Bridge to Cutter Gap / Silent Superstitions / The Angry Intruder by Catherine Marshall Read Free Book Online

warm parlor, with its shiny piano and cozy, welcoming furniture. She’d never appreciated the cleanliness and beauty of it all. Not until now . . .
    Christy sat down on the porch steps. Around the yard, people milled in small groups. From time to time they would glance at her curiously, but no one approached.
    A small crowd had gathered around Mr. Spencer, who was leaning against a tall pine, singing a song while he strummed a goose quill back and forth across the strings of a box-like instrument. It had four strings, and was shaped differently from a guitar, with a slender waist and heart-shaped holes.
    The simple melody seemed to wing its way into her mind and heart.
    Down in the valley,
valley so low
    Hang your head over,
hear the wind blow.
    Hear the wind blow, love,
hear the wind blow;
    Hang your head over,
hear the wind blow.
    â€œYou feelin’ poorly, Miz Huddleston?” came a low voice. “You look a little pale.”
    Christy looked up to see Fairlight Spencer. The bare feet in the snow sent a shiver through her. But all Mrs. Spencer’s concern seemed to be about Christy.
    â€œI’m fine, thanks,” Christy said. “The fresh air is doing me good. But you . . . aren’t you cold?”
    â€œLand sakes, no. This is pretty near spring-like to me. Warmed up considerable since yesterday.”
    â€œTell me, Mrs. Spencer. What is that instrument your husband is playing?”
    â€œThat’s a dulcimer,” she replied. “Jeb, he loves to play.”
    They fell silent. Christy stared up at the tall peak nearly blotting out the winter sun. “It’s beautiful here,” she whispered. “I feel . . . like I’m in a whole different world.”
    Mrs. Spencer stared at her, as if she were trying to climb inside Christy for a moment and know what it was like. She’s only ten or so years older than I am , Christy realized, despite all the children and the lines of worry near Fairlight’s eyes.
    Mrs. Spencer looked away, suddenly self-conscious. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I guess I was just wonderin’ what it would be like to come from your world. Is all your kin back in Asheville?”
    Christy nodded. A sudden ache of homesickness fell over her like a shadow. She fingered the locket around her neck. “Would you like to see them?”
    â€œI’d be right honored.”
    Christy took off the locket. Mrs. Spencer cupped it in her hand gently, as if she were holding a soap bubble.
    â€œIt opens—see?” Christy showed her how to unlock the silver heart.
    Mrs. Spencer studied the pictures inside. “A mighty fine-looking family,” she said. “Would that be you? There, lookin’ all serious-like?”
    Christy laughed. “That was at the church retreat last summer, right after I decided to come here. I suppose I was feeling pretty sure of myself.”
    Silence fell between them again. Gently Mrs. Spencer returned the necklace to Christy.
    â€œMrs. Spencer,” Christy said, “I think Fairlight is such a lovely name.”
    The mountain woman looked pleased. “I’d be right honored if you called me by my front name.”
    â€œGood. And you can call me Christy.”
    A few feet away, some of the children began a wild snowball fight. “You’ll have your hands full, over at the mission school, I expect,” Fairlight said. “The Cove is full of youngsters.” She grinned. “Some of ’em is more trouble than others, mind you.”
    â€œI’m sure I can handle them,” Christy said. Even to her own ears, she didn’t sound entirely convincing.
    â€œI’m sure you can.” Fairlight paused, staring up at the mountain peak bathed in shadow. “Still and all, if you ever . . .” She shook her head gently.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNothin’. It was a crazy thought.”
    â€œTell me,” Christy urged. “Believe me, I’ve had my