[Troublesome Creek 01] - Troublesome Creek by Jan Watson

Author:Jan Watson [Watson, Jan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Tyndale House Pub
Published: 2005-09-26T05:00:00+00:00

They’d strayed off the path they were supposed to walk. He’d asked her to go up the holler with him a little piece. He wanted to show her something, he’d said. She felt odd, like she was hiding. She could hear her folks’ voices, filtered through the trees, as they walked along the lane below. “What could happen, Grace?” she heard Daddy say. “We’re right behind them.”

She couldn’t stay with Henry but just a minute. Mam would be watching for her. He sat against the bank and asked her if she wanted to see something pretty.

“I don’t have time for games,” she replied curtly. “What do you have, Henry?”

There was a dead tree up the bank from where he sat, and he scurried up to it and stuck his hand into its hollow center. A minute later, he slid back down by the seat of his pants on a pile of fallen leaves, holding a quart canning jar full of water in his outstretched hand.

She turned to start for home. “I’ve seen water before,” she said.

“This here’s magic water. You’d better stay and have some.” His voice was as slick as axle grease.

She walked back to him. “There’s no such thing as magic.”

He unscrewed the lid and took several long swigs. Wiping the lip of the jar with his shirttail, he stuck it out toward Copper. “Take a drink and find out. I promise you won’t be sorry.”

She held the jar with both hands. The water sparkled in the hazy shaft of sunlight that streamed in through the trees. It smelled like medicine. One little sip. What would it hurt? The chatter of a squirrel distracted her for a moment, and somewhere in the distance a cow bawled, calling for its calf. Hesitantly, she raised the jar to her mouth. A leaf sailed past her face, and she looked up to find Henry staring intently at her.

He licked his lips, and his eyes looked as hot as coals. “Try it,” he egged her on.

She felt uneasy, and the smell of the drink made her queasy. “I don’t think so.” She handed him the jar.

“Then I’ll drink by my lonesome,” he slurred.

“Henry Thomas, is that liquor?”

“The best moonshine ever made.” He took another drink and smacked his lips.

“Looks like you’ve already had more than enough,” she said. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll go to hell?”

He held the jar overhead and sat against the bank. “If I do, I’ll have plenty of good company.”

“Well,” she replied, “it won’t be mine. I’m going home.”

“Aw, come on, Copper,” he wheedled. “Don’t be so prissy.” She started down the ridge to the path that led home. “I’ll pray for you, Henry,” she tossed back over her shoulder.

“Alls I need is somebody to care about me,” he cried down the ridge behind her.

She hurried down the path, anxious to get away from his voice. All of a sudden it looked to her like Mam had been right about Henry.

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