The Healer's Touch (6 page)

“It has a name!”

“Yes ma'am. It's been around a while.”

“What
is
it?”

“Can't rightly say,” said Lyric. “Some folks…well, some folks say my mother's behind it, but I can assure you the Boltons have nothing to do with that pesky thing. One thing I can tell you is that it appears to do no harm. Never once heard of it hurting anyone, or doing anything upsetting other than appearing…and bouncing around.”

Folks didn't like that in the least—the oddity even upset her at times.

Katherine slid off Levi's lap. “Do you know that—that thing kept us up all night? Peering in the window, bouncing around the room…”

Levi broke in. “We'd just gone to bed when I heard the horses. They were mighty upset about something. My pa gave us the pair for wedding presents and I thought, well, the longer I lay here the more upset Katherine will get and when I heard them start to run I knew I had to go check. I thought horse thieves were trying to steal them.”

“I wanted to go with him but I just couldn't,” Katherine said. “I was afraid it would be the Quapaws…”

“Honey,” her husband soothed, “I've told you those Indians are peaceful and not likely to bother a soul. Anyway, I thought it was either horse thieves or a bobcat. I got out of bed and fumbled for my trousers. Suddenly Katherine screamed and grabbed my arm something fierce. All of a sudden I noticed this peculiar yellowish light—a ball of light—peering through the bedroom window.”

Katherine moaned and hid her face in her hands. “It was horrifying.”

“Well, I gotta admit that for a moment I was speechless,” Levi confessed. “Course I'd heard stories of some strange light over here, but I never took them seriously. I don't believe in spooks and sure never figured to find one in my bedroom. Now Katherine yelled, ‘Lord, have mercy! Who are you? Get away!' I was standing there in shock when that darn thing just up and entered the room, big as you please! Suddenly it divided into a bunch of colors, three, four…I plain lost count. I couldn't do a thing but stand there and gawk. The thing shot up to the rafters and disappeared and then swooped back over there in the corner of the front room.” He pointed to the spot. “Beat all I've ever seen. My bride was wailing and tearing at my clothes—she was near hysteria. I finally came to my senses enough to lunge for my rifle, but my hands were shaking so badly I couldn't load the thing.”

“And where was the light then?” Lyric asked.

“By then it was resting on the windowsill. Just sitting there like it belonged. Beats all I
ever
seen,” he repeated. “I told Katherine that not a soul would believe us when we told them what we experienced.”

“No, it was there,” Lyric conceded. “It acts that way to some folks. With others it doesn't act so strange. Seems to have a personality.”

“Why, I've never heard of such a thing.” Katherine dabbed a hanky to her nose. “If anyone had told me about that light I would have never came here.”

“Someone said you folks came from Joplin?”

“We did—but I never heard a thing about a strange light.”

“That seems odd,” Lyric mused. “I assumed most everyone in these parts have heard about it.” She glanced at Levi. If he came from Joplin surely he would have heard about the mysterious light. “A couple of years ago the light caused such a panic in Hornet, folks abandoned their homesteads—perfectly nice farms.”

He shrugged. “I'd heard about it, but I didn't put any store in the folklore.” He turned to look at the shattered pane. “It shore owes me a new window. I was so upset I threw my gun at it and shattered the glass.” He gave Katherine a sheepish look. “I had to go outside and get the gun.”

Lyric released a pent-up breath. Well, that explained the broken window.

“When he returned I'd stoked the fire and gotten dressed.” Katherine wiped her eyes. “Neither one of us has had a moment of sleep.”

“I'm sorry.” Lyric rose, patting the young woman's arm. “Nobody knows what the light is or where it comes from, but I can assure you it means you no harm—leastways it's been showing itself for a while now and other than being a little playful and scary, it appears to be harmless.”

Levi pulled his bride closer. “It'll be fine, honey. Probably one of those things that'll never be explained, and except for our nerves being a bit on edge we're none the worse for wear.”

“You're right.” Katherine managed a timid smile. “But if it continues to happen…”

“If it continues to happen we'll move away, but I'm guessing we'll never see that thing again.”

Lyric wasn't as optimistic as Levi but she remained silent. The Jennings weren't the only folks in the area skittish of the light, but she had her hands full with the wounded stranger.

Katherine offered her husband a timid smile. “But we only just built the house, Levi. Our dream home. It's so lovely and you and your father worked so hard to construct it.” She glanced at Lyric. “Levi and his father work in the mines.”

Lyric nodded. Joplin was rich in ore, lead, and zinc, and most men in the area made their living there. The work was hard, dirty, and dark, but it paid well.

Levi playfully ruffled Katherine's hair. “Then we'll hope it never happens again, or we'll learn to deal with it.”

She shuddered. “I think we should keep the option to move open.”

He chuckled and set the gun aside. “Miss Bolton, if you'll come with me I'll get you that witch hazel from our stores.”

“Thank you—and I'm sorry if I frightened you.” They seemed like such a nice couple. Wouldn't it be good if Lyric could make a friend of young Katherine, if the young bride's mind and opinions had not been tainted by others? She couldn't imagine having anyone other than Lark to share her fears and dreams with, to help plan a future when Mother was gone. She'd read that having a close friend was like medicine—friendship cured many an ill.

Levi shook his head. “No—a little thing like you don't frighten me but…” He turned to glance over his shoulder at Katherine, who had disappeared into the bedroom. “But that light plain scared the molasses out of me.”

A somber-faced Lark and Boots sat on the front porch when Lyric returned carrying the witch hazel. Judging by the girls' expressions a
new crisis awaited. Picking up her steps, Lyric hurried up the road as Lark rose and came down the steps to meet her.

“What's wrong? Is it Mother?”

“No. It's the man. He's not breathing.”

Lyric suddenly couldn't think. He was dead? He'd looked weak but awfully alive when she left. “Are you sure?” In some ways she welcomed the news but a small part of her felt defeated. Disappointed. She should have offered help sooner. Used her medicines earlier. Only God had the authority to say if a man lived or died, but she might have helped save him. Perhaps even the slightest attempt would have failed, but she would now live with the knowledge that she'd done almost nothing to save a life—a life God had given. Regret trickled from her heart.

“Positive,” Lark verified. “We watched him like you told us to. His breathing got real ragged and his lips turned blue and then he didn't move anymore.”

“Did you check his pulse?”

“Of course not. I wouldn't touch a dead man.”

Boots's eyes widened. “We watched him like a hawk, Lyric. Honest. He snores a little—not much but some. When we last checked him he wasn't snoring; he looked like he was plain dead.”

“If you didn't check his breathing then you can't possibly know if he's dead or alive.” She shook her head and began climbing the porch steps.

“Are you going to touch him?” Boots shuddered, but her eyes were bright with curiosity. The front screen closed and the girl's remark went unanswered.

The parlor door was open. Lyric moved to the sofa, almost dreading the task. She wasn't overly fond of working with the deceased, though she had helped prepare bodies before. Her gaze fell on the deceased outlaw. He was bloody and bruised and she detected no sign of life. The girls were right: He was gone, passed from this earth
and from a life of shame. She murmured a prayer for his soul, focusing on the firm chin and black-and-blue swollen features. His time had been short and violent and the Good Book told her there was a certain place for men like him. She shuddered at the thought and reached to pull the light blanket over his face.

Rains had been plentiful this year so the burying wouldn't be hard; the dirt was soft and pliable. Then it occurred to her that the Youngers and their gang reportedly lived a scant few miles from Bolton Holler. Decency said she should send word to the family to come bury their own. Because a man robbed and even killed didn't mean he had no folks who loved him.

And perhaps—no, surely—there was some kind of bounty on this man's head. A bounty that would provide her with funds to build a new barn door…and the means to leave Bolton Holler and start a new life.

The thin, freshly shaved man sitting behind the sheriff's desk glanced up when Lyric entered late that morning. His chair scraped the floor and overturned when he recognized her.

“Please.” She held up a calming hand. “I'm here to collect a reward.”

Visibly uneasy, the younger man hitched up his gun belt, straightened his bony shoulders, and assumed a calm expression. “Who you got?”

“I believe that I have a dead Younger in the parlor. I think it only decent that someone ride and inform his kin that they should come get him.”

The man's face turned blank. “A Younger? Which one? Not Cole, 'cause I jest heard he was over in Hot Springs checking on one of his racehorses.”

“Cole Younger races horses?”

“Sure enough—he's a big sportsman. I hear tell that Cole is quite the horse lover.” He took another hitch in his pants. He didn't have enough flesh on his lanky frame to keep his britches up. “Those Youngers take care of their animals.”

She didn't have the slightest interest in the Youngers' pursuits, but being friendly appeared to set the jailer at ease. “I don't know which Younger I have—you're not the sheriff, are you?” She had seen the sheriff around town on occasional visits and this man wasn't him.

“No—sheriff's away on personal business. Gonna be gone for a spell. He left the town's security to me.” He straightened, proud-like. “I'm in control whilst he's absent.”

“Then you should be the one to ride out to the Younger place and inform them they have kin to bury.”

“Ma'am.” Color crept up his neck. How old was he? Maybe in his very early twenties—certainly not experienced enough for this job. “If I was to ride into the Younger place for any reason, I'd have my head blowed off.”

“Even if it's on official business?”

“Them Youngers shoot first and ask questions later.”

“Well, it hardly seems fair that I have to bury the man. He's responsible for destroying my barn door and I have no funds to rebuild it.” She paused, her eyes scanning the rows of posters tacked to the wall. “I'm assuming there is a reward?”

“If he's any part of the Younger gang there's likely a bounty on his head. Do you recognize his face on any of those posters?”