Shadow of the Mountains by Lynn Morris

Author:Lynn Morris
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781598569070
Publisher: Hendrickson Publishers
Published: 2011-08-19T00:00:00+00:00

Rissy and Cheney rocked and gazed at the cold, distant full moon that floated above the dark peaks of the Moccasin Mountains. No lantern or candle was lit in Black Arrow, and the sterile moonlight transformed the valley and mountains beyond into thick geometric lines of black and gray and navy blue. Shiloh sat on the porch steps, silent and remote as the impersonal white globe staring down from millions of miles away. In spite of herself, Cheney wondered if his thoughts were of Maeva Wilding. Bleakly she stared at the jagged black outline of Maeva’s Trace and thought about the woman who was the namesake of a mountain.

“That sure was a good dinner, Rissy.” Shiloh turned to smile at the two women. “Sure a lot better than what Glen and me usually eat.”

“I’m glad it worked out for you to stay with Glen,” Cheney murmured. “I like him.”

“Well, he sure likes you, Doc. You’re his hero since you fixed up Beauregard.” He turned back, and his face grew somber. “And Glen Rawlins is a good man to have for a friend. He’s the kind that’ll do anything for you, you know, no matter what. He’ll be there.”

Cheney looked at his profile with doubt clouding her face. I used to think that of you, Shiloh . . . now I’m not so sure.

“And I’ll always be here for you, Doc,” he finished quietly.

Rissy stood up and walked to the steps to search the full panorama of the sky. Leaning against one of the porch supports, she yawned, then stood up straighter. Narrowing her eyes, she looked hard up the street toward Maeva’s Trace. “What’s dat?”

Her voice was sharp, and Cheney rose and walked to the steps. “What? I don’t see anything.”

“I see people comin’ down thet hill,” Rissy retorted impatiently. Pointing to Maeva’s Trace, she insisted, “Looky there—you see? Peoples movin’ down to dem foothills!”

“Rissy, you’re not seeing people,” Cheney argued, craning her neck to look around Shiloh, who had risen to stand in front of her. “It must just be the trees, or the moonlight, or shadows.”

“It ain’t no tree, an’ it ain’t no moonshine,” Rissy snapped.

“I dunno,” Shiloh muttered. “It does seem like there’s something.”

For a few minutes the three stood motionless, their eyes searching the bewildering shadow-play of moonlight on the foothills to the north. Cheney thought she saw movement, but she was straining so hard she couldn’t tell if there really was something or if her eyes were playing tricks. Then a white spark glinted and grew into the glare of a flame. Then there were two, then four, and more. Finally twelve distant torches burned across the top of Wolf Run. The middle dot of flame moved, and slowly the other flames fell into a snaky line behind. Men were coming down from the mountains.

“Rissy, go get that pouch I brought from Maeva’s,” Shiloh muttered. Wordlessly Rissy slipped into the dark house.

“What? What is going on?” Cheney demanded.

“I’m not sure, Doc,” he answered, “but I got a bad feeling about this.

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