Title: The Great Pie Mystery
Author: Traci 


The Great Pie Mystery:
A Cutter Gap Story

Disclaimer: This is a rather silly little story based on the characters from 
Catherine Marshall's Christy. I am not seeking financial gain from it so 
just read it and boo and hiss all ya like.

Part I: The Contest

“The winner is…Miz Fairlight Spencer!”

Christy applauded despite the little tug of disappointment that pulled at 
the corner of her mouth. She knew she wasn’t as good as Fairlight yet but 
she’d hoped to at least place in the top three.

Uncle Bogg grinned as he stretched his suspenders out from his chest. As 
presiding judge of the very first Cutter Gap Pie Contest, he relished his 
role. Not to mention a full stomach!

Fairlight turned a rosy pink but Christy could tell that she was secretly 
pleased. Jeb nudged her forward to accept her prize, provided by the 
mission. It was a beautiful silver hairbrush and mirror set that had once 
belonged to Miss Alice.

Miss Alice embraced her friend. “I am not at all surprised, Mrs. Spencer. 
Thy sweet potato pie is the tastiest treat in the cove. I’m more than 
pleased to give these to you.”

Fairlight glanced around her almost nervously as she took the case. “Don’t 
want t’ be settin’ myself up high nor nothin’. All them pies coulda won 
easy. Mary Allen’s blueberry--”

Uncle Bogg held up his hand and broke in, “Now Fairlight, don’t go bein’ 
bashful an’ all. They all was mighty good. But yours was th’ best!”

Mary, who stood nearby with her husband, agreed. “Bogg’s right. Best woman 
won and that’s a fact.”

The contest had been the culmination of the cove’s Thanksgiving celebration. 
Miss Alice had come up with the idea as an incentive to get people to come 
and share their food with those who had little. It had been a resounding 
success.

Christy scanned the crowd as they congratulated Fairlight. Bob Allen was 
teasing Little Burl, tussling him around the ears.  Even Nathan O’Teale 
looked happy, Mountie propped on his shoulders to see better. John was 
playing his harmonica, tapping his foot.

She felt her eyes blur a little.  These people were her extended family now. 
Last year her mother and father had been with her. But today they were in 
New York City visiting her Aunt Lavinia. Was it wrong to miss them so much?

“I’m sure they’re missing you today as well, Christy.”

Startled, Christy looked up to find Neil standing at her shoulder. He looked 
strong and vital in his blue plaid shirt and black trousers. His hazel eyes 
reflected his understanding. How had he known?

As if hearing her question, Neil smiled and gently tapped her on the nose. 
“These eyes see everything, remember? I haven’t forgotten last year, 
Christy. I know how much you love them.”

She nodded, hugging her arms round her and not quite meeting his gaze. “I 
do. I admit it.”

“There’s nothing shameful about caring for your family, lass.”

She looked up at him, suddenly realizing Neil had no family present either, 
save Hattie. “Do you miss your parents, Neil?”

“Aye,” he softly said. “I do. But having a slice of your apple pie made it a 
little easier.”

She laughed out loud. “Now I know that’s not what lifted your spirits. I 
didn’t even place!”

“Ah, but your crust had nary a scorch mark,” he told  her, folding his arms 
over his broad chest. “You’ve come a long way, Christy. I’ll be th’ first to 
say it.”

“Thank you,” she said, flushing a little. He was looking at her in THAT way. 
The way that made every word on her tongue dry up. “Rose…she’s been helping 
me.”

David walked over to where they stood, munching happily on a piece of the 
prize-winning pie. “Hello, Christy. Doctor. I’ve been sampling the entries.”

Neil eyes him suspiciously. “So I see. And your thoughts?”

“They’re all good,” David reported, brushing pie crumbs from his white 
shirt. “I can hardly believe Ruby Mae took second place!”

“Shhh,” Christy said before she looked around. “She’d be heartbroken if she 
heard you.”

“I don’t mean it that way,” David told her, lowering his voice. “But you 
have to agree that it IS rather surprising. She can hardly boil water.”

Neil grinned as he regarded David. “Well, Reverend, in that case, I’d say 
that in some special cases, miracles are possible after all!”

**

It was the next morning when the trouble started.

Christy, Miss Alice, Rose, and Ruby Mae were enjoying a breakfast of oatmeal 
when the pounding came on the door. It flew open and in walked Neil.

“We’ve got a problem.”

Ruby Mae cried, “Lordamercy, Doc, is someone a-dyin?”

Miss Alice looked up from her plate calmly. “What is it, Neil?”

“It seems that someone’s pie was improperly cooked yesterday. Half the Cove 
is sick with food poisoning!”

Christy’s thoughts immediately turned to David, who had yet to come to 
breakfast. Was he sick? What if it was her fault? What if her pie had made 
everyone sick? She jumped up from her chair and grabbed her shawl.

“Neil, are you certain?” Rose asked. “There were tables piled with food. How 
do you know it’s the pie?”

“Because all of the judges for the contest are ill,” he replied, his words 
clipped. “Uncle Bogg is bent over double.. ”

Christy headed for the door but Neil’s hands fell on her shoulders, stopping 
her. She felt the weight of his intense gaze. But there was something else 
in it that she could not understand. Then it hit her.

“You think it was me,” she said slowly. “That I made everyone sick!”

Neil shook his head. “Christy, that’s not—“

She brushed his hands from her shoulders and ran out of the mission house, 
heading for David’s bunkhouse. She was going to get to the bottom of this 
mystery if it took every bit of strength she had.

Part II

David Grantland had on a few rare occasions faced his own mortality. But 
this was the first time he actively wished to be taken to be to meet his 
Maker.

If only his stomach would stop rolling long enough to pray for it.

On the bunkhouse porch where he had managed to stagger, David thrust his 
shaking hands into the bucket of water and splashed his face.  The cold 
water took a slight edge off of his agony. All he wanted to do now was 
return to his cot and stay there until God called him home.

“David? David, are you sick?”

Christy’s voice interrupted his thoughts. He was glad someone had come to 
check on him because there was no way he was going to make it to the mission 
house for breakfast. The mere thought of food made his stomach cramp.

“Christy…I’m sorry…about not coming…to breakfast…but I’m really sick.” He 
didn’t want her to see him like this, his hair falling in his eyes and a 
day’s growth of beard on his lean chin. Thank Heaven it wasn’t Rose.

“Dr. McNeill says its food poisoning,” she told him, taking his arm to lead 
him back into the bunkhouse. His footsteps were shaky. “You’re not the only 
one feeling miserable today.”

David groaned, dropping onto the sofa. The springs creaked ominously. He 
wanted to hide his face in the cool pillow. “Does than mean I’ll stop 
feeling like this soon?”

“I hope so,” Christy murmured, drawing a chair over beside him. Even in his 
discomfort, David could see she was upset. “I…I hope it wasn’t my pie that 
made you sick.”

“I don’t think it was, Christy,” David muttered. “I saw you making it and 
all your ingredients looked fresh. I’d be more apt to point at Swannie’s. 
You know how…unkept that cabin is.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” she said, “Neil saying how the cleanest water 
could hold millions of bacteria bacilli.”

He hated it when she quoted McNeill. “Is Neil sick?” David asked, closing 
his eyes.

“He didn’t look it,” Christy said, biting her lip. “But then again he 
survived my burnt chicken so he probably has a cast iron stomach.”

“When did you cook for McNeill?” David asked sharply, suddenly finding some 
hidden reserve of energy.

Christy sighed and stood. David as a patient was going to be bad enough but 
a nosey one  was impossible. “David, there’s nothing to it. I’m going to get 
Neil and have him look at you. He’ll know what you need most.”

Apologetically, he grasped her hand before she could move away. “You were 
doing just fine, Christy.”

She shook her head impatiently. “We have to find out where this started, 
David. And I aim to do it.”

**

She came out of the bunkhouse to find Neil striding her way, his saddlebags 
slung over his wide shoulder.

“David’s definitely sick,” she told him. “What can we do to help him?”

“You can only let food poisoning run its course,” Neil told her quietly. “Of 
course, he can’t get dehydrated. That’s the worst outcome. But he’ll live.”

She moved to continue on to the mission house but his hand rested on her 
shoulder. The touch of his hand sent every coherent thought flying out of 
her head.

“Christy, I never thought it was your pie, lass. I ate it and I’m fine, 
aren’t I?”

“But you’ve eaten worse and survived,” she reminded him. “That chicken alone 
could have killed Bob Allen.”

“You cannot blame yourself,” he told her, reaching up to touch her cheek 
lightly. “It’ll only slow us down. I need your help.”

Christy nodded. “Of course. I’ll help nurse--.”

“I mean in finding out what the culprit was,” Neil explained. The morning 
sunlight was dancing off his fiery hair and Christy found herself mesmerized 
by it. “There were some rather interesting entries. It could have been any 
one of them.”

“You mean Jemima Saunders’ frog leg pie?”

Neil chuckled, nodding. “Exactly. But we’ll find out for sure. That I 
promise you.”

She smiled in relief. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. I have a bad habit 
of doing that.”

“So do I,” he said. “But I have an excuse. I’m a stubborn Scot.”

“And I’m a know-it-all school teacher,” she reminded him. ““How are the 
others doing? Will they be all right?”

“None of them are children, so that’s a good sign,” he said. “But food 
poisoning can show up anywhere from 12 to 48 hours. We may see more. That’s 
when I get worried. Most adults can handle it if they’re treated properly. 
Children aren’t so hardy.”

Christy’s brow creased. She couldn’t stand to think of her students being 
sick because of something she baked.

“Stop acting guilty,” Neil ordered, but there was only tenderness in his 
voice. “I’ve got to go have a look at the Reverend before he starts crying 
for mercy. Tell Rose to bring me some fresh water, all right?”

“I’m going back now,” she told him.

As Christy headed back to the mission house, she saw a flash of red hair. 
Where was Ruby Mae headed in such a hurry?


Part III

Disclaimer: This story is a pure flight of fancy based on fictional 
characters created by Catherine Marshall. I desire only pleasure from this, 
not profit (or dysentery).

“Ruby Mae, what in tranation has gotten into you? You’re as flighty as Pa’s 
bees t’day.”

Zady’s words did little to slacken the redhead’s pacing.

“Lordy, Zady…I’m in a heap o’ trouble!”

Her friend smiled, crossing her arms over her chest. They were behind the 
Spencer cabin while the rest of the family was fishing down at the stream.

“Don’t reckon this is the first time ya go in a pickle,” Zady said, sitting 
down on a broad stump. “Cain’t be all THAT bad.”

“God’s gonna strike me dead, I just know he is!”

Zady quirked an eyebrow. “If ya’d jest simmer down a little, I might be able 
to help ya.”

Ruby Mae’s hands flew into the air. “Ain’t nobody kin help me now. Shore as 
shootin’ I’m gonna catch hit!”

Zady watched silently as Ruby Mae continued to burn up nervous energy. It 
was best to just let her friend wear herself out before asking more 
questions.

Finally, Ruby Mae slumped against a tree, her freckled face pinched. “Oh 
Zady…I’m so scared…”

“Why dontcha jest tell me what’s wrong?”

Ruby Mae looked up and sighed. “Ya promise…not t’ tell?”

“I swear on Grandpappy Spencer’s grave I won’t say a word.”

Looking uneasy, Ruby Mae’s eyes swept the area behind Zady and then around 
the house.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“Just makin’ sure there ain’t nobody spyin’,” Ruby Mae whispered.

She sank down on the stump beside Zady, her fingers gripping her rumpled 
skirt. “Did ye here ‘bout Uncle Bogg bein’ sick? An’ all th’ others?”

Zady nodded. “Yeah, I did. Ma went over t’ see Uncle Tom, he’s bad off. What 
‘bout hit?”

Ruby Mae gulped and stared at her shoes. “I..I think my pie made ‘em sick!”

“But yer pie won second place!”

“I know that,” Ruby Mae muttered. “But…it weren’t me who baked it!”

Zady’s mouth formed a small “o” as the words hit home. “If you didn’t bake 
it…then who did?”

Ruby Mae quietly explained. “I…I went to the El Pano fair last week. And 
bought it at a sale th’ church wuz havin’.”

“How didja keep anyone from findin’ out?”

“I hid it in Bob Allen’s spring house,” Ruby Mae said. “It’s nice n’ cool in 
thar. Thought it’d keep good. An’ it did.”

Zady turned over Ruby Mae’s words in her mind. Something just wasn’t right.

“Ruby Mae, why didn’t ya just bake one yerself? I cain’t believe ye spent 
good money on a brought on pie.”

Ruby Mae jumped to her feet, turning her back to her friend. Her fingers 
dove into her skirt pocket and she drew out the ribbon she had won. “You’ll 
laugh at me if I tell…”

Zady softly said,  “Yer my friend. I promise I won’t.”

Ruby Mae didn’t speak at first. Her fingers gently stroked the soft fabric 
of the prize. Then the words came slowly, sadly.

“I..I wanted to win a prize so bad,” Ruby Mae finally murmured. “I ain’t 
never won nothin’ in my whole life. My cookin’ so bad. I knew…any pie I 
made’d never win a ribbon.”

Zady stood slowly and walked over to her friend, touching her on the arm.  
“How do ya know? Yer cookin’s gittin’ better all th’ time. Heard Preacher 
say so t’other day.”

“He wuz just bein’ nice,” Ruby Mae insisted, picking up a twig. “He’s always 
bein’ nice. Heck, he’s so in love with Miz Rose he’d eat dirt if he had to.”

Zady hid her grin. “Don’t think he’d be partial to that. I got my own ideas 
why Uncle Bogg and the others be sick.”

Ruby Mae dropped the twig and looked up. “You do?”

Zady  nodded, eyes glowing. “May not a’ been yer pie that done it. I heard 
somethin’ goin’ on in the woods last night. Some ruckuss. Pa shooed me on t’ 
bed but I knowed something was goin’ on. Somethin’ not right.”

Ruby Mae looked skeptical. “What’s that got t’do with it?”

Zady leaned in. “’Cause I heard Uncle Bogg’s voice! He was in on it…whatever 
it was!”

Ruby Mae’s eyes rounded in saucers. “Didja hear Rob Allen, Zady?”

“Don’t reckon I did,” Zady said, sighing. Ruby Mae was always thinking about 
Rob. “Is he sick?”

It suddenly hit the redheaded girl that Rob might be one of the food 
poisoning victims. She jumped up from the log. “I gotta find out! He ate a 
piece o’ my pie!”

Zady stood and told her, “Let me go tell Ma an’ I’ll go with ya. You ain’t 
making much sense. I don’t wantcha scarin’ poor Rob t’death.”

**

Christy was leaving the McHone cabin when Opal stopped her.

“Ye forgot yer scarf, Miz Christy,” Opal gently said, handing it to her.

Christy smiled guiltily, turning back. “I’m so distracted, Opal. Thank you 
for reminding me.”

Opal nodded. “We appreciate you lookin’ in on Tom. Doc sez he’s gonna come 
around. Ain’t no need t’ fret.”

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Christy murmured. “There’s only one trend so 
far. All of the sick are men. Including the judges of the contest. Didn’t 
any of the women eat the pie?”

Opal shook her head. “Don’t reckon so, Miz Christy. We always let th’ men 
folk eat afore we do. Wouldn’t be fittin’ to set down afore they did.”

The corner of Christy’s mouth lifted. “I guess in this case, being the last 
was better than being the first.”

Opal chuckled. “I ‘spose so.”

Iris’ cry rose up and Opal turned back to the door to tend to her daughter. 
Christy said a quick good-bye and headed down the steps.

“I’m not much closer to knowing what happened,” Christy thought wearily as 
she went down the steps. “It just doesn’t make sense!”

**

David turned over, his arm slung over his eyes. Rose had just left him to 
see if there were any others who had taken ill. She’d been sweet, trying to 
take his mind off his stomach.

Yet a pain lingered over his heart that had nothing to do with his physical 
state. It gnawed at his heart like a hungry worm on a rotten apple. And 
stung twice as hard.

“Oh God,” he whispered. “Forgive me for last night. I don’t know what I was 
thinking. Maybe this is your way of punishing me. Never again…”




More to come...Part 4