Bridge to Cutter Gap / Silent Superstitions / The Angry Intruder (22 page)

What if Mountie was part of God's plan for Christy? Part of the work, as Miss Alice had said, that only Christy could do?

What if she had left yesterday, and those buttons had remained forever in Miss Ida's sewing box?

If Christy left Cutter Gap now, superstition and ignorance would have triumphed. If she stayed, maybe there would be other Mounties— other small miracles.

Christy reached into her pocket and slowly crumpled up her resignation letter.

“Come on, girls,” Granny called. “Get away from her.”

“I just want you to know something, Granny,” Christy said, moving closer. “I'm staying. I almost left because of you and the things you've been saying about me. But I'm staying. And nothing you can say will change my mind. I'm staying because I care about Mountie and Mary and the rest of these children.” She paused, then smiled, remembering what Ruby Mae had said about Granny. “Just like you do.”

Granny worked her mouth, as if she were searching for words. Mountie rushed over to her. “Granny, see my buttons?”

Granny squeezed the girl's hand. “I see, child.” She looked over at Christy. For the first time, Christy thought she saw something more than fear and anger there—maybe even a glimmer of respect.

But after a long moment, Granny turned away without another word, pulling Mountie along.

Mary turned back to Christy. “Thank you,” she whispered again, and then she, too, was gone.

Eleven

O
n Monday morning, Christy made her way over the plank walk across the muddy school yard. She clutched her lesson plan to her chest. She'd worked on it all last evening, although she wasn't sure why. How many children would even come today? Ten? Five? None?

Miss Alice and David had told her to keep showing up every day, no matter what. Eventually, they said, she'd have her students back. She hadn't told them about her resignation letter. It was still crumpled in her pocket.

Inside the schoolroom, a fire already burned in the old stove. David had come in earlier to start it, although it was still strangely warm outside. Christy took the ball of paper out of her pocket and tossed it into the potbellied stove. It was a satisfying feeling, watching it crackle and burn, then vanish.

She went to her desk and set down her lesson book. She turned to the last roll call. Just a handful of students. She'd never have dreamed she'd miss having all sixty-seven of them, but she did.

As she started to sit, she noticed a familiar book lying open on her chair. It was her diary. She picked it up, smiling at the childish scrawl, marred by cross-outs. It filled the page in huge letters, too big to ignore:

Miz Cristy is right trubling sometimz.
“Ain't you never heard of a thing called privacy?”
She'z alwayz makin me wash my fas and brush the mous nests outa my har. And she gits thez feraway looks in her eyz sometimz. Won't listn a-tall. Still and all, even if shez fer shure cursd, I'm prowd and onered to call her my frend.

“Ain't you never heard of a thing called privacy?”

Christy jumped, nearly dropping the diary. “Ruby Mae! I was just—”

Ruby Mae stood in the doorway, tapping her foot. “Just readin' my Rose, I'm a-guessin'.”

“I apologize, really I do. It's just that it was sitting right there, in my chair, where I could hardly miss it—”

“Imagine that.” Ruby Mae grinned. “Wonder how it got there?”

Christy closed the diary and passed it to Ruby Mae. “I'm proud and honored to call you my friend, too,” she said softly.

Ruby Mae blushed and went quickly to one of the windows.

Christy was surprised to see that she was no longer wearing Granny's herbs.

“Ruby Mae,” Christy said, “do you think anyone will show up today?”

“Ain't you looked outside?”

Christy joined her at the window. Coming up the hill, she saw Lundy Taylor and Wraight Holt, trailed by several others. “The Holts are coming!” she exclaimed. “And there's Isaak McHone!”

“Yes'm. I reckon you'll have your hands full today. Everybody's a-comin'.”

“But why? Why are they all coming back?”

Ruby Mae rolled her eyes. “It's a good thing you got me to keep you up on Cove gossip, Miz Christy. Don't you even know that Granny says you're uncursed?”

“
Un
cursed?”

“Yes'm. As of yesterday. Everybody knows.”

“Except me. The one who's cursed.” Christy narrowed her eyes. “I don't believe it. You're telling me
Granny
changed her mind about me? How is that possible?”

“Don't rightly know. All I knows is she says she saw a sign yesterday.”

“A sign,” Christy repeated, torn between laughing and groaning and crying.

Just then, she saw two little girls appear out of the dark woods. An old woman with a cane followed behind.

“It's Mountie and Mary,” Christy whispered. “They're back. They're all coming back!” She hugged Ruby Mae until the girl pulled away, gasping for breath.

“Watch out for my braids, now,” Ruby Mae scolded. “You know it done took me half the night to get 'em just so.”

Granny paused at the edge of the schoolyard as Mary and Mountie dashed ahead. The old woman met Christy's eyes and gave a small nod.

“So Granny saw a sign,” Christy said. “I wonder what it was?”

“Search me. But I heard it had something to do with four golden coins that fell from heaven.”

Christy looked at Ruby Mae. Ruby Mae looked back with a sly grin. “Can't imagine what she meant, Miz Christy,” she said. “Can you?”

The Angry
Intruder

Contents

The Characters

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

About the Author

The Characters

CHRISTY RUDD HUDDLESTON
, a nineteen-
year-old girl.

CHRISTY'S STUDENTS
:

         ROB ALLEN, age fourteen.

         CREED ALLEN, age nine.

         LITTLE BURL ALLEN, age six.

         BESSIE COBURN, age twelve.

         LIZETTE HOLCOMBE, age fifteen.

         WRAIGHT HOLT, age seventeen.

         ZACHARIAS HOLT, age nine.

         VELLA HOLT, age five.

         SMITH O'TEALE, age fifteen.

         MOUNTIE O'TEALE, age ten.

         MARY O'TEALE, age eight.

         RUBY MAE MORRISON, age thirteen.

         JOHN SPENCER, age fifteen.

         CLARA SPENCER, age twelve.

         ZADY SPENCER, age ten.

         LULU SPENCER, age six.

         LUNDY TAYLOR, age seventeen.

BEN PENTLAND
, the mailman.

PRINCE
, black stallion donated to the mission.

GOLDIE
, mare belonging to Miss Alice Henderson.

OLD THEO
, crippled mule owned by the mission.

LUCY MAE FURNAM
, Prince's former owner.

CHARLES FURNAM
, her husband.

OZIAS HOLT
, a mountain man.
(Father of Christy's students Wraight, Zacharais, and Vella.)

GEORGIA HOLT
, Ozias' sister.

DAVID GRANTLAND
, the young minister.

IDA GRANTLAND
, David's sister.

ALICE HENDERSON
, a Quaker mission worker from Ardmore, Pennsylvania.

FAIRLIGHT SPENCER
, a mountain woman.

JEB SPENCER
, her husband.
(Parents of Little Guy and Christy's students John, Clara, Zady, and Lulu.)

BOB ALLEN
, a mountain man.

DR. NEIL MACNEILL
, the physician of the Cove.

GRANNY O'TEALE
, a superstitious mountain woman.
(Great-grandmother of Christy's students Smith, Mountie, and Mary.)

One

S
pecial delivery from the U-nited States Postal Service for Miss Christy Rudd Huddleston!”

Ben Pentland, the mailman, waved from the doorway of the one-room schoolhouse where Christy taught. Her students—all sixty-seven of them—whispered excitedly. The arrival of the mail was always a big event in this remote section of the Great Smoky Mountains.

“Thank you, Mr. Pentland,” Christy called. “Why don't you just leave it by the door?”

“Well, Miz Christy, I don't mean to be or-nery—” Mr. Pentland stroked his whiskered chin, “but I reckon that's not such a good idea.”

“As you can see, we're in the middle of an arithmetic lesson, Mr. Pentland,” Christy explained. She pointed to the blackboard, where fifteen-year-old John Spencer was carefully adding a long column of numbers.

“I'm sorry to interrupt your learnin',” Mr. Pentland said, shifting his mail bag from one shoulder to the other, “but this is what you might call a mighty big special delivery.”

The students murmured excitedly. “Go on and get it, why don't you, Teacher?” urged Ruby Mae Morrison, a red-haired thirteen-year-old who was the school's biggest gossip.

“We have more important matters to attend to, Ruby Mae,” Christy said in a professional tone. But the truth was, she couldn't help wondering what Mr. Pentland had brought. Could it be a package from her parents, back in North Carolina? In her letters home, she had urged them to help her locate much-needed supplies for the mission school. Christy's mother had promised to talk to the women's group at their church about gathering clothing and shoes for the poor mountain children.

Christy had even written several companies about the mission's desperate need for supplies, requesting donations of mattresses, soap, food, window shades, and cleaning supplies. She'd contacted the Bell Telephone Company, asking them to donate wires and equipment for a telephone, since nobody in the area owned one. And although she knew they probably wouldn't answer, she'd even written the Lyon and Healy Company, in the hope of obtaining a piano for the mission.

Although weeks had passed, none of the companies had responded. Perhaps, Christy thought excitedly, this delivery today was the first answer to her letters!

“I have to admit I'm curious about the delivery, Mr. Pentland,” Christy said, “but it would be wrong to interrupt John in the middle of his arithmetic work.” John was a gifted student who was especially strong in mathematics. Even before the school had opened, he'd managed to do all the problems in a worn old geometry textbook by himself.

“Miz Christy,” John said, “I could hold off on my figurin', if'n you want to see about the special delivery.”

“No, John,” Christy replied, “you go ahead and add that last column. By the way, you've done a great job so far. I'm proud of you.” She turned to Mr. Pentland. “I'll deal with the mail during the noon recess, Mr. Pentland.”

“Truth to tell,” Mr. Pentland said, his deep-set eyes gleaming, “I'm not rightly sure the mail will wait that long.”

“Is it a big package?” Christy asked.

Mr. Pentland nodded slowly. “Biggest I ever did deliver.”

“Where is it now?”

“Over to the back side of the school.”

“I wonder if it's from one of the businesses I wrote,” Christy said.

“Looks like a donation for the mission, near as I can figure.”

“It's not a mattress, is it?”

“No'm.” Mr. Pentland grinned. “Although like as not you could sit on it, if'n it were willin'.”

“I don't understand—”

“Come on, Teacher,” cried Creed Allen, a freckled nine-year-old. “I'm like to burst wide open if'n I don't see what it is!”

“All right, then. Let's just finish up these problems first. John, you let me know when you're done. Meanwhile, have the rest of you come up with an answer to the arithmetic problem I assigned? When we add two and four together, we get . . .”

She pointed to Lundy Taylor, a burly seventeen-year-old who was the class bully. The class broke into laughter. Mr. Pentland rubbed his mouth, not quite hiding a smile. “Lundy, if I add two apples and four apples together, how many apples do I have?”

Lundy shrugged. “Enough for a good-sized pie, I reckon.”

The class broke into laughter. Mr. Pentland
rubbed his mouth, not quite hiding a smile.

“Well, to tell you the truth, Lundy, I'm not much of a cook myself,” Christy said, “so I'll have to take your word for it. But what I'm looking for now is a number.”

Lundy stared at the floor.

“Lordamercy!” Creed cried. “Even
I
know this one, Teacher!”

“Wraight?” Christy asked. Wraight Holt, also seventeen, was one of Lundy's best friends. “How about you?”

Wraight shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Count it out on your fingers. Two plus four. It won't hurt to try. Nobody will laugh at you if you're wrong. Can you at least give me a guess?”

Wraight just rolled his eyes. He had always been sullen and stubborn, but lately, he'd been acting even more difficult than usual. About the only time Christy had ever seen Wraight smile was when he was playing his battered old dulcimer, a stringed musical instrument. He'd brought it to school with him for a while, but she hadn't seen him with it lately.

“Teacher, I'm done with my figurin',” John announced.

“Just a second, John,” Christy said. “Wraight? Imagine the four strings on your dulcimer. What if you added two more? How many would you have then?”

“Ain't never had no extra strings on my dulcimer.”

“Pretend, then.”

Wraight's nine-year-old brother, Zach, leaned over. Holding his dirty red cap in front of his mouth, he whispered something to Wraight.