Bridge to Cutter Gap / Silent Superstitions / The Angry Intruder (19 page)

Mary bit her lip. She looked into Christy's eyes, as if she thought she could find something she needed there.

“Granny . . .”

“Yes?”

“Granny says . . .” Mary cleared her throat.

“Granny says what?” Christy encouraged.

“She says you're cursed,” Mary blurted. “She says you brought bad things to Cutter Gap, and that we'uns shouldn't go to school no more!”

Christy blinked. So that was it. That explained the missing children. That explained the look of fear on the faces of the few students who still dared to come to school.

She pulled Mary close and gave her a hug. The bitter smell of herbs made her eyes burn. Gently Christy pulled on the yarn necklace around Mary's neck. At the bottom was a small piece of old cloth, filled with what felt like dried bits of plants.

“Did Granny make this necklace for you?” Christy asked.

“Yes'm.”

“Why?”

“It's a curse-chaser. To ward off your bad spell and keep us safe.”

Christy frowned at the awful rash on the little girl's neck. “Well, I'm not so sure she's accomplishing that.” She looked over at Creed. “Are you wearing one, too?”

Creed nodded. “Most all of us are, Teacher. Ma said the only way she'd let me go to school was if'n I wore this and kept my distance. Course some parents just flat-out said no.” He cocked his head at her, a confused look on his face.

“What's wrong?”

“Well, I figured you'd be sore as a skinned owl when Mary done told you. You ain't a-goin' to put a spell on us, is you?”

“Creed, of course not. That's nonsense.” Christy could barely control the anger in her voice. “I don't understand how you children could believe such a silly notion—” She stopped herself.

It wasn't the children who deserved her anger. It was Granny O'Teale and the other adults who'd allowed such superstitious foolishness to fill the heads of these poor children.

“Thank you, Mary,” Christy said gently, “for telling the truth.”

“You won't tell on me to Granny, will you?” Mary asked in a quavering voice. “I weren't even supposed to be here.”

“Of course not.” Christy smiled. “Creed and Mary, I want you to come with me. Doctor MacNeill needs to take a look at those rashes.”

As Christy started for the door, Ruby Mae rushed past, nearly knocking her aside.

“What's wrong, Ruby Mae?” Christy asked. “It's going to be all right. I'm not mad.”

Ruby Mae paused in the doorway, glaring.

“Come on,” Christy said. “You've hardly spoken a word.”

“Reckon I ain't got nothin' to say,” Ruby Mae muttered.

“Reckon that's the way you like it, anyways.”

With that, she turned on her heel and ran down the stairs.

“You won't believe what I'm about to tell you!” Christy cried as soon as Miss Alice opened the door to her cabin. Christy stomped inside, motioning for Creed and Mary to follow.

“Relax, Christy,” Miss Alice urged. “I can see you're very upset.”

“It's just that—well, do you have any idea what people in the Cove are saying about me?”

Doctor MacNeill was sitting in a rocker. “Hmm, let me see. That you're the finest teacher they've ever seen in these parts?”

Christy paced back and forth on the polished wooden floor, practically choking on her anger. “They—”

“Let me try again,” the doctor interrupted with a grim smile. “They're saying you're cursed and that the only way to go near you is with a handful of foul-smelling herbs?”

Christy stopped in mid-stride. “You're telling me you
knew
?”

“Relax, Miss Huddleston,” the doctor said. He paused to take a long puff on his pipe. “I only just heard myself.” He nodded to Miss Alice.

“I stopped by the McHones' yesterday evening to check on that broken arm of Isaak's,” Miss Alice explained. “That's when I first got wind of Granny O'Teale's theory about you.”

“Theory!” Christy practically spat out the word. “Look at that rash on Mary, Doctor. Creed has one, too. I think it's from Granny's herb concoction. I'll bet half the population of the Cove is breaking out!”

The doctor called Creed over and examined the little boy's rash. “How long have you had this, Creed?”

“I disremember exactly. Last couple days for sure.”

“How about you, Mary?” Miss Alice asked gently.

“It don't bother me none, Miss Alice,” Mary said. She took a nervous step backward. “You ain't a-goin' to tell Granny I told on her, are you?”

“Are you afraid she'll hurt you, Mary?” Christy asked.

“No'm. Mostly I'm afraid she'd be a-thinkin' I didn't believe.”

“Believe?” Christy echoed.

“In her powers. Her second sight and such.”

“Your secret is safe with us, Mary,” the doctor assured the little girl.

“Why don't you two run on out to the schoolyard?” Miss Alice suggested. “The doctor and I will be by with some medicine to make that itching stop.”

As soon as Miss Alice opened the door, Creed ran outside. But Mary paused in the doorway.

“Teacher?” she said softly.

“Yes, Mary?”

“I'm purty sure that Mountie misses you, too. She can't exactly say it just so, but I can tell.”

Christy nodded. “Thank you, Mary.”

Miss Alice closed the door and Christy sank into a chair. “Where on earth did that old woman come up with such a notion?” she demanded.

“Superstitions grow like weeds around these parts,” the doctor said. Carefully he placed some fresh tobacco in the bowl of his pipe. “You've still got a lot to learn about the mountain people. Granny is known in the Cove as a fine herbalist. Some of her knowledge is sound enough, and some of it is nonsense. But her word is still gospel.”

“But what made her turn on me? Why me?”

Miss Alice touched Christy's shoulder. “There's no use looking for a logical reason, Christy. Perhaps it was Bob's accident, or Mary's fall. Perhaps Granny just feels threatened by all the changes going on here in the Cove.”

Christy jumped from her chair. “I need to reason with her. Maybe I can explain to her why she has nothing to fear from me.”

The doctor laughed. “No use trying to use logic with someone like Granny. You can't fight mountain superstition. Remember right before Bob Allen's operation? His wife ran into the cabin where we were operating and swung an axe into the floor. Then she tied a string around Bob's wrist.”

Christy nodded. She remembered all too well.

“Well, I could have argued with his wife till spring, telling her that a string won't keep disease away, and an axe won't keep a person from hemorrhaging. But meantime, Bob would have died.” The doctor shook his pipe at Christy. “And if you try to argue these people out of their superstitions about you, your dreams for the school will die, too.”

“But if I don't fight back somehow, there won't
be
a school,” Christy cried. “I've lost most of my students already, Doctor. Pretty soon I'll be teaching a roomful of empty desks!”

Miss Alice added a log to the fire. “Christy,” she said, rising, “our job here at the mission is to demonstrate that there's a better way than fear and superstition. We want to create an atmosphere where hearts can be changed. If we preach to the hearts of men and women, the fruits will follow. But it's no good tying apples onto a tree. Soon they'll be rotting apples.”

Christy clenched her fists angrily. “But that could take forever, Miss Alice! The doctor's been here for years, and the mountain people still don't understand even the most basic principals of hygiene.”

The doctor stiffened. “And you, Miss Huddleston, have been here two weeks, and you think you can change the world?” He gave a dark laugh. “I wish you luck.”

“Time,” Miss Alice said, “is a great healer, Christy. Give Granny and the others time. They will come to trust you.”

Christy took a deep breath. Maybe Miss Alice and the doctor were right. Or maybe they were just tired of fighting back. And in any case,
they
weren't “cursed.” She was.

“Miss Alice,” Christy said firmly, “I understand what you're saying, but I have to try to save my reputation. I'm going to the O'Teales'. I'll ask David to watch the class for the rest of the day.”

“Miss Huddleston, I wouldn't—” the doctor began, but Christy shot him a determined look, and he held up his hands.

“Will you give me directions to the O'Teales' cabin?” Christy asked. “If not, I'll ask Mary to tell me the way.”

“Of course I will,” said Miss Alice. “I'd advise against this, but if you insist on going, I want you to remember one thing. For all her ignorance and superstitions, there's a good heart inside Granny O'Teale. There's a good heart inside all God's children. Look hard enough and you will find it.”

“I've just one question,” said Doctor MacNeill. “What are you going to say when you get there?”

Christy headed for the door. “Good question, Doctor. Guess I'll figure that out on the way.”

Eight

A
s Christy trudged along the muddy path, she took in deep lungfuls of the mountain air, trying to let go of her anger. Again and again, Mary's fearful face came back to her. She thought of the way Creed had cringed at her touch, the way Vella had jumped when Christy touched her shoulder, the way Ruby Mae had glared at her so coldly.

Granny had done this. Granny O'Teale had, in the space of a few short days, managed to undo Christy's first halting attempts at befriending these children. And how? By playing on their fears and superstitions and ignorance.

Suddenly, just ahead of her down the path, Christy saw some dark blobs scattered over the snow for several yards. As she got closer, she realized the blobs were blood stains and bits of torn fur—some black, some reddish brown. She gasped. Some poor little rabbit had been caught by another animal and torn to bits.

Quickly Christy carved a wide path around the dead animal's remains. She wished her mind were a blackboard, so she could wipe away what she had just seen. Why did nature have to be so vicious?

Why, she wondered, did
people
have to be so vicious?

The O'Teales' tobacco barn was just up ahead, so she knew their cabin wasn't far. Soon it came into view beyond a stand of pines. In the yard, the trampled-down, muddy snow was littered with rags and papers and junk. Pigs and chickens wandered at will. A big black pot was turned on its side, rusting. No effort had been made to stack the firewood. The logs lay in disarray where they had been tossed.

Christy paused at the edge of the yard. Suddenly she realized that the debris was even worse than it had looked from a distance. The yard was covered with filth—both human and animal filth. The chickens were pecking at it. The pigs were rolling in it and grunting. Christy lifted her skirts, picking her way across the yard. Wasn't there an outhouse in the backyard? Weren't they teaching the children anything?

Swannie O'Teale appeared on the crude porch. She was a tall, slender woman with stringy, dirty-looking blond hair. Her eyes looked dull and tired and sad. But there was something else there, too. Fear—that was it. It was the same look Christy had seen in her students' eyes.

“Mrs. O'Teale,” Christy called. “I'm Christy Huddleston, the new teacher.”

“I know who you are,” Swannie O'Teale hissed. “And if you know what's good for you, you'll get. Granny's out gatherin' bark for her potions, and if'n she sees you . . .”

“I don't want to hurt you, Mrs. O'Teale. I want to help. You've got to trust me.”

“Can't trust the likes of you. You be cursed. Granny said so,” Mrs. O'Teale said, backing into the open doorway. “Get now.” She clutched the yarn necklace around her neck. “Get now, I'm a-tellin' you!”

Christy took another step. Even from several feet away, the stench coming from the cabin was horrible. A low half-growl, half-screech met her ears. In the dim light beyond the door, she could make out a boy in his teens wearing a tattered sweater. Saliva drooled from the corners of his mouth and trickled through the grime on his chin.

“Ah . . . hello,” Christy said.

“That be Wilmer, my first-born.”

Christy remembered hearing that one of the O'Teale children was retarded and had epileptic seizures, or “fits,” as the mountain people called them.

The boy pointed to a tin plate of cornbread on a table. “Unh-Um-humh. Ah-hmm.”

“Hungry, Wilmer?” Mrs. O'Teale said wearily. “Don't go squawking.”

What must it be like, to have to care for Wilmer and the other children in these awful surroundings?
Christy wondered. Such poverty. Such misery. Staring into Mrs. O'Teale's weary, fearful eyes, Christy felt her anger drain away.

“Mrs. O'Teale,” Christy said. “Where are the other children?”

“Out with Granny, 'cept for Smith. He's helpin' his daddy. And Mary, she done run off over to the Spencers' this mornin'. That girl can be a heap of trouble—” She caught herself. “I can't be a-talkin' to the likes of you.”

“Mary's a sweet girl,” Christy offered. “And the boys—”

Mrs. O'Teale scoffed. “Smith! You're plumb crazy if'n you think he's a sweet'un!”

“Well, he does get a little rambunctious,” Christy conceded. She had the feeling that if she just kept talking about the children, she might get somewhere with Mrs. O'Teale. Despite her warnings to Christy, the woman seemed anxious to talk. “But I think more rowdy when he and Lundy Taylor get together. They sort of provoke each other.”

“Those boys stick together like sap and bark,” Mrs. O'Teale said. “I don't know how you manage with all those young'uns in one place.”