The Witch of Roan Mountain (6 page)

She tapped the notebook on her lap as she buckled her seatbelt. “Delphine wrote in this last night.”

Campbell pounded his fist on the steering wheel. “Will you stop saying that name?” He put the car in drive and steered toward the main road.

“I think she was wrongly accused of a crime. I think that’s why she’s still around.”

“Maeve, I’ve known you most of my life. You’re smart, too smart to get caught up in an old ghost story someone made up just to scare the kids. I know you didn’t leave Atlanta under the best circumstances and now with Granny in the hospital, I think maybe the stress is getting to you.”

“I left my job for doing the right thing, and Granny is going to be fine. It’s not terminal. It’s a broken leg and for the tenth time I’m not losing it.”

Campbell shook his head. “This ghost? She’s not real. It’s just in your head.”

“I’m so crazy that I’m writing in my own notebook and blaming it on Delphine?”

“Damn it. Stop. Saying. That. Name.”

“Just drop me off at the museum.”

“You do know that I’m a sheriff’s deputy, not a taxi, right?”

“I’ll walk to the hospital this afternoon to see Granny.”

“How are you going to get home?”

Maeve shrugged. “I’ll figure it out.”

Campbell shook his head. “I’ll pick you up at the hospital at five.” He pulled to the curb in front of the Avery County Museum and shifted the car into park. “Be there.”

“Yes, sir,” Maeve said, offering a mock salute. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Hey, Maeve,” he called though the passenger side window. His face softened and he said, “About yesterday?”

Oh, shit.

The last thing Maeve wanted to do was discuss
that
in the middle of Main Street. They needed to discuss it but she’d been so wrapped up in solving the mystery of Delphine, she’d put it off and decided not to bring it up until she had more time to think about the right approach.

“Yeah?” she asked.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

She stepped back to the car leaned inside. “Me, too.”

*****

The Avery County Museum was located next to the courthouse. Housed in the old jail, built in 1912, the collection included photographs, genealogy resources and books and newspapers. In high school, Maeve had used the collection to flesh out the family tree as a Christmas present for Granny.

Mrs. Hightower was still at the front counter.

“Hey, Maeve. I haven’t seen you in a coon’s age.” The older lady was small and weathered. Her gray hair was wound in a loose bun at the back of her head and her glasses looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in years. “What brings you to the museum?”

“I was wondering if you had any information on Delphine Whitson.”

Mrs. Hightower’s face froze. “Why are you interested in her?”

Maeve wasn’t sure how to answer. From the look on the woman’s face, it was obvious that Delphine wasn’t her favorite subject. “I was talking to Virgil the other day and he mentioned the story. I’d forgotten about it and just wanted to read a little about the legend.”

“That’s borrowing trouble.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts, Mrs. Hightower. I’m just interested in the legal part of the story, being a lawyer and all.”

There was a long silence. “I guess I can understand that. Follow me.”

Maeve followed her to a closet in the back of the building. Mrs. Hightower clicked on the light and shuffled through several boxes on the shelves. Finally she pulled one down and handed it to Maeve. “This is most of what we have. Mitchell County sent it over a few years ago when they were refurbishing the library. Since Delphine is buried in Avery County, they thought we should have this box.”

“Any idea where it came from?”

Mrs. Hightower shook her head. “Not really. I haven’t catalogued it so I don’t know much about what’s in there.”

“How could you resist?”

“Easy. I don’t like messing with anything that deals with witchcraft. Scares me.”

“Surely you don’t believe witchcraft is a real thing.”

“I hope it isn’t but I don’t want to bet on the wrong side of the question. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Maeve said. She blew the dust off the top of the box. “I can’t wait to dive into this treasure trove.”

After settling at a large table, she took the lid off the box and pulled out several albums. Made of tooled leather, they were scrapbooks. The materials inside were yellow and brittle with age. She sat down and flipped the pages slowly.

Filled with newspaper clippings, the first book seemed to be a chronicle of Delphine’s trial. Maeve opened her notebook and began taking notes. The articles were arranged in sequential order so Maeve was able to create a timeline.

In 1866, Delphine was arrested on suspicion of murder. According to the article, she’d shot and killed her lover, Jenks Harper, after he ended the affair and declared his intention to go back to his wife. His wife, Bessie, had witnessed the shooting and demanded the immediate arrest of Delphine.

When the sheriff went to Delphine’s cabin, he found a Springfield Rifle, the likely murder weapon, and charged her with murder.

Maeve flipped to a clean page in her notebook and copied all the information she could find about the weapon.

According to the article, the dead man’s wife, Bessie, testified against Delphine along with half of the county.

Along with the murder charge, there were also wild allegations of witchcraft and consorting with the devil. A story even older than the legend of Delphine.

As best as Maeve could tell by reading the article, she’d been a twenty-four year old widow with no children who lived in a small cabin. Jenks had been her childhood sweetheart but had married Bessie when he came home from the Civil War.

The questions were coming much faster than the answers.

She became so absorbed in the story, she had no idea most of the day had passed.

“Maeve?” Mrs. Hightower’s voice jarred her from the scrapbook. “Honey, it’s time for me to close up. We’ll reopen in the morning.”

Maeve reluctantly closed the book and placed it back inside the box. “Thanks for your help. I’ll be back.”

Jenks, along with at least one of the other men who’d come home after serving with the 58
th
North Carolina and losing so many men at
Chickamauga, had the French Pox. I didn’t know when I lay with him the first time. I don’t think it would’ve made any difference anyhow.

Instead of blaming it on The War, Bessie made sure it was blamed it on me.

From the first time he looked at me, I was lost.

I would’ve been with Jenks even if I’d know it was going to cost me my life. He was my life. Always had been. The first time I ever saw him he was standing in the dry goods store in town. A little boy, hair as black as soot and eyes that sparkled with mischief. I loved him instantly.

After that first day we lay together, he came to the cabin any time he could. When he couldn’t, we met in the woods, on the balds that looked out over the Blue Ridge, or in the sweet grass of the fields.

I never knew how Bessie found out about us but she did and she was intent on destroying both of us. She was a prideful woman, petty and small.

The first person who got sick was a widow, Kate Dillingham. She was a widow who lived in a shack and lived from hand to mouth. It was no secret that sometimes she gave the men in the community a favor or two. Never for money, always for a brace of rabbits to feed her children or a cup of salt, more precious in these mountains than gold, so that she could preserve food to last her family through the winter. All the wives knew about Kate but none of them ever stepped in to help her. They’d rather turn their religious cheeks and pretend they didn’t know their husbands visited her from time to time.

Others quickly followed Kate. By the Fall, less than six months after Jenks came home, eight people were sick. Not only did they have sores on their mouths and palms, they ran high fevers and lost weight until they were as slender as the soldiers who’d come home from the war the previous spring.

It spread faster than a fire in dry leaves.

*****

Campbell walked into the hospital at quarter past five. He’d had a slow shift, mostly filled with speeding tickets and welfare checks on some of the old-timers who lived deep in the hollers. After greeting the nurses, he opened the door to Granny’s room. Maeve was sitting in the recliner in the corner.

Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were bright. He’d walked in just as she’d been explaining something to Granny and it was obviously something she was passionate about. He hadn’t seen that look on her face in so long. He smiled before he realized it.

“Hey, ladies. Sorry to interrupt.”

Granny smiled from ear to ear. “Campbell, aren’t you just a sweetheart for taking care of our girl?”

Our girl. They’d called her that for years just not where Maeve could hear. He decided to play it off, make light of it.

“She got herself in a pinch yesterday, Granny.” He walked to the side of the bed and stood between Maeve and Granny. “She always was trouble.”

“The best kind!”

Granny had no idea.

He could feel Maeve rolling her eyes behind him.

“When you getting out of her, Granny?”

“Tomorrow or the next day. I’m ready to go but they want to watch my sugar to make sure my new medicine is keeping it down.”

“Do you need anything?”

Granny shook her head. “I’m just fine. Y’all better get on to the cabin before it gets dark. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am. Call if you need me.” He pivoted on one heel and turned to Maeve. “Ready?”

She slammed the notebook closed and rose. “Yep.” After kissing her granny on the cheek, she followed him down the hall and out the front door. “Can we get something to eat before we go? I’m starving.”

Campbell shrugged. “I reckon.” He didn’t want to admit it, even to himself, but he was glad she asked. It would be nice to sit across the table from her instead of eating from a TV tray. “Where do you want to go?”

“How about the Steakhouse?”

They drove to the outskirts of Newland and parked in the gravel lot. “Looks like we’re not the only ones who had this idea,” he said. The lot was nearly full.

After they’d settled at a table and ordered, Campbell asked, “What were you telling Granny about when I walked into the room?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“That woman again?”

Maeve nodded. “I found out some new information that makes the whole story a little more understandable.”

He didn’t want to know. Not really. But then again, maybe she found something that would put the lid on her obsession with the legend. Part of him wanted her to get to the bottom of things, the other half of him wanted her to completely forget about it. Not only did ghosts scare him, the legend of Delphine hit too close to home for him. “Is it logical and rational?”

“Of course it is. It came from newspaper articles I read at the museum.”

The waitress brought their plates and refilled their drinks. Campbell took a couple of bites of his rib-eye. “Okay, I’ll listen. Tell me what you learned. Just don’t say her name. It gives me chills.”

Maeve smiled. “It was a big deal in the county, so big even the Asheville newspaper covered it.”

Campbell raised an eyebrow. He knew more than he was letting on about the story but he didn’t intend to tell Maeve anything because all he had were stories his grandfather told him when he was a kid. “What happened?”

“I still have a lot of research to do but here’s what I know so far:  Delphine was having an affair with a married man named Jenks. She was a widow and he was her first love. His wife, Bessie, found out and according to her account, she confronted them one night. When Jenks rejected Delphine and begged for Bessie’s forgiveness, Delphine shot and killed him.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Maeve added some pepper to her baked potato. “I know. It sounds like parts of two or three different stories all mashed together.”

“Why would a woman going to meet her lover take a gun?”

“Bears? Cats?”

He shook his head. “What happened to Del--.
Her
. What happened to her?”

“They hanged her. In addition to charging her with murder, they labeled her a witch. With Bessie, along with scores of other people as a witnesses, her trial was little more than a formality.”

Campbell had been a sheriff’s deputy for eight years and he’d learned lots of things, chief among them to trust his gut. “It’s not the whole story. Where does the witch part come in?”

“That’s the sketchy part. The locals blamed what sounds like syphilis on her but that doesn’t ring true. She’d never left the county and the outbreak didn’t happen until after the men came home from The War.”

“You think they brought it back?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Campbell nodded. “What’s your next step?”

“More research. I guess I’ll take my laptop the library. Granny doesn’t have Wi-Fi.”

“I have internet at my house.” He didn’t know why he said it. He’d been running into Maeve plenty without inviting her to his house.

“That’s too much of an imposition. I’ll be fine at the library. Maybe it will be dry enough to get my car tomorrow.”

“I doubt it. More rain is on the way.”

“Shit. I need to be able to get around. Granny will be home soon and I need wheels.”

“We’ll work something out.”

Maeve shook her head. “She’s my responsibility. I’ve inconvenienced you enough.”

Campbell saw the fire in Maeve’s eyes and he knew she wouldn’t rest until she got to the bottom of her mystery. She was like a hound, so intent on the scent, nothing else even registered.  Maybe her drive was a good thing. Maybe she’d answer some of the questions he had for the last twenty years. “I’ll pick you up in the morning. You can use my car while I work. When I finish my shift, I’ll drive you home.”

“That’s too much trouble. Really. I’ll figure something out.”

“No one is going to have any peace until you find the answers. I’d rather you finish sooner than later.”

When they finished dinner, Campbell drove her home. The night was cool and clear, and he opened the sunroof to let some of the fresh air into the cab. “Winter’s going to come early this year,” he said.

“When I was in Atlanta, I missed the snow.”

“It snows there, doesn’t it?”

“Sometimes but it isn’t the same. There’s nothing more beautiful than the mountains in the snow.”

He was surprised to hear her say that. “I thought you loved it there.”

“I loved my job but I missed the mountains. I missed the cabin and Granny and...” Maeve stopped short. It was too much to hope that she was going to say she missed him.

When they reached the cabin, he angled the Explorer so that his headlights bathed the front door in light. Maeve didn’t get out. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes before she said, “Thanks, again, Campbell. I guess I’d better get inside.”

He heard the fear in her voice. “Want me to make sure the house is clear?”

Maeve sighed with relief. “Would you mind?”

He shook his head. “Wait out here. I’ll be right back.”

After walking through the cabin and flipping on all the lights, he walked onto the front porch. Standing under the yellow glow of the porch light, he yelled to Maeve, “Ghost-free.”

She grabbed her things and walked up the steps to the porch. “Thanks,” she said. “I was a little spooked.”

He was standing only inches from her and when she looked up into his eyes, she saw something deep, primal, and wholly masculine. Campbell had always been her protector, and no matter how much water had passed under the bridge, the look in his eyes told her he still was.

“I want you to be safe,” he said. He placed his hand on her shoulder. “I’ve never fought a ghost but I’d give it my all. Not sure the Taser works on the dearly departed.”

Maeve laughed. “Never know until you try.”

“I’m going to head home. I’ll see you in the morning.”

His hand was still on her shoulder and she placed hers on top of it. It was warm and solid.  “Okay. Thanks again.”

That old, familiar heat flashed in his eyes and the next thing Maeve knew his lips were on hers. He took his time with the kiss, exploring her lips with a touch as soft as feather. It was slow and soft like they had all the time in the world. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. The heat inside her built slowly and she kissed him harder.

He nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth and she shivered at the sensation. She ran her tongue along his bottom lips and along the top as slowly as she could. He groaned and grasped her waist, pulling her body flush against his. She loved the iron-hard feel of him. It made her feel small, delicate. Desired.

He wound his fingers through the strands of her hair and moaned. “Maeve.” It was a plea, one her body was begging her to answer.

She pulled away from him and looked up into his green eyes. “We’d better stop,” she whispered. “Or we’re going to be right back where we were the other day.”

“Is that a bad thing?” His grin was sexy as hell, and Maeve had a hard time resisting it.

“No, but we need to decide what we’re doing before we rush into anything.”

“You think too much.”

*****

When Campbell left, Maeve closed the door and bolted it. She leaned against it and exhaled.

Her lips still burned from the taste of him.

She had to stop thinking about Campbell. Had to stop kissing him. Had to stop whatever it was cycling between them like electricity.

While Maeve would stay as long as Granny needed her, at some point, maybe in the spring, she’d need to find a job and get back to being a lawyer. There was no way she could stay forever, and there was no way Campbell would ever leave.

Mooning over her high-school boyfriend was a fool’s game she intended to stop playing.

Maeve spent most of the evening reading through the notes she’d made at the museum. After getting a few more details from Granny, she’d been able to draw a timeline. On a page near the back of the notebook, she jotted a list of questions for Virgil.

Maeve hoped Virgil would be at Bertie’s tomorrow morning. He’d promised her more of Delphine’s story once she’d visited the cemetery, and she intended to force him to make good on his promise.

She didn’t sleep well. Her mind was filled with visions of Delphine and Jenks mixed with images of Campbell and her. As she drifted off to sleep, she saw the four of them together, standing on top of Jane’s Bald, watching the sun sink behind the mountains. All of them were tied together with gauzy strips of white fabric attached to their wrists.

A little after three, something startled her awake. She looked around the dark room, impatient for her eyes to adjust, and saw nothing but the smell, the one from the other day, was back. She flipped on the lamp beside the bed and double-checked the room. Nothing. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. The more she learned about Delphine’s story, the closer she felt to her. She left the light on and tried to fall asleep again but it was nearly impossible.