The Witch of Roan Mountain Read Online Free PDF Page A

on white toast?”
    “I figured. I’ll bring you some tea, too.”
    Maeve hadn’t set foot in Bertie’s in more than a decade and Hazel still remembered her order. Unbelievable. Maeve opened her notebook and flipped through her scant notes. There was really nothing tied directly to Delphine. There were some ghost stories that were similar but none of them mentioned the dress. She needed to find some better sources.
    When Hazel brought her food, Maeve asked, “Do you remember the legend of Delphine? The witch?”
    Hazel shivered. “I sure do, honey. Scares me to this day. I can’t even say her name without feeling sick to my stomach.”
    “Would you tell me the story?”
    The waitress shook her head. “I can’t stand to even think about it but Virgil , one of our regulars who fancies himself as an amateur historian, would love to tell it. I’ll send him over here.”
    Ask and you shall receive.
    The man who shuffled over to her table looked to be on the backside of a hundred. “You Granny Holcombe’s grandbaby?” he asked, sliding into the booth.
    “Yes, sir,” Maeve answered.
    He nodded. “You favor her. And your mama, too.”
    Maeve knew the old man meant no harm but the last person on earth she wanted to be compared to was her mother. The woman had been a beauty but she never took one single responsibility seriously. Including her only child.
    “Do you know anything about Delphine?”
    He nodded and looked up at her. “I know that one well. Too well, maybe.”
    “Can you give me the details?”
    “I can do better than that. I can give you directions to where she’s buried.”
    Maeve, unsure as to how that would help, said, “Okay, but before I go to the cemetery, I’d like to know more about her.”
    “After you go visit her, I’ll tell you the story.”
    “Why can’t you tell me now?”
    Virgil shook his head. “The time isn’t right.” He slid the notebook across the table and took her pen. On a clean page, in spidery script, he wrote the directions. Beneath it, he scribbled his telephone number. “Call me after you visit.”

CHAPTER THREE
     
     
    It’s easier to move at night. Something about the moon, the stars, the quiet.
    The night they found us, the moon was as bright as day. I heard them coming, their feet crashing on the dry leaves. There was no time to hide. No time to run. Nowhere to run.
    When Bessie and her brother, Calvin, stepped into the clearing, I knew Jenks and me weren’t leaving alive. A cold gleam shone in her eyes. In one hand she held a butcher knife, its sharp edge reflecting the white-blue glow of the moon.
    Bessie was small and stout. Her face was round and her eyes were set deep. Her brother was a raw man dressed in overalls, his face marked with a scar trailing from one ear all the way to his jawbone. In one hand, he held a rifle.
    Jenks stepped between us and said, “Now, Bessie, there’s no reason to do this. Wasn’t nothing happening out here. We was just talking.”
    She glared at him. “This time, maybe. How about all them other times?”
    Jenks raised his hands in surrender. “Ain’t nothing happening tonight and never again.”
    I looked over his shoulder, watched her face, tried to decide if I should run into the trees. Take my chances with the bears. But even if I escaped tonight, where would I go tomorrow?
    I was so tired. Tired of running. Tired of loving someone I could never have. I wanted to just collapse onto the bed of leaves and fade away.
    “I give you my word, Bessie. Ain’t nothing ever going to happen between me and her again.”
    Bessie shook her head and turned to her brother, Calvin. “I told you he wouldn’t deny it.”
    Calvin nodded and placed the rifle up to his shoulder. “Want me to shoot him?”
    Fear, like a shard of ice, pierced me.
    “No,” Bessie said. “She’s going to do the shooting.”
    She pointed her index finger straight at me.
     
    *****
     
    “I’m sorry,” Campbell said. He’d felt like a total