CHAPTER FOURTEEN

FATHER WENT WITH me to the train station, and it was as if time was doubling back and repeating itself. It was a cold January day, just as it had been that morning in 1912 when I first made the journey to Cutter Gap.

I had laughed to find that the ticket I booked was for Old Buncombe. The irony of it all was almost too much; for a moment I had wondered whether the Almighty was playing a trick on me.

Still, as Father and I stood there waiting for the train to arrive, the thoughts running through my head clearly marked the day as something more than a repetition of history. I had gone into the unknown last year, full of excitement and a hundred dreams of making a difference in these people's lives. Now I was stepping back into the familiar and dear, and my dreams were all for what differences these people could make in me.

"Are you ready, Girlie?" Father was still looking off down the tracks, but I could hear the tightness in his voice. "Did you remember the letter?"

"I have it right here." I patted my coat pocket, where the note Father had written was safely tucked away. It was a personal thank-you from Father to Dr. MacNeill for his attention to me during to the epidemic. At my suggestion, he had also enclosed a certificate for fifty dollars' worth of medicine from the pharmaceutical company in Lyleton. I knew the Doctor would never accept money, but medicine was something he couldn't afford to refuse.

"Call us when you arrive, now," Father reminded me as Old Buncombe appeared around the bend. The people milling round began to swarm toward the boarding gate.

"I will, Daddy." I picked up my suitcase and stepped into the line. The train slowed and then stopped, spewing greasy-black smoke high above our heads. The gate was unlatched, and my fellow passengers began to board.

We were moving quickly, too quickly, and I turned to Father, at a loss for words.

Words weren't necessary after all – he bent and kissed me, gave me one last smile, and ushered me up into the train car. I was jostled toward the back, where I found a seat and sank down, looking immediately to the window for a glimpse of my father.

He stood back from the activity, and as soon as I caught his eye, he waved. I had to look away, pulling my scarf up high around my neck to hide my tears from those seated around me.

"All aboard!" The doors were soundly shut and latched by the attendants, and the train jerked forward, rumbled and shook, and then began to pick up speed, pulling out of the station. I sank back against my seat and hugged my suitcase to my chest, trying not to think about what I was leaving behind.

As soon as we had passed the last street in the city and began to emerge in the snow-drifted country fields, I was finally able to relax. Now everything was settled; there was no way to turn back. Unconsciously I reached up and fingered the brooch pinned to the collar of my shirt-waist.

The small silver oval was crowned by a single ruby the size of my thumbnail, ringed with creamy seed pearls. It had once belonged to Grandmother Huddleston, and Mother had presented it to me this morning, attaching it without a word to my blouse as I kissed her goodbye.

The gift itself meant nothing, beautiful though it was. Mother had been distant all week, but this simple gesture said everything that she had not been able to tell me. She was entrusting me with something she loved, something of value. I couldn't seem to keep my hands away from it; with every touch of the smooth, cool stone under my fingertips, I was reminded anew that Mother understood. She might not have agreed, but she understood and still loved me.

"Tickets, please!" The conductor had entered the car and was progressing slowly up the aisle; I fumbled in my handbag for my ticket. The purse was crammed with odds and ends: a roll of dollar bills Father had tucked in my pocket, a gold watch on a chain, two handkerchiefs, and even a sack of peppermints I had bought as a treat for the children – with all the clutter, it took me some time to find the ticket crumpled in the bottom of the bag.

I pulled it out triumphantly and glanced up to find myself face to face with Javis MacDonald. We recognized each other at almost the same moment. "Mr. MacDonald?"

"Well, I'll be," the old man marveled, doffing his cap politely. "If it ain't Miss Christy Huddleston! I always wondered what became of you out there in Cutter Gap. Are you going back again, young lady?"

"I am – I just came to Asheville for the holidays." I smiled at the grizzled conductor; he looked the same as he had a year ago, his white beard trimmed neatly, smile-lines carved into his cheeks.

"You made a way for yourself after all," he said, holding his hand out for my ticket, which I promptly handed over. "I didn't manage to scare you off, I reckon."

I laughed. "I'm afraid not."

He punched the ticket and slipped the stub back to me. "You're a mighty pert gal, Miss Huddleston. The best of luck to you."

"And to you."

With that, he moved on to the next row of booths, and I settled back, my heart lighter already. I felt secure, at ease with myself, and – at last – healthy. My figure still wasn't what it had been before the epidemic, but at least I was no longer a pale, walking skeleton. Eileen had commented on it during the going-away dinner party my mother had thrown two days ago. "You're looking more like yourself, Christy," she'd said. "Your color is much better than it was before, and you're smiling more. You look happier."

I supposed I was. Home was so near, and I was overflowing with anticipation; I wanted so badly to talk to Zady and the Spencers, to hear Little Burl's voice, to see Sam Houston's sweet smile. Why, I even longed for Creed Allen's mischief! It felt like I had been away forever, and I hoped the children hadn't thought that I was deserting them. Over the course of the past four weeks, I had sent three letters to Miss Alice which I knew she would read to the others, but written words were no substitute for flesh-and-blood presence.

I propped my elbows up on the dusty windowsill and watched the snow-covered ground move past at what suddenly seemed like a sluggish pace. We couldn't have been two miles out of Asheville, and I was already impatient. Oh, if only the train could go faster!

After alternating between staring out the window and trying unsuccessfully to start up a conversation with the woman sitting across from me, I found a book interesting enough to hold my attention, and it helped the time pass more swiftly. The train stopped once along the way to refuel, and I used the break to eat the soda crackers and cold ham that Mother had packed for me.

Another two hours' travel brought us across the border to the outskirts of El Pano. The countryside became more wild, more recognizable, and my heart began to pulse so furiously I was certain that the people around me could hear it thumping against my ribs. We pulled into the seedy old station; Old Buncombe slowed and then stopped with a screech, wheels and gears creaking as they reluctantly stilled.

I leapt to my feet as the doors were unlatched. Gripping my suitcase, I hurried through the aisle and down the steps. Snow was thick all over the ground, frosting the trees and the outline of the peaks in the distance. I stood there in the middle of the path, my head lifted up toward the sky, drinking in the sight of the mountains.

Tearing my gaze away, I spotted David down near the general store, leaning against a fence post and holding the reins of both Prince and Buttons, who were grazing placidly in the small patch of weeds next to the fence. He grinned as he caught sight of me, and I dashed across the road, almost losing my balance in the heavy snowdrifts.

"David! David, how are you?" I hugged him without thinking; he jerked in surprise, but then he returned the embrace heartily. I pulled away, flustered.

"It's so great to see you again," he said, his hands on my shoulders as he looked me over. "I've missed you, Christy."

"I've missed everyone too," I said. "So, what have you been doing? How is Miss Alice?"

"We're all just fine." He took my suitcase and strapped it to Prince's saddle. "Did you have a nice visit with your parents?"

"I had a wonderful time, and I have so much to tell everyone. No one will get a word in edgewise during supper," I teased.

"It'll be nice to hear your voice again," he said warmly. "The mission has seemed awfully empty without you there."

He seemed to be waiting for a reply, but I didn't know what to say. I turned to greet Buttons instead; the mare snuffled into my hand and whinnied softly when I stroked her nose. Prince trotted over to get his share of the attention, and I scratched him behind his ears, just where he liked it. "So you didn't bring Theo to welcome me home too, David?" I said lightly.

"Old Theo would hardly make it across Big Spoon Creek," David replied. "You'll have to wait until we get to the mission to see him." He paused and looked around. "Shall I ask Ben to bring up your trunks to the mission? I would do it myself, but I'm not sure it would be fair to ask Jeb for his wagon for the second time in a week. I used it to haul some lumber two days ago; we're going to have to build a new coop. There are too many chickens for just the one."

"If Mr. Pentland doesn't mind, that would be fine," I said. "I don't need my trunks right away; I have a few sets of clothes in my suitcase."

"He should be in here today. Do you need anything?" I shook my head. "Good. I'll be right back." Leaving me with the horses, David went into the general store. He returned within five minutes, a wrapped brown-paper package tucked under one arm.

"Something for Alice," he explained, sliding it in his saddlebag. "She must have ordered new slates for the schoolhouse."

"What happened to the old ones?" I asked warily.

David only shook his head, taking Prince's reins from me and swinging up into the saddle. "You don't want to know."

I hauled myself onto Buttons and caught him grinning over at me. He knew I wouldn't be able to stand not knowing.

"Oh, alright," he said. "Apparently some of the hogs have learned how to climb the schoolhouse stairs. The children have been helping us get everything unpacked and ready in the classroom ever since you called to tell us you would be coming back, and Lizette and Bessie came in early one morning to sweep the floors. It seems that the hogs have been sleeping under your desk for the past few weeks, but the girls didn't realize that the room was already occupied until Lizette accidentally hit one of them with her broom. The hogs were as frightened as the girls were, and of course they tried to run away. Well, one of them ended up running into Bessie instead, and it knocked her down."

I gasped. "She wasn't hurt, was she?"

"No. Surprised, but not hurt. But she landed on one of the desks – the desk that was piled with slates that had just been washed – and everything went flying. Most of the slates ended up cracked or bent completely out of shape." David had been trying to keep a straight face, but he broke down and laughed. "Lizette came to get us, and we found the hogs a few minutes later, cowering under the porch."

I couldn't help but giggle at the picture he painted. "I have to say I'm not sorry that I missed that little incident. Poor Bessie!" A horrible thought occurred to me. "You say the hogs were sleeping under my desk?"

"Don't worry. The girls scrubbed the floor down; it doesn't even smell very much anymore."

"That's good to know," I said dryly.

David chuckled, slipping his boots through the stirrups. "Well, are you ready?"

I took up Buttons's reins. "More than ready."

We set the horses off at a clipping rate; it was too slippery to risk going any faster down the mountain trails. I was a much better horsewoman than I had been last year, and Buttons kept pace with Prince easily. David and I chatted as we rode – or rather, he listened while I talked. He was full of curiosity about my parents, and he teased me about "hobnobbing with nobility" at the Hayvescrofts' ball.

"But what about you?" I asked finally, having talked myself out. "How did the Christmas party turn out?"

"It was a success, I'd say. Alice pulled out all the stops – she even bought fireworks again. You should have seen how big the children's eyes were when those firecrackers went off. In fact, some of their parents were just as amazed."

"It must have been wonderful," I said. "Did many people come?"

"Quite a lot, actually. Who wants to shoot stumps to celebrate Christmas when you can see fireworks instead? There were so many people that we almost ran out of food. Luckily most of the families brought something along with them to add to the table. There was only one disappointment."

"What was that?"

"You weren't there to dance with me."

I shifted in my saddle. "You wouldn't have been able to dance with me anyway, David. You're the preacher."

"True." David thankfully let the subject drop.

There was a decided nip in the air, but we made good time and arrived at the river before long; the horses forded it without much trouble, and as we started up the ridge to the mission, I realized that a detour was in order.

"David, wait," I called up ahead to him. "Can we go to the Spencers' first?"

"Why? We're almost home. Can't it wait?"

"No, it can't. Please, David, can't we stop for just a minute? I promised Zady that I would come to see her the day I returned."

David blew out an irritated breath, but then he shrugged, his good humor restored in an instant. "Alright, if you insist. I had forgotten that I can't talk you out of anything."

I bit my tongue and followed him back toward the fork in the path that led up to the Spencer cabin. No barking hounds greeted us this time as we rode into the yard; Jeb must have housed the dogs inside to keep them safe from the cold. David bellowed out a hello, and I saw the wheat-sack curtain being lifted from the window. As I dismounted, the door was flung open and all five Spencer children spilled out into the snowy air. Lulu reached me first, flinging herself at me, and I snatched her up with a breathless laugh. A swarm of hands and flushed, eager faces surrounded me, and for a moment everything was a blur of happy confusion.

Jeb summoned us all inside, smiling at me as I stepped through the doorway. "Reckon we're pleased to see yer back, Miz Christy." It was all he said, but it warmed me just as much as the children's enthusiastic hugs.

It took several minutes for the children to calm down enough to sit still and stop talking over each other. I listened to their stories and answered their questions as best I could, aware of David's impatient presence by the door. It annoyed me, but Zady's delight that I had kept my promise was worth a little inconvenience. Still, I knew it wasn't polite to keep him waiting, so I tried to keep the visit short, assuring the Spencers that I would be coming back as soon as I was settled at the mission.

As we said our goodbyes, I remembered the sweets in my handbag and asked David to go out and fetch them. The children were stirred up again at the thought of candy – they had very little opportunity for receiving treats of any kind, so I always made sure I had a little stash for special occasions.

When the contents of the bag had been fairly distributed, I bid the Spencers farewell once more and received another round of hugs that left behind a bit of a mess as little fingers coated with sticky peppermint oil pressed against my sleeves and the back of my coat.

We went outside, and after untying Buttons's reins from the tree David had lashed them to, I hefted myself atop her back. David urged Prince down the trail, and I followed, twisting in the saddle to wave goodbye to the Spencers.

We cut over the ridge to the mission; I urged Buttons into a quick trot as the church's steeple appeared over the tree line, beckoning us forward like the spire of a lighthouse. Home – I was home! Laughing, I spurred Buttons faster, ignoring David's startled shout as the horse and I flew down the snowy hill. God smiled on me, for He helped the mare keep her footing and prevented me from taking a spill for my recklessness. I pulled up next to the mission house, scarlet-cheeked and out of breath.

David pulled up next to me, looking very much like he wanted to scold me, but I slipped down from Buttons, determined not to let him dampen my high spirits.

Jumping up onto the first step of the mission house, I took a deep breath, my lungs filling with the fresh, sharp mountain air. "It's so beautiful, David. It's like heaven came down to Cutter Gap, Tennessee – don't you feel so alive?" I hopped off the stairs and began to walk along the path, my face still lifted to the sky.

He chortled at my ecstatic expression. "Of course I do, daffy girl; now put your head down before you trip over your own feet. You don't want to scuff up those pretty boots again."

I glanced down at my well-shod feet; I hadn't been able to resist indulging my love for elegant heeled shoes. "I don't think I'll have any trouble with them," I retorted, spinning impulsively in a circle and dipping a mocking curtsey in his direction. As I looked up, I realized that Miss Alice was standing in the doorway of her cabin, hiding a smile behind her hand.

I groaned and David smirked, taking Buttons's reins and leading her away, leaving me by myself.

Graciously choosing to ignore my little display, Miss Alice walked over and kissed my cheek. "Miss Huddleston."

I hugged her. "I'm so glad to be back, Miss Alice. I missed you dreadfully."

"No more than I missed you, I'm sure. Your parents are well?"

"They are. So much happened in a month; I can still hardly believe it."

"I will depend on hearing about all of it tonight. It has been too quiet here lately." Miss Alice looped one arm around my waist and led me back toward the mission. "Well, let's get you to the fireplace, dear. You must be chilled."

"I am a little cold."

"Your coat is wet through," she said. "Neil will throw a fit to know that we let you ride through the snow in a soaked jacket without so much as a muff or a hat."

Suddenly it seemed a bit more difficult to breathe. "Is Dr. MacNeill here?"

Miss Alice kept her eyes trained forward. "No, he's not even in the Cove. He should still be in Lufty Branch – he left two or three days ago to do his rounds there."

"Oh."

"I expect he'll be here soon," she said as we reached the porch door and went inside. "He will want to check up on you. If nothing else, you will certainly see him on Sunday."

"Why? Is there something going on this Sunday?"

Miss Alice drew me over to the staircase. "Go up and change your clothes, Christy, and then come back downstairs and we'll have a pot of hot chocolate. David should be in soon, and Opal and her boys will be joining us for dinner tonight." I started up the stairs, only to pause as she added, "And Christy?"

"Yes?"

She smiled. "Welcome back, dear."

A/N: I know, I know -- I'm really a jerk to bring Christy back to Cutter Gap and STILL keep her separated from Neil. Well, Ch. 15 will include enough Doc to (hopefully) make up for it. He just needed a grander entrance, really. ; )

Thanks for your reviews! (Oh, and as far as the number of chapters goes, I just finished loosely charting out the rest of the plot line, and it should end with around 38 chaps.)