FAMILY SECRETS
      Christy (R) Fiction Series

           by Catherine Marshall
           adapted by C. Archer

Published by: Word Publishing, Dallas,
London, Vancouver, Melbourne.
  Copyright 1996 by the Estate of Catherine
Marshall LeSourd

  The Christy (R) Fiction Series is
based on Christy (R) by Catherine Marshall
LeSourd copyright 1967 by Catherine Marshall
LeSourd

       BOOK JACKET INFORMATION

  Christy waltzed with Doctor MacNeill
in an enchanted moment. Suddenly the sharp sound of
gunshots shattered the pleasant calm.

  Bob Allen and many of the residents of Cutter
Gap are upset because a black family has
moved into the Cove. When a hostile shooting and a
series of threatening incidents befalls the
Washingtons, Christy steps in to help. But it's
a clue in the Washingtons' family Bible that
may hold the real key to peace and acceptance.

           Family Secrets
  Based upon Catherine Marshall's bestseller
Christy (R) (with more than 8 million
copies in print), this series contains expanded
adventures filled with romance, intrigue, and
excitement.

  Look for the Christy (R) videos from
Broadman and Holman Publishers.

     Christy (R) Fiction Series

Book No. 1--..The Bridge to Cutter
  Gap
Book No. 2--Silent Superstitions
Book No. 3--.The Angry Intruder
Book No. 4--Midnight Rescue
Book No. 5--.The Proposal
Book No. 6--Christy's Choice
Book No. 7--.The Princess Club
Book No. 8--Family Secrets

               The Characters

CHRISTY RUDD HUDDLESTON, a
  nineteen-year-old girl.
CHRISTY'S STUDENTS:
    ROB ALLEN, age fourteen.
    FESTUS ALLEN, age twelve.
    CREED ALLEN, age nine.
    DELLA MAY ALLEN, age eight.
    LITTLE BURL ALLEN, age six.
    WANDA BECK, age eight.
    WRAIGHT HOLT, age seventeen.
    VELLA HOLT, age five.
    MOUNTIE O'TEALE, age ten.
    MARY O'TEALE, age eight.
    RUBY MAE MORRISON, age
  thirteen.
    CLARA SPENCER, age twelve.
    ZADY SPENCER, age ten.
    LUNDY TAYLOR, age seventeen.
    LOUISE WASHINGTON, age fifteen.
    JOHN WASHINGTON, age ten.
    HANNAH WASHINGTON, age eight.
DOCTOR NEIL MACNEILL, the
  physician of the Cove.
HELEN MACNEILL, the doctor's
  grandmother.
ALICE HENDERSON, a Quaker missionary who
  started the mission at Cutter Gap.
DAVID GRANTLAND, the young minister.
IDA GRANTLAND, David's sister and the
  mission housekeeper.
JAMES BRILEY, former classmate of
  Doctor MacNeill.
BOB ALLEN, keeper of the mill
  by Blackberry Creek.
MARY ALLEN, Bob's wife. (Parents of
  Christy's students Rob, Festus, Creed,
  Della May, and Little Burl.)
GRANNY ALLEN, Bob's grandmother.
CURTIS WASHINGTON, new arrival to Cutter
  Gap from Virginia.
MARGARET WASHINGTON, Curtis's wife.
  (Parents of Christy's students Louise,
  John, and Hannah, and of Etta, a baby
  girl.)
WILLIAM WASHINGTON, Curtis's grandfather,
  an escaped slave.
LANCE BARCLAY, an old beau of Christy's
  from Asheville.
GRANNY O'TEALE, a mountain woman.
SWANNIE O'TEALE, Granny's
  daughter-in-law. (Mother of Christy's
  students Mountie and Mary.)
AUNT POLLY TEAGUE, the oldest woman
  in the Cove.
FAIRLIGHT SPENCER, Christy's closest friend
  in the Cove. (Mother of Christy's students
  Clara and Zady.)
LETY COBURN, a mountain woman.
SCALAWAG, Creed Allen's pet raccoon.
VIOLET, a pet mouse belonging to Hannah
  Washington.
PRINCE, a black stallion donated to the
  mission.










          FAMILY SECRETS

                 One

  "This is without a doubt the messiest cabin I
have ever seen!" Christy Huddleston exclaimed.
  Doctor Neil MacNeill gave a
hearty laugh. "I'm a doctor, Christy, not
a housekeeper."
  "Look at this dust." Christy wrote her name
in the thick dust layering a cupboard full of
medical books. "It's a good thing you don't
perform surgery in this room."
  "Actually, I do, on occasion."
  Christy pointed to a stuffed deer head mounted on
the wall. "Those antlers are covered with spider
webs, Neil!"
  Doctor MacNeill crossed his arms over
his chest, hazel eyes sparkling. "I was under the
impression you were sent here by Miss Alice
to pick up some medical supplies. If I'd
known there was going to be a housekeeping inspection,
I would have prepared." Playfully, he tossed a
feather duster at Christy. "Since you're so
concerned, please feel free to take a whack at
the dust."
  "I can't stay that long. Besides, anyone who can
perform delicate surgery can surely figure out
how to operate a feather duster," Christy
replied, laughing. "Before heading back to the
mission, I thought I'd say hello to your new
neighbors. How are the Washingtons doing,
anyway?"
  "Just getting settled in." The doctor began
filling a small glass bottle with the dark,
bitter-smelling medicine he and Miss Alice
used to treat whooping cough. "They're in that
abandoned cabin, but it's going to need a lot of
repairs. Nice family. Four kids, three
school-age."
  "That'll bring my grand total up to seventy
students," Christy said. "Amazing. When I
decided to come here to Cutter Gap to teach, I
pictured perhaps twenty children in my schoolroom at
the most. But seventy! That's quite a handful."
  The doctor grinned. He was a big man, with
rugged, handsome features that looked like they'd been
chiseled out of rough stone. His curly, sandy-red
hair, always in need of a comb, gave him a boyish
look. "For most mere mortals, that many students
would be impossible," he said. "But for you,
my dear Miss Huddleston, nothing is
impossible."
  Christy reached for the next empty new bottle
and held it steady while the doctor filled it with
medicine. His hands were rough and stained, the mark of
long years caring for the desperately poor
residents of this Tennessee mountain cove. Although
Christy had lived here several months, her own
hands seemed fragile and soft by comparison. They
were the hands of a "city-gal," as the mountain people would
say.
  In some ways she still was that fresh-faced girl from
Asheville, North Carolina--frightened, but
full of big dreams. Her wide blue eyes and
delicate features made her look younger than
her nineteen years. She wore her sun-streaked
hair swept up to make herself look older, but
Christy knew it didn't fool anyone.
  The doctor put a stopper in each of the two
bottles he'd just filled. He gazed around the
cabin with a critical eye. "Maybe you're
right," he said. "This place could use a good
cleaning."
  It was a simple cabin, but well-furnished
by mountain standards. A bearskin rug lay on the
hearth. An old cherry clock ticked on the
mantel. A rack of antlers served as a coat
rack. A hunting rifle was propped against the
wall in the corner, and a pipe with an engraved
silver band rested in the pipe rack by a chair.
Framed, inscribed photos, most from the
doctor's years at medical school, peered out
from the dusty shelves.
  "Christy," the doctor said, "there's something
I've been meaning to tell you. Um, ask you.
It's about--" he cleared his throat, "well, about
a wedding, actually."
  Christy blinked in surprise. "A wedding?"
  "Yes, that's right. And a confession I have
to make."
  The doctor's fingers were trembling as he reached
for another empty bottle. It wasn't like him
to be so nervous, and it certainly wasn't like him
to blush!
  Christy gulped. She'd already been through one
proposal since coming to Cutter Gap. David
Grantland, the mission's young minister, had asked
for her hand in marriage not long ago. In the end,
despite her affection for David, Christy had
told him no. She'd explained that she
needed more time to be sure of her feelings. She
cared for David. But she also cared deeply for
Doctor MacNeill--perhaps more than she was
willing to admit, even to herself.
  "What do you mean, "confession"?" Christy
asked, not sure she was ready to hear the answer.
"What are you trying to say, Neil?"
  He took a deep breath. "Is it hot in
here?"
  "Not really."
  The doctor fanned his face with his hand. "It's
definitely hot. Why don't we go out on the
porch?"
  They settled into the old oak rockers on the
cabin porch. Tulip trees and giant beeches
formed a graceful canopy, shading out most of the
hot late afternoon sun. "It's so beautiful here,"
Christy said, thinking it might be a good idea
to change the subject.
  "Yes, it is," the doctor replied. "I was
born in this cabin, did you know that? So was my
grandfather, and his grandfather before him. Sometimes I think
these mountains are in my blood." He looked
over at Christy, a pained expression on his
face. "A man could do much worse. Couldn't
he?"
  "Neil," Christy said gently, "what is it
you're trying to tell me?"
  He rubbed his eyes. "It's silly, really.
Crazy, even."
  "Tell me."
  "Well, it's like this." He took a deep
breath. "I have an old friend by the name of James
Briley. We went to medical school together.
We were roommates, best friends--and competitors,
I suppose. James went on to establish a
thriving practice in Knoxville. He invited
me to join him, and I was sorely tempted. But
I felt an obligation to come back to Cutter
Gap and help the people here. There wasn't a
doctor within a hundred miles of this place. This
was where I was needed."
  "You did the right thing, Neil."
  "I suppose." The doctor shrugged. "The
thing is, it seems James is getting married,
and he's invited me to the wedding."
  "Oh!" Christy exclaimed. "So that's what
you meant!"
  "What did you think I meant?"
  "I thought ..." It was Christy's turn
to blush. "I mean, I know it's crazy, but I
thought you--"
  "You thought I was going to propose to you?" The
doctor threw back his head and laughed.
  "Well, it isn't that funny," Christy
protested.
  "Isn't one proposal a year enough for you?"
Doctor MacNeill asked, still chuckling.
  "You can stop laughing now."
  "I'm sorry. You'll understand why it's so
funny when I explain my predicament. It's
really quite amusing, actually. You see, James's
letters are always full of automobiles and exotic
trips and his beautiful house and his famous
patients. My letters--well, let's just say a
successful possum hunt can't quite measure up.
I know I shouldn't feel that way, but it's hard
..."
  "No, you shouldn't. You have a wonderful life
here in Cutter Gap."
  "Seems it's even better now. A few letters
ago, when I learned James was engaged, I
sort of let it slip that I'd become engaged
myself." The doctor forced a laugh. "You'll get
a good laugh out of this when I tell you ..."
  Christy tapped her foot on the wooden
porch. "Try me."
  "Well," the doctor said uncomfortably,
"I sort of casually mentioned to old James that
you and I were sort of ..."
  "Yes?"
  "Sort of engaged."

                 Two

  "You what?" Christy cried.
  "I know, I know." The doctor held up his
hands. "I can't believe I did it, either. But
if you knew James, Christy, you'd understand.
We were rivals over everything. We always came in
first and second on exams. One week it would be
James, the next week, me. We were even
rivals for the same girls."
  "Oh?" Christy asked with a cool smile.
"And who usually won that little competition?"
  The doctor jumped from his chair and began pacing
the length of the wooden porch. "I don't blame
you for being annoyed. It was stupid. Not like me at
all, actually." He paused. "I love
Cutter Gap. I chose to be here. I
didn't want the fancy practice and the other
fancy things."
  "Just the fancy wife," Christy said.
  He rolled his eyes. "It's not like that,
Christy. I was just ... spinning a little fantasy
on paper. I was going through a dark time awhile
back. I was having some doubts about my choice
to stay here. David had just proposed to you, and
maybe that put the idea in my head. I don't
know. Obviously, I never thought it would come
to anything."
  "And now it has?"
  The doctor pulled an envelope from the
pocket of his plaid hunting shirt. "Yes, in
the form of that wedding invitation. James insists on
meeting you. He can't wait to see you dance with the
waltz champion of Tennessee."
  "And that would be--"
  "Uh, me." Doctor MacNeill gave a
sheepish grin. "What can I say? I
exaggerated a little."
  "Is there anything else you exaggerated about?"
  "Well, your father is a wealthy industrialist.
Very well-off. And you speak four languages."
  "Only four?"
  "I didn't want to get carried away."
  Christy stared at the doctor in disbelief. This
was so unlike the down-to-earth, practical
Neil MacNeill she knew! She was torn
between teasing him, yelling at him, and feeling sorry
for him.
  "I also told James," he continued, "that you
were the most beautiful girl I'd ever set eyes
on. Not to mention the toughest and smartest."
  "More lies ..."
  "No," the doctor said softly. "All that was
the truth."
  Christy felt her cheeks burn.
  "Well, I appreciate your telling me this,
Neil. As long as you tell James the truth,
I suppose there's no harm done."
  "That's the thing, Christy," the doctor said, then
hesitated. "I was thinking maybe we could go."
  "Go? And pretend to be engaged and all the
rest?"
  "What could it hurt?"
  "Well, I can think of a few little problems with
your plan. First, I speak one language, not
four. Second, my father is not a wealthy
industrialist. Third, I'm not much of a
dancer--even if you are. And--oh yes. There's
that little matter of our imaginary engagement."
Christy folded her arms over her chest. "Besides,
it would be lying, Neil. And that would be wrong."
  "You wouldn't have to lie." The doctor winked.
"I'll present you as Miss Christy Rudd
Huddleston of Asheville, North Carolina."
  "Neil, you know very well that James will
presume the rest. What if he speaks to me in
Italian while we're waltzing?"
  "You just bat your eyes and smile. I'll say
you're very shy. Besides, your dance card will be full."
The doctor took her hand and gave an awkward
bow. "You'll be dancing with me all night. After
all, whom do you think I won my imaginary
waltz championship with, anyway?"
  "Let me guess--your imaginary
fianc@ee?"
  "How'd you guess? Actually, I did win a
local dance contest a few years back. So
I've only partially stretched the truth."
  Before she could object, the doctor pulled
Christy from her chair and swept her into his arms.
"May I have this dance, Miss Huddleston?"
  "Neil," Christy said, groaning, "I am not
going to go along with your plan--"
  "Just one dance."
  She allowed herself a small smile. "Well,
all right. I mean, oui, monsieur. Which,
incidentally, is the sum total of the French I
know."
  Humming an old mountain tune, Doctor
MacNeill swept Christy around the porch in
dizzying circles. "That's not exactly a
waltz, you know," she chided.
  "I know. But I'm better at this."
  "How is it you managed to win that imaginary
championship, I wonder?" Christy teased.
  "The judges were swept away by my partner's
beauty," the doctor replied.
  "Neil," Christy said as they whirled, "you have
to tell James the truth, you know."
  As suddenly as he'd swept her into his arms,
the doctor let go of Christy. He went to the
porch railing, staring out at the deep green
woods.
  "Tell James the truth? Tell him that I
have to beg for medical supplies from old
classmates? Tell him that I perform surgery
in the most primitive conditions
imaginable? Tell him that I spend my days
sewing up the wounds caused by ignorance and hate and
feuding?"
  Gently Christy touched his shoulder. "Neil,
what's wrong? Why all this self-doubt all of a
sudden?"
  "I don't know. Maybe it started when I
sold that parcel of land to the Washingtons. They're
good people, and I was happy to give them the chance
to make a home here. But when I signed over that
deed, I started wondering what's kept me
attached to this particular place so long."
  "You were born here. You have roots here."
  "You were born in North Carolina. And here you
are, far from home, because you wanted to help change
people's lives."
  "You've changed people's lives right here, too."
  "I wonder sometimes ..." He sighed
heavily. "I just wonder if my life has come
to anything. If what I've done here matters."
  "Of course it--" Christy stopped short.
She pointed toward the woods.
  Two small figures were approaching fast.
"That's Creed Allen," Christy said, waving,
"and Della May."
  Creed, who was nine, was holding his pet
raccoon Scalawag in his arms, wrapped in an
old shirt. His eight-year-old sister followed
close behind.
  "What a surprise," Christy said. "What
brings the two of you here?"
  "Hey, Miz Christy," Creed said softly.
  "Hey, Teacher," Della May said.
  "Is Scalawag all right?" Christy asked.
  "He's feelin' a mite poorly is all,"
Creed said. He glanced over his shoulder
nervously.
  "Well, I generally tend to humans, but if you
bring Scalawag on in, I'll have a look at
him," Doctor MacNeill said cheerfully.
  There was a noise in the woods. Della May
gulped. "We'd best be headin' inside," she
whispered to Creed.
  "Creed," Christy said, "is there something
worrying you?"
  But before the boy could respond, Christy
realized the answer.
  A man burst from the thick trees. He was
dressed in a worn black coat and was wearing a
battered hat. In his right hand was a
shotgun. The man was Bob Allen, the children's
father. He was the keeper of the mill by Blackberry
Creek.
  "What do you young'uns mean, comin' here?" Bob
cried. "I done told you not to go near this place
no more!"
  Christy had never seen Bob Allen so out of
control.
  "But Scalawag's sick, Pa," Creed
said. "I had to do something."
  "Bob?" Doctor MacNeill asked.
"What's wrong?"
  Bob strode up to the porch steps. A scowl
was fixed on his grizzled face. He looked
Doctor MacNeill in the eye and spat on the
ground.
  "I'll tell you what's wrong. What's
wrong is you sold your land to them what don't
belong here. Cutter Gap's a place for white
folks, and white folks only. Now, I was
goin' huntin' for squirrel, but these bullets will
work just as well on a low-down skunk like you."
  Slowly, his hand trembling, Bob raised his
shotgun and aimed it straight at Doctor
MacNeill.
  "Bob," Christy whispered in horror,
"please don't--"
  "What the doc done was plain wrong, Miz
Christy," Bob muttered.
  He cocked the gun. Christy jumped at the
awful sound.
  "And now," Bob said, "he's a-goin' to pay
for it."

                Three

  "No, Pa, no!" Creed cried.
  Della May yanked on her father's arm, but
Bob brushed her aside. He jerked his gun at
the doctor. "You got no right mixin' up the
races thataway."
  "The Washingtons paid me for that land, fair and
square, Bob," the doctor said. "They have as much
right to be here as you and I do."
  "My family and yours, we've been
neighbors long as memory serves. My
granny and yours were friends, Doc. Now you've done
gone and put them people in amongst us. It ain't fair
and it ain't right, and it's a-goin' to cause more
trouble than you ever saw in all your born
days."
  "It was my land to sell," the doctor said
firmly. "The Washingtons came to me and made
a fair offer, and I accepted it."
  Again Bob spat on the ground. The hate in his
eyes made Christy shiver. She glanced at
Creed and Della May. They seemed frozen in
place, as frightened by their father's wrath as she was.
  "My kin ain't never had nothin' to do with their
kind. Never have. Never will."
  "What kind is that?" Christy asked
pointedly.
  "You blind, woman? Take a look at the
color o' their skin!"
  "If they're good neighbors, Bob,"
Christy said, "does it really matter if they're
black or brown or blue or purple?"
  "It matters. It matters something awful. You
oughta see Granny Allen. She's got herself
all into a tizzy about this. Can't eat, can't
sleep a wink for fear o' what could happen.
I'm here today to stand up for her rights. And for all my
kin."
  "Bob, I understand you're upset," Doctor
MacNeill said. "Why don't you put down that
gun and come on inside? If we talk about this--"
  "Too late for talkin'." Bob paused,
closing his eyes for a split second. When he
opened them, he seemed confused. Then his gaze
seemed to clear.
  "Pa?" Creed whispered. "You all right?"
  "I'll be right as rain when the doc here tells
me he's a-goin' to kick them squatters off'n
his land."
  "They aren't squatters, Bob," Doctor
MacNeill said. "They bought that land. It's
theirs."
  Slowly, Bob climbed the porch steps. He
jabbed the end of his shotgun hard against the
doctor's chest. "I can't let this happen,"
Bob said, almost pleading. "Your kin go back as
far as mine, Doc. You got blood in this soil,
same as me." He looked into the doctor's
eyes, his face full of pain. "Don't make
me do this. I don't want to shoot you."
  Doctor MacNeill stood perfectly still,
the picture of calm. Christy couldn't believe
his composure. She was trembling like a leaf.
  "You do what you have to do, Bob," the doctor
said. "But the Washingtons are staying."
  Bob took a deep breath. Again he closed
his eyes, swaying slightly. Della May
sobbed softly.
  Christy watched Bob's finger on the trigger
begin to move, slowly, slowly--
  "No!" she cried. She locked her hand on the
cold steel muzzle. "Doctor MacNeill
saved your life, Bob. I was there that day he
operated on you in the Spencers' cabin. You would have
died without him, Bob. How can you do this?"
  Bob's mouth moved, but he didn't speak.
He slowly released the trigger. His eyelids
dropped. His face went slack. Suddenly the
shotgun slipped from his grasp. A moment later,
Bob slumped to the porch.
  "Pa!" Della May cried, rushing up the
steps.
  Doctor MacNeill knelt down. "He's
passed out. Give me a hand, Christy. We'll
take him into the cabin."
  With his arms around Bob's chest, the doctor
lifted him off the porch. Christy took Bob's
feet. They carried him to the doctor's bedroom
and placed him on the bed. Creed and Della
May stood at the end of the bed, watching
solemnly.
  "He's been havin' these spells some
lately," Creed said. "Ever since that tree
done hit him on the head and you operated on him."
  "Why didn't he come see me?" the doctor
asked irritably as he reached for his medical
bag.
  "He was afeared he couldn't pay--" Della
May began, but Creed sent her a warning look.
  "Hush, Della May," he snapped.
  Della May shot him a defiant look.
"Teacher," she asked, "is Pa going to be
okay?"
  "If anyone can help your father, Doctor
MacNeill can," Christy said.
  She stroked the little girl's hair. Della
May was a dainty, fairylike child, with shimmering
red-blond hair. Like her brother, she had a
sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her
nose. Creed, who had a mischievous streak,
had always reminded Christy of Tom Sawyer.
Della May was much quieter, but she had more than
a little of her brother's stubbornness.
  "He's coming to," the doctor said.
  Bob's lids fluttered. He sat
up on his elbows, frowning. "What in tarnation am
I doin' here?"
  "You passed out," Doctor MacNeill said,
"and I gather this isn't the first time, either."
  Bob shrugged. "I get my spells now and
again. 'Tain't nothin'."
  "It may be a result of your accident. Some
lingering brain damage. If that's the case, I'm
not sure there's much I can do for you, Bob. In a
bigger city, with better facilities ..."
  Pushing the doctor aside, Bob climbed
to his feet. "One thing and one thing only you can do
for me. Get rid o' them Washingtons. If you
don't do it, someone else will."
  Doctor MacNeill locked his hand on
Bob's shoulder. "Let me make one thing
clear. Leave the Washingtons alone, or you'll
have me to contend with. Understand?"
  "Ain't just me who wants 'em gone. Everyone
in Cutter Gap feels the same as I do."
  "Not everyone," Christy said.
  Bob looked at her with contempt. "You'll be
sorry for this, the both of you. Come on, Creed,
Della May."
  Christy and the doctor followed the Allens
onto the porch, where Bob retrieved his gun.
  "Did you want me to take a look at
Scalawag, Creed?" Doctor MacNeill
asked.
  "Creed!" Bob snapped. "Come on, boy!"
  Creed stroked the raccoon's head. "He'll
be all right, I reckon, Doctor
MacNeill. He's just goin' through a bad
spell. It'll pass."
  Christy watched Creed and Della May
race after their father. "Just a bad spell," she
repeated. "I wish we could say the same for
Creed's father."

                 Four

  "You really don't have to come with me," Christy
said as she and the doctor made their way along the
path toward the Washingtons' property a short
time later. "I'm sure Bob went straight
home."
  "Maybe," the doctor said darkly, "but you can
be equally sure that's not the end of things. He's
going to make trouble. And if he doesn't, someone
else will."
  "The look on his face ..." Christy
shuddered. "Where do people learn that kind of hate? These
mountains are so beautiful, it's hard to understand that
kind of hate here."
  Doctor MacNeill held back a
low-hanging oak branch so Christy could pass.
"You've been in these mountains long enough to know the
answer to that, Christy. They learn it from their
families and their friends. Look at the feuds still
burning in these hills. It's the same with
prejudice like Bob's. It festers, like an old
wound. Hate can grow in anyone's heart."
  "Unless God is allowed to remove it,"
Christy added.
  Up ahead, a sunny clearing came into view.
In the center was a small, rundown cabin. The
musical voices of children floated on the
breeze. Two spotted hound dogs ran
to greet Christy and the doctor, yelping
happily.
  "Pa!" a young girl in blue overalls
cried. "Someone's comin'!"
  A tall, thin man ran out from behind the house.
In his hands was a shotgun.
  "It's Neil MacNeill, Curtis!" the
doctor called.
  Instantly the man lowered his gun and broke
into a smile. "Doctor! Thank goodness it's you.
Good to see you again." He ran down the path and
shook the doctor's hand.
  "This is Miss Christy Huddleston,
Curtis," Doctor MacNeill said.
"She's the teacher over at the mission school."
  "Please, you must excuse my manners, Miz
Huddleston," Curtis apologized. "The
gun, I mean. We're feelin' a little, well
... nervous today."
  "Problems?" the doctor asked.
  "You tell me. Come on, I'll show you."
  Curtis led them toward the house. "Children!" he
called. "Come meet your new teacher. Margaret,
we got ourselves some company!"
  A pretty woman wearing a white apron
emerged from the cabin. She smiled shyly.
  "This is my wife, Margaret," Curtis
said. "Margaret, you remember Doctor
MacNeill. And this here's Miz Christy
Huddleston, the mission teacher."
  "It's an honor to have you visitin',"
Margaret said. "I'm afraid we're just
gettin' settled in. I wish I'd known you were
comin'. I could have fixed up some o' my
cornbread for you and the doctor."
  "Don't be silly," Christy said. "We just
wanted to say hello and meet the children."
  Three barefoot children gathered in front of
Christy with nervous smiles. "This here's
Louise," Curtis said. "She's fifteen.
John is ten. And Hannah just turned eight
last week."
  "Etta's in the cradle inside," Margaret
added.
  "And this here's Violet," Hannah said,
pulling a small brown field mouse from her
pocket. "I rescued her from an owl. She lost
one foot, but I fixed her up good as new."
  "Hannah's got a way with animals,"
Margaret said.
  "All the children's been to school some," Curtis
added proudly. "Louise could practically read
better 'n her own teacher."
  "Wonderful!" Christy exclaimed. "Most
of the children at the mission school haven't had much
schooling. There are so many of them that I often ask
the better students to help out. It'll be
wonderful to have you there, Louise."
  "Do you have a library?" Louise asked
hopefully.
  "Unfortunately, no. Our school just
manages to scrape by on donations. But we do the
best we can." Christy smiled. "And if you want
more practice reading, we have a Bible reading every
week at the mission. Maybe you and your mother would like
to come."
  "We'd be right honored," Margaret said.
  Just then, a branch snapped in the woods.
Curtis spun around, gun raised, searching the
trees.
  "It's nothin', Curtis," Margaret said
gently. She sighed. "He'll put himself in an
early grave, fussin' and worryin' himself this
way."
  "Curtis," the doctor asked, "what was it you
were going to show me?"
  "I was fixin' to bury it when you all showed
up," Curtis replied. "Follow me."
  He led them to the back of the house and pointed.
On the ground near a half-dug hole lay a
dead skunk. Its stomach had been slit open.
White maggots squirmed over the gaping
wound. The stench was horrendous.
  "That," Curtis said, "was waitin' for us on
our porch this mornin'. Nice welcomin'
present, don't you think?"
  "Poor ol' skunk," muttered Hannah.
  "Poor ol' us, you mean," said John. "That
skunk's a warnin'. It's sayin' "get
lost."" He crossed his arms over his chest.
"Told you we shoulda stayed put. At least back
home we knowed who our enemies was."
  Margaret patted John's head. "Your pa
wanted to get 'way from the city, John. Try his
hand at farmin'."
  "There's better farm land all over the place.
It's too hilly here."
  "Come on, everyone." Curtis gestured toward
the front yard. "I'll take care of this
later."
  "Where did you move here from, Curtis?"
Christy asked as they settled on the front
porch of the cabin.
  "Virginia. Fredericksburg, to be exact.
Nice enough place, but it had its share of skunks,
too, if'n you know what I mean."
  "And what brought you to Cutter Gap, if you
don't mind my asking?"
  "Long story," Curtis said, smiling.
  "My great-grandpa's why," Hannah
volunteered. "Tell her, Pa."
  "My grandpa, William, passed through these
parts a long, long time ago," Curtis said.
"Five years before the Civil War, in fact.
He was a slave who escaped from a plantation in
Alabama. Made it all the way
to Philadelphia, safe and sound, with some help.
He always had a kind word to say about some folks in
Cutter Gap, Tennessee--how they took him in
and did right by him. How the mountains made you feel
like the Lord was your next-door neighbor." He
paused, staring off at the green peaks capped
by golden sunlight. "So when we was lookin'
to move on, this place came into my head. It was
like my grandpa was tellin' me where to go."
  "And once Curtis gets an idea in his
head, you watch out!" Margaret said, laughing.
  "I wanted to get away from the city, find me
some land. And I liked the idea of bein' so
plumb high that heaven's just that much closer, if'n
I needed to do some talkin'." He laughed.
"Anyways, a friend of mine knew a man
who traveled to El Pano regular. And that man
knew Ben Pentland, the mailman."
  "And Ben knew I'd been thinking of selling
part of my land to help buy some more medical
supplies," the doctor finished.
  "Well, we're awfully glad to have you here,"
Christy said.
  John kicked at a rock angrily. "You be
the only ones."
  "John," Margaret said, "don't you be rude
to your new teacher."
  "I'm afraid John's right to be on
guard," the doctor said. "I just talked to Bob
Allen, your neighbor on the west side. He
runs the little mill on Blackberry Creek."
Doctor MacNeill gave a grim smile.
"Let's just say this is going to take Bob some
time to get used to."
  "Should we be ... worried, Doctor?"
Margaret asked.
  "I don't know, to be honest. Most of the people here
are good, Margaret. But they take a long time
to warm up to strangers, and they don't take
kindly to new ideas. I'd be careful for a while.
If you ever need anything, you know where to find me."
  "And we'll always be there for you at the mission,"
Christy added.
  "That's a start, anyway," Curtis said.
  "Well, we should get going," Christy said.
"I hope to see you children in school soon!"
  "Thank you both for stoppin' by," Curtis
said. "We'll have you over proper-like as soon as
we get ourselves settled."
  Christy and the doctor had just started down the path
when they heard someone running after them.
  "Miz Teacher?"
  Christy turned to see Hannah rushing toward
them. "What is it, Hannah?"
  "I was wonderin' ..." The little girl smiled
shyly. She had huge, dark eyes fringed by long
lashes. "I was wonderin' if'n you have any
eight-year-olds at your school."
  "Why, we have lots!" Christy exclaimed.
  "Girls?"
  "Plenty of girls."
  "You s'pose ..."
  "Do I suppose what?"
  "You s'pose you got any eight-year-old
girls who'd be needin' a friend?" Hannah asked
casually.
  "I'm sure we'll find one for you," Christy
said gently.
  Hannah grinned. "I was hopin' so!"
  Christy looked at Doctor MacNeill as
Hannah ran off. "I just hope I'm right."
  "So do I," the doctor said, shaking his head.

                Five

  That evening, Christy joined Alice Henderson
in the mission house parlor for a cup of tea.
  "You seem troubled, Christy," Miss
Alice said.
  "I can't seem to stop thinking about the
Washingtons," Christy said. "I'm so worried
the people here won't accept them."
  She looked at Miss Alice hopefully.
Alice Henderson was a Quaker mission worker
who'd helped to found the school. She was a
lovely, dignified woman, generous, thoughtful,
and strong. Many times since coming here, Christy had
turned to Miss Alice for help in understanding the people
of Cutter Gap. She always seemed to have an
answer, and her answers always carried a message
of hope. She was known throughout the mountain
communities and highly respected by all.
  But tonight Miss Alice's deep gray eyes
were troubled. "I wish I could tell you that these people will
come to accept the Washingtons. I wish I could
tell you that when they read in their Bibles "Thou
shalt love thy neighbor as thyself," they will
take those words into their hearts and act on them."
She sipped at her tea. "But I don't know
if that will happen, Christy. It may take
years. It may even take lifetimes."
  "I'm worried about the children at school. They can
be so cruel sometimes. And some of the older boys, like
Lundy ... they can be downright dangerous."
  Miss Alice nodded. "I've heard some
talk about parents who plan to keep their children out of
school if the Washingtons come."
  "I suppose all we can do is try to help
the children see that we're all really the same on the
inside. In time, maybe they'll come to understand that."
  "I hope we can say the same of their
parents," said Miss Alice. "Sometimes it's
easier for children to see the truth of things." She
reached for the teapot. "More tea?"
  "No, thanks. I should be getting to bed before
long."
  "You've had a long day. Thank you for picking
up that medicine from Doctor MacNeill."
  "I didn't mind."
  "No," Miss Alice said with a knowing smile,
"I don't suppose you did."
  Christy went to the window. The stars glimmered
over the dark trees like a thousand fireflies.
  "Miss Alice?" Christy said. "What would
you say if somebody wanted you to pretend to be
something you're not?"
  Miss Alice gazed at Christy thoughtfully.
"Would that somebody be a certain physician who
shall, for our purposes, remain nameless?"
  Christy grinned. "Am I that transparent?"
  "As glass."
  "Neil told one of his old school chums that
he and I are engaged. Now that friend is getting
married, and Neil wants me to go to the wedding."
  "As his fianc@ee?"
  "As his rich fianc@ee who speaks four
languages when she isn't busy winning waltz
championships with him."
  Miss Alice laughed. She had a glorious
laugh, like bells ringing, that always made Christy
feel better about life. Instantly, Christy
found herself laughing, too, so hard it brought tears
to her eyes.
  "It is ..." Christy gasped, "it is
pretty ridiculous, when you think about it, isn't
it?"
  "Neil MacNeill!" Miss Alice said,
chuckling. "The most down-to-earth, no-nonsense
man I've ever met, caught up in a story that
silly? Yes, I'd say it's quite
ridiculous."
  Christy wiped her eyes. "I told him I
simply couldn't lie like that. What else could I
have said?"
  Still smiling, Miss Alice considered for a
moment. "Don't worry, Christy. Neil is
a reasonable man. If I know him as well as
I think I do, he'll come to his senses and see
the error of his ways."
  "I think he was feeling a little jealous of his
friend. James has all the things Neil has had
to sacrifice--money, a thriving practice, a
nice home."
  "That's understandable. Jealousy is a perfectly
human emotion. However, this little deception of
Neil's is ... well, it's going a
bit too far."
  "I'll tell him I'll go to the wedding, but
only on the condition that he tell the truth,"
Christy said.
  "It's certainly easier than learning three
new languages overnight," Miss Alice
said with a grin.
  David appeared in the doorway. "What on
earth are you two giggling about?"
  "Men," Christy replied.
  David raised his brows. "Oh? Anyone I
know?"
  "Actually," said Miss Alice, "he
doesn't sound a bit like anyone we know. But
we're hoping that will change."
               * * *
  Up in her bedroom, Christy climbed under her
blanket with a sigh. She graded papers for a
while. Then she pulled out her diary from her
nightstand. She wanted to jot down the day's
events before she drifted off to sleep:

  I confronted two problems today. One, I
think I can handle. Doctor MacNeill
seems to be going through some doubts about his life
here, but I'm sure he'll come to see how much he
belongs in Cutter Gap. He has to. If
he were to leave, the Cove would suffer terribly
without a doctor. And I have to admit that I would
suffer, too.
  The other problem is very different. A new
family has moved here, and it's already clear they
aren't going to get a warm reception. Somehow, I
have to find a way to help the Washingtons. Miss
Alice says it will take time for them to be
accepted, maybe years. But I'm determined
to find a way to help them put down roots here.
If I keep my eyes and my heart open,
perhaps, God willing, I'll see the way.

                 Six

  Della May settled into her desk at
school the next morning, carefully sneaking a
peek at her brother Creed. He winked at
her, then put a finger to his lips. She knew
he'd hidden Scalawag in his desk. She also
knew that if Miz Christy found out, she'd be
mad as a skinned snake.
  On Miz Christy's very first day of
teaching, Creed had brought Scalawag to school.
She'd made Creed promise not to bring the
raccoon again, and Creed had kept his promise
until today. It wasn't like Creed had a
choice. Scalawag had been acting plumb
strange, moping and refusing to eat. He usually
followed Creed around like a hound dog, but
lately, he'd taken to slipping out of the Allens'
cabin at night, heading off to who knows where.
  This morning, when Scalawag wouldn't even eat
the fresh possum meat Creed had saved for him,
Creed had decided the only thing to do was take the
raccoon along to school, hidden in a burlap
sack.
  There were six Allen children altogether, but Della
May was the only one Creed had told about
Scalawag. He knew he could trust her. They
were almost like best friends, although Della May sometimes
wished she had a real best friend. Brothers
didn't really count. She always had Wanda Beck
and Mary O'Teale, but neither of them liked to read
the way Della May did, or just sit
quietly in the woods and watch the animals and
birds come and go.
  Della May loved Creed, but sometimes he
could be a bit of a troublemaker. She spent an
awful lot of time pulling him out of one scrape
or another. And she had a feeling today was going
to be one of those days.
  If Miz Christy found out about Scalawag,
she'd be hopping mad. She might even tell their
pa, and he'd been mad enough all on his own
lately, fretting about the new folks down the
road. Della May shuddered a little, just
remembering how dark and mean his eyes had been
yesterday.
  Truth was, a lot of pas and mas were
fretting lately. Many of Della May's
schoolmates were missing today, on account of they
heard the Washingtons were coming to school. Her own
pa had wanted to keep the children home, but Creed and
Della May had begged and pleaded until he'd
covered his ears and said "Be off with you, then," in a
growly voice.
  Suddenly a hush fell over the room. Creed
nudged her with his elbow.
  In the doorway stood Miz Christy, the
preacher, and a woman Della May had never seen
before. She was wearing a blue dress like Della
May's ma wore sometimes, tattered at
the edges, but clean. She had a smile like
Della May's ma, too, the shy kind. But her
skin was nothing like Della May had ever seen before.
It was a warm brown acorn color.
  "Her skin ..." Della May whispered
to Creed, "it's so purty."
  Creed sent her a hush-your-mouth look, and
Della May realized she must have said something very
wrong.
  The ma stepped aside and some children came into the
room. There were three of them, a girl and a boy,
both older than Della May, and another
girl, who looked to be just about eight. The older
children had a proud look in their eyes, but the youngest
girl just looked scared and hoping all at once.
  She met Della May's eyes. Della
May started to smile, then stopped herself. She
knew for a fact that would be wrong. Her pa had
taught her that much.
  "Pheww!" Lundy Taylor cried.
"Somethin's stinkin' awful! Lordamercy, what is
that smell?"
  Some of the children giggled. Miz Christy's face
turned hard as stone. The little girl moved closer
to her ma. Della May wondered if the girl was
going to cry.
  "That will be enough, Lundy," the preacher
scolded. Della May had never heard him sound
so angry. "Quite enough."
  "Children," Christy said, "I'm very pleased
to introduce you to some new students who'll be
joining us today. The Washingtons have just moved to a
place between Doctor MacNeill's cabin and the
Allens'. This is Louise, who's fifteen.
John is ten. And Hannah is eight."
  "They don't belong in this school," one of the
older boys muttered. "They's too stupid.
Their kind got the brains of a half-wit
rabbit."
  "Who said that?" Christy demanded.
  Nobody spoke. Della May sneaked a
glance at the girl named Hannah. No, she
wasn't crying. But she looked right scared.
Della May wondered how it would feel if
Lundy and the older boys were saying those things about
her. They'd made fun of her sometimes, the way
they did all the younger children. That was bad enough. But
this talk had a meanness to it, sharp as a knife.
  Della May knew that if she was Hannah,
she'd probably be crying buckets
by now. But maybe these people were different. Maybe they
didn't have the same kind of feelings as white
folks.
  "I want to make one thing clear from the start."
Christy went to the front of the schoolroom. "That
kind of thing will not be tolerated in this room under any
circumstances. The next person who speaks that
way will be sent home from school for a week. And
if it happens again, that person will be expelled."
  "Teacher?" Della May's brother, Little
Burl, raised his hand. "What's
His'spelled"?"
  "Expelled. It means you can't ever come back
to school again, Little Burl."
  The preacher walked over to the big boys in the
back of the room. He had a dark look on his
face, worse even than when he was preachin' up
a storm on Sunday mornings. He talked to the
boys in a low voice. Della May couldn't
hear the words. But she could sure tell he meant
business.
  Her pa had said it would be this way. The mission
people siding with the Washingtons. Acting like they belonged
here same as decent white folks. He'd said
Miz Christy and Miz Alice and the preacher would
be full of tales, just like Doctor
MacNeill, but that the children shouldn't believe a word
they said.
  Christy searched the room. "We need to get you
children settled," she said.
  Della May sank lower in her seat. There was
an empty desk right next to her.
  "Louise and John, there's a bench on the
left side available. And Hannah, why
don't you take that desk next to Della May,
right over there."
  Some of the children snickered. A few moved their
desks.
  Della May looked around helplessly. There
was nowhere for her to move. She was trapped.
  "You'll be all right," Creed advised. "Just
pretend she ain't there."
  While Christy said goodbye to the preacher and
Mrs. Washington, the girl named Hannah
slowly approached the empty desk beside Della
May.
  "You be Della May?" she asked in a soft
voice.
  Della May gave a nod, staring straight
ahead.
  "Then I guess this is where I'm supposed
to be sittin'."
  Della May tried to pretend she wasn't
there, just like Creed had suggested. But it was awfully
hard to pretend a living, breathing person was
invisible.
  "Maybe you and I could be friends," Hannah
said. And then something deep inside told Della
May it was going to be impossible to pretend that
Hannah Washington wasn't there.

                Seven

  Hannah slipped into the desk. Della May
sneaked a peek at her. Hannah had the same
pretty brown skin as her ma. Her hair was
caught up in two pigtails, tied with red
ribbons. It was sparkly and dark and springy.
Magical hair.
  "Want to see my pet mouse?" Hannah
asked in a soft whisper-voice.
  Della May shook her head no. She could
feel the eyes of the other students on her.
  "Maybe later," Hannah said.
  Della May ignored her. Behind her, she
heard the sound of desks and benches scraping.
  Della May looked at Creed. He
shrugged. There was nowhere for him to shove his desk.
  He opened the lid a crack. Scalawag's
wet black nose poked out. Quickly Creed
closed the desk, but not before Hannah noticed
Scalawag.
  "You got somethin' in there?" she asked Creed.
"Can I see?"
  Creed shook his head no.
  Christy went to the blackboard. "We're going
to start the day with a discussion of your arithmetic
papers." A few students groaned. "Which, I
am sorry to say, were not very impressive.
Let's start with a review of addition."
  She picked up a piece of chalk. It
squeaked as she wrote numbers in a long
column on the board.
  "Creed Allen?" Christy called. "Why
don't you come up here and help me with this problem?"
  "I don't rightly like sums, factually
speakin'," Creed said.
  "That's exactly why I asked you," Christy
said with a grin.
  Creed looked over at Della
May, worry in his bright blue eyes. He
pointed to his desk. Della May nodded.
  "The rest of you," Christy said, "work the problem
at your desks."
  Creed went to the board. He scratched his
head, then took the chalk and went to work. Christy
watched, her back to the class.
  Della May reached for her little, cracked
blackboard. The class fell quiet as the
students worked, heads bowed, on the problem.
  Suddenly, Della May felt a hand touch
her shoulder. She jumped when she realized it was
Hannah. How dare that girl touch her! She
started to protest, but Hannah pointed her finger
at Creed's desk.
  The lid was opening! Scalawag poked out his
head and blinked.
  Della May tried to push him back, but he
was in no mood to take orders. In a flash, he
slipped out of the desk and leapt straight into her
lap. Frantically, she held the struggling
raccoon in her arms.
  She had to get rid of him, and fast! But where was
she going to put him? The lid on her own desk was
broken.
  She glanced around the room. Everyone was working.
Miz Christy's back was still to the class.
  "You're on the right track, Creed," Christy
said. "Keep at it."
  With one arm clutching Scalawag, Della
May reached over to open the lid on Creed's
desk. Scalawag squirmed out of her arms,
straight into Hannah's lap.
  Della May gasped. Now Miz Christy was
sure to find out!
  "Almost, Creed," Miz Christy was saying.
"Can anyone tell me where he made his
mistake?"
  Scalawag was sitting quietly in
Hannah's arms. She stroked him behind the ears,
whispering something. Then she slipped him into her
desk, easy as pie, just as Miz Christy
turned around.
  Hannah grinned at Della May, a big,
I've-got-a-secret grin. She raised her
hand.
  She's going to tell, Della May thought,
her heart galloping inside her like a frightened
colt.
  "I think Creed forgot to carry the
one," Hannah said, calm and cool as could be.
"So the seven should be an eight."
  "Very good, Hannah," Christy said.
  Della May stared at Hannah, her jaw
dropped in disbelief. Hannah gave her a little
wink.
  "You can sneak him back later," Hannah
whispered.
  Della May didn't answer. For the life of
her, she didn't know what to say.
               * * *
  When it came time for the noon dinner spell,
Creed and Della May and Hannah waited
until everyone else had left the schoolroom.
  As soon as it was safe, Hannah opened her
desk and lifted Scalawag into her arms.
"He's a fine pet," she said, stroking the
raccoon's head. Scalawag made a soft
purring noise.
  "Give him," Creed snapped. "He ain't
yours."
  "Creed," Della May said, "like I told
you, she hid him for me. Miz Christy woulda seen
him for sure if'n Hannah hadn't ..." Her
voice trailed off.
  "Here you go," Hannah said, carefully placing
Scalawag into Creed's arms. "Does it have a
name?"
  Creed shrugged. "Scalawag's his name. But
don't you be tellin' anyone 'bout him, hear?"
  "He's awful quiet," Hannah said.
  "He's been feelin' poorly," Della
May said, scratching the raccoon's ears. She
realized with a start that she was talking to Hannah, just
like she was a regular person.
  Suddenly Scalawag struggled out of Creed's
grasp. The little raccoon scampered over the
desktops. He stopped by an open window,
sniffed the air, then bounded outside.
  "Scalawag!" Creed cried. "Come back!"
  The three children dashed down the front steps of the
school to the side yard. Scalawag was nowhere
to be seen.
  "He coulda gone anywheres," Creed moaned.
"I'll never find him now."
  "Raccoons are right smart about things. He'll
come back, I'll bet you," Hannah said as she
searched under some bushes.
  "Ain't like him to run away," Creed said.
"He just ain't been hisself lately."
  Della May patted her brother's back.
She could tell he was about to cry. "Don't fret
yourself," she said. "Scalawag's your best friend.
He'll come back. He probably just didn't
like all that 'rithmetic, is all."
  Creed frowned at Hannah. "Didn't like
somethin', that's for sure and certain."
  Della May watched her brother stomp off.
It wasn't fair, exactly, blaming
Hannah. She'd done her best to hide old
Scalawag, after all. And Creed had been the
one holding him when he'd run off.
  She looked at Hannah uncertainly. "It
weren't your fault," she said at last.
  Hannah smiled a little. "I know. He was just
bein' ornery. Got me a brother just like him.
Feisty as a stepped-on bee sometimes."
  Della May tried not to smile back, but she
couldn't help it.
  "Creed's all right. Most of the time."
  "My brother John is all right most of the
time, too. It's those other times that'll try your
patience."
  Quiet fell between them. Della May felt
all twisted up and funny inside. She could almost
hear her pa yellin' over her shoulder about how she
shouldn't be talking to Hannah. But she sure
seemed nice enough.
  Maybe she'd just keep up her guard, to be
on the safe side. See how things went.
Granny Allen had a Bible quote she was always
saying--"By their fruits ye shall know them."
  Della May figured that meant she should give
Hannah a chance. Judge her by the way she
acted, not just by what others say, or the color of
her skin.
  In the meantime, she wouldn't say anything to her
pa. No point in getting him angry and all
riled up.

                Eight

  That afternoon, Christy rode over to Doctor
MacNeill's cabin on Prince, the mission's
black stallion.
  The doctor was on his porch when Christy rode
up. "So," he asked, "did the Washington children
come to school today?"
  Christy gave a terse nod.
  "I'm almost afraid to ask how it
went."
  She climbed off Prince and tied him to a
tree. "Let me put it this way. It was a long
day. Longer still for those poor children."
  "I'm sorry to say I'm not surprised."
  "The older boys threatened them all day. Even
when they didn't use their voices, I could see
it in their eyes. And the younger children--well, they just
acted as if Louise and John and Hannah were
invisible."
  "Give them time. They may come around."
  "That's what Miss Alice said. But I'm
starting to have my doubts."
  "Come on in and sit awhile. You look worn
out. What brings you here, anyway? Not that it
matters. I'm always glad to see you."
  Christy climbed the porch steps. "Well,
Miss Alice asked me to pick up some more cough
medicine. She's afraid two bottles won't
be enough." She leaned against the door jamb,
smiling. "That could have waited, I suppose. The
other reason I'm here is to tell you I've
decided to accept your kind offer to attend the
wedding."
  Doctor MacNeill brushed his hand through his
hair. He gazed at her doubtfully. "Are you
saying you'll go along with my little plan?"
  "No. I'm saying I'll go if you'll
agree to tell James the whole truth."
  The doctor sighed. "You drive a hard
bargain, Miss Huddleston."
  "You'd have to tell him the truth eventually,
Neil."
  "I know. I know. You're right. I suppose
this rivalry seems small-minded to you. Didn't
you ever compete with a friend?"
  "Mary Ellen Lanning." Christy settled
into the doctor's old rocking chair. "She stole
Gus Ricketts from me."
  "Your first love?" the doctor asked.
  "You might say so. I was all of twelve
years old. But I was still heartbroken."
  The doctor pulled up a chair beside her.
"Imagine the jealousy you felt toward Mary
Ellen Lanning, and multiply it by a thousand."
He shook his head. "I know I shouldn't feel this
way. I made my choice to live here. I ought
to be happy with it. And I realize it's wrong
to envy what James has. But still ... don't you
ever look at those seventy youngsters in your
class and wonder if you'd be happier somewhere
else? If you're really making a difference in their
lives?"
  Christy stared out the window. Two mockingbirds
were making a ruckus as they chased each other through the
sky. "Of course I feel frustrated,
Neil. Especially on days like today, when I
can't see any way to get through to those children. But there
are good days, too--days when there is laughter and
singing, instead of arguing and fighting. I try
to concentrate on those."
  "But the fighting doesn't ever really stop, that's
the point. I patch up a man's wound so he can
go right back to feuding. I sell land to some good people,
hoping they'll be able to put down roots. And
to what end? So they can be persecuted till they're
forced to leave?" He rubbed his eyes.
  Christy's heart ached at the pain in Neil's
voice. She'd felt the same way many times,
especially after she'd first come to Cutter Gap
to teach. But it was harder to see someone she cared about
suffer through the same despair and doubt.
  She squeezed his hand. "Believe me,
Neil. God brought you back to Cutter Gap
for a reason."
  "I wish I had your faith." He shrugged,
forcing a smile. "But enough of this. We have some
practicing to do."
  "Practicing?"
  "Even waltz champions need a little
practice now and then."
  "You know, I seem to remember that on our
recent trip to Asheville, you weren't nearly so
enthusiastic about dancing."
  "That dance at the Barclays'?" The doctor
groaned. "You were too busy dancing with your old
beau, Lance, as I recall. The reverend and I
stood in the corner all night like a couple of
wallflowers. But I danced with you at the mission
open house."
  "That's true. I regained the use of my
toes after a few weeks."
  "Actually, you said I was a wonderful dancer.
And remember that night we danced alone by the
fire, after you rescued Ruby Mae
Morrison?"
  "Yes," Christy said softly. "That I will
never forget."
  "No broken toes?"
  "None whatsoever."
  The doctor stood and held out his hand. "I
won't forget it, either," he said.
  Christy gave a little curtsy. "I'll only
dance if you promise to hum a real waltz."
  "Strauss, then. Just for you."
  Taking Christy's hand, the doctor led her out
to the front yard. Slowly they spun around the
grass in graceful circles while the doctor
softly hummed.
  It was so pleasant. Christy tried to forget about
all the troubles that day. She tried to focus on the
doctor's low, soft voice. The sun, warm on
her shoulders. The wind, making the trees whisper
secrets. The air, heavy with the smell of
honeysuckle.
  But every time she closed her eyes, she saw the
frightened but determined faces of the Washington children.
And the ugly faces of hatred on too many of her
other students.
  Suddenly the pleasant calm was interrupted by the
sharp sound of gunshots.
  One. Two. Three. Four.
  Christy stopped cold. "It's coming from the
direction of the Washingtons'!"
  "Get Prince. I'll grab my gun."
  Christy untied Prince's reins. The
doctor bounded from his cabin. In one hand was his
gun. In the other was his medical bag. He
strapped the gun and his bag behind Prince's
saddle, then leapt onto the stallion.
  He took Christy's hand and lifted her up.
"Hang on," he instructed as she settled behind
him.
  She wrapped her arms around his chest. They
headed down the path toward the Washingtons' as fast
as possible, dodging low tree limbs and bushes
along the way.
  They'd almost reached the cabin when they saw
Hannah running toward them, waving her arms
frantically.
  "They shot John!" she cried. "They shot
my brother!"

                 Nine

  When Christy and the doctor reached the
Washingtons' front porch, they found Margaret
and Louise tending to John. His right arm was bleeding
just above the elbow.
  "Ain't nothin' but a scratch,"
John said. His voice was calm, but Christy could
see the terror in his eyes.
  "Scratch!" Margaret said furiously. "A
few more inches the wrong way and it coulda killed
you!"
  Doctor MacNeill and Christy climbed
off Prince. She retrieved the medical bag
while the doctor examined John's arm.
  "What happened, Hannah?" Christy asked.
  "Ain't sure." Hannah's lower lip
trembled. "Me and John was in the yard. All
of a sudden we heard someone in the woods out
yonder. They started firin', and we went
runnin'. I fell in the dirt. Violet was in
my pocket. Nearly crushed the poor ol'
thing."
  "You've just got a flesh wound, John,"
Doctor MacNeill said. "You're a lucky
boy."
  "Lucky," John repeated bitterly.
"Yes, sir. I s'pose I'm lucky they
didn't kill me outright."
  "How could anyone do this?" Margaret demanded.
"We haven't bothered anyone. This is our land,
right and proper."
  Hannah tugged on Christy's arm. "Why would
somebody go shootin' at me and John, Teacher?
I done tried to make friends at school today."
  "I know you did, Hannah." Christy knelt
beside the little girl. "Did you see who was shooting?
Do you have any idea who did this?"
  "Thought I seen a gray horse back in the
woods," Hannah said. "But it's hard to say."
  Christy exchanged a glance with the doctor.
Bob Allen owned a dapple gray mare.
  "Where's your father, Hannah?" the doctor
asked as he cleaned John's wound.
  "Ran up the path lookin' for the men."
  "With his gun," Margaret added anxiously.
  "That could mean trouble," the doctor said.
"Christy, would you finish bandaging John's arm?
I'm going to try to catch up with Curtis before
there's any more shooting."
  "I'm going with you," Christy said firmly.
  "There's no point in you--"
  "I'm going," Christy repeated.
  Doctor MacNeill sighed. "Fine. I
know better than to argue with you. Margaret, there are
bandages in my bag. Apply one to John's
wound with a little pressure. We'll be
back as soon as we can."
  "Be careful," Margaret said.
  Christy and Doctor MacNeill climbed
onto Prince. The doctor kept his shotgun
at the ready, while Christy scanned the dense
woods for any movement.
  "You're thinking what I'm thinking, aren't you?"
Christy said as they headed up the shady path.
  "That you're the most incredibly stubborn woman
in Tennessee and I shouldn't have let you ride along
with me?"
  "That Bob Allen's behind this."
  Doctor MacNeill nodded. "Not that we'd
ever be able to prove it. But yes. I'd bet my
last dollar it was Bob. He could have been alone,
but my guess is he brought along some help."
They heard a noise in the bushes. Christy
stiffened. By now she recognized all too well
the metallic click of a shotgun being cocked.
  "Hold it right there!" a low voice cried from
somewhere in the underbrush.
  "Curtis?" the doctor called. He brought
Prince to a stop. "Is that you? It's me,
Doctor MacNeill."
  Slowly Curtis emerged from the woods, his
gun at the ready. "They shot my boy, Doc,"
he said. "I gotta find the men who done it."
  "Curtis, I understand how you feel," the
doctor said. "But it's not going to help your
family one bit if you walk into an ambush up
the path."
  "So you're sayin' just let it pass? Let the
white folks shoot my boy and laugh about it?"
  "No. I'm saying let Christy and me try
to deal with these people. Calm them down, talk some
sense into them."
  "They shot my boy, Doctor--"
  "John's fine. It was just a minor flesh
wound."
  "So that makes it all right?" Curtis
demanded, his voice choked with rage. "Why should I
listen to you? How can you talk that way? Whose side
are you on, anyway?"
  "Nobody's more upset about this than Doctor
MacNeill, Curtis," Christy said gently.
"And if anybody can talk some reason into these
men, it's the doctor."
  Curtis shook his head. "Ain't no
reasonin' with hate."
  "The doctor sold you that land because he
thought you could make a home here. He thought the people of
Cutter Gap were ready for a change," Christy
said. "Give him a chance to make things right. You
head on home and tend to John."
  Curtis exhaled slowly. He stared off into the
trees, considering. "All right, then. I'll do
what you say, Miz Christy. But if anyone
comes near my children again, they'll be answerin' to the
barrel of a gun."
  "I'll stop by later to check on John," the
doctor promised.
  They rode on in silence for a few minutes.
"You may be stubborn," the doctor said, turning
back to smile at Christy, "but you're also
persuasive."
  "That's not all," Christy said jokingly. "I
speak four languages, too."
  "Impressive," the doctor said as they
approached the Allens' cabin. He reined
Prince to a halt. "You may need all four
to get through to Bob. Why don't you wait here
till I check things out?"
  "I know Bob and Mary Allen very well,
Neil. And if Creed or Rob or Festus
are mixed up in this, I'll have as good a chance as you
of calming things down."
  "All right, then. Stay a safe distance behind
me, at least."
  They dismounted and stepped into the clearing. The cabin
was quiet, and so was the little mill beyond. The only
sound was the babble of Blackberry Creek as it
rushed past.
  Bob's mare was in front of the cabin. There was
foam on her mouth, as if she'd been running
hard. Christy touched the mare's flank as she
passed. It was damp with sweat.
  Suddenly, the cabin door flew open. Bob
appeared, his shotgun in the crook of his arm.
"Howdy, Doc. Miz Christy. What brings you
to our neck o' the woods?"
  "John Washington's been shot," the doctor
said. "But then, you already knew that, didn't you,
Bob?"

                 Ten

  "Don't know what you're speakin' of,
Doctor MacNeill."
  "Put the gun down, Bob. We need
to talk."
  "If'n you come here about them no-accounts, I
got nothin' to say to you. You come for socializin',
then you're welcome."
  Doctor MacNeill pointed his own gun right
at Bob's chest. "I've come," he boomed,
"to warn you that if you go near those people again, I'll--"
  Christy put her hand on the doctor's arm
to silence him. "Bob," she said sweetly, "I
think I'll take you up on your kindly offer.
I haven't seen Mary in such a long time. And
how is Granny Allen doing?"
  Without waiting, Christy marched up the front
steps, walking right between the two guns each man
had trained on the other. She brushed past a
stunned Bob without even blinking.
  At the door she spun around. "Coming,
Doctor MacNeill?" she called.
  "Might as well head on inside, Doc."
Bob gestured with his gun toward the door.
"Confounded women! Don't give no stock in
argufyin' the way we men does."
  Mary, Granny, and the Allen children were waiting in
the cramped, dark cabin. "Come in, come in,"
Mary said, taking Christy's hand. She was a
stooped, graying woman who looked much older
than her years. "All this fussin' and carryin'
on! Like to make a body plumb wore out."
  Christy took a seat at the table, and Della
May and Little Burl gathered close. The
doctor stood in the doorway, his face set in
a stony grimace. Bob leaned against the far
wall, arms crossed over his chest. In the
corner, Granny Allen sat in a wooden
rocker. She was a tiny woman, well into her
eighties, with a toothless smile and hands gnarled
by rheumatism.
  Silence fell in the crowded room. "Where's
Creed?" Christy asked, to break the quiet.
  "Mopin' out by the creek," Della May said.
  "Moping?" Christy repeated. "Why?"
  "Scalawag's done disappeared. Can't find
him nowheres."
  "When did he disappear?"
  "Oh, that's hard to say," Della May
replied a little evasively.
  "He'll turn up," Granny said loudly.
She was slightly deaf and tended to yell. "Mark
my word."
  Mary cleared her throat. "Could I fix
y'all somethin' to eat?"
  "This isn't a social call, Mary," the
doctor said firmly, eyes locked on Bob.
"This is about what just happened at the Washingtons'
place. A young boy was shot."
  "Shame, ain't it?" Bob said, with a hint of a
sneer.
  Della May and Little Burl looked at the
floor, as if they were afraid to meet Christy's
eyes.
  "You did it, didn't you, Bob?" the doctor
said.
  "Prove it," Bob challenged.
  "Your horse was seen there."
  "That don't prove nothin'."
  "Bob," Christy said, "Curtis Washington
was on his way over here to even the score. The
doctor and I stopped him. But next time, you
might not be so lucky. We need to stop this madness
before it turns into a war."
  "That's a war I'd win," Bob grinned.
"Purty much everybody's on my side,
'ceptin' you mission folks."
  "Haven't you had enough fighting to last a
lifetime?" Christy cried. "The Taylors and
your clan have been feuding for generations. Why do you
need another enemy? Look what you're teaching your
children."
  "Teachin' 'em the way o' the world, is all,"
Mary said softly.
  "But it doesn't have to be this way," Christy
said. "The Washingtons are good people. Why can't you
give them a chance? I invited Margaret and
Louise to our next Bible study. You'll see
then, Mary."
  "She ain't goin' to no Bible readin', not if
they be there!" Bob shouted.
  "But I like goin' ..." Mary said. "I get
so lonely here. And Miss Alice makes us
tea and reads Scripture to us--"
  "You ain't goin', woman!" Bob screamed.
  "Hush, Bob," Granny said. "You're
a-hurtin' my ears, and I'm purt-near stone
deaf. Let Mary go to the Bible study, if'n she
wants."
  "Didn't you hear? You want her near them
two women that ain't our own kind? I won't have
it, I'm a-tellin' you!" Bob pounded his fist
on the wall. He beat it so hard that a
needlepoint stitching in a crude frame--the
only decoration in the cabin--fell to the
floor. The frame splintered and broke apart.
  "My stitchin'!" Granny moaned.
  Christy picked up the faded fabric. The
alphabet was carefully embroidered on it. The
date "1841" had been sewn into the corner.
Instead of a signature, like the other needlepoints
Christy had seen, Granny had stitched a tiny
bluebird.
  "This is beautiful, Granny," Christy said.
  "Made it when I was just a wee thing,"
Granny said.
  "I'm powerful sorry, Granny," Bob
said, hanging his head like a guilty child. "I'm
sure I can mend the frame."
  Granny looked at him sharply through clouded
blue eyes. "I'll tell you what you can mend.
You can let that wife o' yours go to the Bible
readin', just like always. I'd go myself, if'n I was
a little more spry."
  "But--"
  "Hush! I've had mules with more sense than
you, Bob Allen. Mary wants to go, she'll
go."
  Bob frowned. "Women!" he muttered.
  "Bob, we haven't settled this," Doctor
MacNeill said. "Next time I hear you've
been near the Washingtons, I'll be using my
gun. And I won't stop to socialize first. You
understand me?"
  "I understand you started this whole miserable mess,"
Bob shot back. "And I understand one other thing.
You, Miz Christy, Miz Alice, the preacher,
maybe two or three others are on the
Washingtons' side. But I got me the whole
o' Cutter Gap on my side. Who do you think
is gonna win that war, Doc? We'll get you and
those Washingtons. You started somethin' you ain't able
to finish. You done forgot your roots, Doc.
You're as much a part of this place as the rest of
us."
  In two great steps, Doctor MacNeill
placed himself squarely in front of Bob. He
grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him hard against the
wall.
  Della May cried out. Mary gasped, her
hand to her mouth.
  "Don't you threaten me, Bob Allen," the
doctor said between gritted teeth. "That's a fight
you don't want. And don't you talk to me about
my roots. Right about now, I'm
embarrassed to be from this place."
  Christy touched the doctor's shoulder.
"Neil. Come on."
  Doctor MacNeill released Bob, who
slumped against the wall, rubbing his neck.
"Traitor," Bob growled.
  The doctor stomped out the door. Christy
started to follow, then hesitated. "Come to the Bible
study, Mary," she said. "Please."
  When Mary didn't answer, Christy knew
there was nothing more to say.

                Eleven

  On Monday during the noon break, Christy
sat with David on the front steps of the mission
school. The children were spread all over the lawn,
lazing under the trees while they ate.
  "So, any problems so far today?" asked
David, who taught Bible study at the school
and helped with arithmetic classes when he had
time.
  "Somebody put molasses on Louise
Washington's chair while she was writing on the
chalkboard. I tried, but I couldn't find the
culprit. I'm pretty sure it was Lundy,
though," Christy sighed. "I just can't seem to get
through to these children, David."
  "Join the club." David gave an understanding
laugh. "How do you think I felt yesterday,
during my sermon about brotherly love and
tolerance?"
  "It was a wonderful sermon, David."
  "Too bad the church was only half full."
  "I keep thinking if I could just get one or
two of the children to make friends with the Washingtons, that would
be a good start. I thought I saw Della May
whispering to Hannah this morning, but I was
probably imagining things. Given the way Bob
Allen feels, it's difficult to imagine one of
his own children defying him that way."
  "It's hard for these children to take a stand like that,"
David pointed out. "It takes real bravery
to go against your family and friends and do the right thing."
  He pointed to Creed Allen, who was sitting
under a tree, head in his hands. "Speaking of the
Allens, what's wrong with Creed? He's been
so quiet lately."
  "Scalawag ran away," Christy
explained.
  "Oh, that explains it. Poor kid. Speaking
of running away, I hear you're planning a
trip with Doctor MacNeill."
  "Word travels fast."
  "You're going to a wedding?" David asked,
brows raised.
  "We'll see. If things don't settle
down around here, I'm not sure I'll be comfortable
leaving, even if it's only for a couple days.
Miss Alice did say she wouldn't mind
filling in at the school."
  "I'll help out, too, if I can. Although
I'd prefer it," David added with a grin, "if
you were going to a wedding with me."
  Before Christy could reply, a sharp cry rang
out. "Miz Christy, Preacher, come quick!" Ruby
Mae called. "John and Lundy's
a-fightin'!"
  Christy and David ran to the other side of the
school. A small group of students had
circled around John and Lundy. John was on
the ground. Lundy straddled his chest.
  "Tell me, you slime-belly snake!"
Lundy screamed. "Tell me what you did with
it!"
  "I don't know what you're a-talkin' about.
I swear it!" John shouted.
  Lundy raised his fist to strike. Just in the
nick of time, David grabbed his arm. Together he
and Christy yanked Lundy off John.
  "Lundy Taylor!" Christy cried. "What
do you think you're doing?"
  "He stole my hat!" Lundy screamed.
"Stole it right off my desk when I weren't
lookin'."
  "I didn't take his fool hat," John
said as he climbed to his feet shakily. "What
would I want with that dirty ol'--"
  "I'm goin' to pummel you good for that!" Lundy
started for John, but David held him back.
  "Did anyone see John take Lundy's
hat?" Christy asked.
  Nobody answered.
  "Who else woulda took it?" Lundy asked.
"That's how they are, my pa says. Can't trust
'em as far as you can throw 'em. 'Sides, I
ain't the only one what's had somethin' stole
since they come to school."
  "Someone took my bread last Friday,"
Wraight Holt said, glaring at John.
  "And Mary O'Teale," Lundy added, "she
done had her hair ribbon swiped."
  Mary nodded. "It's true, Teacher."
  "And that rag doll Vella Holt's always
carryin' around with her like it's a real baby,"
Lundy said. "That's gone. All of it since
they--" he jabbed a finger at John, "come
to school."
  Christy put her hands on her hips. "Has
anyone seen these items taken? Does anyone have
any proof that John or his sisters are
responsible?"
  "That's how thiefs is," Wraight said.
"Sneak up on you when you ain't suspectin'."
  "I didn't take your things," John said
defiantly. "I ain't got no need of 'em."
  "All right," Christy said firmly. "Here's
what we're going to do. I want everyone to look
high and low for these items for the rest of the noon
break. Until we can prove what happened
to them, there will be no more accusations. And Lundy,
I want you to go home for the rest of the day. You know
how I feel about fighting."
  "But it weren't my fault!" Lundy
screamed. "It was him--"
  "That'll be quite enough, Lundy," David said.
"You're lucky we aren't going to expel you."
  Lundy sent a poisonous look at John.
He spat on the ground. "You'll get yours,"
he growled. Then he spun on his heel and
stomped off, muttering to himself.
               * * *
  When the fighting was over, Della May went
over to her brother and sat beside him. "Bad
fightin'," she reported.
  "Lundy and John?" Creed asked.
  "Yep."
  "I figgered as much."
  "You think they stole those things like Lundy said?"
  "Don't rightly know." Creed leaned back
against the tree trunk, sighed, and closed his
eyes.
  "Creed," Della May said,
"Scalawag's bound to turn up. You heard
Granny. She ain't hardly never wrong."
  Creed didn't answer. That was a bad sign.
Creed always had something to say.
  "I ain't never heard Granny yell the way
she did at Pa the other day," Della May
said. She picked a piece of grass and
chewed on it.
  "Nope," was all Creed said.
  Della May paused. "You think Pa was the
one shot at John?" she asked softly.
  "Most likely."
  "If someone shot at you," Della May said,
"I'd be powerful mad."
  Creed opened one eye. "Thank you kindly,
Della May." He smiled, but just a little.
  "Creed?"
  "Hmm?"
  "You figger pas are ever wrong about things?"
  "Hardly never. That's why they's pas and we's
just children."
  "Creed?"
  "Lordamercy, Della May! Can't you see
I'm restin'?"
  "You figger Pa'd be right mad if'n I just
talked to Hannah now and again?"
  For that, Creed opened both eyes. He
scratched his head, eyeing her like she'd gone
plumb mad. "Talk to 'em to say mean things?
Or talk to 'em to say friendly-like things?"
  "Friendly-like."
  Creed let out a low whistle. "Della
May, you'd be a-walkin' on thin ice, girl."
  "I've been givin' it some time. And I've
come to figger out that Hannah's purty nice. Today
she told me she's been lookin' for Scalawag
for you every single day since he run off."
  Creed gave that some thought. "Every day?"
  "Every day. And I believe her, 'cause she
likes animals same as you and me. Has a
mouse in her pocket, name of Violet."
  "Sounds to me like you already done your share o'
talkin'."
  "Some, maybe."
  "Sounds to me like you already done made up your
mind, Della May Allen."
  "Maybe so."
  "Then you don't need me a-tellin' you what
to do, do you?"
  "No. I s'pose not."
  Creed closed his eyes again. Della May
got up to leave. She'd only gone a few
steps when she heard Creed call, "Della
May?"
  "Yep?"
  "If'n you do decide to do more talkin', tell
her thank you kindly about Scalawag."

               Twelve

  After school that afternoon, Christy hurriedly
graded some papers and cleaned the chalkboard. When
she was done, she headed straight to Miss
Alice's cabin for the weekly Bible study.
  Christy had always loved these meetings. Miss
Alice would read in her soothing voice while the
other women sewed or simply listened. It was a
beautiful cabin inside, full of warmth and
color. Polished brass candlesticks shone on
the mantel. Cherry and pine furniture gleamed
in the sunshine. Whenever Christy was there, she felt
transported back to her old life in
Asheville. It was a place of beauty, of
sophistication, a place where the world was full of
promise, not despair.
  A world, she realized, like the one Doctor
MacNeill seemed to be longing for.
  Today, however, when Christy entered Miss
Alice's cabin, the scene was not at all what
she expected. In one corner sat some of the women
who came regularly to the meetings. Granny
O'Teale and her daughter-in-law, Swannie,
were there. Aunt Polly Teague--at
ninety-two, the oldest woman in the Cove--
was in her favorite rocker. Fairlight
Spencer, Christy's close friend, had come, and so
had Lety Coburn. Christy was surprised and
relieved to see that Mary Allen had come, too.
  Still, many faces were missing. One look at the
other corner, where Margaret and Louise
Washington sat alone, explained why.
  How did the word get out so quickly? Christy
wondered. But of course she knew the answer.
By now she understood that news had a way of
traveling fast in Cutter Gap--like "greased
lightning," as her students liked to say.
  "Christy!" Miss Alice exclaimed.
"Come, sit down. We were just getting started. You
see we have some new faces."
  "Margaret, Louise." Christy sat down beside
them. "I'm so glad you could come. You, too,
Mary."
  Mary gave a terse nod, but said nothing.
  Christy gazed around her. Most of the women sat
on one side. Christy and the Washingtons sat on
the other. Miss Alice in the middle, trying
to make peace. They were divided into warring
camps, separated by hate and misunderstanding. Just like
her classroom.
  Miss Alice seemed to be reading Christy's
mind. "I'll strain my voice, having to read
to the east and west side of the cabin. Suppose we
all try to move our chairs a little closer?"
  No one moved. Margaret studied her Bible.
Louise looked as if she were about to cry.
  Fairlight cleared her throat. She picked
up her chair and moved it next to Louise.
"There," Miss Alice said. "That's much
better."
  Christy looked at her gratefully.
Fairlight was a good woman, as warm and gentle
as her radiant smile. She would be one ally,
at least.
  "How was school today, Christy?" Miss
Alice asked, clearly hoping to break the icy
silence.
  Before Christy could answer, Lety Coburn
spoke up. "Any more stealin'?" she asked,
shooting a look at Margaret. "I hear tell
things are disappearin' from that school right and left."
  "I don't think it's anything serious,
Lety," Christy assured her. "A doll, a
hat, some odds and ends. I suspect the children just
misplaced them."
  "You suspect what you suspect," Lety
said, "but I have my own ideas."
  Christy sighed. "Is there some reason we can't
at least try to get along? On my way here,
I passed one of my students playing with
Margaret's daughter, Hannah. They were laughing
and giggling and having a wonderful time. I think we
could all take a lesson from--"
  "Whose child was it?" Swannie O'Teale
demanded.
  "That doesn't matter," Christy said,
suddenly realizing she was just making things worse.
The last thing she wanted was to get Della May
in trouble for having shown some kindness to Hannah.
"The point is--"
  "Weren't my Mountie or Mary, were it?"
Swannie pressed. "I done told those girls
to keep their distance."
  "Then why are you here?" Margaret spoke up
for the first time. "You must have heard we were coming to the
Bible study. Everyone seems to know everything in this
place."
  "I'm here 'cause it's rightfully my
place to be here," Swannie jutted her chin.
"Unlike some."
  "If we ain't wanted here," Louise said,
leaping from her chair, "then I think we should go,
Ma!"
  "Louise, please stay," Miss Alice said
in a calm, reassuring voice. "Everyone is
welcome here in this cabin. This is a place for
fellowship and love." She gave Swannie a
stern look. "Not intolerance. Christy's right.
Let's think about how we can get along. In
God's eyes, we are all family, all
worthy of His love. I think the key to understanding
is to look beyond the surface and see what we all
have in common. Before I start today's reading, why
don't you tell us a little more about your family,
Margaret? Once we get to know one another
better, we'll have a better chance at getting
along."
  Margaret shifted uncomfortably. She
clutched her worn Bible to her chest. Christy
sent her an encouraging smile.
  "Well," Margaret said in a soft voice,
"my husband, Curtis and I, we been married
all o' sixteen years. Got ourselves four children.
Louise here, she's the oldest. She's fifteen.
She loves to read, and she's mighty good with the
others."
  "That's always nice," Fairlight said
helpfully. "I don't know what I'd do without
Clara and Zady to help out with my young'uns."
  Margaret managed a brief smile. "I
got two other girls--Hannah, she's eight,
and Etta, she's just the baby. Teethin' somethin'
fierce, she is."
  "Letting her chew on a nice cold rag will
help with that," Miss Alice offered.
  There was a long pause. Christy thought back
to the many other Bible studies she'd been to.
They'd been full of lively give-and-take--
shared gossip and recipes and tears and laughter.
Today, she could almost see the tension in the room.
  "And then," Margaret added, eyes trained on
the women on the other side of the room, "there's my
son, John. He's a good boy--just ten.
Somebody shot him the other day. For no reason,
'ceptin' they didn't like the color of his skin."
  Her words hung in the air. Louise wiped
away a tear.
  "He's a fine boy, I'm tellin'
you. All my family is," Margaret continued.
She opened her Bible and held it up for all
to see.
  "This here's our family tree. All the names
and baptisms wrote down proper-like. These was good
people. 'Course, we can't rightly know 'em all--some
of our folks were sold off as slaves, never
heard of again." Tenderly, she passed the Bible
to Christy. "Looky here, Miz Christy. These
was good people, all of 'em."
  Christy traced her finger over the names on the
yellowed page. "I'm sure they were,
Margaret."
  "See there? William? That be Louise's
great-grandpa." Margaret pointed a trembling
finger at the name. "He run away from a plantation
in Alabama, years before Abraham Lincoln
done freed the slaves. Runnin' in leg
irons, bleedin' and hungry. He got
hisself to Tennessee, to the mountains. Found a little
hidden-away mite of a place. "No bigger'n
a tick's toe," he used to say. Name o'
Cutter Gap. He was fevered and near to dyin'."
  Margaret took a deep breath. She looked
at Swannie and Mary and the rest of the women. "A
good woman from these parts saved Grandpa
William. She hid him in a cave, brought him
food, and tended to his wounds. She got herself a
saw and took them leg irons off her own self.
Without her, Grandpa William would have died. And
that good woman she also gave him that there Bible and
sent him off to freedom, she did."
  "Who was this woman, Margaret?" Miss
Alice asked.
  "She never did give her name. Lots of
folks back then used nicknames to protect
themselves. Helpin' slaves was a crime. It was
right dangerous. And it was mighty brave."
  Christy studied the top of the page. There was a
simple inscription:

  Godspeed, William.
      Birdy

  "That's why we come here to Cutter Gap,"
Margaret said, her voice choked. "We knew the
stories Grandpa William used to tell. We
knew this had to be a place full o' good people. But
we was wrong."
  She leapt from her chair, pulling the
Bible out of Christy's hands.
  "Margaret," Christy pleaded, "please
stay--"
  "No, Miz Christy. Louise and me, we
know we ain't wanted here. We'll read our
Bible at home. I figure the Lord'll hear us
just as clear from there."

               Thirteen

  "I'm sorry the Bible study went so
badly," Doctor MacNeill said.
  The doctor had stopped by just after the Bible study
at Miss Alice's had ended. He was on his
way home from delivering a baby.
  "It was awful," Christy said as she pulled
weeds out of the vegetable garden by the mission house.
"Poor Margaret and Louise. The other women were
so cold--except for Fairlight, of course."
  "Did Mary Allen show up?"
  "Yes. But I don't think she said three
words the whole time." Christy yanked out a weed,
grimacing. "Sometimes I just get so discouraged about
this place."
  "Sometimes I do, too." The doctor gave a
sad smile. "Which is why, I suppose, I'm
thinking about asking James for a position."
  "Position?" Christy echoed softly.
  "Working in his practice in Knoxville.
It'd take some time to get my skills up
to speed, but I'm sure he'd take me on."
  Christy stared at him, dumbfounded. "You mean
... leave Cutter Gap for good?"
  The doctor knelt down. He pulled a weed
out of a row of carrots. "I'm not doing much good
here, Christy. I have to realize that. I'm fighting
a war I can never win."
  "How can you say that?" Christy cried. "You just
brought a beautiful baby into the world!"
  "Babies will keep being born, whether I'm
here or not. Miss Alice is more than competent
to do what mending or stitching has to be done."
  "But--"
  The doctor put his finger to Christy's lips.
"I know all the arguments. Please. Just let it
go, Christy." He stood. "Well, I should
get going. I just wanted to remind you that we
haven't yet finished a single one of our dance
practices. Perhaps later this week--"
  "You just expect me to let you off the
hook?" Christy demanded. "You tell me you may
leave for good, and I'm just supposed to accept it?"
  The doctor gave a resigned shrug. "Who
knows? Maybe I'll go to Knoxville and get
a taste of James's life, and this will look
better. I doubt it, but it could happen."
  Christy stared at him in shock. He couldn't
leave Cutter Gap! The people here needed him.
  She needed him.
  Just then, two bluejays fluttered into the
vegetable patch, ignoring the scarecrow Miss
Ida had constructed out of a broom. One nipped
at the other, which led to a dreadful screaming match.
  "See?" the doctor said. "Even the birds
can't seem to get along here."
  Suddenly, Christy remembered the signature
she'd seen in the Washingtons' Bible. Birdy.
  Why did that name mean something?
  The doctor started for his horse. "Wait,"
Christy said. "Don't go."
  "You can try to talk me out of this later,"
Doctor MacNeill said wearily. "I was up
all night, and I'm too tired to argue with you."
He chuckled. "As it is, you usually win."
  "No." Christy leapt to her feet, brushing
off her dress. "I ... I just thought of something.
Remember that framed needlepoint that Bob
broke? The one Granny Allen said she'd
made?"
  "Yes. Why?"
  "Well, there was a bird on the bottom of it.
And today, in the Washingtons' Bible ..."
  Yes. That was the connection. That had to be it,
Christy thought.
  Doctor MacNeill frowned. "I don't
follow you."
  "That's all right. You will. How tired are you,
anyway?"
  "Exhausted."
  "Then I'll take the reins. Come on."
  The doctor crossed his arms over his chest.
"And where are we going, exactly?"
  "To the Allens'. To do a little detective
work."
               * * *
  Hannah and Della May skirted the edge of
Blackberry Creek. They'd been together all
afternoon, ever since school had let out.
  For the most part, Della May had been careful
to stick to the woods. She liked Hannah
just fine, but there was no point in letting Lundy
or anybody else see them playing together. That
would just make for a heap of trouble. She had a
feeling Miz Christy had caught sight of them this
afternoon, but that was different. Miz Christy she could
trust.
  Della May sat on the bank. It was
mighty peaceful. You could almost pretend that she and
Hannah were just two friends, nothing special. Of
course, that wasn't how it really was at all.
  "We're gettin' on toward my cabin," she
told Hannah. "You'd best be headin' home.
If'n my pa caught sight of us, there'd be
trouble for sure and certain."
  Hannah dipped her toes in the rushing
creek. "How come you figure your pa's so dead
set against me and my kin?"
  "Don't rightly know," Della May said
truthfully. "I s'pose 'cause his pa was,
and his pa before him."
  "Don't seem fair."
  "I know. I'm powerful sorry."
  Hannah pointed downstream. "I still think we
oughta check the trees and such around these parts.
Scalawag coulda been headin' for home and got
hisself hurt. Messed up with a hound,
maybe."
  "It's awful nice of you to help me keep
lookin' for him. Creed's so sad he's all but
given up. Never seen him so down-hearted."
  "I had a dog once, got stole. Some
white folks took him, drowned him in a well.
Tied a rock round his neck." Hannah took
a deep breath. "So I know what it's like,
losin' a pet and all. We'd have better luck
if'n we could look for Scalawag at night.
Raccoons is night creatures by nature."
  "We'll just have to keep hopin', I guess."
  "Della May?" Hannah said softly.
  "Yep?"
  Hannah's eyes were wet with tears. "I ...
I heard Lundy a-sayin' as how he figured
me and John stole Scalawag and skinned him
alive. He says we done stole all sorts
of things."
  "Lundy's a fool. Half the time his head
don't know what his mouth is sayin'." Della
May patted Hannah on the back. "You
don't pay him no never mind. None o' us
believes him much either. Creed and me know
what's what."
  "Thanks, Della May."
  "I oughta be thankin' you, for searchin' so hard."
  "Let's just look another piece," Hannah
said, getting to her feet. "Scalawag could be right
around the corner."
  "Not too close to my kin, though."
  "I promise."
  They made their way toward the cabin. It was just
visible through the thick stand of trees. Suddenly
Hannah jerked to a stop.
  "Is that your gray horse?"
  "That's Soldier. Pa's horse."
  Hannah looked at Della May. Something
in her eyes burned like hot coals. "The person
who shot John. He was ridin' a gray horse
with spots. I saw it through the trees."
  Della May didn't know what to say. But
she knew she couldn't lie.
  "I heard my pa and ma whisperin' about that. I
can't tell you one way or t'other what the truth
is." She hung her head. "But I'd be lyin'
if'n I said I was sure my pa didn't shoot
that gun. If'n he did, I 'spect it was just
to stir things up. Not to hurt nobody."
  "But he did hurt somebody! He hurt
John!" Hannah cried.
  She spun on her heel and started to run. After
a few feet, she stumbled on a tree root.
  Della May ran to help her, but Hannah
pushed her away. "Go away," she sobbed. "I
don't want--"
  A horrible scream, coming from the direction of the
mill, cut her off.
  Della May gulped. "That's my pa!
Somethin' awful's happened! I have to go,
Hannah. Will you be all right?"
  "Go on. Git."
  Della May ran as fast her legs would
carry her. The screams kept coming, louder, each
one more awful than the last.
  She was almost to the mill when she saw Creed.
"Pa!" he cried. "He passed out again. His
arm's caught in the wood gears! We tried and
tried, me and Festus and ma and Rob, but we
can't budge him. We gotta get help,
Della May. He's bleedin' bad."
  "You stay here. I'll take Soldier and go for
Doctor MacNeill."
  Sobbing as she ran, Della May
returned to the front yard. She grabbed
Soldier's mane and hefted herself onto his
back. She was a good rider. Still, she knew it
could be a long time before she reached the doctor.
  She'd only gone a few feet when she heard
a small voice calling from behind. "Della
May! Wait up!"
  Della May reined Soldier in.
"Hannah?"
  "I heard Creed a-yellin' about your pa.
Give me a lift up."
  "What?"
  "We're ridin' to my cabin. It's closer."
  "But ... even after what you said?"
  "That's about my pa and yours. This is about you and
me. 'Sides, I can't stand to see my best friend
a-sobbin'."
  Della May shook her head. "You're
plumb amazin', Hannah Washington."
  "One thing. When we get close, you let me
go first. My family ain't goin' to be none too
happy to see this horse show up again."


               Fourteen

  "Let me just say this," Doctor
MacNeill said as he wrapped a bandage around
Bob's arm. "You're a very lucky man that
Curtis and John and Margaret came to your
aid."
  Bob gave a terse nod. The Allen
family was gathered by his bedside--all except
Granny, who was sitting in her rocker, watching
the proceedings. The Washingtons--John,
Curtis, Margaret, and Hannah--stood by the
door. Louise had stayed home with the baby.
  Christy patted John's shoulder. "You saved
his life, John, you and your family. I'm so
proud of you."
  "We come 'cause Hannah begged us to,"
John muttered. "That's the only reason."
  "It must not have been easy, pulling his arm
free," Doctor MacNeill said.
  "Pa stuck a log in the gears to make 'em
stop," Hannah explained. "Then everybody just
yanked and yanked. For a thin man, Mr. Allen,
you shore do weigh a heap."
  Her remark was met with tense laughter.
  "You're going to have to think about getting some
help at the mill, Bob." Doctor
MacNeill cut another length of bandage. "You
can't be losing consciousness that way."
  "Boys'll help me. Rob, Festus,
Creed. They's old enough."
  "But their schooling--" Christy protested.
  "Schoolin' ain't nothin', compared to the mill,"
Bob said.
  "Well," Curtis said abruptly, "we'd
best be goin'."
  "I ..." Mary hesitated, glancing at
Bob. "I want to thank you kindly for helpin'.
You bound up his wound right proper, Margaret."
  "She certainly did," the doctor said.
"Bob would have bled to death without her."
  "Had some practice not long ago," Margaret
said sharply.
  All eyes turned to the bandage on John's
arm. Nobody spoke.
  "Bob," Granny said sharply, "ain't there
somethin' you want to be sayin'?"
  Bob winced as Doctor MacNeill tied his
bandage into place. "I said all I want
to say."
  "Ain't surprised," Curtis said.
"Wouldn't 'spect no more from the likes of you."
He strode over to Bob's bedside. "That
horse o' yours. It's just like the one Hannah
saw when John was shot. Now, I ain't sayin'
for sure you shot my boy, 'cause I don't
know. But if I ever catch you near my place with a
gun in your hand, you'll be dead before you know what
hit you."
  The Washingtons filed out the door. Della
May ran to the doorway. Nervously, she
glanced over her shoulder at her father. "Bye,
Hannah," she called softly. "Thank you."
  "What's got into you, gal?" Bob shouted as
soon as Della May shut the door. "What
did I tell you about goin' near them folks?"
  "Bob," Christy said, "those people just saved your
life."
  "I've just about had my fill with your meddlin',
Miz Christy," Bob said, falling back against
his pillow.
  "Bob!" Mary cried. "Miz Christy and the
doc are just tryin' to help you."
  The doctor closed his bag. "I think we're
just about done here, anyway, Mary," he said with
barely concealed disgust. "You remember
to change that bandage like I showed you."
  "I will, Doctor."
  "Before we go," Christy said, "we were wondering
if we could have a word with you, Granny. It's about
the Washingtons."
  Granny narrowed her eyes. "I'm afeared
I didn't hear you."
  Christy smiled. She knew Granny had a
way of not hearing when it was convenient.
  Christy picked up the needlepoint she'd seen
the other day. "This is some fine needlework,
Granny. I was wondering why you didn't sign
your name to it."
  Granny shrugged. "No room, I
reckon."
  "But you had room to stitch a pretty little
bluebird."
  Granny yanked the needlepoint out of
Christy's hand. "That's from another time, gal.
Don't you be a-pesterin' me about such things."
  "It's interesting," Christy continued, "because when
I was looking at the Washingtons' family
Bible, I saw an unusual signature. The
woman's name was "Birdy.""
  Granny studied the needlepoint, head lowered,
ignoring Christy.
  "Did you have a nickname as a child, Granny?"
Christy asked.
  "Can't hear you, child."
  ""Birdy," wasn't it?" the doctor said
loudly.
  "Pshaw." Granny waved him away.
"Talkin' nonsense, the both of you. Crazy as
March hares."
  "I know it was Birdy," the doctor continued,
"because I can remember my own grandma saying it.
When Christy mentioned it today, it all came back
to me."
  "You're not sayin' that Granny is the woman
..." Mary gasped. "The woman Mary
Washington was speakin' of at Bible study?"
  "What in tarnation are you fools cacklin'
about?" Bob demanded from his bed.
  "Tell him, Granny," Christy urged
gently. "Tell him what that young woman
nicknamed Birdy did."
  Granny just stared at the needlepoint in her
lap, running her gnarled fingers over the
needlework.
  "Would somebody please tell me what
all this nonsense is about?" Bob cried.
  "Miz Christy's sayin' that Granny helped
save one of the Washingtons' kin, Bob," Mary
said. She was staring at Granny with a bewildered
look. "A ... a slave. Before the war. A
long time ago."
  "Long time," Granny whispered.
  "It's true, isn't it, Granny?"
Christy said.
  Granny looked up at Christy. Her eyes
were damp. She shook her head slightly.
  "You can't squeeze milk out of a rock, Miz
Christy," Bob said defiantly. "And you can't
make what ain't true a fact. Why,
Granny's the one who was all in a tizzy when
she heard the Washingtons were movin' in! You got
your stories all backward. But then," he added
bitterly, "you got a lot o' things backward
lately."
  Doctor MacNeill knelt beside Granny.
He took her hand and held it gently.
"Granny," he said softly, "my own granny
often spoke of you with such respect. She used
to say you were tough as a laurel burl and braver
than any man. Now, at last, I think I
understand what she meant. I know you were afraid
to admit it before. But now's the time. Tell them,
Granny. Tell them what you did. Maybe it
will help heal the wounds in this place. Maybe
it's not too late to change things."
  Della May put her arm around her
great-grandmother's frail back. "Is it true,
Granny? Is it true what the doctor is
sayin'?"
  Granny gave a resigned, faraway
smile. "I can't hear you, child," she whispered.

               Fifteen

  That evening, Christy wrote in her diary before
going to bed, hoping to rid herself of the heavy feeling in
her heart. But she wondered if anything could really
ease the pain.

  Where are the answers when I need them? So
much seems to be going wrong, and nothing I do
helps. Doctor MacNeill says he's
thinking of leaving the Cove for good. Granny
Allen refuses to acknowledge her courageous
act of so long ago. And I can't seem
to get through to anyone.
  Every day at school the hatred toward the
Washingtons simmers. The accusations of stealing
get more intense, but when I try to soothe my
students, they ask me for an explanation. Why have
things been disappearing from school? Why did it start
right around the time John and Louise and Hannah
arrived?
  I know there must be an explanation. They're
such good children. But for the life of me, I can't
figure out what it is.
  Today, after we left the Allens' cabin,
Neil told me that some people will never change. That
there will always be feuding and racism and hatred in
people--especially the people of Cutter Gap.
  Never have I seen him so cynical. So
dark. Or so unhappy.
  I told him that there is goodness in people. I
told him how Fairlight had moved her chair
at the Bible study. I told him how I'd seen
Della May and Hannah playing together,
despite all the risks.
  I told him we just had to wait and work and
pray.
  And all he did was laugh.

  Christy put her diary away. There was nothing
more to say or do. Except, perhaps, to cry. And
pray.
               * * *
  Late that night, Christy awoke suddenly,
feeling anxious. She sat up, letting her
eyes adjust to the darkness. Something was wrong. Was
that smoke she smelled?
  She ran to the open window. The smell of
burning wood was in the air. Far up on
Kildeer Mountain, red flames flickered against
the night sky.
  Christy's heart leapt into her throat. That was
where Doctor MacNeill lived! It could be his
cabin burning, or the Allens', or ...
  No.
  Please, God, Christy silently
prayed, don't let it be the Washingtons'
cabin. Let it be a forest fire, a campfire
out of control, a woodpile ...
  She threw on a dress and her shoes and raced
down the stairs, just as David burst through the
front door. Miss Ida was already up,
dressed in her nightgown and robe.
  "Looks like Kildeer," David said
breathlessly. "I'm taking Prince up."
  "I'm coming, too," Christy said. "Let me
ride with you."
  "Could it be a forest fire?" Miss Ida
asked.
  "Woods are pretty damp. No lightning,"
David replied. "But I suppose it could
be."
  "Do you think it's the Washingtons' place?"
Miss Ida asked.
  "I fear it is," Christy replied, "but
I'm praying it isn't."
               * * *
  David urged Prince on as fast as he
dared, but in the dark, every tree root and hole in the
mountain path was treacherous. The closer they got
to the fire, the larger it seemed to grow.
  Red-gold flames licked at the stars. The
air grew acrid with the smell of burning wood.
In the stillness of the night woods, the sound of the
crackling fire grew ominous. Before long, they
could hear the sound of desperate shouts.
  Soon it was clear that the fire was located at
the Washingtons'. "The flames are going higher,"
David said grimly, "but they're not spreading, the
way they would with a forest fire. It must be their
cabin."
  "We should have kept this from happening," Christy
muttered. "Surely there was something we could have
done."
  David glanced over his shoulder. His face was
barely visible in the moonlight. "We tried,
Christy."
  "Not hard enough. And that makes me feel almost
as guilty as the people who did this."
  For the rest of the ride, neither spoke. There was
nothing more to say. It was too late for words.
  Just let them be all right, Christy prayed.
They can build another cabin. Just let the
family be all right.

               Sixteen

  By the time they reached the clearing where the
Washingtons' cabin was located, the fire had
quieted. It was more smoke than flame, but the
damage was already done.
  Doctor MacNeill was there, tossing
buckets of dirt on the dying embers.
His face and hands were darkened by soot. Curtis and
John were still fighting the fire, too. They'd
saved a few things--a chair, an iron pot, a
photograph. But the cabin itself was nothing but charred
logs, glowing an eerie red in the night. Christy
ran to the spot where Margaret and the girls stood
huddled together. Margaret was clutching their worn
Bible.
  "Margaret, I'm so sorry," Christy said,
hugging the trembling woman. "Are you all right?
Was anyone hurt?"
  "We're fine. Curtis, he got some
burns on his hands. Doc, too." She let out
a soft sob. "The children's all right. That's all that
matters."
  Doctor MacNeill came over. His brow
was damp with perspiration. "Neil," Christy
asked, "are you hurt?"
  "A few burns. Nothing much." He shook his
head at the dying embers where the little cabin had
stood. "Do you see now why I want to leave this
place? Tell me this, Christy. Can you look
at this and still tell me there's good in the people of
Cutter Gap?"
  "You can't blame everyone, Doctor,"
David said. "This isn't the work of the whole
Cove."
  "No," the doctor said bitterly. "It's the
work of Bob Allen. But there's plenty more where he
came from."
  Hannah tugged on the doctor's shirt.
"Truth to tell, Doctor MacNeill," she
said in a teary voice, "it weren't Bob."
  "Hannah?" Margaret asked. "Did you see
who done this, child?"
  "I heard a noise, Ma, right before it started.
Saw three men outa the window. All of 'em on
horses, dark ones. Not gray like Bob's."
  "She's right. With Bob's arm in such sorry
shape, he'd be in no condition to ride," the
doctor said wearily. "I shouldn't have assumed as
much. But it doesn't help to hear there are others
like him out there. Not that it's exactly a
surprise."
  Curtis came over, wiping his face with the
back of his arm. "Well, I guess they're
gettin' their way," he said grimly. "I can
fight words, maybe even bullets. But I can't
fight fire."
  "Yes, you can, Bob," Christy said
firmly. "You fight fire with fire. When someone
burns down your house, you build it up again. That
way you don't let them win."
  "It's too late for that, Miz Christy. I
gotta think o' my children."
  "Pa?" Hannah said softly. "What if we
move on and they just burn us down all over again?"
  "What if we stay," Curtis said, "and they
do it again right here?" He knelt beside Hannah and
held her close. "Sweetie, ol' Grandpa
William was wrong about Cutter Gap. He said
he felt closer to God here. But the truth is,
I ain't never felt Him further away."
               * * *
  "Granny?" Della May said after school the
next day. "I got me a question for you." She sat
next to her great-grandmother on the dusty wooden
porch outside the Allens' cabin.
  "What is it, girl?"
  Della May checked over her shoulder to be
sure her pa and ma weren't around. "Where's
Pa?" she asked.
  "Out to the mill, the old coot. He ain't
got a lick o' sense. His arm bandaged up and his
head a-swimmin'."
  "Well, it's like this. You know how the
Washingtons' cabin done got burned down last
night?"
  "Could see those flames for miles."
  "Well, Hannah weren't in school today.
Her brother and sister, neither."
  Granny looked up from her knitting. Her
old fingers always moved very slowly, but now they
stopped.
  "Teacher said they was stayin' at the mission
house. Said they might be a-movin' on soon, and
it were all our faults for not bein' more friendly."
  "Miz Christy's full of notions,"
Granny said softly.
  "Granny, I have a confession to make. It's
a-burning up my soul somethin' fierce."
  "Speak your mind, then."
  Della May took a deep breath.
"Hannah Washington ... well, she's the best
friend I ever had, 'sides Creed. I don't
want her to go, Granny. Is that wrong?"
  Very slowly, Granny set her knitting
aside. She reached for Della May's hand and
grasped it tightly. "You're a fine girl,
Della May. And it's a fine thing to have
a friend, no matter what color she is."
  "Is it true, Granny?" Della May
asked. "What Miz Christy said about you savin'
that slave way back when?"
  Granny rocked back and forth. "What if it
was? What would you think o' your ol' granny
then?"
  Della May thought for a while. "I know how
hard it's been to be Hannah's friend. Us always
dodgin' from people and sneakin' in the woods and all.
So I guess if'n you really was Birdy,
I'd have to say I'd be powerful proud.
Considerin' how brave she musta been."
  For a long time, Granny didn't reply.
She had thinking spells like that a lot, and Della
May knew better than to bother her. She sat
quietly on the porch by her great-grandmother, waiting
and wondering and feeling sad. She felt like someone
had torn a hole right out of her middle. She
felt empty and smaller and very lonely.
  "Child," Granny said suddenly. "I want you
to go fetch your pa."
  "He don't like it when I trouble him at the
mill, Granny. What if he asks how come?"
  Granny took a long breath. "Just tell him
Birdy wants to see him."

               Seventeen

  "We sure can't thank you enough for givin' us a
roof over our heads," Curtis said in the mission
house dining room the next morning. The
Washingtons had just finished breakfast, along with
Christy, Miss Ida, and Ruby Mae.
Miss Alice, Doctor MacNeill, and
David were there, too.
  "We were glad to help," Christy replied.
"I just wish you would stay a little longer. There's
plenty of room. Why do you have to leave so soon?"
  "I got to find me some work as soon as
possible, Miz Christy," Curtis replied.
"There'll be somethin' in Knoxville. It's a
big city."
  "So Doctor MacNeill tells me,"
Christy said, sending a meaningful look at the
doctor.
  "Maybe we'll run into each other,
Doctor," Curtis said. "If'n you decide
to move on, too."
  "I certainly wish we could convince you
and the doctor to stay put," said Miss Alice.
  "So it's true, Doctor?" David asked.
"You're really leaving Cutter Gap?"
  "I'm seriously considering the possibility.
It feels like it's time to make a change." The
doctor gave a wry grin. "Was that a note
of hope I heard in your voice, Reverend?"
  David grinned. "Not at all. I'll
certainly miss you ... professionally, anyway.
This Cove needs a good doctor. Miss
Alice has too much to take care of as it is."
  "We'll get by," Miss Alice said.
She sipped at her tea, then gave the doctor
a sad smile. "Neil needs to do what's best
for him."
  "We've got plenty of work to be done around the
mission, Curtis," David said. "You could stay
for a while, work off your room and board that way."
  "That wouldn't really solve the problem, now, would
it?" Curtis shoved back his chair. "Come on,
children. We've got a long walk ahead of us,
if'n we want to make El Pano today."
  "We're hopin' to leave before school gets
started," Margaret whispered to Christy. "It'll
be easier on the children that way."
  On the porch, Christy knelt down beside
Hannah. "I want you to promise to write
me, Hannah," she said, "and let me know how you
and John and Louise are doing."
  "Miz Christy," Hannah said, her eyes
full of tears, "would you tell Della May I
said goodbye?"
  "Of course."
  "And would you tell Creed I'm a-keepin' my
fingers crossed that Scalawag turns up?"
  "Of course I--" Christy paused, shading
her eyes from the morning sun. Who was that, heading
down the path to the mission house?
  "I have a better idea, Hannah," Christy
said. "Why don't you tell them yourself?"
  "Why, I'll be," Hannah cried. "It's
all them Allens!"
  "Even Granny," the doctor said.
  "Probably come here to gloat," John
muttered. "See us run out, just the way they
wanted."
  "Let's get goin'," Curtis said
gravely. "Ain't no need for us to put up with
them no longer."
  But Della May was already running up
the steps of the mission house, ahead of the others.
"Hannah!" she cried. "Are you a-leavin'
already?"
  Hannah nodded. "We're movin' on to the
city."
  "But you can't go, you just can't! Leastways, not
till Pa and Granny says their piece." She
tugged on Curtis's sleeve. "Please,
Mr. Washington. Please hear them out."
  "We heard all we needed to hear from your pa and
his shotgun," John snapped.
  "But my granny come all this way, with her
rheumatis' and all," Della May
protested.
  Christy put her hand on Curtis's arm.
"Maybe you should hear what they have to say,
Curtis."
  "Please, Curtis," Margaret said softly.
"We been through this much. A few more words can't
hurt us."
  Hobbling slowly, clutching at Mary's arm,
Granny Allen made her way to the house.
Bob hung behind, hands in his pockets. The other
Allen children followed.
  "We come to talk," Granny announced when
they'd reached the porch.
  "Say what you got to say," Curtis said
sharply. "We need to be movin' on."
  Granny motioned to Bob. "Go on, then. Be
a man and speak your mind."
  Bob cleared his throat. "I been doin' some
thinkin'," he said, choosing each word with care.
"Well, mostly, Granny's been doin' some
talkin'." He looked up at Curtis.
"Granny's the one what saved your grandpa,
turns out."
  Margaret gasped. "You? You're Birdy?"
  "That was my growin'-up name," Granny said.
"Used it with William to protect myself." She
shook her head. "Did a lot o' protectin'
after that. Worryin' if'n anyone found out about what
I done, what might happen. Never told a
soul, 'ceptin' one friend."
  "But why?" Louise asked softly.
  "People woulda turned agin me. Maybe even
strung me up to die. Things are better some now
... but not much. I was afraid, child." Her lower
lip trembled. "But Della May made me
think maybe what I done weren't so awful after
all. Maybe it was even a good thing.
How many of us get the chance to save a man's
life?"
  "My granny's a good woman," Bob said.
"Stubborn as a mad mule, but good. So I've
been startin' to think maybe I might be wrong about
some things."
  "What he means is, I told this ornery,
cantankerous old cuss that he better think
twice about the way he was treatin' William
Washington's kinfolk." Granny winked.
"'Cause William was a friend of mine, and I
aim to do right by him."
  "Granny and Ma done yelled at Pa from
sunup to sundown," Della May confided in a
loud whisper to Hannah.
  Bob rolled his eyes. "That's enough outa you,
young'un."
  Curtis stepped down to Granny and took her
hand. "It's an honor to meet you, Ma'am.
On behalf of all my kin, I want to thank you
for what you done. None of us would be here without you."
He sighed. "But that's all in the past. We still
got to be movin' on."
  "Not so fast, young man!" Granny cried.
"My Bob ain't done with his speechifyin'.
Are you, Bob?"
  Bob kicked at the ground with his toe. "The thing
is ..." he cleared his throat, "the thing of it
is, seems I need some help at the mill. I
get these spells, and ... well, if'n you'd be
willin' to work, my boys and I could maybe help
you build yourself a new cabin." He shrugged.
"If'n you wanted."
  "We're already set on leavin'," Curtis
said tersely. "Why stay in a place where people
burn your cabin to the ground?"
  "There's good people, too, Pa," Hannah said.
"Della May and Creed, they's good as they come.
And Miz Christy and the preacher and Doctor
MacNeill. And Granny." She smiled
shyly at Granny Allen. "You said yourself
Grandpa William woulda liked us settlin'
here."
  Curtis shook his head. "I just don't think
..."
  "My, but you're the spittin' image of
William!" Granny exclaimed. "Never could
argue him outa anything. I was afeared he couldn't
make it north, but oh, he was set in his ways
somethin' fierce. "Birdy," he said,
"scares me awful to try. But it scares me
worse not to.""
  Curtis smiled, just a little. "He was a
brave man, that Grandpa William."
  "So are you, Pa," Hannah whispered. "You
ain't a-scared o' tryin'."
  For a long time, Curtis stared off at the
mountaintops, reaching up to the morning sky. At
last, he walked over to Bob. They faced each
other, eye to eye.
  "We'll try it for a month," Curtis said.
He held out his hand.
  Bob stared at it, hesitating. "I ain't
never shook hands with one of your kind," he
admitted. He gave a resigned sigh. "But
I s'pose I ain't a-scared o' tryin',
either."
  Slowly, reluctantly, the two men grasped
hands.
               * * *
  Before the Allens left, Granny motioned
Christy and the doctor aside. "I want to thank
the two of you," she said. "I was afraid to admit
what I done. But that's who I am, and I
s'pose, all things considered, I'm glad of
it."
  "I wonder, Granny," the doctor said,
"who was it you told about William? My grandmother
always looked up to you so. I wondered if ..."
  "Factually speakin', I did confide in your
granny, Doc. I needed someone to fetch me a
saw so's I could remove William's leg
irons. I was desperate, and I took Helen
aside and told her the whole truth."
  "And she helped you?" Christy asked.
  "Well, not quite." Granny hesitated. "She
said she was afraid to help me. But on the other
hand, she never breathed a word of my secret
to anyone else. And that was a kind of help,
don't you see?"
  "So she was afraid," the doctor said, sounding
a little disappointed.
  "Oh, we all get afraid from time to time,
Doctor MacNeill." Granny patted his
arm gently. "She was a fine woman, your
granny. You know how it is. We do what we
can."
  The doctor smiled sadly. "Some of us do,
anyway."
                                  
               Eighteen

  A week later, Christy was sitting with the children
during the noon break when she saw Doctor
MacNeill riding up.
  He dismounted and joined her on the lawn.
  "I haven't heard from you in several days," she
said. "I was starting to worry."
  "I'm sorry. I've been preoccupied.
I've been thinking, mostly ... working some. The
Washingtons' cabin's coming along nicely."
  "It's nice of you to help out."
  "It's the least I can do." The doctor lay
back on the lawn, staring up at the sky. "I have
to compensate for my dear departed grandmother."
  "Not everyone can be as brave as Granny
Allen was," Christy said. "I'm not sure
I'd have that kind of courage."
  The doctor sat up and pulled an envelope
out of his breast pocket. "Has Ben Pentland
been by yet with the mail?"
  "No. But he's due today. Would you like me
to give that to him?"
  "Thanks." The doctor passed her the
envelope. Christy slipped it into a book.
  "Aren't you at least going to read the address?"
  "Of course not. That's your private concern."
  "It's to James," the doctor said.
  Christy felt her heart plummet. "Is it
about the job?"
  "Yes. I felt it was time."
  "I understand." Christy looked away to hide the
tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. "I'm
awfully disappointed, Neil ..."
  "I'm sorry. I know you had your heart set
on waltzing at the wedding. Not to mention showing off
your Italian."
  Christy blinked. She looked at the doctor,
eyes narrowed. "I don't think I heard you right
..."
  "Well, if I'm not going to take the job in
Knoxville, I figured there was no point in
going all the way there just to show you off. After all,
you're a beautiful woman, Christy. Who knows
what might happen if I let all those eligible
young doctors get a glimpse of you?"
  "You're not ... you're not leaving us?" Christy
threw her arms around the doctor's neck and
kissed him.
  The children broke into wild applause,
laughing and pointing. Quickly Christy pulled
away, her cheeks ablaze.
  "My, my," the doctor said. "I had no
idea I was in danger of being so sorely
missed."
  "I'm just glad for the Cove," Christy said
demurely. "That's all."
  "Well, I very much enjoyed kissing you on
behalf of the Cove," the doctor replied.
  "But why did you change your mind?" Christy
asked, smiling in spite of herself.
  "Oh, a lot of things, I suppose. Seeing
the Washingtons decide to stay. Whatever
hardships I have, it's nothing compared to what they're
up against. And hearing about my grandmother, Helen. I
felt she'd let Cutter Gap down, just a little,
that day Granny Allen asked for her help. I
sort of feel like I need to make it up to this
place. It's crazy, I know."
  "Not at all."
  The doctor leapt to his feet. "And then there
was you."
  "Me?"
  He nodded. "See, I'm aiming to enter next
year's state waltzing championship. And I know
just the girl I want as a partner."
  Christy stood, smiling. "Really? Anyone
I know?"
  "She speaks only one language. Her father
isn't a rich industrialist. And she's not much
of a dancer, either."
  "What do you see in her, I wonder?"
  The doctor swept Christy into his arms, and
they began to waltz, spinning around and around. The children
watched, mesmerized.
  "It's hard to say why I'm so fond of her,"
he said. "Could be because she loves these mountains as
much as I do."
               * * *
  When the break was over, Christy herded the last
of the straggling children into the school. They'd been teasing
her about her kiss and her dance with the doctor for an
hour now. It was going to be a long afternoon. But at
least that would make for a change from the tension still
hovering in the air around the Washington children.
  It wasn't enough, she knew, for Bob Allen
to hire Curtis. It wasn't enough that the
Washingtons' cabin was being rebuilt. The older
boys still tormented John and Louise and Hannah
whenever they could. Ugly words were still being
whispered. Even Hannah and Della May still
hid their friendship.
  Christy paused on the steps. Was everyone
inside? She caught sight of Della May and
Hannah, far off at the edge of the woods.
"Girls!" she called. "Hurry up! No more
dawdling!"
  "Teacher!" Della May cried. She pointed
to an old oak tree. "Come see! Bring everyone
and come see, now!"
  Christy frowned. The girls were taking an
awful risk being seen together this way.
  "It's important, Miz Christy!"
Della May called. "I promise!"
  Christy shook her head. Well, she wasn't
eager to face a spelling lesson, either. After the
doctor's good news, she almost felt like playing
hooky herself. "All right, then," she called
back, "but this had better be good, girls."
  She poked her head in the schoolroom door.
"Children," she called, "follow me."
  Christy lead the way toward the old oak,
trailed by her eager students. "Where are we
goin', Teacher?" Little Burl asked.
  "Actually, I have no idea, Little Burl,"
Christy confessed.
  Della May and Hannah were standing
side-by-side next to the tree. There was a
large hollow under the lowest branch, just about even
with the girls' heads.
  "Well," Christy announced, "we're all
here."
  "We got somethin' to show y'all," Della
May announced. She put her arm around
Hannah's shoulder.
  "What are you doin' with the likes o' her?"
Lundy demanded of Della May. "Your hand'll
wither up and fall off now, sure as anything."
  "Hush, Lundy," Della May said
firmly. "First off, Creed gets to look."
  The girls stepped aside and motioned for
Creed. He peered inside the dark hole and
gasped, hand to his mouth.
  "Shh," Hannah said, grinning. "Don't
tell!"
  "It was all Hannah's doin', Creed,"
Della May said. "She done found the hole."
  "Now for Miz Christy," Della May said.
  Christy peered inside the hole. There, to her
amazement, were a mother raccoon and four
tiny babies.
  "Scalawag?" Christy whispered.
  "Sure as shootin'," Creed said.
  "But I thought he was a boy."
  "Guess he had other ideas," Creed said.
  "Did you see the nest?" Hannah asked.
  Christy looked again. The raccoons were nestled
inside an old felt hat. It was lined with a
hair ribbon, a rag doll, a plaid shirt,
and a piece of chalk, among other things.
  "He always was a bit of a thief," Creed
admitted. "Can't help hisself. Or herself,
I guess I should say."
  "Class," Christy said, "Hannah and
Della May have something I think you'll be very
interested in seeing. It seems we've found
Scalawag. And in doing so, we've also located
our classroom thief. I think we all owe the
Washingtons a very big apology."
  Instantly, the children crowded around the hole,
jockeying for position.
  "My hat!" Lundy cried. "Why, you
furry little crook, you!"
  "My dolly!" Vella exclaimed. "The
babies are sleepin' with my dolly!"
  John and Louise watched silently, standing far
off to one side. No one apologized. No one
even acknowledged that they were there.
  Christy heard laughter and turned. Behind her,
heading up the school steps, were Hannah and
Della May. They were holding hands and giggling,
as if they didn't have a care in the world.
  It wasn't enough, Christy knew. Not at
all.
  But at least it was a start.














             About the Author

           Catherine Marshall

  With Christy, Catherine Marshall LeSourd
(1914-1983) created one of the world's most
widely read and best-loved classics.
Published in 1967, the book spent 39
weeks on the New York Times bestseller
list. With an estimated 30 million
Americans having read it, Christy is now
approaching its 90th printing and has sold more
than eight million copies. Although a novel,
Christy is in fact a thinly-veiled
biography of Catherine's mother, Leonora
Wood.
  Catherine Marshall LeSourd also authored
A Man Called Peter, which has sold more
than four million copies. It is an
American bestseller, portraying the love between
a dynamic man and his God, and the tender,
romantic love between a man and the girl he
married. Julie is a powerful, sweeping
novel of love and adventure, courage and
commitment, tragedy and triumph, in a
Pennsylvania town during the Great
Depression. Catherine also authored many other
devotional books of encouragement.

               THE END