The Librarian of Boone's Hollow - Kim Vogel Sawyer Page 0,119

gotta remind myself that vengeance is God’s, ’cause—oh, dear Lord, forgive me—I’m fightin’ a terrible urge to find a chunk o’ wood an’ take aim at Burke Webber’s fool head.”

High on Black Mountain

Bettina

MULE SNUFFLED THE BACK OF Bettina’s neck and woke her. She rolled over and squinted at him. The trees blocked most of the moonlight, but his white hide glowed like a ghost in the shadows. She rubbed his nose. “You’re all right. Least you got supper.”

He’d chomped tender grass growing by the creek while she searched for wild onions. But she hadn’t found any. Her belly ached from emptiness. She should’ve brought that jar of blueberry jam Nanny Fay’d gave her. Her mouth watered, remembering its sweetness. Had it broke when she threw her pack? It’d be all over the books if it did. She didn’t know if she was more sorry about losing the jam or the books. And she didn’t know why she even cared about the books.

She gave Mule’s prickly nose another rub. “Quiet now. Go to sleep.”

But Mule unfolded his legs and stood, shaking his head and snorting. Bettina stood, too. Mule was smart. If he was nervous, something was prowling. What was hiding in the shadows? A cougar? Maybe a bear? Knowing that wild critters came out to drink at night, she’d took Mule far away from the creek before they bedded down. But maybe she hadn’t gone far enough. Or maybe she’d put them right close to a den. Not like she could see, with it being so dark after sundown. Her heart took up such a pounding she thought it might come right on out of her chest. She curled her arms around Mule’s neck and held tight, needing the comfort his warm, strong form provided.

Twigs snapped nearby, and men’s voices muttered.

“Oh, lawsy, Mule, somebody’s out there,” she whispered into Mule’s pointed ear. She’d for sure picked the wrong place to rest. She didn’t smell no sour mash, and she sure knew what it smelled like from visiting Pap’s still, but maybe the pine trees covered it up. That’s why Pap’s was in the high reaches of Black Mountain—he said the strong smell from pine trees could hide most anything.

Would the trees hide Mule’s and her smells? Because those voices were getting louder. Closer. Probably moonshiners, and they didn’t take to folks snooping around their stills. She and Mule might get shot and buried, and nobody’d ever know what happened to them. She whispered to Mule, “Least if we get killed, I’ll get to see Maw again.”

That is if God let her come through heaven’s gates. She shivered. She pawed until she found Mule’s trailing reins. She took hold and pulled. “C’mon, we gotta—”

“Who’s there?”

She’d whispered too loud. Now they were coming. Feet crushed dried leaves. More twigs snapped, louder this time. It was dark enough for her to hide, but how to hide Mule? His white coat would stick out no matter where she took him. She danced in place, and Mule made snuffly noises, and before she could find the courage to leave him and run, two men burst through the bushes and pointed rifles at her.

Bettina screamed.

Boone’s Hollow

Nanny Fay

NANNY FAY KNELT by her bed. Her knees ached. Her back throbbed. Tiredness weighed on her like a load of stove wood. But she wouldn’t sleep until she’d found peace. With her elbows braced on the edge of the mattress and her chin on her knuckles, she held herself upright.

“Dear Lord, keep her safe wherever she is.” She’d asked at least a dozen times already, but the widow in the Bible asked the judge again and again for justice until he gave it. The judge didn’t care one little bit about God, and still he gave in to the widow’s request. God, who was very good, wouldn’t ignore one of His own. “Please, Father, keep her safe even though she was foolhardy to run off that way. She run away ’cause nobody cares about her now that Rosie’s gone. Except You.”

And you.

Nanny Fay shook her head and scowled. She was so sleepy her brain was talking to her.

“But I don’t know for sure she knows You.”

She knows you.

“She goes to church every Sunday, same as Rosie did. But there’s a heap o’ people sittin’ in church pews week after week who don’t know You like they oughta. ’Cause they ain’t took the time to know Your Son.” Her throat went tight, and her nose stung. She pushed the