The Storycatcher (18 page)

I smiled. “I want to know how Charles Dobbins ended up on Black Mountain.”

“I know his daddy is a big preacher in New Orleans. If I’m not mistaken, he told Maggie he had family that once lived on the mountain.”

“Really?”

“I could have sworn Grandma talked about a Dobbins who lived up there for a while, some kind of to-do over him. But I can’t remember the story.”

“My family goes back before the Civil War, and I never remembered Mama speaking of a Dobbins.”

Zach ran his hand through his sandy-colored hair. “Could be my bad memory.” He stood. “I could make a couple of phone calls to New Orleans. I know an old boy in the police department there. He’d oblige me.”

“Could you, Zach? That would be wonderful. Maybe it will prove my feelings wrong.”

“I’m not one to take feelings for granted.” He winked and touched my arm. I did miss him. “Why don’t you check with Tucker Platt for the church records? He got them when his daddy passed on. Maybe you can find that story I was talking about.” His face lit up. “I remember now. A piece of jewelry and a Dobbins. I’m sure that was the story Grandma talked about.”

I rubbed the cross in my pocket. The last thing I wanted to do was get Faith in trouble for stealing Arleen’s cross.

“Take a look at the records.”

I nodded. “Thanks for your help and time.”

“Take care, now, and don’t go getting into something you can’t handle.” Zach smiled.

The door rattled when I opened it. “Me?” I laughed.

“Maude.” Zach frowned.

“Yes.”

“At least you have to come back to see me now.”

TUCKER STOOD NEAR THE BARN
when I pulled into his yard. He threw his hand in the air like all folks did on the mountain when they saw a neighbor. “What brings you my way, Miss Tuggle?”

“We’re having a hot summer.” I walked to meet him.

“Yes, ma’am. Hope it’ll rain for my corn.” He smiled.

“Zach Walters says you have the old church records.”

“He’s right. They’re down in the root cellar in Daddy’s old trunk. Been there for going on nineteen years now.”

“Could I look at them?”

He gave me a tolerant shrug. “I don’t see why not. They’re yours as much as anyone else born and raised on this mountain.”

“Thank you so much, Tucker.”

“Why are you so interested in them old books for?” He nodded in the direction of his house.

“I’m hoping they hold some history, not just birth and death dates. Don’t
you ever wonder about all the people who have lived on this mountain?”

Tucker was a thirty-five-year-old man who looked fifty. “I don’t think I ever gave it much thought, ma’am. But you’ll find all kinds of things in them books. The keepers couldn’t help all the stories they knew and some that wasn’t even truth.” He grinned.

“How far back do the books go?”

“All the way to right after the War Between the States.”

“Really, that far?”

“Yes, ma’am. The first preacher was a Daniels, you know. He was a book-learned man who wrote lots in the books he took care of.”

“The cemetery is named after him.”

“Yes, ma’am. The Danielses used to own nearly all the mountain. Lived in a big old house up on the east side with its own graveyard and keeper. They didn’t have much to do with anyone else. Lonely life, if you ask me.” He pulled open the big double doors leading into the root cellar.

The temperature dropped ten degrees. “Why did your daddy have the church books?”

Tucker laughed. “When Daddy got word a Dobbins was coming to be pastor, he took it on himself to save the records.” He popped open the lid to an old wooden trunk. “Here they be.” He pulled out the first of what looked to be four large leather volumes.

“Your daddy had heard of Pastor Dobbins?”

“I reckon he did. The pastor’s family, anyway. Said they was nothing but a troubled lot.” Tucker placed one of the books in my hands. “But Daddy was always funny about outsiders.” He took out the other three.

“I promise to take good care of them.”

He snorted. “I ain’t worrying over them books none. Most folks don’t even care anymore.” He frowned at the ones he carried.

A chill walked through me.

“Daddy said they even kept track of the coloreds by name. That wasn’t done much back then.”

We walked up the stairs into the sun. “This should be helpful.”

He put the three books he held on the seat of my truck and then took the one I had, placing it on the seat with the others. “You enjoy yourself, now.” He laughed like he’d made the funniest joke.

ARLEEN BECAME A GHOST
in my cabin that afternoon, not one of Shelly’s spirits, but a haunting all the same. I kept that gold cross close to me. Funny how a bunch of names and dates could keep me sitting at my desk until the last of the sunlight slid in the window. I picked a tattered old diary out of the pile, and a paper fell into my lap.

LOST

ARMETTA LOLLY

A colored girl age sixteen or thereabouts

Disappeared from Ella Creek Cemetery on Black Mountain

February 1870

If she is seen, please let Miss Amelia know.

She is desperate to find Armetta.

The Lollys have worked for the Danielses

since before they were freed by the war.

How curious. I opened the book to the page where the paper had been.

Today Amelia’s gold cross with a small diamond in the center came up missing. Paul thinks it could be Armetta since she’s come up missing too. I have a hard time believing this accusation. Armetta and her parents have been a part of our family since they were purchased by grandfather way before the war. Amelia loves Armetta dearly. Until Paul came here, Armetta was my sister’s only companion. Armetta never left Ella Creek Cemetery. This I know for sure. Not on her own. I fear
something has happened to her. I hate that Amelia has to leave for New Orleans without knowing where she is. But Paul is wanted at home. I say good riddance to him. Never have I met a man quite like him.

The cross lay in the palm of my hand, the tiny diamond twinkling in the one last beam of sun stretching across the desk. Arleen wore the necklace in her casket. Could the cross in the book be this cross? And if so, how in the world did Arleen get it? Wouldn’t its age and history prove Charles Dobbins didn’t own the cross?

I looked out the window. Folks on the mountain would swear the mountain knew the whole story and kept it close to its heart.

M
Y SOUL WEARING FAITH’S BODY
was like putting on a dress two sizes too small. I was busting at the seams. She was spoiled and demanding, while I was hardworking and quiet. I just had to finish what I came to do before I was found out. I had to protect that silly girl and Shelly. And I knew I was supposed to leave the revenge part to God, but it just wasn’t in me to do that. I wanted to see Pastor suffer like I did and have his life cut short. Nothing good in what I wanted. The death quilt was going to make it happen. Some folks, like my daddy, didn’t believe in charm quilts. But I did.

Faith’s mama slipped out after Pastor when it turned dark. There was something in the air, had been since he slapped her in front of Shelly the afternoon before. I slid between the rosebushes and the house. Wasn’t no sense in me getting in their mess. I had other things
to do. And there in the moonlight was the razor, the one I took away from Faith. I slid it into the pocket of my skirt ’cause it might come in handy if the charm quilt didn’t turn magic like I hoped. Pastor stood in the yard staring at my woods, like maybe he could hear them spirits calling him. He would be trapped right there with them if I got my way.

“God, I know what you want me to do. A man has to be the master of his own home.”

Lord, he was always using God as an excuse to show his bad.

“I’ll take care of the women, bring them back to their places. I will not tolerate any more disrespect.”

Missus stepped out of the shadows behind him and into the moonlight. “Really, Charles, what do you plan to do? What do you think God is telling you to do? It’s not God telling you to hurt your daughter and wife. You know that. It’s you.” The hate in her words shined like a lantern. I was liking her better and better.

Pastor swung around. “Lydia.”

The light from the back porch lit up the side of his face. That jaw of his was set in a straight line.

“I won’t let you hurt me or Faith. Is that understood?” Missus came near Pastor.

He stepped toward her. “Lydia, your threats mean nothing, nothing. I’m the boss in my own home.”

She threw her head back and laughed right there in his face. The fool woman didn’t even see how dangerous he had turned in that minute.

“I will accept your father’s offer on behalf of Faith and me. We have to get away from you. And I will take Amanda and Shelly back to New Orleans too. You can’t stop me. I don’t want to risk living with you anymore.”

His fist moved through the air and struck her in the jaw. The look on her face made my heart ache. She really thought she could fight him. I knew what it felt like to be on the other end of his meanness. There wasn’t no fighting clean with him.

I stepped out of the bushes.

“I won’t keep quiet if you lay another hand on me. I’ll call the sheriff.” That woman was still running her mouth. I had to admire her courage.

I took another step forward.

He went at her in a blind madness, beating at her face.

The razor felt warm in my fingers. Cutting him would be simple, but I didn’t want simple. I wanted him to suffer, to see just what he did to me. Missus was grunting with each thud of his fist. The moon caught the razor, turning it shiny and dangerous. My steps came quicker. I could see his neck, smooth. I brought the razor up to my chest and came so close I could smell his sweat.

“I think you best stop right now.” Shelly’s mama stood there with a hoe over her head. Them words curled through the air like a snake about to strike. Half of me believed she was talking to me. “I’m going to kill you if you don’t leave her alone, and that would be something I should’ve done a long time ago.”

Pastor’s fist stopped in midair. He turned around to face his threat, looking at me and back at Shelly’s mama. “You don’t scare me.”

“Really, sir.” The words came at him in a mocking tone. “You know my soul is just as black as yours.” She nearly whispered this.

I raised the razor in front of me, walking closer to him.

Shelly’s mama shook her head at me.

Pastor stepped away. “You deserved a beating, Lydia. Go on to your colored woman and your crazy daughter. You make me sick, all of you.” He stomped off without even noticing the razor. I put it back in my pocket. I was the worst of his worries, and he didn’t even realize it.

Shelly’s mama threw the hoe down. “Come on. I need to doctor your face. He beat you bad, fool. You should’ve shut up.” She helped Missus up from the ground.

“I didn’t want him to notice Faith out here,” Missus said.

“Your help wasn’t needed. I could have taken care of him. I’m not afraid. He knows I have the power to hurt him.”

Shelly’s mama knew I wasn’t Faith. She was a true mountain witch.

I heard a voice come up beside me. “You be exactly right, girl. But you ain’t going to stop one thing from happening with your plan. You ought to work with me.” I looked over and saw that mean colored ghost who followed Pastor everywhere standing to my left.

“Come on, Faith, before he comes with his gun,” Shelly’s mama said, frowning. “We got to get you off this mountain. I don’t know what kind of spell you’re under, but you’re under one and we both know it. You got to leave this mountain tomorrow.”

“Amanda, you have to go with us.” Missus grabbed her arm. “Who’s going to protect you if you don’t?”

Amanda laughed. “You don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of myself. I always have. You will take my girls and watch over them. Somebody has to be here to send him in the wrong direction.” She shot me a stare. Her love for Faith was right there between us. I started humming.

“What’s that song, Faith?” Missus asked.

“Just a bedtime song.”

Amanda clicked her tongue. “You come on.”

But I had me one trip to make before we made a run off the mountain. They was all fools, but I had to go wherever Faith was supposed to go. I slid away while Amanda helped Mrs. Dobbins into her cabin.

WHEN I WAS A LITTLE
thing, I wouldn’t have been caught dead in those haunted woods. Mama taught me way better than doing any such thing. But seeing how I was dead and wore Faith’s body, it didn’t bother me a bit. See, I was one of them haints. But I was obliged to take care of Faith. The good thing about being a spirit was I could see just as good in the dark as I could in the day. And all those souls stuck in them woods was easy to spot too.

When I came out on the other side of the woods, my favorite
meadow was washed in that big old moon that hung in the middle of the sky. There sat the little house, still just as sad as it could be, leaning and peeling. I could have stood there in the tall grass forever, looking. That’s all I wanted. Sometimes a girl just didn’t know what she had right in front of her. She went looking for more, bigger, fancier. Dying wasn’t half as hard as being stuck on Black Mountain as a soul with a story to tell. Wasn’t but two people left on the mountain that wanted to know the truth. One of them was dead, Pastor’s ghost Armetta, and the other was alive, Miss Tuggle. My story was under her skin, and she didn’t even know it good yet.