough.

        "Sshh, I'm right here.  Are you warm enough?"  He
held tightly to the boy's hand and fervently wished he
knew what else to do.  

        Vincent nodded.  "Am I gonna die?"  He coughed
again.

        "You'll be fine.  The doctor's on his way."  David
hoped it was true.  He touched Vincent's forehead --
it didn't feel feverish.  But the boy kept coughing
and whenever he tried to talk, the words came out in a
hoarse whisper followed by yet another coughing spell.
 It had been over two hours.  Stephen should be back
by now.  David hoped he'd found the doctor at home. 
MacNeill usually told the mission of an extended trip,
but at this time of day he could be halfway across the
Cove. 

        David gently stroked the wet hair from Vincent's face
and tucked the blankets even more securely around the
small body.  Then he said a prayer.

**********************

Chapter 10 

        Christy lay in her bed, enveloped by the plush
pillows and quilt.  Several open books, sheets of
paper and pencils were scattered across the coverlet. 
Her return to Cutter Gap had been unexpectedly delayed
when she had awakened two days ago with a sore throat
and fever.  

        Her mother had insisted on sending for the doctor. 
"You don't look fine, and you're feverish.  Who knows
what diseases you might have caught."  Ignoring the
look of disdain that crossed Christy's features, Julia
continued, "It won't hurt to have the doctor examine
you."

        Dr. Wilson had taken over Dr. Brandt's
practice.  He was younger than Christy expected and in
some ways reminded her of Neil MacNeill.  It seemed
strange to be ill and not have Neil caring for her. 
Even so, she was relieved when the doctor agreed that
her illness was not serious.

        "Nonetheless, young lady, I want you to stay in bed
until your fever breaks."  

        Christy smiled.  It was definitely a comment
she would have expected from Neil.  

        "This should clear up in a few days," the
doctor informed Julia.  "If not, give me a call."

        Christy's temperature had been normal last night and,
even on this cloudy morning, she was eager to be up. 
She'd spent her days in bed thinking about the
upcoming school year and sketching out her first
lesson plans. 

        Julia glided into the room.  "Christy, darling, how
are you feeling?" 

        "Fine."  Her mother did not appear convinced. 
"Really, I'm much better.”  Christy flipped back the
covers and started to rise when Julia sat down beside
her.

        "Well, you look better.  Doctor Wilson is a fine
doctor."  For a moment, they shared an uncomfortable
silence.  Julia took a deep breath.  "I'm sorry for
what I said the other night.  You know that your
father and I only want what's best for you."

        "Of course."  Christy was not sure where this
conversation was leading. 

        "You're my only daughter.  All I've ever wanted was
for you to be happy."  Julia rose from the bed and
crossed to the dresser.  She delicately fingered the
lace runner.  "Your father and I sent you to the best
schools, introduced you to the right people, made sure
you were exposed to the finest men in Asheville.  And
now, it seems our efforts were for nothing."

        "That’s not true.  You and daddy have done so much." 
Christy rushed on, barely daring to take a breath. 
She couldn't let her parents think she didn't love
them.  "But staying in Asheville isn't enough.  I need
more.”

        "Are you saying your life here is unimportant?"

        "Mother, nothing is more important than my family. 
But the people in Cutter Gap need so much and there's
no one else to give it to them."  Christy swung her
feet onto the floor.  "Don't you see?  Anyone can go
to the Magnolia Ball, but if I don't go back, who'll
teach Little Burl to read or help Zady learn
trigonometry?"  

        "I know how important Cutter Gap is to you right now.
 But what about the rest of your life?  You have to
think about your future."

        "Hey, Christy!"  George burst into the room.  "I
wondered if I might have your stereoscope--"  At the
sight of his mother, he stopped in mid-sentence. 
"Sorry, didn't know you were talking."  He threw
Christy a quick glance of support.  "I'll come back
later."

        "Thanks, George."  He wouldn’t miss the meaning of
her words.

        "As I was saying," Julia continued as if she hadn't
been interrupted, "I know the children are important
to you.  But next year there will be more children and
more after that.  When will it stop?  You have to
think about marriage and a family.  You can’t marry a
mountain man.  Of course, there's David . . . "

        "David's proposal made me realize I'm not ready to
get married right now.  Not to him, not to anyone.” 
Christy knew her mother was using every argument to
keep her from returning to the mountains.  And she
realized that her mother was only trying to protect
her.  But this decision wasn’t a childish whim.  She
knew what she was doing.  She had to make her mother
understand.

        "But you've given two years of your life to that
place.  What more can they expect of you?"

        ""Mother, 'that place' is called Cutter Gap." 

        “I’m sorry, darling. I was there, I know how
desperate those people are.  But you're only one girl
-- one woman.  You can't change Cutter Gap by
yourself."

        "I'm not by myself.  There's David and Alice and
Doctor MacNeill.   I've prayed about this so many
times."

        "I don't want to lose my little girl."  

        Christy could almost feel her mother’s pain, but she
couldn’t back down now.  She’d made her decision and
her mother would have to accept it.  "You're not
losing me.  I’ll never stop loving you.  I just know
God intends for me to be in Cutter Gap right now."

        "I'm trying to understand, really I am. Your father
says we must let you make your own decisions.  I
suppose he's right. "But I can't bear to see you
unhappy."

        Christy looked up in surprise at this admission. 
"Then let me go back to Cutter Gap with yours and
daddy's blessing."

        Julia returned to her seat on the bed and took
Christy's hand in her own.  For a moment neither woman
spoke.  Julia stared outside, then slowly brought her
eyes to her daughter's face.  "Will that truly make
you happy?"

        "Very happy."  Christy felt the squeeze of her
mother’s fingers and with a confident smile, squeezed
back.

****

        David felt helpless watching Vincent shiver and
cough.  He couldn't decide if the boy was getting
better or worse.  His spiritual training told him to
place his trust in God.  But David wished he could do
something other than pray to ease the boy’s suffering.
  

        Finally, he heard the clatter of horses
followed a moment later by Dr. MacNeill striding
through the doorway.  “Thank God.”  He wondered if the
doctor heard the relief in his voice.

        "How is he?” Dr. MacNiell asked, moving quickly to
the sofa.

        "He swallowed some water but he's coughed up most of
it, I think.” Relinquishing his chair, he received
only a slight nod as the doctor concentrated on his
young patient. 

        “Don’t leave me, preacher,” Vincent croaked, reaching
out his hand. 

        Dr. MacNeill’s response was kind, yet firm.  “Sshh,
you mustn’t talk.”  

        David moved around to the back of the sofa, but
reached down his hand and continued to cling to
Vincent's cold, clammy fingers.  

        The doctor didn’t seem to mind as he pulled his
stethoscope from his saddlebags.  He opened Vincent’s
mouth.  “How long was he under water?”

        “Not long, less than a minute.”  David tried to
answer the doctor’s questions without wasting time
with useless information.  “He was unconscious when I
got to him.  I tried to clear his lungs and he started
coughing up water.”  He looked helplessly at the
doctor.  “He just keeps coughing.  I didn't know what
else to do.”  Out of the corner of his eye, David saw
Stephen enter the room and stand next to the young
boys.

        The doctor only nodded.  The room was silent as he
listened to the boy’s chest.  For the first time that
afternoon, David noticed how emaciated Vincent was,
how his ribs seemed to protrude through the skin. 
Vincent and his friends had only wanted some relief
from the sweltering heat.  How had this day turned
into such disaster?

        “Sit up now,” MacNeill instructed.  The doctor's
voice held no clue as to his patient's condition.  

        David helped Vincent rise off the sofa.  The
boy was so weak, David supported his entire weight.

        The doctor placed his stethoscope against Vincent’s
back.  “Take a deep breath, deep as you can.”  The boy
gulped in air then expelled it in a loud, hacking
cough.  The doctor had him do this several times with
the same result.  The sounds terrified David but
MacNeill didn’t seem surprised.  

        David tried to pay attention as the doctor tapped up
and down Vincent’s back.  Obviously, the blunt sounds
meant something, but to David they all sounded alike. 
Finally, Dr. MacNeill sat back and allowed him to
settle Vincent onto the couch.  David realized he'd
been holding his own breath awaiting the doctor's
verdict.  

        “Well, Vincent, it’s not too bad, thanks to Reverend
Grantland.”  He spoke just loud enough for the other
boys to hear.  “Had he not known what to do, you might
have died."  

        Vincent’s eyes widened in fear and there was a slight
gasp from the dining room.  David had no doubt this
was exactly what MacNeill had intended.

        The doctor pulled up the blankets.  "Your chest will
hurt for a few days and you’ll need to stay in bed." 
He pulled a thermometer from his bag and shook it
down.  “Open.”  He placed it in Vincent’s mouth then
touched him on the shoulder.  “Keep it under your
tongue."  

        With a tilt of his head, he motioned David to follow
him to the other side of the room.  Stephen drifted
toward them.  "There's fluid in both lungs," the
doctor reported in a quiet voice.  "I’m worried about
pneumonia.  We’ll just have to see.”  

        David hung his head.  “If I’d stopped them from
swimming . . .”

        MacNeill’s response was immediate.  “Reverend,
this is not your fault.  Vincent owes you his life."  

        David was startled by the vehemence and
sincerity in the doctor’s voice.  "God saved him."

        "Maybe, but it’s you who jumped in the water."  The
doctor now scrutinized him.  “How are you feeling? 
Any ill effects from your rescue?”

        David realized he must look a sight.  His hair was
plastered to his face and his clothes remained soggy. 
He felt drained but shook his head.  “I’m fine.”

        The doctor glanced briefly into the dining
room.  "You smelled the moonshine on Vincent's
breath?"

        "Yes, and on the other boys as well.”  It had been
almost the first thing he’d noticed, but in the chaos
of saving Vincent, he forgotten about the liquor.  “I
wonder where they got hold of it."

        "Must have found a stash.  No one would give
it to boys that age.  I'll have a talk with them."

        Stephen spoke up for the first time.  "Doctor, you
have enough to do.  I'll talk with them."  
The doctor nodded and returned to Vincent’s side.

        David felt he should say or do something but--

        "Oh, my God!  Vincent!"  Opal McHone rushed
into the room, followed by her husband.  

        Dr. MacNeill intercepted her.  "It's all
right, Opal, Vincent's fine for now."

        As doctor talked to her in a soothing voice, Tom
approached David.  "Reverend, I hear you saved my
boy's life.  Words ain't nearly enough, but I want to
thank ya."

        All eyes turned to him and he felt distinctly
uncomfortable.  He’d done nothing more than dive into
the water and even that had been more instinctive than
planned.  At the moment, David considered himself
anything but a hero.  “Vincent being alive is all the
thanks I need." 

        "Vincent."  Tom stared at his son.  "Did you thank
the preacher?"

        "Yessir."

        Opal joined them.  "I'm beholden to ya.  Don't know
what I would of done if somethin' happened."

        For a moment, the room was silent.  David
looked helplessly at this family which had so narrowly
averted tragedy and could think of nothing to say.

*******************

Chapter 11

        Leaving David with the McHones, Stephen stepped into
the dining room where the two boys had shed their
blankets and appeared anxious to leave.  “Let’s go
outside.”

        “I bes’ be gittin’ home,” Sam Houston said,
edging toward the door.

        “Not so fast,” Stephen said.  “We need to talk about
the moonshine.”  Seeing he had the boys' attention, he
repeated, “Outside.”  Once they’d cleared the front
door, he said, “Who wants to tell me what happened?”  

        Sam Houston answered first. “We dinna mean fer
Vincent ta drown or nothing.  Honest.”

        “I’m sure you didn’t.  Why don’t you start by telling
me where you got the moonshine.”  The boys looked at
one another.  Stephen’s eyes finally settled on Creed.

        Slowly at first, the boy related the story of the
afternoon.  Although Sam Houston would occasionally
interject, Creed did most of the talking.  “You won’t
tell my pa or nothin’, will ya?” he asked when he’d
finished his tale. 

        “No, but you will.”

        “I will?” The relief on the boy’s face
vanished

        “I don’t need to tell you that drinking the moonshine
was wrong.”  He looked at their contrite faces. 
“Vincent nearly died.”

        “But I thanked God for savin’ him,” Sam
Houston said.

        “That’s very important.  But sometimes God asks us to
do more than that.”

        “Like what?” 

        “You’re young men now.”  Stephen saw the boys stand
up a little straighter.  “And men take responsibility
for their actions.”  He sensed they didn’t understand
what he was trying to say.  “What I mean is that you
have to own up to what you did.  Even when it’s hard.”

        Creed was shaking his head.  “Uh uh, Preacher.  I
cain’t.  My pa will whip me somethin’ good.”

        After little more than a week in the Cove, Stephen
knew Creed was prone to mischief.  If he continued to
get away with his pranks, the results would be
disasterous.  Today, he’d come too close.  “You can. 
You must.”  Stephen tried another tack.  “Creed, you
won’t ever feel right about today unless you confess
what you did.  It may be hard now but, in the long
run, you’ll feel much better.”  

        The boy continued to protest.  Stephen had spent
considerable time with Bob Allen and had a pretty fair
idea what the father would do to the young boy. 
Perhaps Creed needed moral support.  “Reverend
Grantland or I could go with you.”  

        Bit by bit, Stephen worked on Creed and Sam
Houston, urging them to do what was right.  By the
time David came out of the mission, the boys had
dispersed.  Stephen sat alone on the porch steps,
stripping bark from a small twig.  “How’s Vincent?” 

        “The same,” David leaned against the rail.  “Doc’ll
keep him here tonight.  Where are the boys?”

        “I sent them home; you just missed them.”  

        “Did you talk to them about the moonshine?  What did
you say?”

        Stephen continued to play with the branch.  “I
told them what you should have told them.”

        David was surprised by the irritation in his friend’s
tone.  He’d noticed it earlier but passed it off as a
reaction to the stress of the moment.  “What’s that
supposed to mean?”

        “Don’t you think you should have talked to
them about what happened?”

        David shrugged.  “Doc would have done it.  Besides,
he understands them better than I do.”

        “You’re their minister.  If you don’t want to
counsel wayward boys, why are you here?”  

        Stephen tossed aside his piece of bark, stood up, and
stomped into the mission.  David waited a moment then
followed him inside.  He didn’t understand why Stephen
had turned the drowning incident into an argument but
he intended to find out. 

        At the sound of voices, David stopped in the doorway
of the dining room.  He could see Dr. MacNeill sitting
at the table drinking a cup of coffee.  

        “My shoulder’s hurting something fierce.” It
was Stephen.

        The doctor peered at him over the brim of his cup. 
“Hmm.  Shouldn’t be.  It looked fine yesterday.”

        “Must have been all the activity this
morning.”

        The doctor took a sip of his coffee and set the cup
on the table.  He pointed to a chair.  “Have a seat. 
I’ll take another look.”

        Neither man appeared to have noticed him, and
David slipped back outside to wait for Stephen.

****

        "Go get the strap."  Bob Allen stared into his son's
eyes.

        "No, please," Creed Allen cried, trembling slightly. 


        "Don't argue with me, boy.  Go on."

        David felt Creed's fear.  It was Stephen's idea for
him to be here.  David didn't see how his presence
would help but Stephen had insisted that this would
provide an excellent opportunity for counseling.  To
stop his friend's nagging, David had agreed to go.  

        Creed had been in no hurry to get home and
he'd caught up with the boy not far from the mission. 
However, they'd covered most of the distance to the
Allen cabin in silence.  David didn't know what to
talk about or even how to start a conversation.

        At the cabin, he'd stood by while Creed haltingly
confessed his role in the moonshine incident.  Both
Creed and his father occasionally glanced at him as if
wondering why he'd come.  It was a good question. 
David wasn’t sure himself.  He was angry at Creed for
risking Vincent’s life yet miserable that the boy
would pay for his childish misdeeds with a whipping.

        The sight of the small boy slinking away for the
leather strap helped David find his voice.  "Do you
really think that's necessary?” he asked Bob.  “It
took a lot of courage for Creed to tell you what he
did."

        "That's why I'll only give him five wallops 'stead of
more."

        "What kind of lesson are you teaching your son when
you punish him for telling the truth?"

        "Ain't the first time he's done wrong.  He's gotta
learn discipline."

        "He needs to learn compassion." 

        Bob stepped off the porch and began the slow trek up
the hill behind his cabin.  "That boy needs to be
punished.  He knows he done wrong.  And you know this
ain't the first time.  What do I say to him when I
don't punish him?"

        David followed at a close distance, crossing in and
out of the shade of the pine trees that lined the
yard.  Bob was right.  Whether it was spitballs in
school or smoking tobacco, the boy had a mischievous
streak that was bound to lead to serious trouble. 
"There are other ways to punish him.  You don't have
to hit him."

        "The strap's the only thing he knows.  My pa used to
wallop me when I done wrong.  I ain't turned out so
bad."

        The two men reached Creed, who stood near the corral
holding a large leather strap in trembling hands. 
Tears brimmed in the boy's eyes as he squinted first
at his father, then at David.  David had to force
himself to meet his gaze. 

        "You know what to do," Bob said.  

        The boy handed his father the belt, turned his back,
and leaned over the railing.  David couldn’t help but
notice his trembling legs.

        "You understand what this is fer?"  Bob carefully
measured the strap.

        "Yessir."  The voice was barely a whisper.  "I-- I
stole some moonshine and, and--"  The boy's voice
quavered.

        "And?"

        "An' I made Vincent go swimmin' when he couldn't and,
and he almost died."

        "Ya knows ya done wrong, don't ya?"

        "Yessir."

        "An' when ya done wrong ya gits a licking?"

        "Yess--sir."  Creed's voice broke.

        Bob turned to David.  "You wanna say somethin',
Preacher?"

        David shook his head and offered up a silent prayer
as Bob swung the piece of leather behind his shoulder.
 He jumped at the sound of the strap lashing Creed's
backside.  It took every ounce of self-control not to
grab Bob's arm. 

        Although Creed flinched each time the belt hit, he
never cried out and David noticed that the blows were
neither hard nor wicked.  There was almost a
reluctance in Bob’s manner.  Finally, the punishment
ended.

        "Now git inside and help your mama," Bob said.

        When the boy had fled, Bob turned to David.  "It
ain’t easy thing to whip your own boy."  He tossed
aside the strap.  "Understand me Preacher, I don't git
no pleasure from it.  But I want him to understand
right and wrong.  Maybe this ain't the best way, but
it's the only way I know."

        Bob's eyes reflected only sadness and resignation. 
"I know," David said softly before heading down the
hill to comfort Creed.

**********************

Author's Note:  The last scene is not intended to
support or criticize corporal punishment.  Rather, it
reflects the fact that spanking was fairly common in
those days.

*************************

Chapter 12

        Riding into the mission yard two days later, David
could not believe the sight that greeted him. 
“Christy!”  Why wasn't she still in Asheville?  He
galloped Prince the final paces, dismounting before he
brought the horse to a stop. “What are you doing here?
 Is something wrong?”

        Christy looked up from feeding the chickens, a
bemused expression on her face.  “I’m happy to see you
too, David.”  

        David hurriedly pulled off his gloves and wiped his
hands on his pants.  He reached out and gave Christy a
light embrace.  “I’m sorry, I’m glad to see you. 
Welcome back.”  His brow creased.  “But we weren’t
expecting you for another week – were we?”  

        She smiled.  “I’m here now.”  

        David realized that for now he’d get no further
explanation.  He heard Stephen dismount and come up
beside him.  In his surprise at seeing Christy, he’d
forgotten about his friend and quickly drew him into
the conversation.  “This is my friend from seminary,
Stephen Byrne, who’s been visiting from Boston. 
Stephen, this is Christy Huddleston."

        Stephen bowed slightly.  "Delighted, I’ve heard so
much about you.”  

        Christy smiled.  “Pleased to meet you.  Have
you been here long?”  

        “Nearly two weeks.”

        “He’s jumped into Cutter Gap feet first,” David said.
 “Helped Bob at the mill, fixed the O’Teale’s roof,
gone fishing, even visited patients with Doctor
MacNeill.  At this rate, they won’t need me much
longer.”  A note of sarcasm crept into his voice.

        Stephen appeared not to notice and laughed softly. 
“Not true, not true.  This is simply more interesting
than my stodgy old church in Boston.  Not to mention
that the scenery is infinitely more beautiful.”  

        Christy gazed over his shoulder.  “It’s easy to fall
in love with these mountains – and the people.”

        “There’s a lot to fall in love with, isn’t there?” 
Stephen’s words were almost a whisper.

        “Christy fell in love with these mountains the first
day she came.” David looked at Christy expectantly,
but her eyes were on Stephen and her mind seemed
elsewhere.  “Isn’t that right?”

        She turned to face him.  “Yes, I suppose I did.”        

        “What do you like most about Cutter Gap, David?”
Stephen asked.

        “I—don’t know.  Many things.  The mountains, having
the opportunity to share God’s message, to make Cutter
Gap a better place.”  It sounded lame even to his own
ears and he doubted the others had been fooled. 
“Speaking of Cutter Gap,” he said to Christy, “should
I ask how you got here from El Pano?  If you’d called
ahead, I would have met you.”  He was disappointed. 
He’d enjoyed their time together driving her to the
station and had been looking forward to the return
trip.  

        Christy shrugged off the note of reproach in his
voice.  “I would have called, but Jed Horner was there
and gave me a ride.”

        “Well regardless of how you got here, I’m glad you
did,” Stephen said.  “After David’s letters and the
wonderful things everyone has said, I would have never
forgiven myself if I’d missed you.”

        David cringed at Stephen’s words.  Christy must be
wondering what was in those letters.  

        However, she only ran the back of her hand across her
forehead.  “Maybe we should go inside,” she said.  “I
think Ruby Mae fixed some lemonade.”

        David stared up at the blazing sun.  “That’s a good
idea.  It’s certainly hot out here.”
        
****

        Later that night after dinner, David and Stephen
stepped onto the porch.  Tiny insects danced in the
muggy air and crowded the windows wherever light
peeked through the curtains.  

        David shut the door behind them.  "Isn't she
wonderful!" 

        "Christy?  Yes, she is,” Stephen said.  “It
took a lot of dedication to come here.  I'm certain it
hasn't been easy for a woman especially.  I don’t
think Marissa could do it.”

        Stephen had rarely spoken about his fiancee during
the past two weeks.  David only knew that they’d met
at church and that her parents owned a Boston
bookstore.  But David’s thoughts were on Christy. 
"She’s so good with the children.  It one of the
things that makes her special.  If only I could
convince her how much she means to me."

        "Why worry about it?"

        "Because I love her.  I want to marry her."

        "And she's turned you down."  Stephen gave him a hard
look.

        "Yes, but if I can just convince--"

        "David, Christy is a wonderful girl.  But did you
come here to serve God or to find a wife?"

        "Why can't I do both?  Christy and I have
dedicated our lives to serving God and these people."

        "These people."  Stephen mimicked his words.  "These
are your people, God has given them to you.  But
you're so busy chasing after Christy that you've
become blind to your mission."

        "That's not fair."

        "Isn't it?  When you fall asleep, are you thinking
about ways to serve this community or dreaming of
Christy Huddleston?"

        David started to reply, caught himself, and
remained silent.  Stephen spoke the truth.

        His friend straddled the porch rail, allowing his
legs to swing freely on either side.  "David, you’re
so fortunate, so very fortunate.  And you don’t even
see it.”

        "What do you mean?" 

        "This community is all yours -- yours to create, to
mold, to shape."

        "You make it sound so romantic."

        "It is!  Take what you did the other day with Creed
Allen.”

        “What did I do other than stand by while Bob whipped
his son?”  David sat down in the rocker, resting his
elbows on his knees.  That afternoon spent comforting
the crestfallen boy still tormented him.

        “You were there assure Creed that God loves him even
when he misbehaves and to help Bob discipline a child
who is quickly becoming a young man.”  Stephen swung
one leg back across the rail.  “Everyone here so
desperately needs you.  I wish I’d been sent someplace
like this."

        "You can’t be serious.”  David rose to his feet and
began pacing across the porch.  “Look at you.  Your
church is filled every Sunday.  You have a beautiful
building and plenty of money.  I’m sure that when your
roof needs fixing, there’s plenty of help.”  He turned
to find Stephen’s eyes boring into his.  “Not to
mention Dr. Edwards.  You couldn’t ask for a better
preacher or mentor.  To be able to learn from him . .
."

        "You think it's so great?” Stephen’s voice was
caustic.  “Let me tell you what it's like.  The church
is beautiful.  But that building has been standing in
that square for over a hundred years.  What did I do
to help build it?  Nothing.”

        He pointed up the hill where, in the twilight, the
steeple stretched over the treetops.  “Look at your
church.”  He waited for David to follow his gaze. 
“That’s right, yours!  You built it with your own
hands.  No matter who comes in or goes out or preaches
in it, no one can take that away from you.”

        Once again, Stephen was right.  The building might be
pitiful and constantly in need of repair, but it was
his. 

        "And as for me,” Stephen stuck his thumb on his
chest, “I'm the assistant to the assistant to the
pastor.  I haven’t even preached a sermon other than
Sunday school."  

        David couldn’t hide the shock on his face.

        "God doesn't need me in Boston.  If I disappeared
tomorrow, I doubt your precious Doctor Edwards would
even notice.  Dozens of young assistants can take my
place.”  Stephen lowered his voice.  “I’m responsible
for making sure the pastor’s robe is in the right
room.  You’re responsible for people’s souls.”

        "But no one here listens to me."  

        "Maybe it's because you don't take the time to listen
to them.  Being a minister is more than sermonizing. 
When's the last time you visited the mill?  How many
times have you gone fishing with the boys?"

        "I’ve more than enough to do around here.  And I
certainly can't count on help from the men."

        "David, come out of your ivory tower!  You can't
minister to these people unless you identify with
them, share their problems and concerns.  Take Doctor
MacNeill, for instance."  

        David gave him a pointed look.  He’d heard enough of
the doctor’s virtues from the mouth of Christy
Huddleston; the man wasn’t even a Christian.  

        Stephen was not deterred.  "He doesn’t wait for
patients to appear at his door, he goes into the
community to minister to people's bodies.  You can do
the same for their souls."

        "It's easy for you to say,” David replied testily. 
Stephen obviously didn’t understand the difficulties
of working in Cutter Gap.  “You don't live here.  You
stop by for a few days and think you have all the
answers.  Stick around.  Watch people shoot each other
for no reason.  Preach against moonshine and have half
the men drunk the next day--"

        "I'm not saying it's easy.  But that's the challenge.
 I needn’t quote Scripture to you about what Christ
had to endure.  He was ignored, taunted, even
persecuted.  But he never stopped sharing the message
of salvation.  As ministers, we must do the same."

        David sat down heavily on the steps.  “I’m not cut
out for this place.”  He shook his head.  “Nothing I
do works, nothing I say is heard--”

        “David, you were at the top of our class.  I remember
your fire, your determination, your love of the Lord. 
What’s happened to you?”

        “Two years in Cutter Gap.”  David could contain
himself no longer.  He’d come to this place with
visions of making a difference, of bringing God to
people who so desperately needed Him.  Maybe he’d been
naďve, expecting his flock to follow him like sheep. 
But reality was worse than he’d ever imagined. 
“Seminary didn’t prepare me for this.  How do I
explain why so many children die?  How do I convince
people that their future lies in serving the Lord, not
in burning down cabins and shooting each other?” 
David hated himself for his failure and for his
weakness in admitting it to his friend.

        Stephen sat down beside him.  “I don’t know, I don’t
have the answers.”  He looked toward the church
steeple and David followed his gaze.  “But He does. 
Look to Him.”

        “Don’t you think I’ve tried!  I’ve prayed so often.”

        “Then you must keep praying.  We ministers are fond
of saying that the Lord moves in mysterious ways.” 
Stephen grinned slightly, then immediately turned
serious again.  “But it’s true.  God doesn’t always
answer our prayers the way we’d hoped, but He does
answer them.  And we must believe that His answer, no
matter how difficult it may be to accept, is always
right.”

************************

Chapter 13

        Christy placed the kettle on the stove, then crossed
to the counter and sliced the end off a large loaf of
bread.  She was exhausted.  Whether it was yesterday’s
travel from Asheville or the remnants of her cold, she
hadn’t slept well.  It was already mid-morning and
she’d only managed to drag herself down to the kitchen
for coffee and a bite to eat.  The silence told her
that the others had already gone.  She had the mission
to herself.

        She’d just sat down at the table when the front door
burst open and a loud voice called out, “Alice?  You
here?”  

        It was Dr. MacNeill.  He saw her before she could
answer.  

        “Christy.”  His voice registered surprise.  “What are
you doing here?  I thought you weren’t due back for
another week.”

        As he made his way into the kitchen, she stared into
her mug to hide her pleasure that he’d remembered.  

        The doctor set a large bag on the table.  “Is Alice
about?”

        “You missed her.  She left before I was up.”  Christy
rested her elbows on the table and propped her head in
her hands, massaging her temples with her fingers.

        “You don’t look awake.”  His voice was playful as he
stepped closer.  Christy had the distinct impression
he was examining her with his eyes.  “Have you been
ill?”

        He was observant as ever.  “I had a cold a few days
ago, but I’m much better now.”  She sat up straight,
trying to appear more energetic than she felt.  “Just
tired from my trip.”

        Neil gave her a long look, rifled through his bag
then crossed to the stove and poured himself a cup of
coffee.  “What were you doing traveling when you’re
ill?” 

        “I’m not sick.” 

        The doctor returned to the table and placed a glass
in front of her.  “For your headache.”

        She looked up at him.  “How’d you—“

        He smiled enigmatically.  “I’m a physician,
remember.”  He smile vanished as he nodded at the
glass.  “Drink it.”

        Christy swallowed the contents and set the glass on
the table.  She was anxious to change the subject. 
“You’re looking for Miss Alice?”  

        Neil pulled out a chair and sat down next to her.  “I
have some supplies for her trip to Lufty Branch.” 

        “I know she’s anxious to leave.  She’s had to put it
off twice.”

        Neil nodded.  “We’ve all been busy.”

        “How’s Vincent?  David told me about the accident.  I
can’t believe he almost drowned.”

        The doctor ran his hand through his hair.  “I’ll
admit the boy had me worried.  He swallowed some water
and his lungs wouldn’t clear.”

        “Is he all right now?  Will he be able to start
school on time?”

        He sipped his coffee.  “Too soon to tell.  But he’s
doing better.  I’ll have another look at him today.”  

        “Stephen says he’s been visiting patients with you,
that you had to operate on Least’un.

        “The boy’s fine.  I’ve been spending a bit of time
with the Spencers of late, what with Zady--”

        Christy was immediately concerned.  David hadn’t
mentioned her being ill.  “What’s wrong with Zady?”

        “Wrong?  Nothing wrong.”  Neil gave her a lopsided
grin.  “It just that, well, while you’ve been away
I’ve been . . . giving her a few lessons.”  

        Christy listened with growing excitement to his brief
explanation.  She didn’t know how Zady had managed to
get Neil to cooperate, but she was thrilled to see him
more involved with the children’s education.  She
struggled to contain her enthusiasm.  “She’s helping
with your experiments?”

        “Doing quite well.”  He shrugged.  “But with school
starting, I don’t want –“

        “Neil, you have to continue.”  At the expression on
his face, Christy quickly amended, “I mean you don’t
have to do anything.  But this is such a wonderful
opportunity for Zady.  She’s so interested in science.
 Please don’t stop now.”

        The doctor raised his hands in submission.  “All
right, we’ll see how it goes.”  

        “I need to visit Fairlight.  Maybe this afternoon . .
.”  Christy stifled a yawn.

        Neil again studied her with concern.  “I thought you
went home to rest.  Now you’re back early and look
more exhausted than when you left.  What happened,
Christy?”

        As his eyes bored into hers, Christy squeezed the
coffee mug in her hands.  “I guess home wasn’t as
restful as I expected.”

        “Is that meant to explain why you’re back early or
why you’re exhausted?”

        She gave him a wry grin.  “Both?”

        Neil waited expectantly for her to continue.  But she
didn’t feel like discussing the difficult
conversations with her parents or getting into a
debate over her health.  

        After an uncomfortable pause, he shrugged and stood
up.  “Fine then.”  He began pulling medical supplies
from his bags and placing them in neat rows on the
table.  “You needn’t explain.  I’ll just leave these
for Alice and be on my way.”  The final words were
spoken over his shoulder as he strode into the parlor
and out the door.  

        Christy heard him mount Charlie and berated herself
for being so abrupt.  Only a few days ago, she’d told
her parents that the people of Cutter Gap were like
her own family.  She hadn’t treated Neil that way. 
Maybe she should tell him about what had happened in
Asheville and about her decision to remain in the
Cove.  

        She jumped up from the table and ran to the front
door.  It had started to rain.  As the droplets hit
the dry and barren ground, they kicked up tiny clouds
of dust.  “Dr. MacNeill!”  She could see his
retreating figure in the distance.  “Neil!   She
wasn’t sure whether he didn’t hear her or deliberately
ignored her cries, only that he had gone. 

****

        Christy was awakened by a soft knock.  She opened her
eyes to a cloudy grey mist outside her window.  It
must be late afternoon.  What had Neil put in her
glass?  But her headache was gone and the sleep had
been precisely what she needed.  There was another
knock, louder this time.  She pulled herself upright
in bed.  “Yes?  Come in.”

        Miss Alice poked her head in the door.  “Miss
Huddleston, Ruby Mae tells me thee has been in bed all
day.  Are you not feeling well?”  Worry was etched on
the older woman’s face.  

        “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

        “Everyone?”

        Christy blinked to clear her grogginess.  “Doctor
MacNeill was here—“

        “Yes, I see he left some supplies for my trip.”  She
stepped inside and closed the door behind her.  “It is
quite unlike thee to sleep in the middle of the day. 
Now either thee is ill or . . .”

        Christy cleared the sandman from her eyes.  She
hadn’t fooled Dr. MacNeill and she wouldn’t fool her
mentor.  “I didn’t sleep well last night.  I was
thinking about my visit home.”  

        “I was surprised thee returned so quickly.”

        The comment was so like Miss Alice – being able to
get the answer she wanted without asking a question. 
Christy knew couldn’t put off Miss Alice as she had
Neil.  “Home . . . isn’t the same.  My friends, the
parties, it all seemed so strange.  I realized
Asheville isn’t home anymore.  I told my parents I
planned to stay here in Cutter Gap, that this is my
home now.”

        “I see.”  Miss Alice nodded thoughtfully.  “And how
did they receive this?”

        It felt so good unburden herself to someone who had
also devoted her life to serving others.  But as she
neared the end of her story, Christy worried that her
mentor might disapprove of her actions, think she'd
acted rashly.  Then what would she do?

        Miss Alice remained silent until Christy finished. 
“Is thee now having doubts as to thy decision?”

        “Oh no, Miss Alice.  I know I belong here.  It’s just
that—well, it seems so . . . permanent now.  Lonely.”

        Miss Alice smiled slightly.  “Did thee expect a
burning bush perhaps?”

        Christy laughed despite herself.  “No, but I thought
I would feel somehow different.”

        “Christy.”  

        She sobered at the missionary’s use of her first
name.  

        “I know thee believes this is the right decision and
that thee is committed to the children of Cutter Gap. 
But I also know that if at some point in the future
God intends a different course for thee—“  

        Christy started to interrupt, but Miss Alice silenced
her with a raised hand.

        “If God has intended a different course for thee,”
she repeated, “thee may wish to return to Asheville. 
There will always be a home with thy family.”

        “But this is my home now.”

        “I am gladdened to hear it.  And I shall endeavor to
make it a true home for thee.  But do not forsake thy
family.  I have endured the pain of losing a daughter.
 Do not allow thy mother to lose thee.”

        "Miz Christy!”  The shout came from the hallway. 
“Miz Christy, did ya hear?"  Ruby Mae flew into the
room, waving a sheet of paper. 

        “Do not interrupt, Ruby Mae,” Miss Alice said.

        "Yes, ma’am.”  The girl remained just inside
the door, bubbling over with excitement. 

        “I will be pleased to discuss this further with thee,
Miss Huddleston.”  Miss Alice eased out of the room.  

        “Guess what?"  Ruby Mae shut the bedroom door
and leaned against it.

        "I don't know, Ruby Mae."  Christy’s reply was
automatic.  Her thoughts were on what Miss Alice had
said and wasn’t in the mood to deal with her energetic
student.

        Ruby Mae again waved the paper in front of her face. 
"It's the barn dance!" 

        "Yes?"

        "It's 'the' barn dance."  The girl looked at Christy
expectantly, as if that was all the explanation
necessary.  "Two weeks from Saturday."

        "What is 'the' barn dance?"  Christy walked
over to her dresser, eyeing herself in the mirror. 
Her hair stuck out wildly; it would take some effort
to get it pinned up properly.

        The girl thrust the paper toward Christy.  “Tells all
about it right here.”  When Christy made no effort to
take the paper from her, Ruby Mae continued.  "It's
the best ever.  There's this big barn ‘tween here and
El Pano, they clean it up an' fix it all perty.  The
gals get dressed up in their Sunday finest.  There's
dancin' and singin'--

        "All right, Ruby Mae, I think I understand.  It
sounds very exciting."  Christy finished brushing her
hair and began pinning up her long strands.  In the
mirror, she could see Ruby Mae standing behind her,
still staring at the piece of paper in her hands.

        "Miz Christy, you know about men, don't ya?"  The
redhead plopped herself onto the bed.

        This conversation would not have a quick
ending.  "I suppose I know a little something.”

        "Well, you've got the preacher and Doc MacNeill--"

        Christy grimaced as she stabbed her scalp with
a hairpin.  She could see that Ruby Mae would not be
deterred.  She sighed and turned around to face her. 
"What’s your question, Ruby Mae?" 
 
        "How do you make a man do somethin' he don't wanna do
but you want him to do and you know he wants to do?"

        "How's that again?" 

        "Let's say ya want a man to do somethin' – like ask
you to the dance.  But he don't know to ask ya."

        "Ruby Mae." Christy's eyes opened wide as she
realized why Ruby Mae was so excited.  "Do you want
someone to ask you to the barn dance?  Rob Allen
perhaps?"  The girl's face was her answer.  "Why
wouldn’t he ask you?"

        "Oh, Miz Christy, Rob don't think 'bout things like
that.  His head's in his books.  Or he's workin' at
his pa's mill.  Reckon he don't even know 'bout the
dance."

        "Have you told him?"

        She looked horrified.  "I couldn't.  Then he'd
know I'd be wantin' him to take me."

        "Well, don't you?"

        "Surely.  But it ain't special less he asks you.  I
mean me.  Oh, Miz Christy, what’s a girl to do?”

        Christy studied her student.  To her, Ruby Mae was
still a girl, but in mountain terms she was already a
woman.  Her affection for Rob was obvious.  For her
student, life had become the story of Romeo and
Juliet.  Ruby Mae and Rob were hopelessly in love and
struggling to learn what that meant.

        Once again Christy found herself unsure how to advise
a girl only a few years her junior.  She had no right
to decree whom she should love or when she should
marry.  But Christy hated for her students give up
education so quickly.  She wanted Rob to attend
college and Ruby Mae to finish school before marrying
and having children.  But she couldn’t replace their
dreams with her own.  She’d discussed this many times
with Miss Alice, who patiently explained that Christy
could only guide her students, not lead their lives
for them. 

        Christy ran her hand along the side of her face and
smiled as she faced Ruby Mae.  “Would you like me to
talk to Rob about the dance?”

        “Oh would you, Miz Christy?”

***********************

Chapter 14

        “So you see, Dan, typhoid can be tricky to diagnose. 
In the initial stages, it can resemble pneumonia and
influenza both.”

        “How do you tell the difference?”

        Neil and Dan sat on the porch of the doctor’s cabin. 
The dense brush dripped moisture from the heavy rains
of the previous night.  The morning was still cool,
although the rising sun had begun to warm the air.

        Several medical texts lay at Dan’s feet and another
rested open in his hands.  As the lecture proceeded,
he frantically scribbled in the margins.  

        Neil took a drag on his pipe and exhaled small
ringlets of smoke, leaned back in his rocker and
crossed his leg onto his knee. “Generally, the onset
of influenza is more abrupt,” he said in a
professorial tone.  “The patient has a severe headache
and his temperature rises with his pulse rate. 
However, time is often the best clue.  Influenza runs
its course in about a week whereas typhoid will last
at least three.”

        “And pneumonia?”

        “You tell me.”  Neil gave his student a sly smile and
inhaled deeply.  “What’s the differential diagnosis?” 


        “I think I remember reading about the temperature
curve.  Pneumonia patients start out with a much
higher temperature and then it falls rapidly.  With
typhoid, the rise is much slower but the temperature
remains high for nearly two weeks.  And the pulse rate
is slow, usually well under one hundred.”

        “Anything else?”

        Dan looked at him blankly, then dropped his eyes to
the textbook.  “Abdominal pain?” he asked after a
moment.

        “Yes,” Neil said slowly.

        “It’s not present in pneumonia—“

        “Howdy, Doc!” Zady Spencer called out from the edge
of the trail.

        Neil waved to her and turned to Dan.  “I forgot I’d
promised her a lesson today as well.”  He chuckled
softly.  “I need to start keeping a schedule like
Christy.”  He thought about yesterday’s encounter in
the mission -- it wasn’t exactly how he’d planned to
greet Christy after her vacation.  

        Dan started to collect his books.  “I can come back
later . . .”

        “No.”  Neil motioned him back into his seat.  “I’ll
start Zady on an experiment while we finish up. 
Typhoid season’s almost here and I’ll need your help. 
Now you were discussing abdominal pain.”

        Neil half listened to Dan’s recitation as he watched
Zady saunter up the trail.  Something wasn’t right;
was she limping?  It was only when the girl reached
the cabin steps that he noticed her lower leg was
bloody.  “Zady, what’s happened to you?”  Neil jumped
from his chair.

        “I slipped.  It don’t hurt none and I washed it right
away in the river.”  She glanced sheepishly at the
soggy, torn hem of her dress and her bleeding leg. 
“Well, mostly.”
        
        “Zady, what have I told you about river water?”  Neil
sighed inwardly.  How many times had he lectured the
children about the evils lurking in the crystal clear
water?  He’d even used his microscope to show Zady the
deadly germs.  Yet she and everyone else in the Cove
persisted in believing that water that looked clean
was clean.  

        Zady was contrite.  “It ain’t clean less it’s
boiled.” 

        “And what happens if you put dirty water on an open
wound?”

        She sighed.  “It gits infected.”

        “Correct.  Now, come inside and I’ll clean those cuts
properly.”  

        As he prodded Zady through the open doorway, she
thrust several sheets of paper into his hands.  “I
finished all my lessons.  Some of them was hard.”

        Neil turned around and winked at Dan, who trailed
behind them.  “I gave her a few chemistry problems.”

        “If they’re anything like the ones he gives me,” Dan
said, “I’ll bet they’re hard.”

        Inside the cabin, Neil set Zady’s papers aside and
pointed to his kitchen table.  “Up here.”  He dragged
a chair in front of the girl.  “Dan, get me some water
and bichloride.” 

        After cleaning Zady’s leg, he scrutinized the wounds.
 “Not too bad.  A few of these are deep but I think we
can dispense with sutures.”  He smiled up at her.  “If
we keep them clean.”  Dan handed him a brown bottle
and piece of gauze.  “This will sting.”

        “I’ll be okay.”  Her eyes followed his every move as
he applied the lotion and bandaged the more serious
cuts.  “When I grow up," she asked, "kin I be a
nurse?”

        “I think you’d make a fine nurse, Zady,” Dan said.

        Neil gave her an encouraging smile.  “I couldn’t
agree more.”

        “Was there any girls in your doctor school?”

        He looked at her in surprise.  “No, there were not.”

        Zady sighed.  “Then I guess I’ll have to be a nurse.”

        Neil sat back in his chair.  “That’s not true. 
Hasn’t Miss Huddleston taught that you can do anything
you set your mind to?  When I was your age, no one
from Cutter Gap had ever gone to college, let alone
medical school.  I was the first.”

        “So I could be the first lady doctor?”

        Neil smiled despite himself.  “There are already some
lady doctors, Zady, just not very many.”

        “Like there aren’t many Negro doctors,” Dan said.

        “No.  But that doesn’t mean you can’t be one of
them.”  His gaze took in both of his students.  “And
while we’re on the subject of doctors, Dan, what else
we should do for Zady?”

        Dan thought for a moment, then said, “Tetanus
antitoxin.”

        Neil smiled at his older student.  “Good.  Now we’ll
see how well you remember the lesson on hypodermic
injections.”

        Zady looked slightly petrified and Neil touched her
shoulder in reassurance.  “Don’t worry, I let him
practice on me and I’m still alive to tell about it.”

****

        David carefully stretched his aching muscles.  It had
seemed like such a good idea at the time.  Or at least
it had to Stephen two nights ago when Uncle Bogg had
stopped by the mission to invite them to the wood
chopping competition.  

        David had little desire to punish his body while
simultaneously enduring ridicule from the men.  But
before he could decline, Stephen had eagerly accepted.
 “It’ll be great!” he said after Bogg had gone.  “A
chance to work with the men.  Besides you might even
win.  By the way, what’s the prize?”

        He and Alice explained that the purpose of the
contest was to cut as much wood as possible for the
upcoming winter.  The men thrived on challenge and
competition – victory iteself was the main prize,
although a new axe would go to the winner.  The men
would work in teams of two and David assumed he would
team with Stephen.  But his friend insisted that they
pair up with local men; Stephen would chop with Jeb
and he with Tom McHone.  

        He was surprised at Stephen’s energy, given that he
wasn’t used to such intense manual labor and was still
recovering from his injury.  But Stephen chopped with
a frenzy, while managing to share a laugh with his
partner and the nearby teams. 

        At first, David attacked the logs half-heartedly,
earning pointed looks from Tom. However, as the other
teams’ logs piled up, he rediscovered his competitive
streak and increased his own pace.  By the time he and
Tom paused for their first rest break, their pile had
grown considerably.

        Stephen sat down next to him, gulping water from his
canteen.  “Isn’t this great!  Never worked so hard in
my life.”  

        David took a drink and poured the remaining water
over his head.  “It’s always like this.  I’m glad we
started early before the sun kills us.”

        Bogg approached them, wiping the sweat from his
forehead with a soiled handkerchief.  He stopped
several feet away from where they were sitting and
leaned onto his axe. “You done real fine, Reverend,”
he said to Stephen.  “Fer a Yankee man, that is.”

        Stephen smiled his thanks.

        “Bogg doesn’t usually say much,” David said after
he’d gone.  “You’ve made a good impression.”

        “We’ve made a good impression.”  Stephen carefully
rubbed his shoulder and looked around.  “I don’t see
Neil.”

        “Alice said he was heading to Raven Gap.  Why, is
your arm hurting?”

        Stephen shrugged as he stood up.  “I’m okay.” 

        David remained concerned.  He didn’t know whether the
strenuous exercise would help or hurt Stephen’s injury
and wished MacNeill was here.  “Maybe you should take
it easy.  You’ve already chopped more than enough—“

        “More than enough?”  Stephen picked up his axe.  “I
want to win!”

        “Reverend.”  Both heads turned.  Bob Allen stood a
few feet away, grinning sheepishly.  “I was meaning
Reverend Grantland.”  He held his hat in his hands. 
“I wanted to thank you fer coming over with Creed the
other day.”

        David knew that such an admission did not come easily
from a mountain man.  “You’re welcome.”
 
        “They say you’re giving yer lot to Swannie.”

        “And a few others.”  David and Stephen had decided to
*************************


Chapter 15

        Christy was amazed how quickly the first day of
school arrived.  She’d been teaching in Cutter Gap for
nearly two years and was now comfortable in her role. 
She looked forward to doing more this year than
covering basic subjects.  She had ideas about projects
for the county fair, field trips, starting a school
newspaper, and perhaps even classes for the adults.  

        Nonetheless, every day was still a challenge.  The
fundamental problems that plagued this community, such
as feuding and poverty, had not disappeared.  But
school was the best haven she could provide for her
students and, much as the children might complain
about returning to class, she knew they were eagerly
anticipating the first day.  So was she.

        The summer sun beat down on her as she stepped off
the mission porch and headed toward the schoolhouse. 
By afternoon, the classroom would be stifling and she
wondered if she’d made a mistake by starting classes
before the cooler fall weather had set in.

        Halfway up the hill, she spied Rob Allen crossing the
schoolyard and lengthened her stride to catch up with
him.   “Rob, there you are.  Right on time.”  She fell
into step beside him.  “Are you ready?”  

        Christy often used the older students to collect
papers, take attendance, and monitor recess.  However,
this year, Rob would teach the younger children
entirely on his own, starting with spelling and
perhaps adding mathematics.  Until she could start
adult classes for the men, it was one way to keep him
involved in school.  Before her vacation, they’d
worked on lesson plans and teaching strategies.  Even
so, his demeanor reminded her of her own nervousness
the first time she’d stepped into the classroom.  

        “Maybe this ain’t such a good idea.”  Rob shuffled a
book and several papers.

        “You’ll do fine.”  She gave him an encouraging smile.
 “With the extra students this year, I need your help.

        “I’ll do my best.”

        She laid a hand on his arm.  “I know you will, Rob.”

        Christy greeted each child at the door while Bessie
and Ruby Mae assigned seats and prepared the roster. 
After the Scripture reading, prayer, and Pledge of
Allegiance, she divided the students into two age
groups and pointed to the younger half of the room.  
“This side will go with Rob – he’ll teach you
spelling.  Then, we’ll meet back here for history.”

        For a moment, none of the children moved to follow
him, although several squirmed in their seats. 
Finally, Orter Ball O’Teale stood up. “I ain’t gittin’
teached by no Allen.”

        “Me neither,” Lucy Horner called out.  Several
children joined the rebellion.

        “Lucy, Orter Ball, all of you.”  Christy’s stern
voice silenced further protest.  “I’ve made Rob an
assistant teacher and you’ll give him the same respect
you give me.  Either go with him or you’ll have to
miss the lesson.”

        Despite some grumbling, her words seemed to defuse
the situation and Christy proceeded with her class,
amazed at how much easier it was teaching fewer
students.  She resisted the urge to wander outside,
where Rob was conducting his class in the shade of the
trees that lined the yard.

        Less than an hour later, the younger children tumbled
back into the classroom, followed by a smiling Rob
Allen.  As the students prepared for their next
lesson, Christy drew him onto the porch outside the
schoolroom.

        “I think it went okay, Miz Christy.  I’m not the
teacher you are, but I did my best.”

        “I know you did and I can’t tell you how much I
appreciate your help.  I’ll see you on Wednesday.”  As
he started to leave, Christy called him back.  "Oh,
Rob.”  She took a deep breath.  "Did you hear about
the dance next week in El Pano?"  She kept her voice
low, she didn’t need all of her students overhearing
this conversation.

        "Yes'm, I did."  Rob's expression was
unreadable.

        "Are you planning to go?"  Even as she uttered the
words, Christy wanted to take them back.  But she had
already plunged into the void.  "Or is anyone?  Bessie
or Will or Ruby Mae?"

        "You be wantin' to go, Miz Christy?"

        "No, of course not.  I mean--”  She was flustered by
Rob’s question and tried desperately to recover.  “I
hear it’s the biggest dance of the year."

        "I reckon so.  Well, I bes' be goin'.  Gotta help my
pa.  Good day, Miz Christy."

        As Rob ran down the steps, Christy sighed. 
She'd done all she could.  Maybe Ruby Mae was right
after all.

****

        “How many of you think the Bible is boring?”  Stephen
asked her students later that afternoon.

        The children immediately stopped fidgeting and stared
at the young minister who had just burst into their
classroom.  He quickly strode down the aisle and stood
in the middle of the room, his hands spread wide at
his sides.  “Come on, admit it.  You think God and
religion are dull, don’t you?”

        At the back of the room, Christy couldn’t help but
smile.  Last night, Stephen had asked to teach
religion class and, with David’s approval, she’d
quickly agreed.  

        “Let’s start by getting out of this stuffy classroom
and go outside into the beautiful day the Lord has
made.”  Stephen beckoned them out the door.  

        The children turned their heads but remained seated. 
 In desperation, they looked to Christy for guidance. 
She realized her students didn’t quite know what to
make of Stephen.  They’d seen him around the Cove for
some time now, but his presence as their teacher was
something else altogether.  Christy quickly
intervened.  “It’s all right.  Mr. Byrne is your
teacher today.”

        “Let’s go then,” Stephen said.

        The students clambered out of their seats and headed
into the bright sunshine.  Stephen directed them under
the trees and arranged them in a loose semi-circle. 
“Now, I'm sure you all know the story of Daniel.”

        Zack Holt spoke up.  “You mean Daniel in the lion's
den?” He sounded bored.  “We already know that one.” 

        Stephen smiled.  “Good, I’m glad.  But that happened
when Daniel was an old man.  I’m going to talk about
when Daniel was much younger.  How many of you know
what happened to Daniel when he was about your age?”

        No one answered.

        “I’ll tell you.  When he was still a boy, Daniel and
his friends were kidnapped by evil King Nebuchadnezzar
and taken to live in Babylon.  Can you imagine being
grabbed from your home and taken to live somewhere far
away?”

        A few children shook their heads. 

        “Where was Daniel's ma and pa?” Clara Spencer asked,
and Christy could see that the young minister already
had their attention.  

        “The Bible doesn't say.  They might have been killed
or even taken as slaves.   But we do know that the
king wanted Daniel and his friends to forget about
God.  He made them go to a special school, where
they'd have to worship idols and serve the king.” 
Stephen opened his Bible.  “Let me read you the
story.” 

        Christy smiled as she headed into the school to get
ready for the next day’s classes.  By the time she
returned to the sunshine, Stephen was finishing the
lesson.  The children were so caught up in his story
that they didn’t notice her arrival.

        “So you see, when Daniel was young and far from home,
it would have been very easy to do what the king
wanted.  Who remembers what happened to people who
didn’t obey the king?”

        This time it was Zady who raised her hand.  “They
were killed!”

        “That’s right.  But Daniel and his friends obeyed
God, and He protected them.  So you see, Daniel
started following God he was your age, and he obeyed
God his whole life.  Even it was very hard.”

        “Like when them lions wanted to eat him?” Sam Houston
called out.

        Christy couldn’t help but smile. 

        “Exactly,” Stephen said.  “But Daniel never sought
revenge and God rewarded him with great wisdom and
power.  Why do you think that is?”

        Again Sam Houston answered.  “’Cause he obeyed the
Lord.”

        “That's right. And if you follow the Lord, He'll
reward you just like Daniel.”  Stephen looked at her. 
“God never fails, does he, Miss Huddleston? 

        A short time later, she and Stephen stood on the
schoolhouse steps watching the children run home. 
Stephen didn’t have Dr. MacNeill’s natural rapport or
David’s earnest sincerity.  But he’d managed to make
religion entertaining to the young students while not
losing the essence of his message.

        Christy again asked herself why this man had come to
Cutter Gap and why he had stayed so long?  She'd asked
David last night but he’d only shrugged off her
questions.  Certainly, Stephen had been good for
David.  She couldn’t remember seeing him so involved
with the people of Cutter Gap and believed that this
young minister was responsible for that change.  But
surely Stephen had his own parish, his own church,
that needed his attention.  Yet he stayed here day
after day.

        “You have a real way with them,” Christy said.

        “Having five brothers and sisters didn’t hurt.  I
only hope they enjoyed it as much as I did.”

        “They did.  It’s good for them to see the lighter
side of religion.”

        “I’ve always looked at it that way.  Too many
ministers preach far too much doom and gloom.”  His
eyes turned to the distant mountains.  “But these
people so need to understand the love of God.”

        “David and I try very hard.”

        “I know.  And I must seem like some sort of weird
zealot.”

        “No, just dedicated.” 

        “Like you.”

        She smiled.  Stephen read her very well.    

        “What about David?”  He leaned against the side of
the schoolhouse, his arms crossed over his chest. 
“He’s dedicated, I can see that.  But he’s also so
distant.  Why is that?”

        Christy shrugged and turned to go into the school. 
“I don’t know.”

        Stephen touched her arm, his eyes staring deep into
hers.  “Please, I want to know.”

        “Then ask him.”

        “I’m asking you.”

        His tone was not unkind.  She felt his sincerity, the
urge to trust him.  But how could she explain David’s
conflict when she didn’t fully understand it herself? 
She felt she had to try to defend her friend.  “David
very much wants to help people, to get rid of the
moonshining and the feuding, to show them God’s love. 
But it can be difficult.”

        “He wants to change everything all at once and if
that doesn’t happen, he gets frustrated.”

        Again, she marveled at his perception.  “It’s hard to
see how bad things are and not want to do something. 
David is making a difference.”

        “I know it and you know it.  If only I could convince
him . . .”

        “He thinks a lot of you.”

        “Really?”

        “Oh yes.  You’re the minister he wants to be.”

        A dark look crossed Stephen’s eyes.  “Please don’t
say that.”

        “But--”

        “Don’t say that.”  This time there was a touch of
harshness in his voice.  

****

        “Zady, how would you like to perform a little
surgery?”  Neil’s features melted into a mischievous
grin.

        The young girl’s eyes opened wide.  “Surgery?”

        “Well, not exactly surgery.  We call it dissection. 
It’s how doctors learn to treat the living, by
examining the dead.”  

        “You mean a real dead person?”  Zady’s nose
started to shrivel.

        Neil laughed.  “No, thankfully I don’t have any of
those on hand at the moment.  I thought we might try
something more primitive to start.”  He reached to one
of his laboratory shelves and brought down a jar. 
“Earthworms.”

        Her eyes followed his hands.  “Is that what I'm
gonna cut open?"  

        Neil nodded, expecting a measure of
disappointment. 

        Zady smiled at him.  "When kin I start?”

        Initially, Neil had reservations about his bargain
with Zady.  When she appeared for her first lesson,
he’d given her textbooks on chemistry, biology, and
algebra and drilled her on the subjects.  But he
quickly noticed that she was fascinated by his
experiments, even offering to wash bottles for a
chance to be near his laboratory.  When patients
dropped by, it was all he could do to send her out of
the room.  Eventually, he stopped trying and instead
set about explaining what he was doing.  

        He observed that she was not squeamish and not afraid
to ask questions.  Even with the start of school, the
girl’s eagerness had not waned, and he’d decided to
reward her perseverance with something more
interesting than memorizing facts about inert gases.  

        After collecting the necessary equipment and pinning
the dead earthworm in a small tray, he handed her one
of his scalpels.  “Make a steady cut down the middle.”


        Zady gingerly accepted the instrument and gazed at it
almost reverently.  Finally, she touched it to the
earthworm’s skin.  

        Neil watched carefully as the girl made her first
incision.  Zady’s cut was barely noticeable, and he
fought the urge to take the knife himself.   Instead,
he locked his hands at his sides.  “Good,” he said
from the opposite side of the table.  “Now do it again
and press harder this time.  But not too hard.  You
don’t want to cut it in half."

        After two more attempts, Zady made a suitable
lengthwise incision.  "Now use these to pull back the
flaps of the skin.”  He nodded approvingly as she
exchanged the scalpel for a pair of tweezers.

        Neil patiently instructed Zady on the fine points of
dissection and earthworm anatomy, letting her handle
the instruments and stepping in only to point out
interesting anatomical features.  He swelled with
pride at her attention to his instruction.  “See
here.”  He used a fine probe to point to several small
white areas, “this is where the worm—“  

        They were both startled at the sight of Dan Scott
bursting through the open cabin door.  “Dan, I didn’t
expect you until this evening.”

        “Bird’s Eye Taylor stopped me on my way back from El
Pano.”

        “Bird’s Eye stopped you?”  

        “Seems his nephew Mick shot himself in the foot.  Or
so he claims.”  The two men shared a knowing look. 
“He would have come for you but didn’t want to leave
the boy alone in the woods.  Bird’s Eye said it looked
pretty bad.”

        Neil grimaced.  “Not that he’d know.  Well, we’d best
see what we can do.”  He turned to Zady, who’d stopped
to listen to their conversation.  “We’ll have to
finish our lesson later.  Can you clean up and get
home on your own, or should I have Dan ride you back?”

        “I kin do it.”

        Neil read disappointment on Zady’s face.  “I
sorry, Zady but I need to go.”

        “I know.”  

        For the briefest of moments, he wondered if this is
how Margaret had felt the many times he’d left her. 
He refused to allow his young student to be
despondent.  “I tell you what.  You’ve done such a
fine job today that I think you’re ready for something
more advanced.”  He smiled at the look of expectation
that crossed Zady’s face.  “When you come for your
next lesson, how would you like to dissect a frog?”

        “A frog?” Zady almost squealed with delight.  

        Neil couldn’t help but smile at her
enthusiasm.  “I assure you they are much more
interesting than earthworms.  You might want to read
about them in your biology text.”

        Zady grinned broadly, and Neil knew that his
words had given her more encouragement.  

        As the two men headed down the porch steps, Dan took
one last look at Zady.  “Are you sure she’ll be all
right by herself?” he asked.

       Neil nodded.  “Zady knows how to close up,
she's done it many times.  Don’t worry.”

**************************
Chapter 16

        David carefully lifted each of Prince’s legs and
inspected the hooves and shoes.  Satisfied, he reached
for the saddle lying on the rail and draped it over
the horse’s back.  Even though he was running late, he
forced himself not to rush.  It would be a long trip
to Big Lick and he needed to make sure both he and the
horse were as comfortable as possible.  He had nearly
finished securing the saddle straps when he heard Rob
Allen’s voice.

        “Morning, Preacher.”  Rob ambled down the last
stretch of hill from the school.

        “Morning Rob.  Teaching today?”

        “Yessir.  Kids were real good this morning.  Knew all
their words.”

        “Miss Huddleston says you’re doing an excellent job. 
I know what a help you’ve been to her.”  David
inserted the bit into Prince’s mouth then looked at
the young man, who shifted his weight from one leg to
the other.  “Is there something I can do for you?”

        “I was looking for Mr. Byrne.”

        “He’s not here right now.”

        “When’s he coming back?”

        David wished he knew.  Stephen had darted off
immediately after breakfast, with only a vague and
cryptic explanation.  David had been surprised; he
thought Stephen would go with him to Big Lick.  “He
said something about . . . I don’t think he’ll be back
until this evening. ”

        Rob’s shoulders slumped.  “Oh.” 

        “Can I help you?”

        Rob’s eyes swept David’s preparations.  “I don’t
reckon you got time right now.”

        “Well, I’m on my way to a baptism—"  David peeked at
the late morning sun.  Either he started now or he’d
have to travel the mountain trails in the dark.  But
Rob obviously had something important on his mind.  He
thought about Stephen’s words – and Bob’s.  He could
spare a few minutes with Rob and still make Big Lick
before nightfall.  “I don’t need to leave just yet. 
Let me take this bit out of Prince’s mouth. Miss Alice
made some coffee cake – maybe we can take some to my
bunkhouse.”

        The extra cot for Stephen left the tiny bunkhouse
more cramped than usual.  Floor space was at a premium
and Rob had to crawl over one bed to reach the room’s
only chair.  David sat on his own bed, his back
slouched against the wooden wall.  

        “This is good.”  Rob gulped down a mouthful of cake.

        “Excellent, I’d say.”  David chewed slowly, hoping
Rob would explain what he wanted to talk about.  But
the young man also seemed intent on his coffeecake. 
Having finished his own piece, David searched for
something else to say.  “So, school’s going well?”

        “Miz Christy says I’m a born teacher, but I ain’t so
sure.”

        David offered a wry smile.  “I learned a long time
ago not to doubt Miss Huddleston.”  He paused.  “How
are things at the mill?”

        “Okay.”  

        "And Creed?"

        "He's fine."  Rob shoved the last piece of
cake into his mouth.  “I best be going.”  He started
to rise from the chair.

        “Rob, please.”  David sighed.  “I’m not very good at
small talk.  They don’t teach us that in seminary.”  

        Rob smiled weakly.  “I know what you mean.  Kinda
like my first day teaching, didn’t know what to say. 
Finally, I started talking and they started talking
and it went real good.”  

        “That sounds like my first Sunday school class.” 
David recounted his adventure and the two men shared a
laugh followed by another strained silence.  “Rob, was
there something you wanted to ask Mr. Byrne, something
I might be able to help you with?”

        Rob clasped his hand together.  “I was fixing to ask
him . . . Preacher, you know about women, don’t ya?”

        David tried not to act surprised.  “That’s a hard
question.  Women in general or women in particular?”

        “How d’ya know what to say to them?  How do you tell
a girl you like her?”

        “Do you mean Ruby Mae?”

        “You see, Preacher, she’s wanting to go to this barn
dance something bad.  Now I’m not keen on dancing.” 
Rob’s words came in a rush.  “But I know it’s real
important to her and I want as to make her happy.  But
then we’d have to be together alone, you see.  And—“

        “Whoa!  Stop.”  David held up his hands in mock
submission.  “You like Ruby Mae very much, don’t you?”

        “Yes, yes I do.”

        “I can see that.”  He grinned.  “Well, when you care
about a woman, you put her needs above your own.  What
I mean is, you have to think about what Ruby Mae
wants, what makes her happy.”  David had to stop
himself from laughing as he spoke the words.  What was
he doing giving advice to Rob when he had failed to
win Christy’s heart?  Wasn’t he the one who had tried
to prevent his own sister from marrying?  Who was he
to be giving advice on women?

        Rob seemed oblivious to his unease.  “So you’re
saying I should ask Ruby Mae to the dance?”

        “It’s about more than the dance.  Do you want to
spend time with her?  Do you want to tell her your
secrets?  Do you want to do things just to make her
happy?  If you can answer those questions, you’ll know
what to do about the dance.”

        “I do, Preacher.  But I don’t reckon I’m the one for
her.”

        Rob’s tone stopped him cold.  “Why do you say that?”
David asked cautiously.

        Rob too, seemed unsure whether to proceed.  “I’m an
Allen.  The Allens have been feuding since forever.  I
don’t want Ruby Mae mixed up in that.”

        “But you’ve never been involved in the feuding.”  

        “How long do you expect that’ll last?”

        Again, David was surprised by the bitterness in the
young man’s voice.  Rob had never seemed interested in
the violence that plagued the Cove.  In fact, David
had never seen him hold a gun.  “As long as you want
it to,” he said. 

        “I’m a man now.  I gotta defend our honor.”

        “The honor comes in staying away from the feuding. 
God tells us to love our neighbor as we love
ourselves.”

        “But you can’t turn a blind eye.  You saw what the
Taylors did to our barn and the mill.”  

        Although he might not understand women, David
understood full well the need to stop the feuding. 
The key to breaking the cycle of violence was to
convince the youngest generation of its futility.  And
Rob was the oldest member of that generation – someone
teetering on the edge of becoming yet another
statistic in Cove feuds or being the first willing to
stand up to his family.  This was a battle David was
determined to win.

        When the two men finished talking, Rob stood and held
out his hand.  “Preacher, I want to thank you.  You’ve
given me a lot to think about.”

        “Before you go, let’s say a prayer.”  David took
Rob’s hand in his own.  “Dear God, help Rob understand
his relationship with Ruby Mae.  Guide him as he
struggles to resist those who would encourage him to
do violence.  Give him wisdom and show him Your
overpowering love.  We ask this in Your name.  Amen.”

        “Amen.”  Rob opened the door and stepped outside into
the brilliant afternoon sun.  He turned back. 
“Preacher, you won’t say nothing – about what I told
you.”

        “My lips are sealed.”  David looked at his mantle
clock, shocked to see how much time had passed.  He
wouldn’t make it to Big Lick tonight.  But that no
longer seemed important.
        
****
        
        Zady wiped a non-existent piece of dust off the glass
beaker and held it up to the lamp.  Perfect.  She
climbed onto the three-legged stool and stood on her
tiptoes in order to replace it on the shelf over the
laboratory table.  When she heard knocking on the
front door, she carefully climbed down, folded her rag
on the corner of the table, and closed and locked the
heavy wooden door.  

        She ran to the window, relieved to see that the
visitor was the new preacher.  She quickly opened the
door.  “Howdy, Reverend.  Lookin’ for Doc MacNeill?”

        A slightly breathless Stephen Byrne stood on the
threshold and glanced anxiously around the cabin.  “As
a matter of fact, I am.”  His eyes settled on her. 
“What are you doing here?”

        She smiled proudly.  “Doc’s been giving me lessons
after school.  We was dissecting a worm but then Mr.
Scott came and he and Doc MacNeill had to leave on
account of Bird’s Eye’s nephew shooting himself.  I’m
cleaning up.”

        “I see.  May I come in?”

        Zady wavered.  She wasn’t sure Dr. MacNeill would
want strangers in his home while he was away.  But
this was the preacher; certainly the doctor wouldn’t
object.  She opened the door and stood back.  “I
reckon it’s okay.”  She backed up and he followed her
inside.  “Do ya need to see the doc?  Cause I don’t
figger he’ll be back fer a spell.”

        “I’d hoped to see him, yes.”  Again his eyes roamed
the cabin.  “But maybe you can help me.”

        She frowned.  “Sir, I ain’t no doctor.”

        He smiled.  “That’s all right, I don’t need a doctor
exactly.  You see, I hurt my shoulder and it’s still
very painful.  Might you know where Doctor MacNeill
keeps his medicine?”

        “Some’s over there.”  She nodded toward a workbench
near the dining room table. “But I don’t know as
what’s what.”

        Without a word, Stephen stepped across the room and
began rummaging through the collection of bottles,
tossing several aside. 

        Zady watched him apprehensively.  His movements were
nervous, almost frantic.  “I don’t know as you should
do that, sir.  Doc’s perty careful ‘bout his things.” 
She recalled the few times she’d incurred his
displeasure by putting supplies in the wrong place. 
Now, she rushed across the room to pick up one of the
discarded bottles.

        The preacher turned on her with a glare so intense
she instinctively moved backwards.  His eyes were
wild, fiery and for a moment she thought he might
strike her.

        Instead, his face again relaxed into a smile.  “It’s
all right.  I don’t see anything that would help.  Is
this all his medicine?”  

        Zady couldn't help glancing toward the locked
laboratory.

        He followed her gaze.  “What’s in there?”

        “It’s where Doc does his ‘speriments.”

        The preacher strode purposefully to the heavy door. 
Her voice intercepted him.  “It’s locked.”  

        He rattled the door several times, but the metal lock
held.  “Where’s the key?”

        “Doc always takes it with ‘im.”  Zady half expected
lightening to strike her down as she spoke the lie. 
She’d replaced the key in its usual hiding place only
moments before.  For some reason, she felt she
shouldn’t reveal its location, and it took all of her
self-control not to avert her eyes.  She fervently
wished Dr. MacNeill was here, but knew it would be
hours before he would return.

        For a moment the preacher stared at the door and she
stared at him.  He seemed so determined, Zady wondered
if he might try to break it down.  “Maybe you kin come
back later?  When Doc's here.”

        He refocused his gaze on her.  “Yes, maybe I will.”

        Zady stood her ground, not trusting her trembling
legs to move.  What was wrong with Reverend Byrne? 
She remembered him on the afternoon when Least’un had
surgery and when he’d taught Bible class at school. 
This wasn’t the same man.  

        He slowly moved away from the laboratory and,
ignoring her completely, crossed back to the front
door.  

        When he opened it, Zady saw that it had begun to
rain.  

        “It’ll be dark soon,” the preacher said.  “Can I ride
you home?  It’s on my way.”

        His voice was calm and his demeanor cheerful.  But
suddenly Zady only wanted this man to leave.   “I kin
walk.”

        “It’s raining.”

        “It’s okay.  I like the rain.”

        The preacher gave her one final look and stepped
outside.  Zady shut the door behind him, leaned
heavily against it, and took a deep breath.

****************************

Chapter 17

        The rain shower had been brief, a summer storm racing
across the mountains, the third in less than a week
that brought much needed rain to the Cove.  Within a
few hours, a three-quarter moon lit up the night sky. 
The muggy air was filled with the buzz of insects and
the occasional sound of dripping leaves.  

        David noticed none of this as he raced up the steps
of the mission, taking them two at a time.  His shoes
pounded on the wooden risers but he didn't care if he
woke the entire house.  "Alice!"  He pounded on her
door.  "Alice wake up."

        It seemed like an eternity before she appeared,
fumbling with the tie of her robe.  "David, what is
it?"  Down the hall, Christy's door opened and she too
edged into the hallway.

        David could not keep the panic from his voice.  "It's
Stephen."

****

        He hadn't wanted to leave, but Alice insisted he
fetch Dr. MacNeill.  She needed to stay with Stephen
and neither of them would send Christy across the
mountains in the dark.  He didn't take time to saddle
Prince and now rode the horse bareback along the soggy
trails.  Branches slapped at his face but he felt
nothing other than the need to reach his objective as
quickly as possible.  His mind replayed Stephen's
cries, and he dug his knees even tighter into the
horse's side as the two of them flew across the
trails.

        Approaching the doctor's cabin, David was relieved to
see a light still burning.  The doctor seemed
surprised to find him at the front door.  "Good Lord
man, what's happened to you?"  MacNeill stared at him,
frowning in concern.  The doctor reached out a hand
toward what David could only assume was a scratch or
cut on his forehead.

        David pushed the hand away.  He realized he must look
a sight but his own condition wasn't important.  "We
need you at the mission right away.  It's Stephen."

        "Stephen?"

        "He's acting crazy.  You've got to help him.  Hurry."

        "Slow down, Reverend."  The doctor's eyes narrowed. 
"Tell me exactly what happened."

        David found Dr. MacNeill's calm infuriating.  "He got
back late and went straight to bed.  Woke up an hour
ago screaming.  He was like a madman, thrashing
around.  Kept talking about snakes and being squeezed
to death . . ."

        A strange look had come into the doctor's eyes.  "Was
he perspiring or convulsing?"

        How did he know?  "Both."

        "Abdominal pain?"

        "I-I'm not sure.  He seemed to be in pain all over. 
He was screaming so much it was hard to tell."

        The doctor grabbed his saddlebags from the kitchen
table and disappeared into the locked room, leaving
David at the door.  In a moment he was back.  "Let's
go."

        Several times on the ride to the mission, David tried
to get MacNeill to provide some explanation for
Stephen's odd behavior.  Certainly he must have a
theory.  However, the doctor only said, "I'll need to
examine him first."

        Clouds crossed in front of the moon, limiting
visibility, and David had to turn his attention to
keeping Prince on the steep trails.  The doctor was
equally preoccupied and all conversation ended.

        At the bunkhouse, one look at Stephen dashed any
hopes that his condition might have improved.  David
watched as his friend thrashed uncontrollably on the
bed while Christy and Alice struggled to restrain him.
 David noted that, in his absence, the women had taken
the extra cot out of the room, giving themselves more
room to work.

        "Get them away!"  Stephen tried to push them aside. 
"Make them stop.  Make them stop!"  His voice was loud
and shrill.

        Alice spoke firmly, though her voice sounded
strained.  "Stephen, thee is safe here."

        "They're here.  I can see them!  They're crawling on
me!"

        The doctor sat beside Stephen on the cot and
immediately started barking out commands.  "Reverend,
get over here and hold him still."

        David tried to comply, amazed at his friend's
strength.  The situation would have been comical had
it not been so serious.  He managed to press Stephen's
shoulders onto the bed only to have his legs jerk in
all directions.  Finally, he forced the legs back onto
the bed while Alice maintained a firm grip on
Stephen's torso.

        MacNeill spoke again.  "Christy, wait outside."

        "But-"

        "Don't argue."  His eyes ushered her out the door. 
"Alice, bring the light closer." 

        For a brief moment, Stephen was calm and Dr. MacNeill
used the lull to peel back his patient's eyelids and
take his pulse at the neck.  Then he pushed back first
one sleeve and then the other of the young minister's
shirt.  He held out an arm to Alice.  "See?  It's as I
suspected." 

        She nodded wordlessly.  The doctor pulled supplies
from his bags and set them on the bedside table.  The
two medical professionals appeared to have their
answer but David still was in the dark.  "What is it,
Doctor?" he asked.

        Dr. MacNeill again pointed to Stephen's forearms. 
"Needle marks."

        David's eyes narrowed.  "Medicine?"  He searched
MacNeill's eyes.  "Did you give him too much?"

        The doctor's voice was flat.  "I've given him nothing
for days."

        "Then what--?"

        Stephen screamed, trying to pull away from David's
grasp.  "They're on me.  They're in my nose.  Oh God,
help me!"

        MacNeill shook his head and sighed heavily. 
"Withdrawal."

        "My God."  David momentarily released his grip and
Stephen came off the bed.  He again clamped down. 
"What are you doing?"  David watched in horror as the
doctor prepared a hypodermic.

        "I can't help him until I know what he's taking and
how much.  To let him go on like this could kill him."

        "Neil, how does thee know what to give him?"  Alice
fought to be heard over Stephen's screams.

        "I don't, but I'm betting it's morphine."  The
doctor's voice was grim as he shot the contents of the
syringe into Stephen's forearm.

        They waited for the injection to take effect.  When
several minutes had passed and Stephen's condition had
not changed, Dr. MacNeill prepared another injection.

        "Neil-" Alice's voice was questioning.

        "I have no choice.  Reverend, keep him still."

        Within a few minutes the screams had abated and
Stephen lay calm, but sweaty and panting, on the bunk.

        As Dr. MacNeill listened to Stephen's breathing,
David slowly stood from the bed and tried to work out
the cramps from his aching muscles.  "Why?"

        The doctor removed the stethoscope from his ears and
looked over at him.  "There's no easy answer,
Reverend.  There are many reasons-"  He was
interrupted by a moan from the bed.  Stephen eyes
roamed the room and he tried to rise.  Dr. MacNeill
placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.   "Easy
now, lie still.  You've had a rough time of it." 

        Stephen searched the room, his eyes slightly
unfocused.  "David?"

        "I'm here."  David's voice sounded cold to his own
ears.

        "I'm sorry."  Stephen's eyes started to fill with
tears.  "So sorry."

        "Reverend."  The doctor's voice interrupted the
strained silence.  "Would you and Alice fetch some
water and something light for him to eat?  And some
extra towels and blankets as well."

****

        "Thank you," Stephen said weakly after they'd gone.  

        Neil had understood that Stephen was too ashamed to
face his friends, especially David, right now.  But he
had a more personal reason for sending the others away
- he wanted to talk frankly with his patient and
didn't need an audience.

        Stephen spoke first.  "Zady told you."

        Neil eyed him quizzically.  "Told me what?" 

        The minister seemed surprised.  "How'd you know about
the morphine?"

        "I'm a doctor," he replied simply.  "Now, if I'm to
help, you must tell me exactly what you've been taking
and for how long."  He saw Stephen start to sit up and
stopped him with a restraining hand.  "No, stay where
you are."

        Stephen lay back down and sighed.  "It started about
six months ago when I took a chunk out of my shin
helping one of the church families repair their
house."

        Neil moved to the end of the bed.  

        "The right one."

        Neil rolled up Stephen's pant leg.  He could see that
the injury had been deep and serious.  He ran his
fingers along the scar then met Stephen's eyes.  "Go
on."

        "For a time I thought I might lose my leg.  Then I
almost wished I did."  Stephen's voice trembled.  "The
pain was incredible."

        "I don't doubt it."  Neil recovered the leg and
resumed his seat on the bed, reaching for Stephen's
wrist.  The man's pulse raced beneath his fingers.

        "The doctors gave me morphine, lots of morphine. 
It's the only thing that worked.  The pain got worse
and I needed more morphine.  Before long, I couldn't
manage without it."

        "Even after the pain was gone."  

        "I didn't realize what was happening until it was too
late.  Morphine's easy enough to get hold of in Boston
-- I could buy it anywhere."

        What Stephen said was true.  Neil remembered from his
days in Philadelphia that most pharmacists would sell
it even without a prescription.  And if they wouldn't,
drugs like morphine and cocaine were widely available
from street vendors.

        Stephen turned toward him.  "I tried to quit a couple
of times but that was worse than the pain.  That's why
I came here - figured it would be harder to get hold
of the drug.  I was doing okay until I hurt my
shoulder."

        "When I gave you morphine for the pain."  The doctor
sighed heavily.

        "This isn't your fault.  I should have told you about
my-problem."  Stephen shrugged.  "Anyway, I had a
small stash of the drug - just in case.  It finally
ran out.  You know the rest of the miserable story."

        Neil knew only too well how the well-intentioned
actions of a physician could have disastrous
consequences.  He remembered when he'd prescribed
laudanum for Ellie Tatum.  She'd overdosed and died. 
Stephen's case was tragically similar and he felt
sorry for the young man whom he'd come to admire.  But
his sympathy wouldn't change what had to be done. 
"You said something about Zady."

        Stephen briefly recounted the events at the cabin. 
"I'm afraid I frightened the girl," he finished.  "But
I would never have hurt her.  Never."  

        Neil was certain the young man would never
intentionally hurt Zady.  But his face nonetheless
clouded with anger as he thought about his young pupil
alone in his cabin with a violent and unpredictable
man.  There was nothing he could say.

        It was Stephen who spoke again.  "What happens now?"

****

        It was nearly dark and the Allen mill was silent and
deserted.  Rob sat on the ground, his back propped
against several sacks of flour, planning the lesson
for the following morning's class. As he did every
day, he'd returned to the mill after school.  Only
when he'd finished the tasks for his father could he
begin to grade papers and prepare for class.  He had
begun to appreciate how much work teaching could be.

        Rob scribbled something on his paper, looked back at
his book, flipped a few pages, and returned to
writing. A shadow crossed over his book.  

        He looked up into the face of Ault.  His uncle had
approached silently, gripping a shotgun in his right
hand.  In the distance, Rob could see his cousins,
Amos and Ezra, leaning on their own guns and observing
the scene with amused detachment. 

        "Ain't disturbin' ya now, am I?" Ault asked with a
sneer.

        "No.  I was nearly finished."

        "You heard 'bout the shootin'?" 

        He knew Ault was referring to the minor confrontation
between Bird's Eye Taylor's nephew Mick and one of
Ault's nephews.  "Yeah.  Lucky James wasn't hurt."

        "Not hurt!  Done lost his horse."

        And Mick had nearly lost his foot.  No one was even
sure why the two had been fighting.  It was if the
feud itself was reason enough to start an argument. 
Rob had no idea how to respond to his uncle's outburst
and remained silent.

        "We Allens are fixin' ta do somethin' 'bout it."

        Rob nodded noncommittally.  

        "What's wrong with you?"  Ault's tone had turned
harsh and menacing.  "You're a man now, and an Allen. 
We be 'spectin' yer help."

        Rob carefully considered his reply.  "Uncle Ault, I'm
no good with a gun."

        Ault laughed.  "I kin fix that."

        "You know Miss Christy don't want us feuding."  As he
spoke the words, Rob braced for the inevitable
response.

        "Miss Christy don't want us feuding."  Ault mimicked.
 His face hardened.  "I don't care what her or no one
at that mission says."  Ault slammed the butt of his
gun into the ground.  "The Taylors shot an Allen an'
the Allens ain't standin' fer it."  The older man
nearly spat out the words.

        Rob had never seen his uncle this angry - at least
not with him.  He sneaked a glance at Amos and Ezra,
who merely grinned at him unpleasantly.  Rob took a
deep breath.  "I understand what you're doing," he
said to Ault.  "I simply don't want to be a part of
it."

        "Is that fancy talk what ya learn in that school?"  

        "We learn that feuding is wrong.  The Taylors burn
our house.  We burn theirs.  The shoot us.  We shoot
them.  Where does it stop?"

        "It stops when we take care of every last one of
them."

        The cold finality of his uncle's tone sent a shiver
down Rob's spine.  Yet, for a reason he couldn't
explain, Rob was suddenly emboldened.  "The preacher
says feuding's wrong.  I can't go against the Lord."

        "I'm the head of our clan.  And I say we're going to
make the Taylors pay fer what they done."  He stared
at Rob, his eyes the color of steel.  "Now are you an
Allen or ain't ya?"

        In a determined manner, Rob looked away and reopened
his book.  His eyes stared at the page, not seeing a
word.  When he looked up a few moments later, his
visitors had gone.


***********************
Author's Note:  "Drug addiction" in the early 1900s
cannot be viewed in the same way as it is today. 
First, as I indicated in this story, opiates
(including morphine and cocaine) were widely available
without a prescription.  Selling and using these drugs
was not illegal.  This was due in part to the fact
that, at that time, most doctors did not fully
understand or appreciate their addictive quality. 
Consider that Coca-Cola originally contained cocaine. 
And for you Sherlock Holmes fans, the great detective
was addicted to cocaine and the author of those
stories was himself a physician.

The bottom line is that my story is not meant to
excuse or demonize drug addiction and was not intended
to start a debate on that issue.  It is about
"accidental" addiction at the turn of the century and
is NOT a commentary on the issue as it stands today.

***********************
Chapter 18

        “My God, Alice, Stephen’s a drug addict.”  David
sipped from a glass of water, then slammed it onto the
kitchen table.  “He’s lecturing me about how to be a
minister and all the while he’s shooting morphine into
his arm.”

        Alice stood on the other side of the room, her
fingers interlocked at her waist.  “I know this is a
shock.”

        “Of course it’s a shock, it’s more than a shock. 
That man was my best friend.  He was the preacher I
wanted to be.”

        “Was?”

        “You know what I mean.”

        “Indeed.  And now thee learns that the man
thee has looked up to has human failings?”

        “It’s more than that.”

        “Is it?  Stephen is the same man he has always been. 
Perhaps thee merely closed thy eyes to things thee did
not want to see?”

        “What’s that supposed to mean?  Are you saying I
should have known about his addiction?”

        “No.  But has thee considered that Stephen may have
come here seeking thy help?”

        David backed away.  “Don’t try to make me feel
guilty.  This isn’t my fault.”

        “It’s not about fault.”  Alice’s voice was harsh. 
“It is about compassion and forgiveness.”

        “How can he call himself a man of God after what he’s
done?  He’s worse than the moonshiners.”

        “David!  Stephen has sinned.  I realize that this sin
seems very personal to thee, but I doubt he intended
the result.”  Alice walked over to the stove and
poured herself a cup of coffee, then offered a second
cup to David who waved it away.  She pulled out a
chair and sat down at the table.

        “I need to get out of here.”  David took several
steps toward the door.

        “Thee needs to stay.”  Alice’s tone allowed no
argument.

        Reluctantly, he came back into the room and took a
seat across from her.  “What do you want me to say?”

        “Thee need not say anything to me.”  Alice’s voice
remained temperate.  

        Tonight David found her calm especially irritating. 
“Then what do you want me to do?  Go back in there and
pretend like nothing has happened.  Pretend he hasn’t
lied to me, lied to everyone here?”

        “Does thee really know what happened?  That man in
there,” Alice said, nodding in the direction of the
bunkhouse, “is in pain.  He faces perhaps the most
difficult time of his life in the days ahead.  Is thee
blind to his needs?”

        “He wants someone to tell him that all is forgiven,
that everything is fine.”  David stood up from his
chair and slammed his hand onto the table with such
force that Alice jerked backwards.  “Well I won’t do
it!”

        “David, I cannot believe thy pride and arrogance. 
Thee calls thyself a man of God yet turns thy back
when thy ministry is needed most.”  This time it was
Alice who stood.  When she spoke, her voice was sad. 
“I think thee needs to pray.  Perhaps God can ease thy
troubled soul.”  She grabbed the pitcher and a plate
of food and strode from the room.

*****
 
        David stood outside the bunkhouse, listening to the
murmured voices inside.  His talk with Alice left him
with a jumble of emotions.  Anger, frustration,
confusion, fear.  But he’d done as she’d suggested;
he’d climbed the hill to the church and prayed.  

        The experience left him frustrated.  He always hoped
that God would somehow reveal the solution to all his
problems, like a divine light writing the answers on a
page.  But when he said his final “amen,” the problems
remained.  Stephen awaited him in the bunkhouse. 
Alice and Christy were in the parlor.  The feuding had
not stopped.  He strode back down the hill.
        
        “You must quit, you know that?” David recognized Dr.
MacNeill’s brogue through the bunkhouse door.  “It’ll
not be easy.  Tonight was only the beginning.  It
could go on for hours or even days.  You might even
die.”

        David couldn’t hear Stephen’s response.  He took a
deep breath and knocked firmly on the door.  “Come
in,” MacNeill called.

        He squeezed into the room.  Stephen sat up in bed,
MacNeill beside him.  His friend looked better than
when he’d left but still wore an air of sadness and
resignation.  David hoped he wasn’t intruding and
directed his first words to Dr. MacNeill.  “I wondered
if I might talk with Stephen.”

        “Of course,” MacNeill said in a tone that suggested
he’d already concluded his own discussion.  The doctor
rose to his feet.  “I’ll be in the kitchen.” 

        David waited until the door was shut then eased
himself into the room’s only chair.  Alice’s comments,
MacNeill’s warnings, and his own prayer all swirled in
his head as he contemplated what to say, how to begin.

        Stephen beat him to the first word.  “I’m so sorry, I
have no excuse for what I did, for what I've put you
through.”  The voice was flat, nearly a monotone.  His
friend’s eyes, usually so jovial, were
uncharacteristically dull.  “I wanted to tell you, I
really did.”

        David raised his hand.  “You don’t have to say
anything.”

        “Yes, I do.  I’ve spent the last three weeks
criticizing you for not being a good minister while
I’m glorifying God by allowing myself to become
dependent on morphine.  I can’t imagine what you must
think.”

        David had rehearsed his speech many times but was
stopped before he could utter a word by the shame on
Stephen’s face.  It was deeper than anything he could
inflict, and David had no doubt that his friend had
already suffered mightily for his transgressions.  

        The hurtful comments he’d so carefully planned fled
from his mind.  He felt liberated and, without
realizing how or why, knew exactly what to say.  The
words poured from his mouth, yet came from his heart. 

“What I think is that you were absolutely right in
everything you said to me.”  

        Stephen looked at him in surprise.  His friend
started to speak, but David silenced him by rushing
on.  “I was angry because everything wasn’t perfect
and took out my frustration on the very people I was
called to serve.  I convinced myself that what I
wanted was more important than what they wanted.  And,
when you came, I was so busy wallowing in self pity
that I was blind to what was happening to you.  That’s
what’s unforgivable.”

        “David, stop.  This isn’t a confession.  You don’t
need to explain yourself to me.  Of all people,
certainly not to me.  Don’t you see what I’ve done?” 
Stephen’s eyes took on a wild look and he started to
rise from the bed.

        For a moment David feared the hallucinations were
returning.  “Are you all right?  Maybe I should get
MacNeill . . .” 

        Stephen grabbed for his arm.  “No!  Listen to me. 
You must hear this.” 

        David resumed his seat next to the cot.  “I’m
listening.”

        “It’s not you who’s a lousy minister, it’s me.  Why
do you think I left Boston?  It wasn’t a missions
project, that’s all a lie too.  I needed to get away. 
I was drowning – every day I felt myself being dragged
further away from God.  I had to come here, to see
you.  I figured you must be finding the peace in your
work that I couldn’t seem to find in mine.”

        David opened his mouth to respond.  

        “Let me finish, please,” Stephen said.  “I may never
get the chance again.”

        David nodded.
        
        “The difference between us is that you’re struggling
with your faith.  I quit.”

        “Stephen, no, that isn’t true.”  David could no
longer contain himself.  Stephen had always been the
rock of their friendship, his relationship with God
had been certain and sure.  Now, within a space of a
few hours, everything had changed.  

        He briefly considered that Stephen might simply be
feeling sorry for himself, but the sincerity in his
friend’s voice and the pain in his eyes told David the
agony was real.  Alice had been right. Stephen was the
one searching for answers, reaching out for help.  The
morphine hadn’t caused his misery, there was something
much deeper troubling his friend.  Dr. MacNeill might
be able to heal Stephen’s body but only God could heal
his soul. 

        Stephen clearly needed his help.  David's euphoria
vanished as he frantically searched for the right
thing to say.  He couldn’t fail again, not this time. 
He silently prayed for God to guide him in the moments
to come.  

       “Stephen, I’ve never known anyone who was
closer to God than you.  That commitment doesn’t just
vanish.  Maybe you need to work someplace else,
someplace more like Cutter Gap.”  

        “Maybe.” 

        The lack of conviction was obvious, and David knew
had to find something for Stephen to latch onto.  And
quickly.  He tried again.  “We can worry about your
ministry later.  First we have to get you well.  Can
MacNeill help you?”

        In a heavy voice, Stephen explained the doctor’s plan
for weaning him from the drug.  

        “I want to be here with you.”

        “No, David.  Neil told me what will happen and it
isn’t pretty.”  He lowered his eyes.  “I don’t want
you to see me like that.”  

        “Weren’t you the one who told me that if I’m to help
people I have to share the good and the bad?”  He saw
a wisp of a smile cross Stephen’s lips.  “You’ve spend
the last weeks helping me.  Now it’s my turn.”

        Stephen emphatically shook his head.  

        David tried not to let his disappointment show.  “If
I were the one lying in that bed, you’d insist on
staying with me and you know it.  You’re my best
friend.  Please, let me help you.”  He saw that his
friend was not convinced.  He forced Stephen’s eyes to
meet his own.  “Please.”  

        Finally, slowly, Stephen nodded.

****************************

Chapter 19

        Later that night, Christy descended the steps into
the mission parlor.  Ruby Mae had finally gone to
sleep but now Christy found herself restless.  She
hoped that the crisp night air and a few minutes of
rocking on the porch chair would calm her own jumbled
nerves.  

        The evening had started off so well.  Ruby Mae had
dashed into the mission in the middle of dinner with
news that Rob had asked her to the barn dance.  The
girl was so excited; Christy didn’t think she’d ever
get her to stop chattering.  

        During the meal, an idea formed in Christy’s head
and, after dinner, she’d invited Ruby Mae upstairs to
her room.  “Ruby Mae, if you’re going to this dance, I
think you’ll need something special to wear.”

        “Oh Miz Christy, you’re so right.  I got me that
brown dress that I always wears to church on Sundays.”
 Her mouth sagged.”  But it ain’t all that perty
though I reckon I could git Miz Spencer to make me a
bow—“

        “I have something else in mind,” Christy had said
with a sly grin as she pulled an item from her
footlocker.  “Would you like to borrow it for the
dance?”

        Ruby Mae stared, mouth open, at the pale blue dress
that Christy dangled in front of her face.  “Oh Miz
Christy!  I never seen nothing so fine.  I couldn’t
wear that.”

        Christy wasn’t sure why she’d brought the dress back
from Asheville but was suddenly glad she had.  “I wore
this to a dance at my school.  Nothing would make me
happier than for you to wear it.”   
        
        Ruby Mae had taken it from her hands, held it up to
her shoulders and stared at herself in the mirror,
twirling from side to side.  “Oh Lordamercy, I look
like a real lady.”  And the chattering had resumed.

        The mission had no sooner gone to bed when the crisis
with Stephen began.  Once Neil arrived, Christy had
returned upstairs to keep Ruby Mae company and prevent
the girl from disturbing the others.  

        Now, as Christy stepped outside, she saw the faintest
hint of light in the distance and realized the sun was
starting its slow rise.  It had been a long night.

        Neil was already on the porch, smoking his pipe and
staring off into the darkness.  He turned at the sound
of her footfalls on the wooden floorboards.

        Christy realized that, except for brief exchange in
David’s bunkhouse, she hadn’t spoken to him since the
day she’d returned from Asheville, when they’d met in
the kitchen.  She stopped a few feet away.  “Miss
Alice told me about Stephen,” she said.  “When I was
with him tonight, it was like he was fighting the
devil.”

        “Demons come in many forms.”  

        “He must have been in terrible pain.”

        “Yes, I’ve no doubt he was.”  Neil’s voice was
haunted.    

        “Can you help him?” 

        His eyes met hers.  “We’ll see.”

        Christy started to ask another question; there was so
much she wanted to know.  But she sensed that Neil
wasn’t interested in pursuing the subject.  Perhaps he
was protecting his patient or perhaps he once again
worried that he couldn’t do enough as a physician. 
She’d seen this before and had learned that pushing
him wouldn’t help.  

        She leaned against the side of the building. 
“I’m sorry about the other day.  I was rude.”

        He pulled his pipe from his mouth and held it away
from his body.  “You needn’t explain.”  

        More than anything, his tone seemed detached, distant
and his eyes lacked their usual sparkle.  “But I want
to, I want you to understand.”

        If she’d expected Neil to continue the conversation,
she was disappointed.  He merely stood there, waiting.
 The normal banter was missing and she suspected he
was preoccupied with Stephen.  Neil rarely let himself
get close to anyone but she knew he liked the young
minister.  Certainly the events of the past several
hours had been a shock.  But she needed to tell him
about her decision, needed his approval.  

        “When I was home in Asheville, I decided to come back
here for good.  To Cutter Gap, I mean.”  Why had she
added that?  She sounded like a schoolgirl.

        The only reaction was a slight raise in his eyebrows.
 “What led to this decision?”

        “Everything.  When I was home, I felt so empty. 
Here, I feel so needed, what with the children, the
new class for the women.  It felt right, what God was
telling me to do.”

        “There is much you’d be giving up.”

        Suddenly Christy was angry.  “Don’t you think that I
know that?”  Of course Neil was worried about his
patient, but he didn’t have to be patronizing.  

        He didn’t answer, merely took a long drag on his
pipe.

        Christy stared into the hazy night, then returned to
his gaze.  “You came back.”

        “Yes.  And you know it’s not been easy.”

        “Doctor, I’ve lived here for nearly two years.”

        “There’s a difference, Christy, between visiting and
living here year after year, closed off from the
outside world--”

        She was stung by his remark and couldn’t keep the
hurt from her voice.  “Visiting?  Is that what you
think I’ve been doing?  I live here, Doctor and I know
how terrible these mountains can be.  But I want to
help change that and I can’t do it in Asheville, North
Carolina.”

        “I’m sorry, Christy.  I don’t doubt your sincerity. 
And I learned long ago not to question your iron
will.”

        Christy thought she detected the slightest twinkle in
his eyes at that last remark.  But there was something
else there as well, a hint of sadness.

        His voice was low.  “I saw what happened to
Margaret.”  Christy started to protest but he cut her
off.  “And to me.”

        “Have you ever regretted your decision to come back
here?”

        She expected an immediate reply.  Instead, the doctor
took a puff on his pipe and then faced her squarely. 
“I regret what happened to Margaret, to our marriage.”
 A faraway look came into his eyes.

        “I’m sorry for what happened too” she said softly. 
“But I’m not Margaret.”

        “I know that.”  He took a step closer.  “I’m sorry
Christy, sorry I cannot be more eager about your
decision.  But I don’t want to see you hurt.”

        She stuck out her chin.  “I know things can be hard. 
I’m prepared for that.”

        “Are you?”

        Her reply was cut off when David came striding toward
them from the direction of the bunkhouse.  “We’re
ready, Doctor.” 

 ****

        If David had ever doubted the existence of hell, that
night and the day that followed convinced him of its
reality.  As the remnants of the morphine left his
system, Stephen once again became irrational,
demanding, and violent.  Several times, Dr. MacNeill
suggested he might want to leave, that Stephen’s
conduct would only become more outrageous in the hours
to follow.

        “No, Doctor.  This man is not Stephen.  I want to be
here when he comes back to us.”

        When Stephen screamed, David found himself biting his
knuckles and demanding the doctor ease his friend’s
agony.  “Can’t you give him something?”  He realized
that MacNeill had patiently explained more than once
why this was necessary.  But it seemed almost inhuman
to allow such suffering to continue.  

        At one point, when Stephen was sleeping for an
all-too-brief moment, David confronted the doctor. 
“How much longer can you let this go on?”

        “Until it ends.”

        “But it might kill him.”

        “Yes, it might.”

        “When this is over, is that it?  Will the craving
end?”

        MacNeill looked at Stephen’s sleeping form then back
at David.  “No, it will not.  His body will no longer
crave the drug, but his mind is another matter.  He
must always fight the urge to return to it.”

        “God help him.”

************************

Chapter 20


        By the following evening, Dr. MacNeill determined
that the worst of Stephen’s hallucinations and violent
outbursts were over and left to make urgent calls
across the mountain.  

        David sat with his friend, who alternated between
euphoria and despair.  One minute Stephen was talking
excitedly about the future and the next he was somber
and depressed. David had trouble keeping up with the
changing emotions and struggled for the right words to
combat Stephen’s moods.  

        He read passages from the Bible, as well as words of
hope and comfort by noted theologians.  Much of the
time, however, they simply talked, reminiscing about
their days in seminary, pranks they played, and the
penalties when they got caught.  

        “You were the one who made me skip chapel,” David
said.

        “No!” Stephen replied in mock horror. 

        “Don’t deny it.  Don’t you remember how we’d pretend
to be sick . . .”

        “Well, maybe once.”  Stephen’s eyes had a knowing
glint as they shared a laugh.

        Several days later, David sensed a restlessness in
his friend and wondered if the craving for the drug
had returned.  Alice could provide little help and he
desperately wished MacNeill were here.   But Stephen
had been calm the previous night and, as David
returned to his bunkhouse after a visit to the
kitchen, he hoped that his friend’s unease had passed.

        “What are you doing?”  David knew the answer before
he spoke the words.  Stephen was obviously packing,
haphazardly tossing shirts, pants and shoes into bags
that lay open on the bed.

        Stephen didn’t look up from his packing. “I have to
go.”  He dropped a stack of clothing onto the bunk.

        “You can’t, not yet.  What about your treatment?” 

         “Neil’s done all he can, said it’s up to me now.”

        “Then stay.  We’ve got plenty of room, good food. 
It’ll give you time—“

        “Time for what?”  Stephen closed one of his bags. 
“Neil said my physical craving is over.  The mental –
well, staying here won’t help that.  I can’t hide
forever.”

        “At least stay for a while.  Let me help you.”  David
had no idea what he would do but he couldn’t just let
his friend walk out the door.

        Stephen met his eyes.  “If you only knew how tempting
that is.  No, I have to go back to Boston.”

        “But if you go back . . .”  Left unsaid was that
Stephen would once again fall prey to his addiction. 
For a moment, the two men stared at each other. 
Finally, David broke the silence.  “Stephen, there are
so many places that need you, missions all along the
Appalachian trail just waiting for someone with your
talent and dedication.”

        Stephen shook his head.  “That’s what you’re meant to
do, not me.”

        “Then where will you go?  What will you do?”

        His friend shrugged.  “I thought I might just hop on
the train and see where it takes me.”  

        David panicked.  “Let me talk to Doctor Ferrand, I’m
sure he could find work for you—“

        He was surprised to hear Stephen laugh.  “I was
joking, I’m not that desperate.”  He latched up one of
his cases and set it on the floor.  “I’ve had a lot of
time to think these last couple of days.  First, I
have to go back to Boston.”

        Again David looked concerned.  “Stephen, I don’t
think—“

        “It’s okay.  I won’t stay long and I will stay away
from the morphine.  But I need to talk to Dr. Edwards,
to Marissa, explain what happened.  And then,”
Stephen’s expression was smug, “I may just join the
Navy.”

        “What?”

        Stephen stood ramrod straight and gave a mock salute.
 “Can’t you see me in uniform?”  His expression
softened.  “Seriously, I read about it before I came
here.  They’re looking for chaplains.  Those young
sailors are scared, far from home.  They need to know
God’s love.”

        David was still unconvinced.  Was this yet another
wrong path that would lead Stephen to more despair? 
“I don’t know . . . “

        “I’ve prayed about it.  I know it sounds radical but
I really believe this is where God has called me to
serve.”  

        David heard the conviction in his friend’s voice.  He
so wanted to believe Stephen had found the peace he
was seeking.  “Then I suppose that’s where you must
go.” 

        Stephen placed several items of clothing in a second
bag.  “And it will give me a fresh start, something I
couldn’t get here or in Boston.”

        “What about Marissa?”

        “I hope she’ll come with me.  I do love her.  But I
can’t stay in the city, not even for her.  It would
kill me and our marriage.”  Stephen closed the bag and
set it next to the first.  He looked squarely at
David.  “I want to thank you for everything.  For
being a true friend and a minister when I needed one,
for standing by me when I was at my worst.  I’ll never
forget that.  

        In that moment, David knew he had helped.  Maybe he
hadn’t done enough, but he’d done what he could.  The
feeling was bittersweet.  “I wish I you’d let me do
more.”

        “You’ve done more than I had any right to expect. 
More than anyone has ever done.” Stephen picked up a
bag and swung it over his shoulder.  “It’s my turn
now.”

        “Can I least ride you to the station?”

        “Thanks, but I’d rather walk.”

        “It’s seven miles.”

        “I have a lot to think about.  And besides,” he gave
David a wink, “the fresh air will do me good.”

        Before David could respond, Stephen answered his
unvoiced concerns.  “Don’t worry.  You’ve set me on
the right track.  God will take care of me from here.”
He sounded confident, yet different from the day he’d
arrived nearly a month ago.  

        “I’ll pray for you every day,” David said.

        Stephen smiled.  “Do that.”  

        David didn’t try to fight back the mist that covered
his eyes.  “I will.” 

****

        “You look so beautiful tonight.”  Rob squeezed Ruby
Mae’s hand as they slowly walked down the last mile of
the trail leading to the mission.  They were almost
home.  It had been a wonderful night, better than he
could ever have imagined.  

        Rob had noticed the envious stares of his friends as
he’d entered the barn with Ruby Mae on his arm.  At
first they’d both been shy and a bit awkward, he in
his cleanest shirt and pants and Ruby Mae in her fine
blue dress.  Rob had worried that the Taylors might
try to spoil the event, but his family’s enemies had
never appeared and no one mentioned the ongoing feud. 


        Rob also feared that his dancing wasn’t up to par and
that he’d embarrass himself in front of Ruby Mae.  But
he was almost delighted to discover that her dance
skills were no better than his and together they
stumbled through one mountain dance after another,
almost crying with laughter as they stepped on each
other’s toes.  He wasn’t sure whose would hurt more
the following morning, but made a mental note to get
dance lessons from his father or one of the other men.
 

        A return squeeze from Ruby Mae brought him back to
the present.  “You was the prettiest girl at the
dance,” he said with a smile.

        “Oh Rob, that’s so sweet.”  

        “It’s true.”  He stopped, reached for Ruby Mae’s
other hand, and pulled her around to face him.  He
stared into her eyes.  “I’d be mighty pleased if you’d
be my girl.”  The moment the words were out, he held
his breath.  He thought he knew what Ruby Mae’s answer
would be, but what if she turned him down?

        Ruby Mae’s eyes widened.  “I—I don’t know what to
say.”

        Rob brought her hands up to his face and gently
kissed her fingers.  “Say you will.”

        “Of course I will.  I can’t think of nothing I’d like
better—“

        Rob bent his head and took her lips in his, silencing
further conversation.  

        “Oh, lordamercy,” she said when Rob finally pulled
away.

        He mentally kicked himself.  “I’m sorry, Ruby Mae.” 
He stared at a leaf on the ground, then stomped on it
with his shoe.  “I don’t know what got into me.  It’s
just that you looked so beautiful in the moonlight, in
that dress of yours and your hair all done up.”

        Ruby Mae swallowed hard.  “It’s all right.  It was .
. . wonderful.  I ain’t never been kissed like that
before.”

        He slowly brought raised his eyes to meet hers. 
“Might I do it again?”

        She answered him with her eyes.  This time, he
reached for her face and gently pulled it toward him. 
Her lips were so soft.  No wonder the preacher said—

        “Well ain’t this sweet!”  

        They jerked apart at the sound of the strange voice. 
Two men stood at the edge of the woods, guns in hand.

        “Lookee what we found.  Two lovebirds.”

        “Amos, Ezra, what do you want?”  Rob pulled Ruby Mae
closer to him and away from his cousins.  

        “You seen any Taylors round here?” Amos asked.

        Rob instinctively swung his eyes in a wide circle. 
“We haven’t seen anyone.”

        “Ya don’t say.”  Amos smirked.  “Well, we saw ‘em all
right.  Chased ‘em through the woods.  Thought fer a
minute you was them.”

        “Well, we’re not.  Now we need to be getting along.” 
He looked down the dark trail, noting they had to
cover at least another quarter mile before they
reached the mission.  

        “So you don’t care ‘bout the Taylors, huh?  We heard
you ain’t a real Allen,” Amos said with a sneer.

        “If you’re asking whether I want to join the feuding,
then the answer is ‘no.’”

        “Think you’s too good fer us, don’t ya?”  Amos swung
his shotgun back and forth in front of his body. 
“That nonsense ya learned in school gone to yer head.”

        Rob took a deep breath and tried to sound braver than
he felt.  “Feuding won’t solve anything.”

        “Well, don’t you sound all educated.  I bet Ezra and
me kin give you a real fine education.”  The two men
laughed.

        Rob took Ruby Mae’s arm and started to walk
purposefully down the trail.  They’d only managed a
few steps when the two men again blocked their path. 
“Jes where do ya think yer going?  We got something to
say to you.”

        “I need to get Ruby Mae back to the mission.  It’s
late and they’ll be worried about her.”

        “Ya didn’t seem in such a hurry jes yon.”  Amos
snickered loudly.

        Ruby Mae turned on him.  “You leave us alone!” 

        Amos seemed to notice her for the first time.  “We
ain’t got no quarrel with you, little lady.  Why don’t
you run along now.”  When he saw that Ruby Mae
intended to stand her ground, he thrust the gun toward
her.  “Go!”

        Rob spoke quietly to her.  “Go on, Ruby Mae.  Go back
to the mission.  I’ll be fine.”

        “Rob, no!  I won’t leave you.”  She clung to his arm.

        “Ruby Mae, please.  I’ll be right behind you.”

        “Hey Amos, reckon she should stay.”  Ezra leered at
her.  Amos silenced his brother with a cuff on the
shoulder.   

        Rob gave her an encouraging nod.  She squeezed his
hand and slowly moved away, looking back at him every
few steps.  He nodded at her and smiled, watching as
she carefully made her way down the trail in the
darkness.

****

        Ruby Mae had to get back to Rob.  Despite her promise
to head straight back to the mission, she couldn’t
leave him out here alone.  She’d had a few run-ins
with Ault’s boys and she knew they meant trouble.  

        She waited until she’d passed a bend in the road then
darted into the brush and started to circle back to
where she’d left Rob.  She moved in a wide arc,
mindful that any noise might signal her presence.  She
didn’t think Rob’s cousins would be pleased to catch
her spying.  As she approached the roadway again, she
heard the sound of raised voices and edged closer,
straining to hear the words.

        “—kinda man are you anyhow?”  

        It was Ezra’s voice.  There was mumbling followed by
a grunt.  Ruby Mae grabbed up her skirt and edged
forward a few more steps.  She felt branches scratch
against her side and wondered what damage was being
done to Miz Christy’s dress.  How would she ever
explain the rips and stains?

        “’Bout time you learned—“

        She heard another grunt and another exchange of
words.  What was happening?  Was Rob all right?  She
pressed through the dense underbrush and peered
through the darkness.  

        Suddenly, Ruby Mae froze.  Her ears had picked up a
new sound in the woods to her left.  She remained
crouched and motionless for several minutes, her heart
pounding in her chest.  A raccoon sprinted across the
pine needles and scampered toward a nearby tree. 
Still she didn't move.  

        Finally, her leg started to cramp and she slowly
stretched herself to a standing position.  The sounds
from the roadway had stopped, and Ruby Mae again began
to pick her way through the trees toward the trail. 
Though she tried to move quietly, her every step
cracked twigs and rustled branches.  

        Again she heard a loud snap.  She turned, saw a flash
of light, felt a hot iron rod stab through her
stomach.  She was aware only of intense and
overwhelming pain as she toppled backwards.  Someone
shouted her name.  Before she could answer, her world
turned black.

*************************

Chapter 21

        Neil bolted into the mission house, spied Rob lying
on the parlor sofa with Dan seated by his side and
headed straight for them.  He was stopped in his
tracks by Alice's voice from the dining room.

        "Neil.  In here."

        He immediately saw the cause of the nurse's concern. 
Stretched out on the dining room table was Ruby Mae. 
When John Holcombe had appeared at his cabin door a
short time ago, he’d said only that there’d been a
shooting on the road to El Pano and mumbled something
about the Allens.  Neil hadn’t expected to find this. 
Dropping his bags, he rushed to her side.  

        Ruby Mae lay on her back, unconscious and pale, her
fiery red hair dangling over the edge of the table. 
But Neil’s eyes were drawn to the gaping hole in her
abdomen.  Crusted blood surrounded the wound, and with
every shallow breath, traces of fresh red blood seeped
onto the skin.  His hands automatically started
examining her injuries.

        "My God, what happened?"

        Alice held the lamp close.  "Rob and Ruby Mae were
returning from the dance when they ran into Rob’s
cousins.  Rob sent Ruby Mae home but she hid in the
woods.  Amos or Ezra heard a noise and shot her,
thinking it was one of the Taylors."

        “Doc!”  Rob’s voice rang out from the parlor.  “How
is she?”

        Neil ignored the cry as he continued his examination.

        “Doc?”

        “I don’t know yet, Rob.”  Neil’s voice reflected his
impatience. 

        Christy entered the room from the kitchen and stood
directly behind Alice.  Neil gave her only the
briefest glance and decided she looked numb with fear.


        His concern increased as he continued to evaluate
Ruby Mae’s injury.  The more carefully he inspected
the wound, the more damage he found.  "Bullet's
penetrated the upper right quadrant.  Probably hit the
spleen."  His bloody hands rolled the girl onto her
side.  Several curses escaped from his mouth. 

        He was angry, furious that this senseless violence
had claimed Ruby Mae as its latest victim.  She wasn’t
a Taylor, wasn’t an Allen.  The girl had done nothing
more than attend a dance and yet here she was lying
bloodied and nearly naked on a dining room table. 
He’d pulled more bullets than he could count out of
the men of Cutter Gap.  Of all the injuries he’d
treated in his decade of practice in these mountains,
gunshot wounds were invariably the worst.  And gunshot
wounds to the abdomen were the worst of all.  Ruby
Mae’s injury was devastating.

        He forced his thoughts back to his patient.  "The
bullet passed clean through.  May have nicked the
kidney as well."  He shook his head and frowned at
Alice.  "She’s hemorrhaging badly.  I'll have to
operate to stop the bleeding.  Even then . . ." his
voice trailed off.  

        He and Alice exchanged a wordless look.  They both
knew it would take all of their skill – and a fair
amount of luck – to save the young girl.  He nodded
toward his saddlebags.  "We can start as soon as my
instruments are ready.  I'll just have a quick look at
Rob."  

        He started to leave, then turned back to Christy, who
hadn’t spoken a word since she’d entered the room. 
“Christy, we’ll need more water and all the lamps you
can find.”

        For a moment, Christy remained rooted to the floor,
staring at Ruby Mae.  

        “Christy,” he repeated.

        Finally, his voice seemed to break through her
transfixion.  

        Her eyes shifted toward him.  “I’m sorry, what did
you say?”

        He spoke gently.  “I said you might fetch some more
water from the well.  I’ll need it for Ruby Mae’s
surgery.”  

        “Yes, yes of course,” she replied absently.

        He read the despair in her eyes and desperately
wanted to offer words of encouragement.  He knew she
expected him to work miracles as he had so many times
in the past.  He would try again, but he wouldn’t give
her false hope.  “Christy, perhaps you could sit with
Rob during Ruby Mae’s surgery.”  At least this would
give her something to do.  And it had to be better
than watching him cut into Ruby Mae’s abdomen.  

        As she nodded, he saw the briefest flicker in her
eye.  He knew she was drawing on her strong faith,
faith in God and in him. 

        “Thank you, Christy.”  He was rewarded with a slight
smile.  He longed to say more, but two patients needed
his attention.  Christy would have to wait.  

        He quickly rinsed his hands in a basin of water and
entered the parlor.  “How is he?" he asked Dan. 

        Dan stood, clearing the way for Neil to sit beside
the sofa.  "Took quite a beating -- broken nose,
facial lacerations and contusions.  But I'm worried
about internal injuries.  Problem is he won't talk to
me.  Keeps saying he’s fine and asking about Ruby Mae.
 It’s all I can do to keep him still." 

        At first glance, Rob looked decidedly better than
Ruby Mae, but Neil knew first impressions were often
deceiving.  Dan was right – the young man could be
bleeding internally.  Neil momentarily panicked at the
thought of having two urgent surgical cases.

        Rob struggled to sit up.  "Doc, how's Ruby Mae?  You
gotta help her.  It's all my fault."

        He pressed Rob back onto the sofa.  "Rob, lie still. 
I need to examine you."  He reached toward the young
man’s head.

        Rob tried to push away his hands.  "She got
shot because of me."

        "Listen to me now."  Neil’s authoritative tone cut
through the young man's terror.  “Ruby Mae’s been shot
in the abdomen and I’m going to operate.  But first I
need to see how badly you're hurt.”  He cut off Rob’s
protests.  “I can’t help Ruby Mae while we’re
arguing."

        With obvious reluctance, Rob lay back onto the
pillows.

        Neil ran his fingers along Rob’s face and scalp.  “No
skull fracture.  But some of these cuts will need
sutures.”  Neil kept up a running commentary for Dan,
who peered over his shoulder.  His hands moved down
Rob’s arms and torso, probing for injuries.  "There’s
some tenderness in the rib area – probably a fracture
here.”  He looked up.  “How’s his breathing?”

        “Sounded okay.”

        Any other time, Neil would have chided his assistant
for the imprecise medical description.  Tonight,
however, he only nodded.  “Good.”  His fingers settled
on Rob’s abdomen.  “Take a deep breath.  Let it out.” 
He spoke over his shoulder.  “Spleen’s not enlarged –
you must always check with this type of injury.  The
belly feels normal, but we’ll watch him carefully to
be sure."  

        Finally, Neil leaned back, his relief almost
palpable.  Rob’s condition was much better than he’d
expected.  The young man appeared to have escaped
serious injury.  He gave Rob a half smile.  “It’s not
too bad, Rob.  I think I can leave you in Mr. Scott’s
capable hands.”

        He reached for his bag and pulled out a syringe and
bottle.  He handed both to Dan.  “Give him five cc's,
then stitch up the cuts.  When you’re done, I’ll need
your help with Ruby Mae."

        As Neil started to rise, Rob grabbed for his arm. 
"Doc, save her.  Please.  I couldn't bear it if--"  

        "I'll do my best.  But you must know, Ruby
Mae's injuries are severe.  She's lost a great deal of
blood."

        "But she’ll be all right?"  His voice was pleading.

        Neil took a deep breath.  "I'll do my best.”

****

        "Ruby Mae.  Oh my God."  David rushed into the dining
room.  He’d been returning to the mission from a
sermon in Big Lick when Jeb Spencer had intercepted
him with news of the shooting.  

        He stood at the doorway, watching the controlled
chaos in the middle of the room.  Dr. MacNeill, Alice,
and Dan clustered around Ruby Mae’s prone form on the
table, her deathly pale face serene in ether-induced
sleep.

        The room, bathed in the yellow light of the gas
lamps, was silent except for the doctor’s occasional
demand for instruments.  He snatched tools from
Alice's hands and seemingly just as quickly tossed
them aside.  Piles of bloody sponges and towels
littered the floor.  Crumpled in the corner lay the
blue gown Christy had loaned Ruby Mae for the dance. 
It was covered in drying blood.  David momentarily
felt faint as he realized all of that blood belonged
to Ruby Mae. 
 
        Dr. MacNeill never looked up from his work.  “Dan, I
need more retraction, I can’t see a thing.”  Dan
slightly adjusted the position of his hands.  “Clamp. 
Sponge.  Another clamp.”        

        "David,” the soft voice of Miss Alice interrupted his
terror, “perhaps thee would attend to Rob."

        David wanted to flee the room but his feet wouldn’t
move.  "Is she going to be all right?"  He was almost
afraid to voice the question.  

        For a moment, no one spoke.  Finally it was Dan who
offered an answer.  "She's a strong girl, Reverend."

        "Doctor?"  He desperately wanted some
reassurance from MacNeill.  

        The doctor still didn’t look up.  "I don't know." 
His voice was tight.  “She's still bleeding,” he said
to Dan.  “Let's check the liver again.  Alice, I need
irrigation.  Forceps.”

        David heard a sharp clank and then another as the
doctor tossed soiled instruments into a metal basin. 
He carefully backed out of the room and into the
parlor.  For the first time, he noticed Christy
sitting next to the sofa where Rob Allen rested.  

        Her dark eyes welcomed him.  "He's sleeping."

        David looked at the young boy’s bruised and battered
features.  "Christy, what happened?"  His voice nearly
broke with despair.  "They were just going to a
dance."

        "I know."  In a tired, whispered voice, she briefly
related what she’d learned of the night's events. 
"Ruby Mae doubled back through the woods.  Amos had a
run-in with the Taylors earlier so when he heard Ruby
Mae in the brush, he thought it was them," Christy
finished.

        "They beat Rob because he wouldn't join the
feuding and shot Ruby Mae by accident?"

        Christy didn’t need to answer.  David looked down at
Rob.   His face was a combination of red welts
interrupted with black sutures.  One of his eyes was
starting to swell.  David could hear the muted voices
from the dining room and the incessant clang of metal
instruments.  It made him sick to his stomach.

        He thought about Stephen, wondered what his friend
would do under these circumstances.  More importantly,
what would Stephen want him to do?  He glanced yet
again toward the dining room.  The doctor obviously
didn’t need his help – he’d only get in the way.  No,
it was Christy who needed some encouragement, and Rob
when he awakened.  David only hoped he could help
them.  Once again, he reached out to God.  He silently
prayed for strength, for wisdom, for words of comfort.


        Christy twisted her hands together.  “David, she has
to be all right.”

        He heard the plea in Christy’s voice, the same plea
he’d offered up to God only moments earlier.  “I’m
sure she’ll be fine, Christy.  Dr. MacNeill and Alice
and Dan are all taking care of her.  She couldn’t be
in better hands.”

        They continued to talk quietly, each trying to give
the other strength.  Several times, David stood up and
wandered toward the doorway, only to find conditions
unchanged except for the mounting pile of soiled
linens.  Neither the doctor nor his assistants paid
him any notice.

        Finally Dr. MacNeill joined them.  He looked
completely drained and David couldn’t tell from his
expression whether the news was good or bad. 

        “How is she?” Christy asked fearfully.

        The doctor met her eyes.  “I think I managed to stop
the bleeding.  She’s still alive.  Other than that--”
he shrugged.  “Only time will tell.”

        David watched their exchange and didn't like what he
saw.  The look of confidence that he’s always seen in
MacNeill was gone, replaced by an air of weariness and
defeat.  
        
        The doctor turned to him.  “We’ll need your help
moving her upstairs.” Without waiting for a reply, he
returned to the kitchen.

        David gave Christy a worried look and hurried after
him.

************************

Chapter 22

        "Preacher, what's wrong with Ruby Mae?" Rob's his
eyes were wide as David entered the room.  "I know
it's bad.  I heard 'em all night with her."  

        Rob was sitting up in bed in Alice’s room.  He’d
wanted to stay as close to Ruby Mae as possible and,
even though his injuries were not serious, no one had
the heart to send him home.  

        David tried to make his voice sound reassuring. 
"Doctor MacNeill and Alice are taking good care of
her."  But the news wasn't good.  Over breakfast, he'd
heard Dr. MacNeill and Alice discussing the girl’s
condition.  Her fever had spiked and the doctor feared
she'd developed an infection.  In addition, he was
concerned about something to do with her drain.  David
had not followed all of the medical jargon, but he’d
clearly heard worry in MacNeill's voice.  

        "They won't let me see her."

        David stepped further into the room and sat down on
the edge of a wooden chair next to the bed.  "I know
Doctor MacNeill has explained to you how dangerous an
infection would be for Ruby Mae.  As soon as she’s
better, you're the first person she'll want to see."

        "What if she don’t get better?"

        David preferred not to think about that possibility. 
"Let's say a prayer for Ruby Mae," he suggested
softly.

        "I'm tired of praying!  It don’t do any good. 
I prayed last night and she's no better."

        "Rob, I know that sometimes it seems as if God
doesn't answer our prayers . . .”

        “Preacher, Ruby Mae can’t die.  She just
can’t.  I haven’t got the chance to tell her I love
her.”
        
        Promising Rob that he’d check on Ruby Mae’s
condition, David walked down the short hallway to her
room.  He rapped lightly and then pushed open the
door.  Sitting at the girl’s bedside, Dr. MacNeill
glanced up and waved him into the room with his eyes. 
David remained just inside the door watching the
doctor tend to his patient. 

        Ruby Mae didn’t notice David’s entrance.  She was
obviously in pain and occasionally moaned softly as
the doctor continued his ministrations.  As he worked,
MacNeill spoke soothingly, his voice so soft that
standing only a few feet away David couldn’t make out
the words.  He saw the trust in Ruby Mae’s eyes as she
too watched him work.

        David was startled by the sound of the doctor’s
voice.  “There’s some gauze on the bureau.  Could you
hand it to me?”

        He awkwardly picked up the small stack and carried it
across the room.  As he passed the foot of Ruby Mae’s
bed, he offered her an encouraging smile.  She was too
weak to return it.

        MacNeill took the bandaging from him and pulled the
gaslamp closer.  “I’ll be finished in a moment.  I
just need to change this dressing."

        “It’s all right.”  David didn’t want to stare, but
his eyes were drawn to the doctor’s hands.  So many
times, he’d seen MacNeill work but had never studied
the man’s hands.  They were large and rough, like the
hands of all mountain men.  But as David watched, he
noticed also their gentleness, the delicacy with which
the doctor tended to his patient.  

        David caught Ruby Mae’s eye and realized he’d been
staring at her.  With a start, he turned away from the
bed and edged toward the window, refocusing his gaze
outside, where the brown leaves continued to pile up
under the trees.

        Finally, he heard MacNeill’s voice.  “That’s all for
now, Ruby Mae.  You must try to rest.”  The doctor
stood and pulled the coverlet to her chin.  He turned
down the bedside gas lamp and quietly crossed the
room.  

        David followed him.  Once in the hallway, the doctor
rubbed the bridge of his nose and carefully stretched
his neck.       

        "How is she?" David asked.

        “No better.  I’ve given her something for the
pain, and I promised she could see Rob.”

        "I just came from there.  He seems to be doing well.”

        "Yes," Neil replied absently.  "He'll be
fine."

        Together the two men walked back down the short hall
to Rob’s room.  After a brief examination, Neil
explained that Ruby Mae wanted to see him.  “I’ll let
you, but only if you don’t stay long or tire her out. 
She needs as much rest as possible.”  His voice was
stern and professional.  

        “I won’t.”

        David waited with the doctor outside Ruby Mae’s room
as Rob entered, shuffled to the bed, and took Ruby
Mae’s hand.  

        “Why don’t you take a break, Doctor?” David asked.

        “She’s my patient.”

        “I know.  But they need some time together and you
can use the rest.”

        The doctor again glanced into the room and nodded. 
He raised his voice slightly.  “Rob, I’ll be
downstairs if you need me.”

        In the kitchen, David insisted MacNeill sit at
the table as he prepared a light lunch.  

        "Save your energy, Reverend.  I'm not hungry."

        "Doctor, how many times have you lectured your
patients about staying healthy during a crisis? 
Certainly you're not immune to your own advice."  He
was rewarded with silence.  He placed a sandwich and a
steaming mug of coffee in front of the doctor, who
took a deep swallow and then picked at the food.

        “Would it help to talk about it?" David asked.

        MacNeill looked up sharply.  “Are you really
interested?”  

        It was a fair question.  David realized that he’d
never before expressed any serious interest in the
doctor’s practice or his patients.  “Yes, I am.”

        The doctor stared at him for a moment, then took
another sip of coffee and set down the mug.  "When a
person is shot, the path of the bullet in the body is
critical.  In Ruby Mae's case, the bullet fragmented
and damaged several internal organs.  That, in turn,
caused substantial internal bleeding."

        David was surprised to receive an answer and at the
same time grateful for the doctor's non-technical
explanation.  "But I thought that you--" he searched
for the proper medical term and gave up, "stopped the
bleeding with the surgery."

        Neil sighed heavily.  "I tried.  I removed her
spleen, clamped off all the bleeding vessels I could
find.  But the drain I left in is still leaking blood.
 That tells me that I may have missed a bleeder.  In
other words, Ruby Mae still may be bleeding inside her
belly."

        David waited patiently, allowing Dr. MacNeill to talk
out his dilemma.  He took the doctor's mug and
refilled it with coffee, poured himself another cup,
then returned to his seat.

        "The only way to know for sure is to open her up
again.  But you saw her, how weak she is.  If I
operate now, the surgery would likely kill her.  If I
wait, she could bleed to death.  And if that isn't
enough, she's running a fever.  That suggests
infection."  The doctor rested his chin on his hand. 
"You see, Reverend, there are no good choices.  Either
way, Ruby Mae is likely to die."

        “Die?” David asked softly.  He hadn’t given much
thought to the severity of Ruby Mae’s condition.  He’d
simply assumed that Dr. MacNeill would save her life
as he’d saved so many others.  “She’s not really going
to die, is she?”

        “I don’t know.”

        David thought for a moment about MacNeill’s
pronouncement.  "Then it’s in God’s hands now.”  

        The doctor stood up so quickly that coffee splashed
onto the table and his chair nearly toppled over. 
"How can you say that?  That's a sixteen-year-old girl
you're talking about."

        "I know that.”  It was David’s turn to stand. 
MacNeill had obviously misinterpreted his words.  They
were all under pressure.  "Ruby Mae lives here,
Doctor.”   His tone was soft.  “I've shared a table
with her, I've taught her in school, I've baptized
her.  I care for that girl more than you can imagine."

        The doctor slumped into the chair.  "I'm sorry."  His
voice was subdued, and David was surprised at the
apology.

        "Believe me, I have prayed for her so many
times--" he let his words trail off.

        "Do you really think it’ll do any good?"  MacNeill’s
tone was questioning rather than accusatory.

        "Honestly, Doctor, I don't know.  I hope so.  I do
hope so."  David clasped his hands together.  “There
are times when it seems that God doesn’t hear my
prayers, times that I doubt Him.  I hate myself for
it.  Every day I struggle to accept the fact that I
don't have all of the answers."

        "Like children dying."

        "Yes, like children dying."  

        For a moment, both men were alone with their
thoughts.  David was the first to speak.  "Remember
when Creed was sick with scarlet fever?"  MacNeill
nodded.  "He could have easily died, yet he didn't. 
Was it the medicine you used or the prayers we said? 
Or was it our prayers that led you to use that
medicine?  I don't know."

        "Well, Reverend, if you think your prayers will help
save Ruby Mae, then I encourage you to pray."

        "I will.  And pray for you as well."  David did not
flinch at the doctor's sharp glance.  "Pray for God to
help you make the right decision for Ruby Mae."

        "And if there is no right decision?" 

        "Then I pray that He gives you the
understanding to accept that."

***********************

Chapter 23

        Christy surveyed the eerily silent schoolroom. 
Usually the few moments before class was a cacophony. 
Today, a room of anxious faces stared back at her.  

        Word of the shooting had spread through the Cove like
wildfire.  Those who didn’t know when they arrived for
school were quickly told.  Every few seconds, another
child would glance at the seat usually filled by Ruby
Mae, then quickly turn away from the empty space.  Two
other seats were empty – those of Creed and Little
Burl Allen.  Christy hadn’t really expected them.  

        Christy took a deep breath, stood up from her desk,
and addressed her students.  “I’m sure you’ve all
heard about Ruby Mae’s--”  She floundered as she
searched for the right word.  “Injury.  She’s very
sick right now.  Before we start class this morning, I
think we should take a moment and ask God to help make
her well.

        The children bowed their heads as Christy led them in
a simple prayer.  It was all she could do not to choke
on every word.  When she finished, she returned to her
desk, picked up a book and took a few determined steps
toward the middle of the classroom. 

        She swallowed hard.  “Let’s start this morning with
our reading lesson.  ‘Silas Marner.’” She flipped
through the book and selected a page.  “We’ll pick up
where we finished last time.  I’ll start and Bessie,
you’ll be next.”  She forced her voice to be light and
cheerful. 

        None of the children said a word.  

        Her eyes hid in the words on the page.  She took a
deep breath and started reading, trying to inject some
feeling and emotion into the passage.  “When Dunstan
Cass turned his back on the cottage, Silas Marner was
not more than a hundred yards away from it, plodding
along from the village with a sack thrown round his
shoulders as an over-coat, and with a horn lantern in
his hand." 
        
        She heard rumbling and briefly glanced up to see the
children staring at her in confusion.  She continued. 
“His legs were weary, but his mind was at ease, free
from the presentiment of change.”  This time the
rumbling was louder.

        “Miz Christy?”  Bessie Coburn spoke softly.
        
        “Yes, Bessie.”

        “Uh, we read that chapter last week.”  

        “We did?”  The words came out without thought. 
Christy looked down again at the page.  She couldn’t
even remember the words she had just spoken aloud. 
Had she read this before?

        “Yes’m.  Don’t ya remember?”

        Christy did her best not to look flustered.  “Yes, of
course.”  Immediately she berated herself.  She taught
the children not to lie; now was not the time to do so
herself.  She closed the book in her hands and stepped
down to where Bessie was seated.  “No, that’s not
true.  I don’t remember.  Perhaps you can help me
out.”  She handed Bessie the book.

        The girl took it from her in silence and absently
picked through the pages.  Finally, she started
reading.  “The next moment there seemed to be
e-vid-ence that ghosts had a more con-de-scend-ing
dis-po-, dis-pos—“

        “Disposition,” Christy corrected automatically.

        “Disposition than Mr. Macey attri-, attributed to
them.”   Her voice was a dull monotone.  After only
one sentence, she looked at Christy.  “Miz Christy,
how kin we be readin’ and pretendin’ there ain’t
nothin’ wrong with Ruby Mae so sick and all?”

        “I know it’s hard to pay attention with Ruby Mae ill.
 I’m worried about her, too.  But Doctor MacNeill is
going to make her well.  We have to trust God to take
care of her.”  She tried to make her expression and
her voice reassuring.  It was difficult.  “We all know
how much Ruby Mae likes school.  When I see her
tonight, I know she’ll want to know all about class. 
You don’t want me to tell her that we sat around
worrying, do you?”  She looked around at glum faces. 
“I tell you what we’ll do.  After our reading lesson,
we’ll make cards for Ruby Mae.”

        “Kin we see her?” Sam Houston asked.  “I could cheer
her up right quick.” 

        Christy’s heart melted.  “Not yet, Sam Houston. 
She’s too sick for visitors.  But I know that as soon
as Doctor MacNeill says she’s well, you’ll be one of
the first people she’ll want to see.”

        “When’s that gonna be?” Becky O’Teale wanted to know.

        Christy was relieved that the children were finally
talking.  “I don’t know.  We’ll have to wait to find
out.”

        For several minutes, the children continued to ask
questions.  She did her best to answer, and talking
about Ruby Mae seemed to ease their fears.

        Somehow the class managed to stagger through another
chapter of “Silas Marner.”  Afterward, the children
threw themselves into making cards for Ruby Mae, and
Christy was surprised to see how quickly the lunch
hour arrived.  Leaving Bessie in charge of her
students, she hurried down to the mission, promising
to return with news of the sick girl’s condition.

****

        Christy held up her skirt as she dashed toward the
house.  She knew she’d have to hurry.  With Ruby Mae,
Rob, and John gone, Bessie had a daunting task in
watching all the children.  Christy’s only hope was
that the shock over Ruby Mae’s condition would put
them on their best behavior.

        At the mission, David and Dr. MacNeill were seated at
the kitchen table.  Christy had the distinct
impression that they’d ended a serious discussion at
her arrival.  

        David welcomed her with a weak smile.  “How was
school this morning?”  He stood up from the table and
crossed to the wooden counter. 

        “Hard.  The children couldn’t concentrate, they were
worried about Ruby Mae, of course.”

        “Maybe you should call off school for a couple of
days,” David said.  He poured a glass of water and
placed it on a tray, alongside some bread and grits.  

        Christy immediately looked to Neil to gauge his
response.  But the doctor’s eyes were vacant and he
seemed oblivious to their conversation.  “I don’t
think so,” she said.  “At least school takes their
mind off Ruby Mae for a little while.”

        “You may be right.  I suppose it can’t hurt.”  David
turned around, holding the tray.  “I’ll just take this
up to Rob.”

        After he’d gone, Christy spoke to Neil.  “How is Ruby
Mae?” 

        Neil faced her with bloodshot eyes.  He ran his hand
through his hair.  “The same.”  It had been almost two
days since Ruby Mae had been injured and Neil had yet
to go home.  Only rarely had he left the girl’s side,
and Christy doubted he’d slept more than a few fitful
hours.

        “Neil, I think it would help for you to come to
school and talk to the children about Ruby Mae.”

        The doctor swished the coffee in his cup.  “What do
you want me to say to them?”

        “Explain what’s wrong with her and tell them that
she’ll get better.”

        “I won’t lie to them.”  Neil’s eyes remained on his
mug.

        Christy was taken aback.  “What do you mean?”  

        “I mean I won’t promise them Ruby Mae will get better
when I don’t know it for a fact.”

        “She will get better.” Neil had brought Bob Allen and
Creed back from the brink of death.  She’d seen God
work so many miracles through the doctor’s skilled
hands.  She'd convinced herself Ruby Mae would survive
as well.

        He raised his eyes to meet hers.  “What makes you so
sure?”

        “I have faith, Doctor.”

        “Ruby Mae needs more than that--” 

        David burst into the kitchen.  “Has anyone seen Rob?”

        Neil looked up sharply.  “Isn’t he upstairs?”

        “No.  I checked his room, Ruby Mae’s room, the
outhouse, everywhere.”

        “I can’t imagine he’d go far with Ruby Mae so ill,”
Christy said.

        “He was quite upset this morning,” David said.  “But
I thought that seeing her would help—“

        “I take it Rob has gone.”  Alice stepped through the
kitchen door.  Christy immediately noticed the worry
that creased the older woman’s face.

        “We left him with Ruby Mae not an hour ago,” Neil
said.  “Maybe he took a walk to clear his mind.”

        “Or to pray,” David added.

        “I think we may have a greater problem than thee
realize.”  Alice looked between Christy and David. 
“My shotgun is missing.”

************************

Chapter 24

        David urged Prince on.  Faster and faster they rode
into the afternoon sun.  After Alice’s announcement,
David had rushed to the stable and discovered Theo
missing.  He had no doubt that Rob had taken the mule.
 He also had little doubt where the young man was
headed.  

        Dr. MacNeill had given him directions to the
abandoned cabin that Amos and Ezra Allen used as a
base during the feuding.  MacNeill had offered to
accompany him, but both men realized that he couldn’t
leave Ruby Mae. 

        Several times David feared he’d taken a wrong turn or
was on the wrong trail.  It seemed he’d been riding
forever without any sign of civilization.  He’d almost
decided to return to his last certain landmark, when
he saw a cabin in the distance, exactly as the doctor
had described it.  He was more than a hundred yards
away when he dismounted and tied up Prince. 

        David crept through the trees, his every step seeming
to resonate through the woods.  Surely any occupants
of the cabin must be alerted to his presence.  He’d
only gone a few yards when he saw Theo tied to an
overturned tree.  Rob could not be far away. 

        Fifty feet from the cabin door, he faced a clearing. 
He had yet to see Rob or anyone else.  He glanced
around, and left the safety of the woods.  As he
neared the cabin, he could hear voices from inside but
couldn’t make out the words.  

        The cabin had a long front porch, which ended in a
short stairway at the right edge of the building. 
David circled around and quickly found himself at foot
of the porch steps.  He was surprised that no one
seemed aware of his presence.  He placed his boot on
the first step and tentatively put weight on his leg. 
The riser creaked loudly beneath him.

        The front door to the cabin banged open and David
instinctively ducked.

        “Who’s there?”  The voice belonged to Rob Allen.

        From where he stood at the bottom of the stairs,
David still couldn’t see Rob.  “Rob, it’s me, David
Grantland.”

        “You alone?”

        “Yes, I’m alone.”  David climbed the first step.

        “How’d you find me?”

        “I thought you might have come here.”  David reached
the second step.  “Doctor MacNeill told me how to find
the cabin.”

        “Preacher, I think you should go home.”

        “Why’s that, Rob?”

        The young man’s voice quavered.  “This don’t concern
you.”

        “I’m the preacher here.  Everything concerns me.”  He
was almost to the porch.  Only two more steps to go.  

        “Not this.  It’s ‘tween me an’ Ault’s boys.”

        David bounded up the final two steps, unprepared for
the sight that confronted him.  Rob stood with his
back to the doorway, Alice’s shotgun in his hands. 
Two young men David recognized as Ault’s sons sat
facing him in chairs in the middle of the cabin. 
Their hands were behind their backs and David realized
they’d been bound.  “Rob, what’s going on here?”

        “I said it ain’t none of your concern.”

        Amos Allen spoke for the first time.  “He means ta
kill us.”  

        “Shut up!”  Rob’s response was instantaneous.

        David heard the tension and strain.  He remained
standing just outside the doorway, only a few feet
from Rob.  “Rob, listen to me.  What are you planning
to do with these men?”

        “You don’t want to know.”

        “Tell me.”
        
        Rob gripped the shotgun more tightly.  “I aim to make
them pay fer what they done to Ruby Mae.”

        “An eye for an eye, is that it?”

        “Something like that.”

        “See preacher,” Amos spoke up again.  “He means to
kill us.”

        Rob waved the gun at the men.  “I said to shut up!”  

        The young man’s tone bordered on hysteria.  David
knew he had to do something quickly to defuse the
situation.  “Rob, come outside and let’s talk.”

        “I ain’t leaving them.”
        
        “Then we’ll talk here.”
        
****

        “What are you planning to do with that gun?” David
asked, nodding toward the weapon cradled in Rob’s
arms.

        “I told you.  They’re gonna pay for what they done to
Ruby Mae.”

        “Do you think shooting them will make Ruby Mae
better?”

        “I don’t care!  Ruby Mae’s the best thing that ever
happened to me and they shot her.  They’re my own kin
and they shot her.”

        “And they should be punished for it.”  

        Rob raised the gun.

        “But not by you,” David quickly added.

        Rob lowered the gun and looked at him in confusion.

        “Why do you want to shoot them?”

        “Yeah why do ya wanna shoot us?” Amos asked.

        “Shut up!”  This time the command came from David.

        “They shot Ruby Mae so I’ll shoot them.”  Again Rob
raised his gun.

        “So you want to be just like them?”

        “I’m not like them.  Ruby Mae didn’t deserve to git
shot.  They do.”

        “Who decided that?”

        “I did.”

        “Rob, don’t you see?  You’re taking the law into your
own hands.  That’s exactly what started this feud.”

        “Yeah, and I aim to finish it.”

        David shook his head.  “No, Rob.  That’s what the
Allens and Taylors have been saying for years.  Each
of you is going to finish it.  And it never ends.  I
thought you were different, you weren’t going to get
tangled up in the feud.”

        “I tried, Preacher.  And look what it got me.”

        “What it got you was Ruby Mae.”  David saw the boy
respond to this.  “Do you think she would have fallen
in love with you if you were part of the feud?  She
loves you and respects you because you stood up to
your family and the Taylors.  Don’t disappoint her
now.”

        “What’ll she think of me if I don’t do nothing.”

        He could see Rob’s resolve was weakening and pressed
his advantage.  “She’ll respect you as will I and Miss
Huddleston and Dr. MacNeill and everyone else who
counts in Cutter Gap. Respect you for doing what is
right rather than what your anger tells you to do.”

        “I want to do what’s right.  But God said ‘an eye for
an eye.’”

        “But that’s for God to do, not us.  Let Him judge
these men.  If He finds them wanting, His punishment
will be far more severe than anything you can do.”

        “Oh preacher, I don’t want Ruby Mae to die.”  It came
out as a low wail.

        “I know, Rob.  Now give me the gun.”  For a moment,
the two men locked eyes.  David reached out his arms. 
“Give me the gun.”

        Rob handed him the gun and collapsed into his arms.

****

        “Doc MacNeill, am I gonna die?”  Ruby Mae’s voice was
barely a whisper.

        Neil pulled the stethoscope from his ears, and
looked solemnly at his young patient.  Her normally
radiant face was white as porcelain, her arms lying
limp at her sides, her eyes fighting for a hint of
their normal spark.  And he was powerless to change
it.

        “I wanna know.  Am I gonna die?  I asked Miz Alice
an’ Miz Christy, but they won’t tell me nothing.”

        As a physician, it was the hardest question he faced.
 There always came a time when a patient would ask. 
And it fell to him to decide if this was the day that
the patient really wanted the truth.  It was also the
one thing that medical school couldn’t teach.  There
was no right way, no good way, to deliver this news. 
Some doctors lied to their patients, reassuring them
that a cure was at hand long after they knew all hope
was gone.  Neil had never done that.  He was honest,
and his patients respected him for it.  

        Now, he did not shirk from Ruby Mae’s gaze.  “I don’t
need to tell you that you are very ill.  But I’ll do
my best to make you well again.”

        “But it might not work, ain’t that right?  I might
never git better."

        Neil sighed, taking Ruby Mae’s hand in his. 
“That’s right, Ruby Mae.”

        “If I don’t git better, I’ll die.”

        Neil nodded.

        The girl pressed her lips together.  “What will it
feel like when I die?  Will it hurt?”

        The girl seemed to have accepted the news
calmly.  Her voice was firm and matter of fact.  Tears
formed in Neil’s eyes, and his voice almost broke. 
“It won’t for sure.”

        “Will there be a white light that leads me to
heaven?”

        “I don’t know what happens when we die, you’d
best ask the preacher.  But if there’s a heaven,
you’ll certainly be there.”

        She appeared to consider this answer for a moment. 
“Thank ya, Doc, fer tellin’
me the truth.  Don’t reckon no one else would.”

****

        A short time later, Neil found David in the mission
yard, pumping water from the well.  “Ruby Mae needs to
see you.”

        “What about?”

        “She’s dying, Reverend.”

        Although the bluntness of MacNeill’s statement
shocked him, the information did not.  “The surgery
you talked about—“

        “She’s too weak.”  The doctor sounded as fatigued as
he looked.  “In her current condition, she’d die on
the operating table.”

        “How long—“

        “I don’t know.”  He looked David straight in the eye.
 “Not long.”

        “Does she know?”

        “Yes."

        David started to respond sharply, but the expression
on the doctor’s face stopped him.  “If you’ve told
her, what can I say?”

        “Talk to her about death, the afterlife, all those
things you profess to believe in.”

        “I don’t think I-- Maybe Miss Alice—“

        Dr. MacNeill slammed his saddlebags against his
thigh.  “Blast it man, are you a preacher or aren’t
you?”

        “Of course—“

        “Then for God’s sake help that young girl in
there.”

************************

Chapter 25

        David stood outside Ruby Mae’s room, staring at the
wooden boards that made up the door.  There were eight
in all, one a lighter shade than the rest.  At eye
level was a large knot in the wood, and a smaller one
further down.  

        If Ruby Mae had heard him come upstairs, she was
probably wondering why he was standing outside of her
room.  He’d felt calm as he’d climbed the steps, but
now his heart was racing.  He appreciated MacNeill’s
confidence in him.  But he didn’t know what it was
like to die.  David had tried to think of what to say,
tried to call to mind Scripture that would explain the
unexplainable.  And then he’d tossed it all aside.  

        Ruby Mae didn’t want to hear his practiced speech
about heaven.  She needed answers to her questions,
reassurance for her fears.  He remembered Stephen’s
words.  He couldn’t begin to help Ruby Mae until he
listened, until he understood what was really
troubling her.  He didn’t know what he’d say in return
– God would have to help him.  He took a deep breath
and pushed open the door.

        “Ruby Mae?” David said softly as he entered her room.

        “Yes, preacher.”  The response from the bed
was weak.

        “I thought we might talk, if you’re feeling up to
it.”

        With an effort she smiled at him.  “I’d like
that.”

        David pulled the room’s only chair close to the bed. 
Ruby Mae looked so frail, so worn out.  Only her
bright red hair still sparkled with life.  She tried
to raise her head from the pillow but fell back with
the effort.  A small cry of pain escaped her lips.  

        “Do you need Doctor MacNeill?”

        As she shook her head, David quickly took her hand in
his.  It was dry and weak, he feared it might break in
his grip.  It reminded him of Aunt Polly’s.  “Doctor
MacNeill tells me you have a lot to think about.”

        “Doc says I’m gonna die.”

        He fought not to show his surprise at her
candor.  “Does that frighten you?”

        She didn’t answer immediately.  “I dunno,” she said
slowly.  “Heaven’s much nicer than earth, ain’t it?”

        He gently stroked the back of her hand and smiled
warmly.  “It is.  The Bible tells us that heaven is so
wonderful we can’t even begin to imagine it.”

        “I reckon I’d like that.” She returned his smile. 
“What’ll it be like when I die?  Doc MacNeill said it
won’t hurt none.”
 
        “No, I’m sure it won’t.  I can’t tell you exactly
what it will be like.  No one knows.  But I do know
that Jesus has promised us He’ll be waiting to take us
to heaven.”

        She looked toward the ceiling.  “Will I see a
white light?”

        For a moment, David couldn’t speak, the words choked
in his throat.  He licked his lips and felt his heart
pounding in his chest.  “The light of heaven will
certainly be shining brightly.”  

        Ruby Mae’s gaze returned to his face and he struggled
to hold it.  “I’ll miss Miz Christy and you and Miz
Alice,” she said softly.  “And Rob.”  A slight mist
formed in her eyes.

        He held her hand firmly.  “You’ll be with them
Ruby Mae.  You’ll always be with them.  And one day,
all of us will join you in heaven.”

        “I wish I didn’t have to leave Rob.”  Her face took
on the dreamy expression he’d seen so many times
before.  “I would of liked for us to git married.  Me
in a white dress, him in his suit, and lots of
flowers.”  She became sober again.  “You’ll help Rob,
won’t you Preacher?  He’ll be sad when I die.  Please,
Preacher.”  She started to sit up in the bed.  “You
gotta help him.”

        “Of course I’ll help him.  Now you need to rest.”  He
tried to ease her back onto the pillows.

        “And Miz Christy.  She’s been like a real
sister to me.  I always wanted a sister.  You’ll help
her–"  Ruby Mae was becoming breathless. 

        “Yes, Ruby Mae, I will.”  David released her hand and
quickly moved to the doorway.  “Doctor MacNeill,” he
called down the stairs.  “Doc MacNeill.”  Hearing
footsteps cross the floorboards, he returned to the
bed, sitting down next to Ruby Mae and again taking
her hand in his own.  “Ruby Mae, I’ll be here for you
and for the others.”

        The footsteps drew near and Dr. MacNeill entered the
room.  He took one look at Ruby Mae, reached into his
saddlebags, and brought out a syringe and bottle.  

        “What happened?” David asked.  “I didn’t mean--

        “It’s all right,” the doctor replied.  “She’s been
having trouble breathing.  It’s nothing you did.  This
will help.”  While David tried to quiet the distraught
girl, the doctor filled his syringe.  “Hold her
steady.”  He emptied the contents of the hypodermic
into Ruby Mae’s arm.  “Easy now,” he instructed,
watching as the drug took effect. 

        David brushed a strand of hair from Ruby Mae’s face. 
“I’m here for you, Ruby Mae.  God’s here for you.  We
won’t leave you.”

        “Promise me, Preacher.  Promise me.”  

        “I promise.”  

        After a few moments her breathing slowed and
she drifted off to sleep.

****

        Christy heard the heavy steps behind her.  "Ruby Mae
is going to die isn't she?"  She was in tears,
standing along the porch rail, where she’d fled after
a visit to Ruby Mae's room.

        "Yes."  Neil's emotional and physical exhaustion was
reflected in his voice.  He remained standing just
behind Christy. 

        "She can't!" Christy cried out as she turned to face
him.  "You can't let her.  You saved Bob Allen and
Little Burl.  There must be something you can do."  

        "There's nothing--" his voice trailed off. 

        "Not Ruby Mae."  It was as if she hadn’t heard him. 
Her eyes glistened. “There’s so much she wants to do. 
I was going to teach her to bake a pumpkin pie, and
she wanted to sew a vest for Rob.  And the Christmas
pageant – she was going to be Mary.”  Tears spilled
from her eyes.  “Neil, she didn’t do anything wrong. 
It’s not fair.”

        "No, it’s not."  

        Christy thought all of the tragedy she’d seen since
arriving in Cutter Gap.  Bob Allen, Creed, Aunt Polly,
Opal’s child, Ellie Tatum, Vincent.  The list of
people who’d suffered seemed endless.  Yet, with God’s
help, she and the Cove had persevered.  She’d survived
it all and come out of it even closer to the people of
this community.  It was the very reason she’d decided
to make Cutter Gap her home.  

        But Neil had tried to warn her about the suffering
yet to come.  She hadn’t understood. She’d naively
thought she’d seen the worst, that she was prepared
for anything.  But not this.  Not Ruby Mae.  

        Neil would understand.  He would know what to do. 
She turned around, ready to pour out her emotions. 
But one look at his face stopped her.

        The anguish etched on his features cut to her heart. 
Here she was looking for answers from him, yet it was
clearly Neil who needed comfort. 

        Before she could say a word, David's voice called
out, "Doctor, Alice needs you upstairs."
 
        Neil gave her a mournful glance and, without a
word, headed into the mission house.

****

        David approached silently until he was standing
beside Christy.  She looked so sad, so vulnerable – he
had the sudden urge to put his arms around her and
assure her everything would be all right.  

        "Christy, you've been crying."  David reached out his
hand and wiped a tear from her cheek.  He noticed her
shivering in the fall air.  "Come inside before you
catch the death of cold."  The words were barely out
of his mouth before he regretted them.  He sighed. 
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that."  

        “I can hear her voice, David.”  She gazed out into
the darkness.  “I can see her running up the hill to
school, that red hair of hers—“

        “Come inside, Christy.”  David put his arms around
her shoulders, guided her into the parlor, and sat her
down on the divan.  He perched himself on the coffee
table across from her and lightly took her hands in
his own.

        "Oh, David.  It's all gone wrong."  Her voice was
sad.  "If I hadn't encouraged Ruby Mae and Rob to go
to that dance--  I thought we were helping.  But Ruby
Mae's dying and Rob is hunting down her killer, and
the now the feud will be worse than ever--"

        "Sshh," David said gently.  "Christy, this isn’t your
fault.  All you did was give Ruby Mae hope, help her
grow from a girl into a young woman.”  He waited
patiently until her eyes looked u into his face.  

        “I love her so much.”

        “I know.  Ruby Mae, Fairlight, all of Cutter Gap has
become your family.  You love them as God loves us.” 
He smiled.  “The Lord’s first commandment.”  

        She shook her head.  “But it hurts so much to watch
Ruby Mae lying there—“

        "It hurts me, too.  And the closer you let yourself
get to someone, the more it hurts.” David placed his
free hand over hers.  “I wasn’t like you.  I couldn’t
open my heart to the very people I was supposed to
serve.  I was afraid; afraid of being hurt.”  He took
a deep breath.  “It took Stephen's badgering and a lot
of prayer for me to start thinking of these people as
my people.  As you've always done, Christy.”

        “There’s so much I wanted for Ruby Mae.  And now
she’d dying.  She’s nothing more than a little girl
dying all alone.  Not even her father is here.”

        "You’re here.”  He gently tilted Christy’s chin until
her eyes met his.  “Whatever happens, whether Ruby
Mae's life is measured in hours or years, you've made
a difference in it.  And your own life is richer
because of her.  As is the life of every single
student you teach and every single family in the
Cove.”

        “I can’t watch her die.”

        “Running away won't ease the pain."  

        Christy looked at him in surprise.  He'd read her
mind.  

        "Wherever you go, whatever you do, each and
every person in Cutter Gap will remain in your heart. 
And you will always be in theirs."

        "David, I need God now more than ever and I can't
seem to find Him."

        "I know.  I’ve felt that way more times than I can
count.  I pray and things seem to get worse.  But He's
always with us, Christy.  We're always in His heart as
He is in ours."  David changed positions so that he
was sitting next to her on the sofa.  "Pray with me,
Christy."

        When they had prayed, they talked quietly about the
happy times they'd shared in Cutter Gap, about
Stephen, and especially about Ruby Mae.  

        “Look,” David said, pointing toward the window.  “The
sun’s coming up.  Isn’t it beautiful.  How can anyone
witness such a gorgeous sunrise and not believe in the
miracles of God.”

        A slight smile crossed Christy's lips.  She
lightly squeezed his hand.  “Thank you, David.”  They
sat together as the sunlight slowly filled the room.  

       The sound of heavy boots crossing the upstairs
floorboards broke into their reverie.

       "Christy, Reverend."  Doctor MacNeill's voice
called from the top of the stairs.  "You'd best come
up here."

The End.