She tried to blink the apparition away. This spot could arouse even the most phlegmatic person’s imagination.
But then she heard a hoarse whisper and recognized a verse from Psalm 42:
“My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God? . . . all thy waves and thy billows are gone over me. My soul is bereft of peace.”
Raleigh growled, putting himself right in front of Sister.
Shaking, she backed away. She might be crazy as that hoot owl in the tree, but whatever she was seeing looked real enough to her.
As the fog swallowed the form back up, it let out a howl of pure anguish. Wind swept over the ridge with a slashing gust.
Sister turned and ran through the fog, only able to see three feet in front of her in a good patch. She was glad she lived a physically active life. She might be seventy-one years old, but she could run like the devil.
Skidding, slipping, sliding down the ridge, she didn’t stop until she reached the base.
“Goddamn, I swear that really was Lawrence Pollard’s ghost!”
“It was,” Inky said. “I’ve seen him before. There are a couple up there. They can’t go to ground.” She meant they couldn’t go to their den, her concept of home.
Sweat rolled down Sister’s forehead, between her breasts, down the small of her back. She hadn’t been so scared in years.
“His tongue was hanging out.” Rooster, too, was a little shaken by the apparition.
Then Athena and Bitsy swooped by in the fog, and that startled Sister.
“Dammit!”
“Don’t swear at me!” Athena laughed because she’d scared Sister.
To Sister it sounded like “hoo, hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo.”
Of course, Bitsy had to let out one of her bloodcurdling shrieks, which nearly caused all of them to have heart attacks.
Bitsy thought she was singing “The Ride of the Valkyries.”
Even Inky’s ruff stood up on end.
“God, that’s awful.” Raleigh blinked.
Sister got hold of herself and started back toward home.
Inky headed for her own den. “Sister, those spirits up there got what they deserved. They can’t hurt you.”
“Why don’t they leave?” Rooster asked.
Athena, her voice ghostly and deep in the fog, answered him. “They can’t let go. They can’t find absolution or redemption. You know there’s a stag like that. It’s not just humans. He leads deer hunters to their death. He sets them up so they shoot each other. Kills two or three a year.”
“They’d better not hurt Sister. Human or stag, I don’t care. I’ll kill them,” Raleigh growled.
“Can’t,” Bitsy shrieked. “They’re already dead.”
Sister jumped at the sound of Bitsy’s voice. “Good God, that bird could wake the dead.” Then she realized what she’d said and she had to laugh.
By the time Sister reached her kitchen, she needed that second cup of coffee. She wondered if she also needed prayer, psychiatry, or a good knock on the head.
Instead, there was a knock on the back door.
She opened the door and was happy to see Shaker’s familiar, placid face.
“Morning, Boss,” he said as he walked in.
At seven in the morning, it was not too early to call.
“Thick as pea soup out there,” she said. She wanted so badly to tell him what she thought she saw.
“Yes it is. Patty’s ready. I called Tony over at Keswick and he said I could bring her by.” Patty was a gyp who was at the right time in her cycle for breeding. The huntsman at Keswick Hunt had a hound, Mischief, whose pedigree and conformation, hopefully, would match up well with Patty.
“Mmm, fine. Here, have a cup of coffee. I make better coffee than you do.”
“You look a little peaked. You all right?”
“Well, I had a scare.”
“I have them every month when my bills come due.”
She smiled. “I have those, too. Next board meeting, I’ll bring up the subject of a raise once again. And you know, if they don’t vote it through I’m going to Crawford.”
“I don’t want his money!”
“If he wants to throw it around, I say we take it. I can handle him.”
“I can’t.”
“You won’t have to—but don’t worry. I’ll get this past the board. It’s been four years since you’ve had a raise, and it’s not right. I’m tired of it. He offered to buy a Dually for the club. Much as we need the truck, this is more important.”
Sister Jane was in charge of hunting and everything to do with the hunting, but the board of governors was in charge of the purse strings and the social direction of the club. It could make for friction.
“That’s not why I came over. Really it was about Patty.” He sipped the delicious coffee, a perfect mixture of blends to start the day.
“Now that we don’t have Doug’s salary to pay, I know I have the ammunition to get this through.” She paused. “Do you believe in ghosts?”
“I’m Irish. Of course I believe in ghosts.” He laughed. “I remember the time you thought you saw the Grim Reaper. And he held someone’s claim ticket, didn’t he?”
“But you didn’t believe me at the time, Shaker. You accused me of drinking.”
Sheepishly he put his mug down. “I did.” He glanced out the window. “Too bad we aren’t hunting this morning.”
“We’d need fog lights on our bridles.”
He laughed again. “That we would, but I love casting on a foggy morning.”
“Shaker, I walked up to Hangman’s Ridge this morning. Before sunup. I don’t know why. I felt like something was calling me up there. And I thought I saw a ghost. Actually, I won’t be wishy-washy about it. I did see a ghost. He quoted from Psalms. All about misery. Scared me half to death. Then that damned little screech owl flew by and let out a hoot. I don’t know why my heart is still beating.”
He roared at this. “She’s scarier than the ghost.”
“Ah, so you do think there’s a ghost up there?”
“More’n one. Earth’s full of spirits, I think. Don’t know why, although my mother would say we have to pray them into Purgatory and then up to Heaven.”
“Even the murderers?”
“God’s grace.”
“Yes, I guess forgiveness is His trade. I’m not sure it’s mine. I wish I knew why I felt drawn to that tree. I’ve lived here for forty-eight years, Shaker. I know that old pin oak very well. But until this morning I never felt a call to go there.”
“Maybe it’s a warning, something to prepare you. You know, sometimes I have dreams. I think we get, uh, premonitions.”
“I suppose. Yesterday after hunting I remembered something about the day Nola and Guy disappeared. Nola hunted. We pulled up at the Lorillard graveyard.”
“My second season carrying the horn. Still a little nervous. Not at all anymore.” He winked. Like any good athlete, Shaker always felt a twinge of nerves before an event.
“We’d run hard. Horses were blowing, people, too, and I stepped away from the field to listen for you. Anyway, Nola, Guy, Ralph, Xavier, Ron, Ken, and Sybil formed a small group a bit away from the others. Nola was the center of attention. It’s not that they were coffeehousing, it was just the men’s eyes. Sybil was staring into the graveyard. She knew she was invisible then. Even her husband couldn’t take his eyes off Nola at that moment.
“When Nola disappeared and Guy didn’t show up, my mind was focused on finding them. I didn’t think of what I felt. I certainly didn’t think of that moment at the Lorillard graveyard.”