Rose Gardner was the only person Hobbs Pritchard ever truly loved, and part of the reason he loved her was for her guts. That’s why she didn’t think twice when she marched up Black Mountain nearly three years after he came up missing. That family of his never even bothered to come down and tell her he was guessed dead. Nope, instead that brother of his showed up noising around with a bunch of questions. Rose had to hear the details on the street from Hobbs’ whiskey customers. The news didn’t drop her to her knees. Her soul was purely past that emotion. Voodoo was the source of his death. How did she know this? Because Rose put the voodoo on him. It was her intentions to rid the world of that little marriage of his, but it seemed to have backfired because Hobbs was gone, missing.

Going up that mountain was really the last thing Rose wanted to do, but when she spied that little wisp of a wife alive and well, the sight crawled under her skin and ate away at her. She had gone to the seashore with Mr. Carl Ramsey. Mama threatened to beat Rose if she left Connor, her son, Hobbs’ son, with her too long. Mama liked the nightlife and that’s where Rose learned her ways. Connor was the innocence in her life, the purity. Anyway, Mr. Carl Ramsey led her to believe he was taking her to a big hotel on the seashore, where they’d be waited on hand and foot. It turned out to be a big old house on some deserted beach. All that old man wanted was to keep her in bed, which wasn’t so bad except the water was too loud to concentrate on pleasing a man.

On the second night of her trip, Carl sulked in the front room of the house and she coaxed him out to walk on the beach. And, there was Hobbs’ wife. Rose had only seen her once when Hobbs took her up the mountain. She was plain and simple like a buttercup and alive, having the last laugh on all those folks up that stupid old mountain, who told the story she died. In those three years she, she’d grown into a woman; wisdom showed in her face as she chatted with the man whose arm was looped through hers. They had love and money written all over them. And that’s when Rose realized Hobbs owed her something. He’d used her up and left her an old woman before her time, not to mention how she spent a good three months wondering if he were dead or alive. It wasn’t like Rose worried over his wrongs so much when he was around. Lord, she just liked him there; he wasn’t much of a giving person, but he sure knew what worked her over. He owed her. He owed Connor. He was always bragging over the money he had hidden up on that mountain. Hobbs bragged a lot, and he was capable of just about anything.

Yep, Rose stood right there in that hot sand and it crossed her mind to walk right up to Miss Hoity-toity and introduce herself, watch that woman’s shinning face cave, but what point was there in hurting her. She got away and if she killed him; well really he had it coming because he was meaner than a wild cat. And Rose had to bear some of the guilt; her voodoo had played a big part in the whole matter.

Rose cut that little trip short—and boy Mr. Ramsey wasn’t a bit happy. She stopped at Mama’s long enough to gather Connor and pulled him right up that mountain before she had too much time to think. Connor was a Pritchard and there was no denying that. The family owed him something, even if it was just history.

When Rose got to the Pritchard farm, she just stood in the front yard, holding Connor on her hip until Hobbs’ old aunt came waddling out the door. She heard enough about her to do her a lifetime. Hobbs only honored two women in his life: his mama and his aunt. This was probably due to the fact both women had no clearer vision than the rest of the women, and they held him in a higher place like a prince or something.

“Who are you?”

Rose sat Connor on the ground and looked real hard at the woman. “I’m Rose Gardner, and this here is Connor. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

“No one’s never mentioned a Rose or a child.”

Rose yanked Connor out of the dirt, which caused him to wail like a hurt cat. It wasn’t his fault the old biddy didn’t know his mama. “Hush now.” Rose tried to sound sweet. Connor only wailed louder.

“Is that baby okay?” The woman moved closer.

“This baby is Hobbs’ son, and I’ve been raising him alone. I’m the woman he left this old mountain and that pretty little wife for.”

“I guess he’s dead. Do you think he’s dead? I miss him something awful even if he were the meanest boy that ever walked this mountain. He ran my sweet little Liz off, but I love him. He’s mine.” The old woman’s face cracked open. “I don’t believe all that nonsense of his skull being found in that old hollow tree. Nellie told me it was a coon, and Nellie wouldn’t lie. She was a truthful little thing. She’s gone too, you know? They never found her body.”

In that woman’s words, Rose saw her own heart, her love and need for Hobbs Pritchard. Why? Why would she long for a mean drunk who did nothing but abuse the folks around him? Lord, he’d kill a man in a heartbeat. She knew because she seen him kill Hark Parker. Stabbed him with one swift movement of a knife. The man shouldn’t have become all chummy with him, and he sure shouldn’t have stole from him. What was wrong with all of the folks that allowed Hobbs to be Hobbs?

“This is Connor. He looks just like Hobbs. It hurts me to think on it too long.”

“Hobbs never had no children.”

“I guess I know! This here is his son.” Rose was getting a little tired of the craziness.

“He was mean to that little wife. He beat her and I didn’t do a thing. I let it happen. I caused it all.”

“You didn’t cause a thing. I put voodoo on him. I made him restless, tired of this old place. He was leaving here. That I can tell you for sure. I don’t know what happen, but my voodoo worked too good.”

“How I know that’s Hobbs’ son?”

“Look at him.”

The old woman looked real hard at Connor. “I guess you’re right. The old home place is empty, been empty since Nellie walked off and died. Did your voodoo do that too?”

“Never had no quarrel with her. She was just plain stupid.” And, Rose knew this was the truth.

“That place ain’t nothing but bad luck. Hobbs’ mama and step mama died up there. You can go if you want. No skin off my back.” She turned to leave. “I’ll send Tom up later to see after you. You bring that boy down here to see his old aunty.”

“I make my own luck. I’ll be fine, no need to send anybody.” Now, she had to tend to the matter of money and then off that mountain she’d be.

The cabin sat in a clearing with a lost look as if it were left over from another time and life. The main room was musty with a tangy smell like over cooked, spoiled meat. A cold feeling rushed over Rose as she walked in front of the fireplace, and outside the window, on the edge of the woods, stood a man, staring. He was dressed real nice, but the knees of his pants were ruined. Well, Rose had been doing voodoo too long not to know a restless spirit when one appeared. When she went for a closer look, the man dissolved into the air, and Rose knew he had some part in the murder. She took Connor’s hand and put him on the old bed in the bedroom. She started going through the room. When she opened an old trunk, a shirt that belonged to Hobbs laid on top. She held it to her nose just to see if he were there. You mean old son of a gun. I miss you so bad. I ache like some kind of fool. But, the shirt smelled like mildew. His presence was missing from the whole place, unless she had no sense of his true presence.

Two hours later as Connor slept and Rose went through each room, a knock on the door interrupted her peace.

A man filled the door. Lord, he was a big man, but Hobbs was reflected in his brother’s face, kind of soft around the edges like the man Rose imagined Hobbs to be. This man was the one who came asking the questions that terrible night. Of course, Rose didn’t study on him too much that night. Her mind was filled with anger and then sorrow concerning Hobbs.

“You gave me a shock.”

“Why is that?” His voice echoed through the empty rooms with a familiar tone.

“You look like him, sort of.”

“I’m not sure I like that.”

She held out her hand. “Rose, Rose Gardner. I was your brother’s girl, the one he didn’t choose to marry. The one you visited with questions.” The truth rang through the room, a freedom bell.

“This is a broken down mess.” He pushed past her into the room. “You know the kids around here say they see Hobbs out by the hollow tree just watching.” He walked to the window. “I ain’t never seen him, don’t want to. I have no use for him.” His stare was dark. “My first guess is Nellie killed him. Can’t say I blame her. It was a shame she just didn’t walk out of here. No one would have pointed one finger at her.”

“How do you know she didn’t just go out on her own and make a life?” Rose watched his face for a sign.

“I guess anything could have happened ”

If he had only knew.

Connor came into the room, sucking his thumb. “I not like that bed. A bad man talked to me.”

“He was born with a caw. All his life, he’ll see the spirit world, you know. It makes him real special to many folks.” Babies born with a caw over their face were known as magical, good luck. Rose was right proud of that.

Tom Pritchard took one look at Connor and his face went all soft. Rose’s heart flipped over.

“Well little man, we don’t believe in that silly old stuff do we? All that mumbo-jumbo stuff.”

Connor watched his uncle.

“Now, he looks like Hobbs. All the good stuff. It’s like magic how all the meanness in Hobbs’ face is ironed out all smooth in his.” He looked at Rose.

“Yeah, he’s all the good parts of Hobbs, maybe a little of me.”

“You’ll have your work cut out for you. I never could figure out where that horrible smell came from. I don’t know how you’ll get rid of it. This is a good house. I was raised here with Liz and Hobbs. It was a wonderful place when Mama was alive, even old Hobbs softened with her.” Tom Pritchard looked at the room as if he saw a different place in a different time.

“I’ll make due here.” Now, Rose had different plans, and it didn’t include making some kind of home.

“I’ll bring you some supper.”

“Me go.” Connor held out his arms.

Tom Pritchard threw back his head in a laughter that rattled the windows. “I could have a houseful of children.” He turned to go out the door, but looked back at Rose. “Come get me if you need anything.”

“You mean if the headless Hobbs comes after me? Don’t worry. I’ll run down that road so fast.” Laughter stuck in her chest. She just had to keep thinking after that money and get on out of there.

After a quiet night’s sleep, Rose began searching the barn. The house was peaceful as if the evil and meanness had finally been dealt with in a proper way. The next morning while she had her head buried in the moldy hay, Tom Pritchard made an appearance.

“What are you doing?”

She thought of burying herself in the hay. “I’m looking for money.”

“Come and play.” Connor yelled from his perch in the hay. “The bad man said you like to play.”

Tom picked Connor up.

“Connor don’t bother this nice man. He has business somewhere.”

“I’m content to be right here. I love this place. I love this mountain. I’ve never hankered for anything else. Folks just seem to love Black Mountain.”

“I’m not made of the stuff it takes to live here. I’m more like your brother. That’s why I loved him so much. I just wanted to find his money. It’s here somewhere. He owes me.”

“He owes a lot of folks. I don’t doubt there’s money hidden around here somewhere. But, money’s ain’t going to fix your problems.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Tom just looked at her.

“You know I killed Hobbs.”

His face never flinched.

“I put voodoo on him. The spell was supposed to make him leave his wife and come off this mountain for good. It worked a little too good. Cause now they’re both gone. And, well now you know what kind of woman I am.”

“I don’t believe in voodoo, and I don’t believe you’re a bad woman.”

“Um uh.” Connor took Tom’s hand in his tiny hand.

“I knew you came looking for money. I expected you long ago. Hobbs was always starting something but never finishing it. Up here you don’t need a lot of money. The mountain provides. We ain’t rich, but by gosh, we’re happy. Hobbs used things up and never was a happy man. I don’t blame Nellie a bit for killing him. And, I know she did it. Let’s just say the feeling is in my bones. Some things are just best left to hoodoo and voodoo. Don’t you think?” His grin made her smile.

He looked at Connor. “This here is Hobbs’ second chance at life right here on this mountain. This boy will grow up to be strong and smart, but with no meanness.” Tom looked her over. “I’d be purely satisfied if you stayed. You’ll never be happier.”

One year later, Rose married Tom Pritchard and became an honest woman. She always saw herself as a Pritchard. Life just took a sharp turn and there she was planted on that mountain like one of them. Three months after she married Tom, while planting flowers in the old garden bed outside the house, her spade hit glass. The lid of the jar had begun to rust and moisture had built up inside, but not enough to hide the contents. Money, lots of money. Nellie didn’t take it after all. It was right there all the time in her garden. The rich dirt held something personal. Rose just felt it in her bones.

She stood with that old jar in her hand. Some things are just left best to hoodoo and voodoo.

It was the twenty-second of June, a Saturday night. One of the Brown twins—Maude wasn’t sure if it was Bob or Andy—ran up the path to her house. Maude was in bed with a book when she heard the beat of his bare feet on the path outside her window.

“Miss Tuggle, Mama’s finally having that baby. Can you come?” He stood on the porch, cap in his hand, uncomfortable, twisting and looking at his feet.

“I’ll be right behind you. Which one are you?”

This won a slight smile. “I’m Andy.”

“You run on back to the cabin. Let your parents know I’m right behind.”

He dawdled a minute and then took off running like the devil himself was chasing him. Them boys had this foolish notion that Maude’s daddy, bless him, could be seen swaying from the old oak tree where he hung himself years before. She found it downright funny. That old mountain was full of superstitions and ghost stories like the one that said Hobbs Pritchard’s skull was found in the hollow tree next to his house. Them boys probably found some dern animal skull. Maude had no doubt Hobbs was dead somewhere from a woman’s hand, but she doubted he died on Black Mountain. Folks were too scared to do anything about Hobbs. They just tolerated him. And secrets just didn’t exist. It broke her heart to think that sweet little wife of his had died due to him or his neglect. She just wandered off in a fog. Them woods were way too dangerous for that kind of actions. It was a pure shame. She was one of the only good things that happened to the Pritchard family. Maude figured one man could only be so mean because she treated a bad cut and a black eye on his sister. Liz never did admit that he was the one who hurt her. She was a quiet thing that just blended into the background. It wasn’t long after that incident that Liz married Allen. It was right tragic when he took his own life. Liz left the mountain. With those thoughts in her head, Maude was right proud she didn’t have any family left to drive her crazy.

She gathered up her bag and checked for essentials; clean scissors, a variety of herbs and powders for pain, a needle and thread, and a hook tool just in case the baby died before birth and she had to remove it. The Brown farm was just over the hill, a thirty-minute walk through her field. She filled the lamp and took out.

The weeds were the only growing thing that was plentiful in her herb garden. The ground was hard as a rock. The red clover was her biggest worry. She used it with a little honey to make a syrup for the whooping cough that plagued the mountain. It was the worse sickness to hit the mountain since the Spanish flu. She remembered the horror that illness brought. And just like the Spanish flu, book doctors couldn’t find a cure for whooping cough.

All the Tuggle women had been granny women, beginning with Maude’s great grandmother, who learned her skills from a Cherokee medicine woman. Being the mountain’s granny woman just came to Maude naturally. Living alone fit her like a nice loose dress.

The lantern she carried provided a good size circle of light as she crossed the field. Carlton’s headstone loomed to her right in the dim light. The worn letters that she chiseled into the rock had lasted for years.

“You know, Carlton, lately I’ve been thinking we probably wouldn’t have even liked each other after a year or two had you lived. You were rich, or so you said. I never could find your family. The baby would be a grown up man of nineteen. And where am I? Still talking to graves. If I could see him one time, it would make up for all the heartache. I really ought to get the nerve to move off this mountain like Liz Pritchard. I don’t want to spend another twenty years mourning.” Maude almost tripped in a hole, but caught herself. “I don’t want to deliver any more babies. I don’t want watch any more people die. I just want off this silly old mountain.” She looked like some fool yelling at the sky, but there wasn’t no one around to hear.

She kept on walking. But in her mind she pictured her life. Lord folks on the mountain saw her as a useful old maid. She guessed they were right, but not in a million years did they figure Maude had a secret so big it would have ruined her life if it was found out. Only one soul had known, and Mama took it with her to the grave. It was all so long ago that Maude just stopped thinking on it. But once a year, in early summer, when the black-eyed susans bloomed, she allowed herself a moment of wallowing in the ‘could of beens and the would of beens.’ Carlton’s memory walked the field just like the day he wandered into her life wearing his town suit. His eyes were green and his hair the color of Georgia clay.

His name was Carlton Parker, from the Asheville Parkers, or so he claimed. When it was all said and done, Maude tried to find his family, but not one Parker would claim him to a mountain girl with love in her eyes. So, Mama and Maude buried him under the big oak next to Daddy. Fever just ate him up from the inside out. He was the one who brought the Spanish flu up the mountain that killed off half the mountain. Carlton died before Maude could make things right and marry him. She prayed that flu would kill her—and God forgive her soul—the baby that was inside of her womb. It was Mama who took that nonsense right out of her head, told Maude to shape up and be a grownup about her actions. Maude didn’t blame Mama none. Lord knew she did what she had to do. She made the plan all by herself. Had the good Pastor Dobbins, who viewed bastard children to be equal with the devil, found out, Mama would have been ruined. She would have lost everything. It wasn’t too hard to hide because most kept to their cabins due to the flu.

The morning the soft baby boy was ripped from Maude’s arms and given to a missionary from Asheville, who was taking him to Maine, Maude doubted God’s very existence. She held out one last hope in him that he would use his mighty power to stop the separation, but the baby was taken. A lifetime went by in a blink of an eye and reduced the affair to a horrible memory that haunted Maude on nights like that one when she worked her way across that dark field to deliver a baby. It was unfair. She made her way to the Brown’s house as the tension rode the air like a lightning bolt through the heat.

As the sun rode the sky, Maude slept on her bed without clothes, drifting into a deep dreamless sleep. The Brown’s baby had finally shown his crowning glory at sunrise. It was that time of year where Maude spent most of the daylight hours inside. The heat that June seemed more like late August, dragging on and on without rain or relief. Some of the worse sickness occurred in hot weather.

Maude woke up around sunset to the sound of a knock on her door. Not another baby. She pulled on a dress.

A young man, his back to the door as he gazed at the valley, dressed in town clothes, hair so red it reminded her of carrots only a little darker, made her heart catch.

The young man turned as she opened the door. His jaw was squared as if he were full of determination. He held out his hand. “My name is Thomas Willow. Mrs. Conner, she’s in the first cabin as you start up the mountain, told me I should see you concerning the community’s health care.” When he smiled, his face transformed into a small boy, playing along a creek with his friends.

“Excuse me for staring, but she called you a granny woman. I expected an older lady.”

Maude tingled clear up her arm when she took his hand. His slow way of speaking brought a cool fall day with shadows stretching across the field to mind. His eyes were a dull blue. “Granny woman is just a name that mountain folks give their medicine women.”

“So, you’re the doctor?”

“Now, that’s a fancy town term that has nothing to do with me and what I know. Nope, I’m just a granny woman, pure and simple. I think I do a lot more than town doctors.” Maude just stared him up and down. Her heart beat in my head. “Shoot, I live with my patients. I go to church with them. I grew up with most. They’re my family. Their kids are my kids, and they came into this world with my help.” Now this very thought took her breath away. “Mr. Willow, you’re bothering me at supper time and after a all night labor and delivery.” Maude had this urge to slam the door and run.

His laughter vibrated the glass in the windows. “I’m sorry. Will you let me stay and talk. I tend to just blunder through everything.”

Maude could look at him all night, study his nose, and the wrinkles on his forehead, but it just might be too dangerous. “It seems to me, Mr. Willow, you intend to intrude on my good graces. What do you want on Black Mountain?”

“You’re straight forward.” He formed his words with a different sound like he lived in a different country, but anywhere was a different country once a soul left Black Mountain.

Maude motioned him to follow. “Where you from?”

“Maine.”

Her heart skipped a beat and then, settled instead of banging around her body like before. “What you doing here?”

He followed her to the kitchen, where she removed the smoked ham from the pie cupboard, along with bread. “I don’t heat up that stove in the summer if I can help it.”

There he sat at her round oak table, looking at her mama’s old recipe book just like he was home after a long trip. “If the pain becomes too much, place a knife or ax under the bed. This should help cut the pain. If that don’t work, give the powder, but not too much. Folks tend to grow use to it.” He looked up. “What kind of powder?”

Maude sliced strawberries. “What do you want?”

“How do you perform operations?”

“You’re full of questions. I ain’t telling my secrets.” She laughed and surprised herself again. “Here’s some strawberries I grew.”

“Thank you.”

Maude placed the ham and bread on the table. That boy ate like he’d never been fed. His hands reminded her of Daddy’s. “I’m glad you like the food.”

“It’s the best I’ve had.” He spoke around huge bites.

Maude sat down in front of him finally ready to talk. “Answer my question.”

“I’m here to study the mountain ways.”

Maude laughed. “We’re a people that sticks together. They’re ain’t nothing to study. One day all you’ll see will be gone or changed. The old ways can’t stay on forever, too many town folk finding their way up here. There’s a saying up here: Once a person leaves the mountain, they leave their soul.” She looked him in the face. “More and more souls will be lost. I won’t lose mine.”

“I’m a student at Harvard, and I want to write a book about this mountain. I want to spend a summer up here with you and learn everything.”

“You want to stay with me. It ain’t proper, and you’d run out of things to write the first week.”

“This mountain is a treasure trove of information.”

“You should go home.”

His adam’s apple moved. “You see, Miss Tuggle, my parents told me the truth when I was fourteen. How I was born here and spent a couple of days in the arms of my birth mother. They told me how much she loved me, but she just couldn’t keep me. I’ve thought about her ever since they told me that story. She’s huge in my mind. I promised the first chance I got I was coming here.”

There it was just as plain as butter spread on white bread. The baby had grown up and come home, but Maude wasn’t his real mama. Lord that good woman that told him the truth was more a mama than Maude would ever be, not by choice, but by circumstances. Life just dealt Maude some events and she had to deal with them the best way possible. “Your family is down that mountain and back in Maine. I bet you didn’t even tell them you were coming here. They love you. They know you inside and out. What your favorite color is, your best food, and what you hate. That’s a family. They know you. You don’t belong on this mountain. I didn’t go through all the pain I went through over the years to see you try and toss it out like some old garbage. I gave you a family.” A knock on the door interrupted her. “Let me see who this is.”

Charles Weehunt stood on the porch. “It’s the missus. It’s her time.” He looked at the young man. “I see he found you.”

And, in that instant, Maude knew. Her life broke open like a beautiful tulip that only lasts for a day or two before it drops its petals. The whole mountain knew. They had known all along. “Yes, and he’s headed home to his family.”

Charles looked at his intertwined fingers. “Want a ride in the wagon?”

Maude almost agreed. It was right there on the tip of her tongue, but she stopped. “No, I’m going to say goodbye to my guest. I’m right behind you.” She faced the young man and saw that young girl reflected in his face.

“You’re my mother. Mama told me who you were.”

A cracked formed in her heart that day that never has mended. “She honored you by telling the truth. Please honor her by going home. She is your mama, son.”

“I’m a grown man.”

“That’s evident. Today is your birthday. You’re a fine young man. We can now live our lives in peace, and I thank both you and your mama for that.” Maude walked right off that porch and kept on walking. And she didn’t look back, couldn’t.

The next morning she crossed that field at dawn. A shadow stood by Carlton’s grave. When she got close, it vanished. “I seen him, our baby. He’s beautiful.” She stood in the half-light of the morning and thought on life. “My life is here. It is good, better than some.”

Maude never saw Thomas Willow again, but every Christmas—if the mail was running—she got a pretty card with a twenty dollar bill. “To the granny woman. Use this for your patients.”

Tyler Morgan was up every morning with the chickens. Not because he loved the early morning light seeping across Black Mountain; given a choice, he’d sleep until dinner, but Daddy thought men got up at the crack of dawn and took care of their chores, and Daddy wasn’t a man to be messed with. So, Tyler gathered Mama’s eggs, milked the old cow, and slopped the hogs before a bit of breakfast. Now, Tyler didn’t much care for school or learning for that matter. It just seemed a plain waste of time to him. Look at Daddy; he quit school in the fifth grade and he was no worse for it. All a farmer needed was little numbers and a few words. The rest would come his way from hard work and trusting the land. That’s why Tyler didn’t mind driving the cows to the east pasture every morning. It was a good four miles out of his way, but he never hurried.

Now, Daddy counted on them cows being home by sunset and because Tyler fiddled on the way home from school—fishing, playing ball with friends—he had to put a rush on gathering them cows each evening right as the sun touched the treetops. He found if he cut through Maude Tuggle’s field—she was the mountain’s granny woman, right smart lady for an adult—he made good time. Of course like with any good thing came a catch. He always passed the giant oak tree standing close to her house where he never failed to see a shadowy man hanging from one of the big limbs. It wasn’t no mystery that Granny Maude’s own daddy hung himself after the world war. Nobody spoke of the reason. But, Tyler would have bet his right arm that he hung himself at sundown. The thought sent a cold chill crawling up his spine. Did the man decide he wanted to live at the last second, regretting his decision? He pictured the man jumping from the limb, kicking a few times, before the life just drained right out of him. No wonder his spirit couldn’t rest. Mama said there were lots of souls on Black Mountain that wandered around. She swore they tapped on her bedroom window at night for relief from the worldly struggles. Tyler knew his mama was telling the truth because she saw the dead on a regular basis. They were attracted to her ‘sight’ like fleas to a dog. Daddy didn’t buy the ‘sight’ business, but he hushed up because Mama was his one weak spot, and he figured if she did have a gift, he sure didn’t want to be on her wrong side. Not many folks had ‘sight’ that Tyler knew just Mama and Shelly Parker, the colored girl who worked for Pastor Dobbins, and she’d punch you in the mouth if you mentioned it. Mama didn’t hold no store in Shelly’s gift, her being colored and all. Anyway, Tyler just hightailed it through the field after them cows each evening without thinking too much.

Throughout the day Tyler might be found doing mostly anything. Of late, he began to wander on down to the schoolhouse just to see pretty little Mollie Tagert. She acted real impressed when him and Pooter pulled old Hobbs Pritchard’s skull out of the oak tree. Now, Tyler never told a soul how scared he was that Hobbs might come in the night and cut Tyler’s head off. But Mollie Tagert could just about get him to do anything with that smile of hers. There were days when the thought of her just eat him up inside. So, that spring day in April it was just like him to open his big fat mouth and brag. Some of his friends gathered during recess: Oshie Connor, Charles Ray Heart, Pooter—it wasn’t hard to figure out where he got his name—and Mollie. Tyler was sure Oshie had taken a shine to Mollie too. That’s what started the whole business.

“I seen the ghost of old man Tuggle.” Tyler smiled real big.

Mollie stopped right in the middle of talking to Oshie.

“You’re just joshing. Ain’t nobody seen old man Tuggle’s ghost.” Oshie laughed at Tyler like he was some kind of kid. Oshie just wasn’t himself since he went down the mountain the summer before and worked for the carnival. Tyler guessed it was like Mama said: once a person left the mountain, there weren’t no coming back. Whatever was down there took away the good parts, the fun parts of Oshie and left him older, different.

“I know what I saw! I saw the ghost hanging in Granny Maude’s tree. I’ve seen it every day for nearly a year now.”

“Prove it.” Pooter piped up. He always leaned whichever direction Oshie leaned like trees in a strong wind.

“You couldn’t stand the sight.” Tyler watched Mollie’s eyes grow wide.

“You boys are plumb crazy if you hunt up some dead ghost.” She flitted around and pointed at Tyler. “And, you’re the craziest of all, walking by him every night.”

Tyler liked being in the light of her attention. “It ain’t nothing. I have to go that way.”

“I think we should meet Tyler at this tree. Let’s see his ghost.” Charles Ray spoke soft.

Was he sweet on Mollie too?

“You fellows can’t stand the sight, but come on over. I can’t hang around waiting on you because my daddy will whoop me good if I’m late, but you go on down the road until you get to Granny Maude’s place. Now you have to stand in the field. I don’t know what happens when you get closer to the tree. I’ve never tried it.”

“You boys are crazy! I wish I were a boy. You have to tell me all about it tomorrow.” Mollie smiled, and Tyler for one was darn glad she wasn’t a boy.

As the school day came to a close, a thought popped into Tyler’s mind. What if, just what if, he got the ‘sight’ from Mama. That would mean nobody but him could see this ghost. Lord, he’d never hear the end of it. He had to think of something real fast. And then, right when the teacher rang the dismissal bell, he had the best idea of his life. It was so good he nearly ran over Oshie and Pooter on the way out the door.

“Where you tearing off to so fast?” Oshie yelled at Tyler’s dust.

“Just be there.” Tyler threw his hand in the air and kept moving.

“We’ll be there don’t you worry.”

Daddy always said pride cometh before a fall, or was that God?

He thought on his plan long and hard, all through afternoon chores. It was perfect except for one glitch. If he hung himself by the neck, he’d die for sure, and that would defeat the purpose. While he was out in the barn, cleaning the horse’s shoes, the answer just dropped right in his brain. It was simple and smart. He’d just tie a rope around his chest and hang there like a dead man. Them boys wouldn’t come too close. They’d be way too scared.

As the sun settled on the tops of the trees, Tyler stood in front of the tree. The hair on his arms stood straight up, but he couldn’t see no shadow, which was a good thing cause he might have died on the spot. He hoisted himself up onto the second low branch. He tied a good knot around the limb and then around his chest. When he lowered himself, the jerk took his breath away for a minute and he swung.

“I don’t believe a bit of this.” Oshie walked into the field.

“Lord God in Heaven look at him. He’s hanging there.” Pooter stood with his mouth wide open.

“I’m leaving. My mama doesn’t like me out after dark.” Charles Ray turned back.

Tyler concentrated on looking dead as his body slowed to a soft sway.

“He’s crazy. I’m going home.” Oshie punched Pooter in the shoulder and Pooter took off running. Oshie was behind him.

Tyler had to think of a way down. Desperation spread through his chest, which ached from the tight rope. No girl was worth hanging stuck in a tree, looking like a darn fool. Then, he remembered his new pocketknife. He sawed on the rope above his head until it snapped and he hit the ground so hard again he lost his breath for the second time. When he opened his eyes, Maude Tuggle stood over him, looking at him as if part of his mind was gone and maybe it was.

“What in the world are you doing in my tree, Tyler?” You could have killed yourself or is that what you’re trying to do. Nothing is that bad. Does your Daddy know you’re out here hanging in my tree?”

The air slowly leaked backed into his lungs.

The next day at recess Tyler hung back, not sure what Oshie was going to say.

“What happed last night? Did you see the ghost?” Mollie was prettier than ever.

She wasn’t nothing but trouble, plain old trouble.

“We went out there.” Oshie looked over at Tyler. “We saw it.”

Pooter’s eyes got big. “You’re one crazy fellow, Tyler, hanging from that tree right by that darn ghost. That was one trick.”

Charles Ray chimed after Pooter. “This idiot here was hanging side by side with a ghost and the ghost was hanging by his neck just a swinging. Tyler was hanging by his chest keeping time with the ghost. It was plum crazy.”

Mollie stood next to Tyler. She had this smell, a girl smell, sweet and clean. “You are so brave.”

Tyler smiled at Mollie, but he thought he might just take the long way home from there after, see some different scenery.

Halloween on Black Mountain was pretty boring. Matter of fact, we never even celebrated one until the year that new-fangled teacher, Miss Palmer, came. She was from Asheville and had it in her mind she’d save us kids from ourselves. All she did was give herself something she called sick headaches. But, she did learn us about Halloween. She told wonderful stories of how kids in Asheville wore store-bought costumes every Halloween and knocked on neighbor’s doors. With the magic of three words, trick or treat, they received candy. The closest thing Mary Carol had come to candy was Mama’s peanut brittle, and she purely loved it. She told Mollie—they were best friends since first grade—that they ought to have them a trick or treat.

So, the year Mary Carol and Mollie turned fourteen—Mollie was madly with in love with two boys, Oshie Connor and Tyler Morgan—they decided that their friends deserved a real Halloween like those kids in Asheville, but there wasn’t no way to go knocking on doors in the dark. Mary Carol wasn’t much on the dark, and folks were just too spread out. And, nobody had real candy. So, Mary Carol and Mollie were plain stuck. Then, Miss. Palmer got the idea to have a carnival with games, food, and ghost stories around a fire. Mary Carol didn’t much care for ghost stories. Of course, the mountain was full of ghosts. That was just a fact. Most wasn’t even afraid.

“Where can we have a carnival?” Miss Palmer erased the blackboard as she spoke. Mary Carol was right taken with her red fingernails even if Pastor Dobbins said it was a sign of the devil. “Could we have the carnival at the church?”

“No, Pastor Dobbins won’t go along with that. He says Halloween is the devil’s night. He won’t do a thing to help us.”

Then, Mollie got that look in her eye. That look always meant some kind of trouble for Mary Carol. “Let’s have it at Hobbs Pritchard’s old cabin.”

Mary Carol’s mouth just fell open. Now, Mollie was messing with fire. The Pritchard cabin was haunted. Every soul on Black Mountain knew the ghost of Hobbs himself could be seen on any given night standing by the old hollow tree in his yard. He disappeared a few years back. Then, his wife just walked off in the fog one day and was never seen again. Now, nobody had to tell Mary Carol to stay away from that place. Lots of folks thought one of Hobbs’ girlfriends found her way up the mountain and killed him good, but Mama said his wife killed Hobbs. She said she would have if she had been married to him.

“The Pritchard place is haunted, Miss Palmer.”

“Mary Carol, you don’t believe in ghosts do you?”

Mary Carol hung her head while Mollie giggled. “No. I guess not.”

“Good.” She turned her attention to Mollie. “How do we get permission?”

“Just leave it to me, Miss Palmer.” Mollie was such a teacher’s pet.

“Good! We have lots of plans to make. What kind of games are we going to play?”

“How about bobbing for apples?” Mary Carol thought that was a real fine game.

“That’s a baby game. I want to play spin the bottle.”

Miss Palmer looked shocked. “And, how do you play that game, Mollie?” Mary Carol had a feeling Miss Palmer knew just how to play spin the bottle and was testing Mollie.

Mollie just hung her head. “I don’t know. Patty’s sister was talking about playing it with boys. I want a game where we can play with the boys.”

Mary Carol was about sick of Mollie going ga ga over boys. “Let’s carve pumpkins like you showed us, Miss Palmer. My daddy has a bunch he would give us.”

“Excellent!”

Mollie stuck her tongue out, but Mary Carol knew she was full of envy and that was just a plain out a sin.

Somehow Mollie convinced the old widow Pritchard to let the whole mountain use her nephew’s abandoned farm. It seemed everybody planned on coming to the party, even Pastor Dobbins’ daughter, Elizabeth, who said her daddy could just stay at home and be a stick in the mud. Mary Carol offered Mama’s peanut brittle. But, still in the pit of her stomach she wrestled with dread. She hated ghost stories. Whenever Granny told them, she listened, never a bit worried. But just let her get into bed and the creeps crawled right in with her. Many a night she slept with the covers over her head even in the one-hundred degree heat.

And, it was just her luck that she had to walk to the party alone. Jim, her stupid brother, hated being stuck with his sister and ran off early, leaving her with supper dishes. Mama was down in her back, and Daddy, well, he had done drank himself into a dither, passing out on the floor. Granny couldn’t walk across the room much less walk three miles in the dark, so it was just Mary Carol on her own.

She wasn’t missing the party no matter what. The sun had set and the road got darker and darker. The harvest moon hung in the sky and lit her way with a smoky gray light. But she sure didn’t much care for the dark.

The wind picked up some and she tried not to put much thought into her sweater, hanging on the rocker at home. She just moved forward one foot in front of the other up that shadowy road. Then, she saw a shadowy place where some thick trees hung over the road, blocking out the stars and the moon. She tried to think of ways to go around, but there just wasn’t any unless she wanted to fight the briars or wade through the swampy area. As she got closer, she wished she had a friend.

She heard a giggle and swung around; there stood a girl a couple of years younger. She was right pretty with long dark, curly hair. Fresh rosebuds hung from her ribbon. Mary Carol found that a bit strange in October, but Granny’s rose bush had bloomed as late as November. The girl wore a long old fashion white slip like Granny would have worn when she was young.

“Who are you?” Mary Carol had seen just about every soul on Black Mountain.

“Kayleen Morgan.”

“You’re costume is right pretty.”

She giggled again. “It’s just my burying clothes.”

Mary Carol thought she was trying to scare her talking about such, but she was so relieved to have company, she would have walked with the devil himself had he been there. “Are you going to the party?”

“I wish I could. I like parties. I went to a lot before…”

They walked into the shelter of the trees. Now, what Mary Carol noticed first was Kayleen’s eyes were the color of cornflowers and showed up in the dark.

“I used to be afraid of the dark. I thought spooks were around these parts.” Kayleen smiled.

“You ain’t scared no more?”

“Ain’t no reason to be.”

Mary Carol looked at this girl, younger than her, and shame just washed over her. “I’m scared of the dark. I can’t help it.”

“Ain’t no reason. What gets you in the dark will get you in the light of day.”

They walked.

Kayleen looked at Mary Carol and smiled. “You can hold my hand.”

“No, I ain’t no baby.” Mary Carol could have sworn Kayleen sighed as if she were deeply disappointed.

“We’re almost there.”

“Yeah. We’re coming to the creek.”

“I’m scared of going to the Pritchard farm.”

Kayleen stopped. “Why you sacred?”

“The place is haunted.”

“I ain’t scared of Hobbs. His wife put him in his place. She cut off his head and put it in the old hollow tree.”

That sent a chill up Mary Carol’s spine.

“He’s a real ornery sort.” Kayleen twisted a strand of hair in her fingers.

“His wife died, walked off in the woods because she loved him.”

The girls walked out of the trees into the moonlight that seemed to shine right through Kayleen.

“Who told you that mess?”

“Everybody knows she just walked off into the fog and died. Lord that is the best ghost story on the mountain.”

Kayleen looked real put out. “She ain’t dead. She rode out of here as free as a jaybird.”

Mary Carol just stared at the Kayleen. “Hobbs Pritchard or his wife was never found. You’re younger than me. What makes you such an expert?”

“Just am.” Kayleen hung back.

Mary Carol walked across the little bridge. “You’d better come on or I’ll leave you out here in the dark.” But, when she looked back, the road was as empty as her breakfast plate on Sunday morning. “Kayleen, you ain’t a bit funny. You come on out.” A dog barked in the distance but no sign of Kayleen. Mary Carol ran because she wasn’t no fool. Something got that girl. Probably the ghost of Hobbs Pritchard for the things she said about him.

Mary Carol sure was relieved when she saw the carnival fire and a big commotion going on at the Pritchard’s. At first she thought the boys were having some big ruckus and play fighting, but the closer she got the more she realized the tone of their voices were serious. she ran up to Mollie and grabbed her arm.

“What’s going on here?”

“Where you been?”

“I had to do the dinner dishes before I left.”

Oshie Connor yelled from across the yard. “You ain’t going to believe what Pooter found, Mollie!”

“What they doing over there by that hollow tree?”

Mollie shrugged. “Tyler thought he saw the ghost of Hobbs Pritchard. Then, Pooter reached inside the tree and pulled out a human skull. Gosh, you’d think them boys found gold.”

The creeps walked right across Mary Carol’s head like an army of ants. “Wonder what a skull’s doing in there?” But, she was just talking to hear herself talk. She knew the answer.

“I guess it belonged to old Hobbs.” Mollie looked bored.

When all the excitement was over and done with, a whole group walked home. Of course the boys tried scaring girls, but Mary Carol didn’t think she’d ever be scared of the dark again after that night. Mollie, she just giggled and tried to keep Tyler’s attention.

Granny was rocking in her chair by the fire when Mary Carol came home. She told her how the boys found Hobbs Pritchard’s skull.

“That don’t surprise me a bit. I always said there was something fishy about that whole story.”

“Granny, a girl I ain’t never seen met me on the road and walked with me awhile.”

“Did anyone at the party know her?”

“She didn’t come. When I crossed the bridge at the creek, she just vanished.”

Granny’s face got real still like when she was mad or thinking hard. “She have a name?”

“Kayleen Morgan.”

Granny leaned back in her chair. “Lord be, you done been walking and talking with a haint, Mary Carol. They can’t cross water cause they’re dead. Did she touch you?”

“Nope. She offered to hold my hand, but I wasn’t no baby.”

“Good, cause if a haint touches you, you’re the next to die.”

Mary Carol’s mouth turned real dry.

“Kayleen Morgan was twelve when she got herself lost walking home from a friend’s house. Died from a fall or exposure, not sure which. It just broke my heart when they found her with lips just as purple. The worse part was she hated the dark. I just cried to think about her dying alone in the dark.”

Black Mountain accepted that part of the mystery surrounding Hobbs Pritchard was solved. It kind of left a hole in the old story and the storytellers, like Granny, had to come up with a new version. Everyone figured Nellie, his wife, cut his head off. But where was she? How did she get away? Where did she go? Was she dead? Or, alive somewhere laughing at the whole lot of mountain people? It was truly a mystery of the best kind. For a while, the boys took to hunting for the rest of the body, but they got bored and let the whole mess be.

Mary Carol just made a promise never to walk alone on the roads after dark cause she’d lived her own Halloween story and didn’t care to test her luck again.

Take a gander at her blog when you get a moment, would you? click here.

It was pure bliss working on the photos for the short stories. Some of the photos are of my family, others are random pix bought at yard sales, from buyephemera.com, and picked up from vendors at the NC State Fair Grounds flea market.

If ya’ll find a box of old photos in your Mamaw’s attic, don’t ditch ‘em, send them to me for the Mule. Heck, I’ll pay postage…

-Valerie