The Witch of Roan Mountain Read Online Free PDF Page B

seriously. I know you’re not staying.”
     
    *****
     
    The next morning, satisfied that Granny was doing well and had plenty of yarn to keep her fingers busy, Maeve headed out to find where Delphine was buried.
    She was still trying to sort out what that kiss was about. Even though she didn’t want to admit it, it felt good, right. She’d felt tingles and sparks in places she’d nearly forgotten. The last thing she needed was some kind of entanglement with Campbell. She was here to decompress and spend time with Granny.
    The directions to the cemetery weren’t very clear. By the time she found what she thought was the right road, she’d made at least three U-turns. The road was gravel and went straight up into the mountains. She cringed every time a stray piece of rock tinged the undercarriage of her Volvo.
    When she’d left the cabin, she’d had no idea the trip to the graveyard would take so long. She’d have to hurry. A big storm, expected to bring several inches of rain, was rolling in later this evening. Maeve didn’t want to be stuck up here in bad weather and the clouds to the west were already looking ominous.
    She wound the car through switchback after switchback until she finally reached the end. The road dead ended at a rusty iron gate. Perpetually in shade, it looked like something out of a scary movie. Maeve shoved the car into park and set the brake. She grabbed her notebook and a pencil.
    The gate opened with a creak. A shiver ran up her spine but she tried to ignore it. If she was going to get to the bottom of this mystery, she had to visit Delphine.
    She wished she’d asked someone to come along. Not that she really had anyone to ask. Although she didn’t scare easily, this was creepy. She walked slowly toward the gate and it opened slowly with a creak as if inviting her inside.
    Maeve took several steps backward toward the safety of her car. Waited for the gate to stop moving. After several deep breaths, she took a few steps forward. The dense trees overhead cast perpetual shade across the whole cemetery adding to the feeling of dread building in her stomach.
    She had to do this. Somehow she knew Delphine would never let her rest until she solved the mystery.
    Maeve took a deep breath and several determined steps forward. She paused briefly at the gate but then pushed ahead. According to the notes Virgil made, the gravestone was located at the very far end of the cemetery. She charged ahead finally reaching the last row of headstones.
    They were so old and mossy, it was nearly impossible to read the engravings on any of them. She sure as hell didn’t want to stay here long enough to make rubbings of each stone. She leaned in closer, moving down the row until she reached one in the very middle. Maeve checked Virgil’s notes.
    She ripped a page from the notebook and took the pencil from behind her ear. Turning it on its side, she rubbed it against the headstone until numbers and letters appeared.
     
    Delphine Rose Whitson
    Born 1843-Hanged 1867
    Witch
     
    Maeve sank down on the ground. Sadness washed over her. Even in death, she was branded. The woman she’d seen on Roan Mountain didn’t sound like a witch, feel like a witch, not that Maeve knew what witches looked or sounded like but she’d always assumed they’d be haggard and scary, not beautiful and broken. Hanged? What crime could a twenty-four year old woman have committed that would have taken her to the gallows?
    She had to get to the bottom of this story. It was bothering her. Like an itch she couldn’t quite scratch, there was something here she needed to find.
    The wind was picking up and Maeve knew she should go but she while she was here, she wanted to make note of who was buried close to her. She used the pencil to make rubbings of the other graves in the same row.
    None of them had the same last name. Weird.
    Surely Delphine had family. Something was tickling the back of her brain, something that should be obvious but it