Mystery at Silvery Falls: A Novel Approach to Christian Moral Development by First Fruits Press

MYSTERY AT SILVERY FALLS

ISBN: 9781648172274

Mystery at Silvery Falls

By Marlin Miller

Digital version at https://place.asburyseminary.edu/firstfruitsbooks/21/

First Fruits Press is a digital imprint of the Asbury Theological Seminary, B.L. Fisher Library. Asbury Theological Seminary is the legal owner of the material previously published by the Pentecostal Publishing Co. and reserves the right to release new editions of this material as well as new material produced by Asbury Theological Seminary. Its publications are available for noncommercial and educational uses, such as research, teaching and private study. First Fruits Press has licensed the digital version of this work under the Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial 3.0 United States License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0/us/.

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Miller, Marlin, 1959-

1 online resource (80 p. : port.) : digital.

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1 Christian teenagers Fiction 2 Christian teenagers Conduct of life 3 Moral development I. Title.

PZ7.M5443 My 2024eb Fic

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Chapter 1 - The Ends of the Earth

It was a nightmare ‘vacation’ from the start. Nearing our destination, a lump settled in my throat. Passing through the national forest to the place where I was being dumped, I was met with a gray, hostile environment. Down by the river bottom sharp, colorless, knotted trees stood guard, warning wary travelers to turn back. We, my new stepmom and I headed up an engine-straining mountain and emerged from the valley’s darkness.

“Whump.” Bumps are always harder in the back seat. Maybe high enough up the hill will be enough cell signal to do some gaming. Worth a shot, but winding up the hill, dodging potholes was making my stomach queasy, sinking me deep into my seat - worse than the Octopus ride at the Maryland State Fair.

The steel blue Jeep Cherokee slipped over the hill with a quick turn and avoided a rock protruding on the pavement.

“These must have been left over from the last meteor shower.” I didn’t realize I said it aloud till I heard a feminine voice I was beginning to get used to.

“Ha ha.” she chuckled from the front seat.

Looking up at the rear-view mirror I saw the deep brown eyes of my new stepmom framed by her dark, wavy hair and dark complexion. I wished with all my heart to have my own mom back. But that was not possible after the dump truck.

Now Melissa, with her dark wavy looks, wanted to be my mother. Really? I was almost fourteen and as tall as her when she wasn’t wearing heels. Twisting around in the seat, I managed to get a full view of my face in the mirror. My brown hair and hazel eyes were just like my mom’s, not at all like Melissa’s.

“Chris, is your seat belt fastened?” She was asking in her best ‘mom’ voice. But was there a bit of hesitation or uncertainty?

“Yes…yes, it is.” I answered, intending to buckle it at any moment.

“You know these roads… the whole place is dangerous.” she continued, “This time of year with ice especially; you watch your ps and qs, okay?”

I didn’t know and didn’t care much. Fortunately, those words had not slipped out of my mouth. I didn’t much care

Allen, plunged into oblivion, a lost winter world in the middle of nowhere. My whole body shook.

My mom, my true mom would never send me to a place like this! My mom…I thought, remembering warmer times. I saw her beside me singing sweet hymns. She would stroke my hair and say, “You are such a loving boy. Always do what is right.”

“Click.” My seat belt clumsily found its way home. Embarrassed that the truth was revealed I tried to look away but caught a glimpse of Melissa adjusting the rearview mirror to get a better look at me. Her eyes moistened with a knowing look. A resentment boiled in my belly. I unbuckled.

The hum of pavement was replaced by the jerky crunch and crackle of gravel. “We’re here!” her cheery voice rang out.

“Cheery voices don’t match getting dumped like this.” I grumbled. To examine where ‘here’ was I jerked my Jim’s house. We parked in a clearing among the sketchy gray trees.

The cabin itself was almost swallowed by the darkness of two ancient giants, evergreen trees. The furry

green boughs of the giants seemed to reach around it as if herding wayfaring strangers into the gaping, dark doorway gap framed with poor brown-gray logs.

The door stood, a dirty, dark mouth, set between two small, angry, yellow eyes. In the evening light, the windows hinged his body upright revealing a white mustache with a pipe wedged beneath. As he wheeled around toward us, he appeared in full view, khaki pants and khaki shirt with black suspenders and a ball cap. His smallish, deep-set eyes Jeep. I almost didn’t notice the ax in his hand.

“Oh Melissa, that’s you! And who is the midget?” He chortled, snotting and chuckling so hard, he bent over grabbing his side and dropped the axe by the woodpile. I guess he wasn’t going to kill me with anything other than jokes.

Melissa is not going to leave me with that creep! Talk about a midget, this guy was shorter than me! Maybe it was just that his heavy belly made gravity hold him closer to the ground. I looked up and smiled. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Was this really her brother?

“Sorry I was late for your wedding,” he said. “I couldn’t

My eyes locked on his vintage, black pickup truck. I strained to imagine this wrinkled old man throwing newspapers on his sister’s wedding day. Who even reads them anymore?

“You’ve told me a hundred times Jim, it’s okay.” and another noise. A low rumbling dominated all noises in the background. Maybe it is just another car on the gravel road I told myself.

“Well, I guess this is it.” I managed as his gnarled, sun blackened hand held my door.

He gazed down as if judging me. Jitters shivered through me. His thin smile reminded me of a crooked jack-o-lantern. My legs unfolded slowly. Maybe it was just the chill of the day that caused the shivers. Maybe it was the surroundings. The gravel shifted slowly beneath my tennis shoes, like in a dream; one you’re scared will be a total nightmare. I glanced down at my phone. There was no signal. Argh…

Stepping out of the car the low rumble raised to the level of annoyance orienting my ears to the gravel road

the face of the earth. At that point in the distance, wispy shimmered silver with streaks of rich yellow, emerald and ruby in the setting sun. The colors sparked my mind. There may be gold or gems in the mountains.

“That’s a dangerous road beyond here. There was stones. I could borrow a pan. I saw it on YouTube.

“Do they do any gold mining up here?” It would be awesome to bring real gold back to school after Winter Break, or better yet, strike it rich. smirk.

What kind of place is this? I’ve heard of white gold, yellow gold and wait - I spied a pile of glossy, black blocks at the end of the cabin.

“With the price of oil and propane, coal is pretty valuable. Besides, gold can’t keep you warm at night.”

What kind of world had I stepped into? Were there barefoot kids running moonshine, or other crazy weirdness? I had heard about these kinds of people. My

certain as sprouting a third thumb. I already felt out of place like I had been ‘dream walking’ since Mom died. People at school turned their heads away from me. Their words didn’t connect with me anymore.

Turning into the cabin, I discovered the source of the yellow light I had seen through the windows. Directly From this grate the black chunks of coal hissed their yellow the light of a bare light bulb hanging from the center of the room. Wait, didn’t these kinds of people have big shotguns My vision locked on to the sword. First the axe then a sword – what the heck do they do to people here? of cloth, green and blue.

“Have you not seen a Scottish tartan before?” The McGees were some of the earliest settlers here and I’m proud to be a descendant of them and of many more. Melissa stood by her brother smiling. my honeymoon.”

I grimaced.

very odd place.

Chapter 2 - Civilization?

Entering the cabin, a whirring pulled my attention to one side of the room. Was something printing? That side of each pulsing with their own little lights. At last, I thought, civilization. Uncle Jim just had to let me do some gaming But not now. He was all business as he yanked the paper from the printer.

“Load up!” he commanded. “We have to go down to Jimtown to see Al Harkins.”

I had just enough time to toss my bags back in the the old truck. It squeaked and bobbed with each turn and bump down the steep mountain road. The heater poured out a stale, burnt smell. Worse, a haze hung around a small cluster of houses down in the valley. It delivered a new smell, rotten eggs, which seemed to coat my mouth. A sickness now stirred in my stomach.

“You’ll get used to it.” He scanned the look on my

He and I were visiting Al’s store to do some business. The McGee County newspaper had to do some layout work for advertisements.

He said, “I’m proud to own this little newspaper.”

The whole county was named for his direct ancestor, James McGee. He looked over with a wry grin, “As for Jimtown they couldn’t call the town ‘Jamestown.’ there was already one of those way east, by the coast. There had been runaway slaves from Jamestown who called this place home along with Native Americans and Europeans.”

I guessed a History lesson was as at least good as silence with this strange man.

“They settled far away from proper English settlement, or what Virginians, or other people called ‘civilized.’” he sighed.

“Way back here, everyone was basically able to do what they wanted. Many people out here are what is called Melungeon, mixed. Many people don’t like that word because of what society thinks about it. Skin color and social class didn’t count for anything out here. What counted was what you were willing to do right for yourself and others.”

The truck brakes squeaked approaching the store.

McGee here was Scottish, a great warrior and leader. He was respected by the Shatteras Native American people here and so was asked to be their leader, their local chief.”

“It is funny the choices people make. Decisions make slowly as we came to a stop. We parked by the store entry since the parking lot was empty. The glassy entry door

My eyes strained inside the dark store. There was a down and to the right. Sounds echoed from there. “Clock, pock, whock,” I was pulled toward it. My body tensed. It was the sound of ping-pong.

Bent towards me was a tall, nicely dressed pencil of a man. His hair was white, but his dark scalp shone with ceiling fan.

“Why don’cha go in?” said the voice from behind the counter. “They’re playing ping-pong in there…some kids the open game-room door. Hesitant steps brought me to the room.

A heated battle enveloped the game-room. Whirring hands and splayed bodies were focused on a table and a small white ball. The large, heavy-set boy on the far end wound up like a baseball pitcher, preparing to deliver. “Whack” the paddle less than two centimeters from the table delivered a punishing, low, straight smash on the serve. The ball skimmed the net enroute to the table corner.

An agile, wiry boy on the near end shifted to return ball rocketing to the ceiling, bouncing down to skitter at my feet.

“Game!” called the boy at the far end.

Reaching out, one of two spectators, a pretty, darkhaired girl, gently lifted him.

“It’s his fault!” cried the boy near me, pointing at me as his head hung, exhausted. Sweat dripping from his face, stained dots on the table.

The two spectators, girls, one with wild red hair and the other with straight, the dark hair, examined the situation. The red head’s ruddy complexion was so populated with freckles that I could swear she had a suntan. Her red and yellow patterned pants were so loud, they practically screamed.

The other girl was dark complected. Her expression was considerate and a plain, blue dress clinging to her

“Face it. You’re good, but you can’t beat the technique, Chinese style.” said the boy at the far end. His arms were folded below his triumphant smile. His hands were inserted staining his light blue shirt in big, shadowy arcs. Beads of sweat glistened on his face like a half-played game of battleship. His straight, black hair clung to his pink-hued play was fair, and you had plenty of room.”

staring at?” her eyebrows peaked, waiting for a response. store.” Was I staring?

“It’s not red, it’s auburn.” she said, swirling her ‘auburn’ hair. “What’s your name? My name is Cindy, and this is Angelita and Steve and Paddy.”

“My name is Chris Allen-” I started.

“You’re not staying at the old McGee place, are you?” Cindy blared at a volume no one could overcome. “I was up

all haunted and all of McGee Mountain too. Have you seen anything weird?”

sunk in, a chill spread over me, like a wet glob of snow was melting between my shoulder blades and running down my spine. The last thing I wanted was to take a crazy person to a dangerous place.

“I, uh…my bedroom is beside the bathroom. It’s an odd place though.”

“When I was over there…” she continued, “I felt a cold feeling on that side of the cabin.”

“Give him a break Cindy.” Angelita cut in.

Whew! Maybe I won’t have to.

“It’s just an old cabin draft.” Steve piled on. “Have you been to the falls yet? They say the falls are haunted too.”

I shrugged.

“You must have seen them at the McGee place. The road goes right up there.” Steve’s wiry body twitched,

waiting for a response, tennis shoes squeaking as he twisted

mountainside might be from the falls. “The road doesn’t go up there anymore, a rockslide…”

“I know.” Paddy interrupted, “You’re chicken. Ooooh, all the talk about hauntings frightened you. No sweat man. It’s probably just swamp gas, some kind of decaying vegetation, or static electricity generated by the falls. You

Anything like ghosts just doesn’t make sense.” Paddy’s eyes sparkled green in triumph as if he had just solved a hard puzzle. I bet he probably wins the Science Fair every year.

“Hey Chris...” Cindy’s eyes lit up, “do you think you can lead us up there?”

“I know the way.” Paddy cut in, “I have maps of the whole area. I have road maps, topographical maps, watershed…”

“Chris…” Cindy cut Paddy short, “I’m…my family, they’re the only Carters in the Jimtown area if you want to call. But cell service is not good out here.” not been telling any ghost stories back here have you?”

through the game room door. “I have something to show you. Come here.”

“Go see what ole Joe has for you.” Paddy said with a tight-lipped grin.

I wanted to stay in the game room and get to know the other kids better, but they kept a silent insistence that I go. They waited in the game room, spying from the doorway.

Joe sat like a hunch-back statue over a table with a fair-sized wooden box. Was he energetic, or excited, breathing with a low wheeze? His gnarled, blackened hands clutched the box at either end.

“Come right up here boy.” his voice crackled, “Have you ever seen a wampus cat before?”

The box looked secure, thick plywood bound with metal strapping. Heavy gauge wire mesh covered open parts, half of the top and half of the end at one side. Inside that screen a thick, white tail twitched. Peering closely, I noticed light-gray bands in the white, almost like a raccoon.

Fear surged through my body, practically sending me remained still as a statue. Maybe his body is frozen that

way I thought. How could he be so calm with a wild animal…looking at the end held by the hinge straps, I saw the reason. At the lone animal tail dangled at the end of a wire.

A distant chorus of laughter broke out. My face, which must have been three shades of white from fright, burnt with embarrassment. “You’ve got problems…” Paddy’s voice roared above the laughter, “scared of a box!”

“Oh, he does that to everyone, when he can get away laughing; a joke he can’t wait to tell? me up, now would be a good time for the Earth to open, to swallow me, an earthquake, a distraction, anything. I wanted to run but that would make it worse.

Even as the bubbling giggles faded with distance, they chased me to the truck and the ride back.

Outside the sun had long since set. That sulfuric, dusty smell that had earlier left a strange taste in my pouring out of the chimneys straight to the ground; it is a sign snow is on its way.” Even small lights lit big glowing

orbs in this atmosphere. In the background dark skeleton trees surrounded us. I felt very small and alone.

“I hope the snow is not too bad when I go to Ada can go with me if you like.”

That’s the last thing I needed, I thought. They will have probably heard of the wampus cat incident there too.

Chapter 3 - Preparing for Danger

“I don’t feel like going.” I looked out the cabin windows from the living room. Low, rolling clouds darkened the yellow of the morning light. Little spits of snow hit the porch. It was captivating compared with the Spartan living ancient swivel chair sat by the computer. Accounts,’ with newspaper clippings and other papers spilling out. he gave a quizzical glance as I mouthed the word ‘Adao.’ “It’s ‘Ada,’” he said.

This McGee County is like no place I have ever seen. The town ‘Adao’ was pronounced, ‘Ada.’ Here they have black gold and wampus cats. What’s next?

“What’s with Adao pronounced like Ada? Ada sounds like an old-fashioned girl’s name.”

He paused for a moment, “Ada is just the way they say it now. Adao is something like ground, or earth in Portuguese.”

“Now with the snow coming, stay close by the cabin. Remember the dangers out there. You are on your own for a bit.” He continued.

“Melissa said there are dangers, don’t worry.” The falls and dangers, what dangers? My imagination swirled. Wampus cats, wolves, bears? swept me as the taillights of Jim’s pickup truck disappeared around the curve.

Facing dangers, the kids in Jimtown, snow, the mysterious falls set my feet pacing. I fumbled through cabinets settling for a bag of chips trying to shift my focus. I will try to ‘do what is right,’ as my mom’s words pulsed through my mind.

Some minutes later, the phone rang. “I thought I’d call you since you didn’t call me!” It took only a second to recognize the voice. “Don’t you remember me?” I recognized the attitude more than the voice.

“Hello Cindy. What’s up?”

I could formulate an answer, she continued. “If we can, we’ll meet you there before lunch. When will he be back?

We’ll be headed up to the falls. We’re not too far down the probably couldn’t get a breath in. ‘Click.’

I did not have time to even think of a good response, much less say anything. Now what was I supposed to do? Deep down, the pit of my stomach churned. I can’t lead them up there. Considering the options, giving in was what haunted me. I could be free of the wampus cat story. a computer, but with poor connection and no Wi-Fi. I tried gaming on his computer, but the striker key was sticky, and my movements delayed. I was getting slaughtered in combat and letting my other team members down.

What if I show them the falls? Then, I could face the not about a stupid wampus cat. shot in the game. My focus was shot too.

I leaned on the windowsill following the curves of the earth. Someone could get hurt, especially without an adult. Out there, the falls called. Going there was wrong.

Snow piled up. The monitor on the computer showed 1:52 p.m. A swash of golden light through the window

I can be a hero and I can be prepared for danger. I won’t let them down. “Wampus cat or not, I’m going to the falls.” The words escaped my mouth.

How can I go and make sure everyone is safe from wampus cats? There was a sword and a chair. Despite appearing sturdy, the chair tottered beneath my feet as I reached for the sword.

“Clackety-whop-clat!” grated my nerves. The sword inspection revealed a small scratch on the blade. Was it there before? On second thought, I’d better not take the sword out in the snow and mountain rocks.

It can’t fall again. I reached, returning the sword, but my arms trembled as they stretched out. The chair was Jim got back. A thick dictionary gave the answer, not in had even more wobble now, threatening to throw me and the sword to the rocks below. “Click.” The reassuring sound told me the sword found its way home.

With the chair and dictionary put back in place, there was still time. I set out alone, venturing to Silvery Falls. I can get some pictures with my phone. Those guys in Jimtown will know I’m not chicken.

My jeans are warm enough with my Baltimore team jacket and tennis shoes, I reassured myself.

Outside, the low rumble of the falls captured my attention, not so much annoying now as intriguing. I scrounged around for a good walking stick in the inchdeep snow. Cold prickled my palms. Protruding through the snow, a long, dark, heavy knotted stick presented itself. A good wampus cat stick.

The gravel road from the cabin clearing had already disappeared beneath the blanket of snow. No trace of Jim’s truck tires remained from the steady frozen onslaught. As the abandoned roadway entered the edge of the woods, I trudged through deep leaves covered with snow, chunks of which dropped into my tennis shoes. The cold wetness excited me, energizing my slippery steps. At least the snow was slacking. Occasional sun rays poked through the dark gray bank of clouds.

I stepped over a low chain stretched across the road. Then I was enveloped into the woody darkness. Less snow

tightened its grip on the old roadbed. The lessened icy sloshing relieved my shivering feet.

I had advanced a hundred yards past the chain when I was met with an impenetrable fog just ahead at a bend in the road. Fingers of silver-white fog slid toward me and turned to icy patches. A few more steps and the shadowy sparkled white in the fog - a misty ice fog, dream-like.

The roar of the falls enveloped my ears. The snowfall which seemed to silence everything else could not dampen I took some more slippery steps; then the soupy fog forced a halt. An eerie feeling of danger gripped me. My breaths came shallow and fast. The waterfall’s vibrations trembled the very ground. I had expected the fog to be calm, but it pulsed with energy like a living thing. The fog a way around it, following as I moved to block my path.

Whew. I looked for an uphill spot to rest. One more step and gentle resistance held me. A low branch jutting into the roadway looked suspect but was strong enough to bear my weight from a tree with three main trunks. I slumped on it. A couple of red berries decorated the gray, bare tree. Were they edible?

The trip was harder than I expected. Whew. Even in a dangerous place there was rest.

As I began to settle, a burst of frigid air suddenly took my breath away. Only a few steps farther, a jagged, icy the road had banked, parts of a bridge remained with the creek boiling beneath it. I doubted a wampus cat could make it any farther than beyond this tree. Downhill was

As quickly as the view had come, it passed. Still the roaring sound encased me. I could only sit there, facing the shifting, silvery fog.

Drawing a deep breath, I wondered how long I sat there in the safety of the three-pronged tree. I didn’t dare go farther on the decaying road, ripped away by the falls. The ground was too icy, and I shivered in the bone-chilling cold.

The skies looked dark and angry now. More snow was coming. How could I be so foolish? A single step more and … I would have died, right there. A hard wind howled through the trees.

As I shakily headed back, sloshing and sliding back down the old road I could barely lift my head. I hunched,

abandoned the stick and pulled my arms tight around me to brace against the cold. I had no reason to lift my head. I had done wrong but was spared. The thought helped warm me.

A vague song echoed through my memory. The notes rose as the path had on the way up to the falls. Very old memories cradled me, insulating me from the cold, like climbing from a bench onto my mother’s lap. “Come sinners to the gospel feast…” the words, all I could remember in my mind and like a familiar friend accompanied me all the way to the cabin.

How long was I up there? The sight of his old, black pickup shocked me. The hood of the old truck steamed with melting snow.

Legs, heavy with fatigue, shivered in automatic, labored steps through the snow. What would he say? Three steps up on the porch.

Before I could reach the doorknob, the door opened. the door. I was about to go huntin’ you…” he glanced to the side, a shotgun hung from his shoulder by a strap.

My mind was numb with cold and shock. It managed only a bit of alarm over the gun.

“Thar’s bars out there, an’ coyotes, an’ painters, an’ some say wolves too, but the wild dogs are some of the worst. Sometimes thar’s crazies out thar’ too.” His mountain accent and stressed tones came out in concern for me.

“Painters?” Would I slip on wet paint?

“I mean panthers. Now, just what on Earth do you think you were doing? Don’t you know the mountains are dangerous in the snow? Let’s get in now, you must be freezing.”

My eyes gazed upwards as I prepared an answer. I noticed the sword was missing.

“And don’t you know that sword is over two hundred years old?” he said, observing my glance. “Well, that’s locked away now - the sword itself is dangerous too, mind you. Well…don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I didn’t know it was that dangerous.” I hadn’t really thought it through. Only now was the heaviness of the danger sinking in. What would have happened if I were cut and bleeding with no help available? Anyway, the tracks.

“I should have put the sword up out of the way and warned you better about the falls. People HAVE died out

“Don’t you EVER go traipsin’ up there by yourself again! Do you hear me!” His hand clasped lightly over my forehead. “You’re feeling a bit hot there. After that cocoa, straight to bed.”

That sounded good to me. I felt like a wet rag. Sipping the cocoa wasn’t easy. It was scalding my tongue, a knot forming in the back of my throat. Oh shoot. I forgot to take pictures.

Chapter 4 - Nightmares

“Tap, tap, tap” the light noise from the windowpane stirred me from uneasy sleep. I was disoriented and the room was pitch black. Hearing a low “grrrrrr” sound my eyes opened and saw an orange-red glow. As I focused, the old digital clock revealed it was 10:45 p.m. Again, “grrrrr.” my stomach. Then a “whuurrrrrrr” deep, throaty sound sunk me back seeking refuge under the heavy quilt. Just the wind.

“Tap, tap, tap” the sound returned. A small waving twig etched into the dimly lit window. A single red berry clung to the underside of the twig. The red berry recalled the adventure earlier. Swirling thoughts of cold, snow and fog…and wonderful mysteries captured me. The fog and tree held me from death.

“Tap, tap tap.” The twig’s rhythm becoming familiar, my eyes popped wide open.

My stomach now churned, hungrier than ever, peanut

Creaking out of bed, I crept to the door. The glow of Jim. What are you doing?”

He looked up from the bright glowing face of the computer screen. “You are lucky that I’m not writing your obituary.” Still typing, he said in a lighter monotone, “Just working. That’s all.” and sulfuric smell.

“Are you hungry?” My stomach growled in return. “I think we have some haggis.”

“What’s haggis?”

a mischievous grin. His lifted lip revealed a row of poorly planted teeth. My stomach sank. What a nightmare!

“Not really...I mean we don’t have that. We have plenty of regular food, but haggis is a Scottish delicacy. Your mom, uh, your stepmom comes from a long line of Scotts and Native Americans and others. You should know where she comes from.”

‘Mom, stepmom…’ the words prickled the back of my neck.

“It will be okay. My mother died in childbirth when Melissa was born. I had a stepmom too. Come on to the kitchen. Let’s get something to eat.”

The stubby wooden table bore the scars of a veteran. himself. Throwing open the cabinets he revealed bulging shelves. He could have fed an army of teenagers with that much food. “They say the big snowstorm is yet to come. I stocked up. So, what do you want? I have a pot of beans on the stove, but corned beef hash is good on a cold night.”

At least the table was clean as the corned beef hash and a fried egg were set on it. I took a bite. “Not too bad.” a salty corned beef aftertaste stirred my tongue to stammer.

An insulted, tight-lipped expression moved over fork. Its clatter on the plate reminded me that I was only a guest.

“I’m sorry. I’m just not used to having anyone over since I lost Janice.”

“I guess many people have had to deal with loss, huh,

We were going to raise a family up here. But I…I lost her to a gold wedding ring I had not noticed before. Glancing toward the door as if he expected someone to enter, his thoughts were interrupted, “Tap, tap, tap.” The sound was much fainter in the kitchen. “That dogwood tree. You ever heard the story of the dogwood tree?”

“That one has a story?”

“No, not that one. I mean the Legend of The Dogwood Tree. The Dogwood used to be the biggest, tallest and straightest of trees. The wood is some of the strongest even today. The story goes that that is why they chose the dogwood to use as the cross to crucify Jesus. So, ever since that, the tree was humbled and cannot grow up straight, or tall anymore, but now is short and crooked. The dogwood’s touched with a dot of crimson red. But the petals are pure white showing both Jesus’ purity and the purity given for those who receive Christ Jesus’ blood. It is also said that the red berries give food to all the little birds in need so folks will know that His blood is for all people - anyone who will come and take of it.”

“I guess that is a comfort with you losing Janice and your mom. I guess Melissa had to deal with loss too.”

“I told you before that you need to know where your stepmom is from.”

He looked down as if to tell a secret. He then glanced at the door. “I’m the last of the McGees to carry that name. The family name was almost extinguished before.”

“What happened?”

A chilly draft passed through the room. The backs tap.” the faint sound added to my chill.

“It was a winter like this. Snow lay on the ground. It was 1775.” Berin McGee had arrived a generation earlier and married a Shatteras Native American woman. His only son, James McGee built this place.

Jim slowly turned his face to me, then looked beyond me with an enchanted expression. “It was night. James McGee was the local chief of the Shatteras tribe. A rival clan of the Cherokee thought they would put an end to Chief McGee and his family.” Nodding with his head toward the back door a light shone from his eyes.

“What happened back there?”

“The whoops, yelps and war cries of the warriors

I leaned forward in my chair, elbows on the table, wondering if this had been Chief McGee’s table.

Jim leaped up so suddenly I grabbed the table for dear life. Without a word he clambered with a padlock on a closet and then in the closet by the back door, He emerged from the closet pacing like a pallbearer, the great broadsword cradled in his arms, then laid it to rest, catty corner on the table.

“James McGee knew the purpose of the warriors announced by their yells. Strapping on this Claymore he plunged into the night, meeting them in the woods before they reached the cabin.”

Looking down at the broad, two-edged sword, I didn’t dare touch it now. I wanted to touch it like a memorial, or a gravestone. The blade shone bright silvery gray.

“It is said that the screams and shrieks went on that hill for well over an hour on this hillside. Ms. McGee didn’t dare venture to the woods till daylight. She and her children found him propped up against a tree. His eyes were open and this sword in his hand. Some say he was dead; some say he was dying. Five rival warriors lay dead in the snow.”

“Vooooo” a low wind groaned. It creaked the limbs of dozens of nearby trees.

Jim continued, “and I can believe it.” Another draft seeped into the little cabin, making the kitchen a mass of swirling, cold air.

It’s just a draft, I told myself. I made a big show of stretching and yawning hoping to climb back to the safety of the heavy quilt on the bed. At any rate, the cold air helped me realize that I didn’t feel too good. “I guess it is time to go to bed.”

“It is indeed. You look pale.”

The chill seemed to follow me to bed. Wallowing, I settled into a low spot in the bed, carefully pulling up each layer, sheet, wool blanket, quilt and down comforter up to my cheeks. Ducking my head under the covers, I still felt a tinge of cold. I was surely cursed just like James Mc Gee.

Chapter 5 - Calm Before the Storm

“Vrooooom, bump, scratch, bump, thud.” The sounds of howling and wrestling came from the back of the cabin. “Tap, tap, tap.” The twig in the window was now illuminated in a pale, orange light. I lay motionless, not wanting to venture into the cold room. The dawn glow brightened the whole room.

“Knock, knock, knock.” The rapping on the door sounded cold and hard. “Got some cinnamon toast and scrambled eggs. Come get ‘em while they’re hot.”

The cinnamon toast aroma lured me from the room.

“It’s 8:10, just enough time for breakfast and a behind this time.”

I kept pace getting ready. What will I say about the falls if I see the kids?

As he braced the door, I saw the snow beyond him melting in rays of sunshine. The south wind felt good as the melting snow made a patchwork in the white quilt of snow on the ground.

“It’s looking nice out there.” Whew, I don’t think he caught my sarcasm. I really wanted to say goodbye to the haunted McGee Mountain.

“We have to move it.” Jim replied. “This much South wind combined with the brutal cold coming likely means thunder snow. If there is thunder snow up here, it is followed by seven to ten days of snow. This is just the more than the ‘thunder snow’ comment. “We need to get as much done today as we can. Tomorrow we won’t be doing anything.”

If Jim didn’t trust me, I couldn’t blame him. I was a thief and a coward. I wasn’t even sure I knew how to do right.

He almost pushed me out of the door as he followed so closely behind me. I could hear the snap of his brisk step in his khakis. the truck door for me. The truck shook as he slammed my door and hopped in the driver seat. He then wheeled around to me. “Look, these are wild mountains. They are not your tame suburbs, or national park for that matter. Here, people must be hard and tough just to survive. So, toughen up buttercup and buckle up. I lost Janice up here and I’m not losing you.”

‘...not losing you…’ those words lifted my downcast attitude. Someone did care for me, here on the back side of the wilderness. Jim might be strange, but I think he’s okay.

“I need to go to the printer today. I don’t know how long it will take. It’s in the next county. Then I need to get be done by 4:30 at the latest.”

Winding down the long, rough road to town he glanced at me for a moment and charged me, “It’s all right for you to stay over at Al’s store. He’ll keep an eye on you. You only keep two things in mind. Don’t meddle in other there. You might get ‘Harkins’ Disease.’ “

“Harkins’ Disease?” Is it contagious?

“The Harkins…the Harkins store…there is no other way to say it. People who hang around there, love to smoke, drink and gamble. I have seen those things destroy many a-person. You are to have no part of it. Do you hear?”

Suddenly, we were at the den of sin, Harkins’ General Store. Bright early sunshine sparkled on the sign, wet from melting ice. The gold letters on a green background were punctuated at the end by a red, white and blue circular Pepsi sign. In the daylight, it looked like a regular store. It

was clean and there were no signs of any problems except a stray lottery ticket in the parking lot.

“It looks okay.”

“In many ways, Al and his family are good people. But I have seen many people go in there happy, hopeful and full of promise and come out mean, angry and downcast. Most of the craziness starts after dark. I should be back before then.”

The parking lot snow was melting into tame slush. The valley breezes began blowing harder and though warmer, still chilled my face. Opening the steel and glass “Ring-a-ling.” the doorbell tinkled above us.

Mr. Harkins peered from around tall shelves near the entrance. The source of Harkins’ Disease, the master of disaster, the well-dressed shopkeeper spotted us. Pointing to a dimly lit spot at the counter’s far end, he said, “Sit down there.” Four stools lined the lower part of the counter, paced through the darkness. I guess they weren’t open yet. Heavy-duty kitchen equipment sat just opposite from the

with sweet saltiness. Leveraging my forearm on the counter,

“Want some leaf lard biscuits? We make ‘em from through the light and shadows behind the counter.

“Leaf lard?”

Without missing a beat, he skittered around, snatched up a clean, white apron. In a swirling action the loop was over his back. Flipping on oven mitts in mid-stride, he bore the mitts like a royal guard. He swung swiftly to face the oven.

slid a gargantuan tray with steaming rows of biscuits onto the counter. “Don’t touch. That tray will give you seconddegree burns.”

The steamy warmth of the biscuits drew me. Leaning over to draw in the sweet aroma, a glimpse of red farther down the counter caught my eye. I switched seats to get a better view of the small, thin box. Looking at the edges. They were marked with wear from use. It was about the size of two old-fashioned mouse traps stacked on top of

each other. The white and gold interlaced design on the red box captivated me.

I imagined turning the box in my hand. But instead, turning my head, I managed to read the box, ‘Playing Cards.’ I didn’t notice his closeness behind me.

“That’ll burn ya’ too!” he snapped. But the sharpness in his voice didn’t match the half-twinkle in his eye.

The backs of my hands burned with a tingling sensation. I had been caught red-handed. But I didn’t even touch it. Then I realized the source of the burning. My hand was about a quarter inch from the biscuit tray. Mr. Harkins’ half-twinkle turned into full delight as I jerked my hands back.

“It does burn, doesn’t it? Some things should only be handled by skilled hands.”

He grasped my hands and declared, “No burns.” Then he pulled the cards out of the box.

They were the same design as the box. “These cards need to be handled by someone who knows how.” The cards the air landing into a neat stack.

“The cards burned my poor brother-in-law. I won this store from him quite a few years ago in a poker game.” After an uncomfortable pause he teased, “Tell me…How are things at Old McGee’s place? Have you been to the falls, or been visited by any haints, or such?”

“He continued, Haints…haints are spirits, usually no good. I hear tell that there are some out there.”

“Ring-a-ling.” saved by the bell I thought.

A sizeable shadow passed through the front door. “You are in here early, aren’t you Midge?” Al asked quicky as he bounded back behind the counter. As he switched powdery face was directed squarely at me.

“Who do we have here?” The melodious voice matched the rather graceful movements of the sizable woman as she print dress swayed as she ambled down the counter area.

“That’s Jim McGee’s nephew, Chris.”

“You mean little Melissa’s?”

Mr. Harkins nodded.

“Oh.” she answered, lifting her hand to her lips. Then turned back to Mr. Harkins, “I’ll have some eggs, butter,

buttermilk…. The storm you know.”

As she was speaking about the storm, a dark cloud wiped out the beams of sunlight from the window. He

Almost as fast, he pulled out a biscuit and a piece of ham. Giving that to me he threw a moist towel over the pan of biscuits and returned them to the now-warm oven. I buds.

“Here’s some magazines.” He handed me a few hunting and outdoor adventure magazines. “Don’t bend ‘em up too bad.”

The doorbell began jingling steadily. Many people stopped in for supplies, a few for breakfast. Most customers spoke about the storm in nervous murmurs.

Chapter 6 - The Storm

“Well, well, well; I heard you were down here.” a familiar voice pulled me out of EXTREMZ SPORTZ placed the voice. Looking behind me, she was recognizable with the long, wavy auburn hair and hands on her hips.

Cindy burst into a broad toothy grin. “Did you go to the falls!?! Everybody wants to go there. It’s like the greatest mystery.”

“Cindy!” Mr. Harkins looked over sharply. “You have work to do and you’re already six minutes late.” paced, passing through the gap to behind the counter and stealing glances back like she was waiting for an answer.

How could I answer what I had experienced?

Putting an apron on, she tore into some bags she had pulled out of the freezer. She emptied the hash brown squares into wire baskets and lowered them into popping, boiling vats of oil.

I was itching to tell her…the whole story. It seemed furrowed brow she kept her back to me as she prepared lunch.

A dark shadow cast over the glass entry door. Two They must have been swimming in coal dust. Only the tops of their heads and triangles around their noses and mouths where hats and masks had been, were not black. Both men were thick looking. Maybe it was their layers of clothing.

They gathered near the slim, immaculate store owner. “AL…let’s settle one-third out of this check and I will pay you the rest before the month’s end. You know how paydays are.” The other man chimed in, “I have a new truck

“You have to pay half now if you want to play tonight. That’s generous enough.” Al crossed his arms.

The two dark men shifted uneasily on their feet. After a brief transaction, they said almost in unison, “Okay, see you at 6:30 this evening.”

As the two exited, bumping into one another, Al’s sharp voice called out, “Chris Allen.” Had I been staring? I

got the feeling that I had better not pay attention to anyone else’s business. I guess that was a part of ‘not meddling.’

Mr. Harkins’ eyes narrowed as he motioned to me with herself with setting out napkins, ketchup and saltshakers.

I took slow, dreary steps up toward the cash register. There, Mr. Harkins bent low across the counter with something in his hand. When I stepped up to him, he put I felt the thud, a big pile of quarters.

Whew.

“Why don’t you go to the game room? I’ll get Cindy to take you a hamburger after a while.”

I remembered. Now in the light of day I could see what the other games were. Beyond the ping-pong table was a pool table and arcade games lined the walls, pinball, racing, combat and one marked ‘Casino Cards.’ It had playing cards like from the red box printed all over the machine. Drawn to this unfamiliar game, my hands slid easily over the controls. Staring at the default screen, I imagined it coming to life. I wanted to see what it would be like to be in a big-stakes poker game.

in my mind. It only takes three quarters to play. That can’t be gambling. My hand sunk into the pocket where together.

“Tink, clatter.” One of the coins had popped out, rolling under the machine. I was sure…checking that there was no hole in my pocket.

The hard tile pressed hard and cold on my knees. I peered into the darkness under the machine. I had no silver showed in the fuzzy darkness. There is no telling what crawled under here.

Focusing my eyes to the darkness. I could tell what some of the shapes were. I guessed some of the blobs were chewing gum. As I passed my full arm under the machine in an arc…” Clatt.” The heavy noise jolted my arm. Pulling out, my arm it was coated with gray-brown dust.

“You’re not trying to unplug that machine, are you?” Cindy barked.

The face of the machine was now black. “You must have unplugged it to reset it and increase your odds. I’ve

seen it done before.” She stood hands on hips. The curves on her face took on a sharp angle. She turned on her heels and marched out as quickly as she had entered.

I began to follow, but she was behind the counter so fast. How could I face her now?

Retreating into the game room my mind raced. I didn’t mean to unplug it and didn’t know about the odds. She thinks I’m a cheat. I hope she doesn’t tell the others.

Feeling dirty, one thing was for sure, my hand was nasty. I searched for the bathroom. A quick scan revealed a large closet in the corner. It also revealed a plastic tray with a cheeseburger, fries and a tall Pepsi in a glass with a straw set on the ping-pong table.

Trying the doorknob on the closet, it jiggled, but the door wouldn’t budge. Exasperated, I leaned hard on the on rollers. Many unmarked gallon jugs with a clear liquid were packed in a corner. I was not about to ask what was inside. From the wall protruded a low, large sink. I washed quickly to avoid a charge of breaking and entering. easy, but easier than facing an angry Cindy.

“Rrrungdegadagadae.” vibrations shook the windows grew dark like a shade slid across them. Drum rolls, and vibrations continued. Outside, a large, school bus-colored snowplow was followed by three impatient giants, coal trucks like huge dump trucks.

Dark coal dust swirled, like a storm cloud. My dark mood remained. The scene was troubling. I could do nothing right. I messed up with Cindy and all the kids. I messed up going to the falls. I messed up by meddling in others’ business. As the shadow of the trucks passed, I looked out the window hoping something would be brighter.

Just beyond the road running in front of the store, the

of dull grass bordered the river on the far side. To the right, the grass grew shaggy right up the rock foundation of an imposing old, rickety clapboard mill. The walls were kind of crooked, rotten. Someone could die.

Far to the left of the looming mill, in the distance was something I had not noticed before. A waterfall careening down the slope on the horizon of McGee Mountain. Even from that distance I could see plumes of spray kicked at the sides and bottom of the mountain, scouring it and shining silvery in occasional spots of sunlight. My spirit was lifted.

Reaching down into my pockets, there was a good pile of quarters that needed to be used. Racing, or combat combat before I realized that there were no more quarters. It is amazing how well I can play ULTRA FIGHTER 9 when no one talks smack.

“Well, well, well. It looks like we have a video game dweeb.” Talk about ‘smack,’ Paddy was darkening the doorway of the game room. “What are you doing here?”

Talk about rotten.

Angelita entered as well and looked me up and down as if to size me up for the tournament.

“Who invited you? Well, it is a closed tournament anyway.” Paddy stared at me.

The game room began to darken as the little light the sun gave through the building clouds was snatched away ceiling light was not good for ping-pong. I had played before. But these guys seemed serious about ping-pong.

I was debating whether to walk back to McGee Mountain. Steve entered the game room and Angelita whispered something in his ear. Steve said, “It’s okay.”

“What’s okay?” I wondered aloud.

Steve bumbled, “Well, uh…” In response, Paddy folded his arms, standing in front of the ping-pong table staring Steve down. “Well, we need some competition for the tournament, especially since Cindy is still working.”

“I play baseball and basketball, but don’t think I have ever played ping-pong.” That was an outright lie about and raced to remember the rules. I walked around Paddy, dimples.

“Oh, basketball and baseball are big around here too.” Angelita chipped in. As Angelita was answering, Paddy wheeled around and wrenched the paddle out of my hand. He directed Steve to the other side. “Whock, clock, whock, clock.” the battle for ping-pong supremacy had begun. The was well underway.

Angelita interrupted the action. “Wait up! If we are having a tournament, then we need to start with the who takes on the champ. You know that.”

“Clatt.” was the only sound Paddy made dropping the paddle and ball on the table, and he dropped his big, round

shoulders. He shifted to my side of the table, forcing me to take the long way around the table to the awaiting paddle and ball. nice. It warmed me to be around her.

Making my way around the table, memories of ping-pong in a neighbor’s basement circulated in my my thoughts. I had just gotten the paddle ready. I had to hair and a white apron crossed the doorway. Attempting to

“I wasn’t ready.” I was embarrassed.

“This is just practice.” she retorted. like a batter warming up. I was able to return the next serve and most of the rest of them. “You’re pretty good for a beginner,” she commented. A tinge of guilt grabbed me.

“Liar.” Paddy said, trying to disguise it as a cough. Steve curled the corners of his mouth up in acknowledgement. My cheeks burned.

Soon every part of my body exuded sweat. I was working hard to stay in the tournament, but Angelita had me down three games to one. How could Angelita look so cool? “Skunk!” declared Paddy. That made it game four. She won the best of seven.

Steve sped around to my end of the table. Grabbing the paddle, he began smacking it on his hand. His nervous

Glancing out the windows, the shadows were deepening both from the sinking sun and the building clouds. Above the game room door, a large, old-fashioned, long hand almost on the six; That makes about 5:30.

Paddy saw my gaze. “Does Chris want to go home to his mommy?” he goaded.

My forehead burned with anger and my arm twitched response. what happens here after dark. You’re chicken. That’s it.” He said.

Even though I was trying to control myself, thoughts

my mind. I moved toward his end of the table, facing him closely and squarely. “Don’t dare talk about my mom. She died less than two years ago.”

“What are you going to do, sweat on me?”

‘Always do what is right.’ Besides, Paddy’s ridiculous almost made me laugh he was pouring sweat so much, he would certainly have to change clothes soon.

Angelita’s stare scolded Paddy.

Paddy did not slow down. “I know, you’re chicken. I bet you haven’t even been to the falls yet. I’ve got a new name for you, ‘Chicken-Bone.’” A big tight-lipped smile crossed his face like he had just scored points verbally.

Steve was still at the table nervously twitching his paddle. “Come on Paddy, you have some competition now.”

Paddy continued to face me, waiting for me to back about to be ignited between my eyebrows.

Paddy bristled at the words. He challenged, “I’ll bet you haven’t even been to the falls yet.”

“Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades,” Paddy chuckled.

Cindy stepped in from the doorway where she was eavesdropping. “Why don’t we go tonight!”

“What about the storm?” I crossed my arms waiting for a response.

“I logged on to the National Weather Service this morning.” Paddy announced. “In the Tri-Cities area, it of a little snow.”

“Young Chris…” Al Harkins’ voice could be heard from behind the counter, “Grab your jacket. Your uncle just pulled up.”

Hesitating at the door on the way out, I wanted to tell them how dangerous the falls are when Paddy cut in again.

“Don’t even worry about this chicken-bone clown. He obviously has problems anyway.”

Cindy intercepted me. “How long are you here for?”

“Two more days.”

Paddy closed on me, shoving me toward the game room door.

His voice faded as I exited and overheard him talking to Cindy. “What are you doing messing with that dweeb!”

It was dark outside under boiling clouds. I heard a distant rumble of thunder. A storm sure was gathering. I

A storm of feelings and questions tore through my mind and belly. That smell of sulfuric smoke clung in a smoke caught the light from some windows, projecting an eerie, hazy glow. To make the smell worse, the truck’s heater spilled its hot, musty, stale air.

As soon as we wound uphill above the sulfuric

Breathing the fresh chilled air relieved my sickened feeling.

“Crank that window up! You’re getting me cold. Why on Earth do you need so much cold air?”

“I’m sorry.” I rolled up the window. “I just don’t feel good.”

“What’s the matter?”

I shrugged, avoiding an answer.

The sharp curves up the mountain didn’t help my feelings. But looking out at the valley below, I was struck by the number of lights. They shone like stars through the smoky haze. There were no stars in the sky tonight. The clouds veiled them.

“Are you hungry?”

My stomach growled.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Supper at the cabin was better this time with included

After supper we watched an old Tom Hanks movie, THE GREEN MILE.

When the movie ended, I glanced at the stone had shined there behind that green tartan. He must have kept it polished.

he cleared his throat. “The claymore ought to be there. Can I trust you?”

“Of course…I won’t touch it again.”

“I’m going to bed.” My body felt drained.

“Rest up. We may have to dig out of a snowbank by morning…or tunnel out.”

‘Tunnel out,’ I thought, toothbrush in hand. Rehearsing in the mirror, I quietly mocked the words, “Rest up…we may have to dig out…oh, tunnel out…that’s it.” The curled corners of my mouth looked goofy. What was goofy said it wouldn’t be much. I wondered why he didn’t check that.

I settled into the big, lumpy bed. Nestling in the low spot, insulated from the chilly room, my stomach calmed. “Voooooo.” The wind howled through the trees and drafty cabin as a branch lightly tapped on the bedroom window. A distant boom thundered. Thunder snow? The coziness of the bed caused sleep to overtake me.

Chapter 7 - Worst Case Scenario

“Tap, tap tap…tap, tap, tap…TAP, TAP, TAP.!”

Startled, I thought the branch might break the windowpane. I threw myself forward against the resistance of the heavy covers and braced myself with my arms. Adrenaline energized me, but my head was still foggy. Light from the bathroom spilled under the bedroom door enabling me to see through my squinting eyes.

“Tap, tap, tap.” The sound was a little lighter. I was frozen by the vision in the window. Three dark ovals appeared in the frosty windowpanes. Squinting I recognized them from the game room. The round one, Paddy, then one with wild hair, Cindy and one with straight, long hair Angelita.

“Let us in,” the voices urged in hushed tones. This was not supposed to happen…not in the middle of the night. I hesitant steps on the drafty wooden planks, Reaching the window, panic struck me sharply between the shoulder blades, making my movements clumsy. Pulling the sash, it wouldn’t budge.

“Switch the latch.” Paddy’s voice instructed. “If you

After switching the latch, the lower window sash still wouldn’t budge. Reaching up, I managed to pull the upper sash down. It came far enough to speak over; stuck in thick layers of old window paint. The more I pulled, the tighter the paint gripped. Numbing waves of cold air spilled through.

“Hurry up! It’s cold out here.” Angelita gasped, bouncing up and down to stay warm.

“Where’s Steve?” I pressed my chin to the top edge.

“He turned around before we got a mile up the hill.” Cindy tossed her Auburn hair back from her face, twirling a strand, “What’s taking so long?”

The cabin is way too small I thought. Jim will know if they came in. “Hold on.” I urged. On my way to grab clothes and change in the bathroom I overheard Cindy and Angelita arguing.

I caught Angelita’s words, “I still think it’s a stupid idea.”

“Well why did you come up here then?”

“Someone has to help when you get in trouble.”

On the back steps I was happy to see that the wind had drifted out of the darkness into the cabin’s light. There was a light, uneven coating, lighting the ground.

Cindy reacted to my presence, wrapping her arms tightly around my arm, her eyes sparkled as they locked onto me. “Take us to the falls.” The softness of her voice was unexpected.

My feet moved against my will toward the gap in the woods. Swayed by the arm-locked closeness, we made slow progress toward the edge of the woods. In some spots, ankle-deep snow also slowed us. Her uncharacteristic softness and warmth swayed my mind too. My brain felt mushy.

What did she want? How can I do right when I can’t even think right. us. “You’re going way too slow. We would freeze to death at this rate.” Noting the little pops of sweat on his face, I doubted that.

Cindy clung closer, resting her cheek on my shoulder. toward the gap ahead.

Angelita tried to keep up with Paddy, but lagged, the now increasing snowfall.

I was pulled along.

Finding the chain across the road where it cut through the darkened woods, Paddy turned. “Hurry up slow pokes.” He paused at the entrance through the woods, waiting, and folding his arms.

White snow helped light the way. Deeper in the woods, there was less of it. A misty breeze still carried bits of snow through the woods. As we reached the chain, Paddy hopped over catching his toe on it, letting out a surprised guy could get hurt at the falls.

Dusting snow from his side and face, Paddy pulled The bright beam burst forth from his halogen beyond the intense glare the mist made.

He quenched the light.

We halted for a moment to let our eyes adjust. Winds now shifting slammed cold gusts in our faces along with a

multitude of tiny cold bits splattering us. The cold gripped our shivering steps.

Pushing ahead, we met a swirling wind bringing heavier snow showers. Paddy slipped every other step.

“This is not good.” the words escaped my mouth before I thought of Paddy’s inevitable reprisal.

He stopped in his tracks, turning back, facing me into his meaty hand.

Cindy came around in front of me, still clinging to my arm. She brought my hand to meet hers in her warm, down jacket. My mind was swimming with feelings and thoughts. I wasn’t even able to respond to Paddy.

trail. “If it’s that bad, you better go back…Chicken Bone.” up the whole area with an impenetrable light. We winced at the intense, milky glare.

Cindy snapped, “Put that thing away.”

Paddy looked over sharply at me as if daring me to say a single word. Anger was stirring all through me. That fool. His face was full of exertion sweat, almost dripping.

I knew I ought to say something…. something about the danger. At the same time, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I pulled away from Cindy. The right thing…I have to.

Paddy plunged through the milky mist.

“Wait up.” Angelita called out, picking her way behind him.

I followed close behind. Still, I couldn’t see him and kept losing sight of Angelita. She appeared like bits of a ghostly shadow, her feet disappearing into the fog.

The memory of the icy slope I had seen just yesterday was playing on my mind. If I bumped into her, or Paddy, or slipped, it would be a long way down.

“Hold on!” I managed a panic-stricken yell. “We must We would have heard a scream. Fear pulsed through me. ahead, almost smothered by the mist and drowned out

by the roaring of the falls. “I can’t even see three inches ahead.” Paddy’s voice carried over the thundering noise.

We stumbled across Paddy and Angelita only a few steps ahead, shivering in the cold moisture. They were standing by the tree, with three trunks.

Spotting us, Paddy turned again in the direction of the falls. A few inches at a time he began looking uphill from the tree to get around it. The thick silvery fog took on the same form I saw last time. Rolling arms of superdense fog blocked Paddy’s progress. He kicked the ground, frustrated, determined to go his way.

There the three trunks, the low branch and the sheer

“If I hear one more word out of you…you will have a the tree.

Looking up, all I could think was, ‘Oh God, let that wind come so he can see.’ I saw the red berries. We were I struggled, pinning him to the hill at the tree. Rolling wildly. I tried to get up, but he pinned me to the slippery, wet ground. The thick, black Baltimore jacket helped to

dampen the blows. The side of my face was numb from the snow.

Paddy hopped up and tried to go under the big branch across the road. I grabbed his leg and the branch. Paddy into the mist.

limb and his leg violently trying to escape my grasp. The tree shuddered under pressure. Though the bark bit into my hand, my grip held.

“What’s your problem?!” The tree shook under the pressure. After what seemed like forever, Paddy slacked his pulling and jerking.

Paddy paused, doubled over wheezing for breath.

Angelita faced Paddy. “Look at you…talk about problems.”

Angelita put her arm around Cindy “We’re going home now.” As the two turned back toward the trail, she was enveloped in the milky glare.

Just as we all were turned to the light, it was extinguished. “It could be anyone.” Cindy said just above the roaring falls.

“No telling who it could be.” Angelita added. “All kinds of rough people come up here.”

Fumbling our way back down the trail a little distance, we found a mountain laurel thicket big enough to hide ourselves. Bunches of dark, waxy leaves created deep falling thick. It seemed that the fog was transforming into a solid mass of snow.

waved back and forth, scanning the road. As they closed

Jim, Al Harkins and another one with a thick accent. The third voice sounded Hispanic. “I think this is near where the landslide took out the road last year.”

Angelita rushed out of the bushes. “Papa!”

A man in a pressed Forrester’s uniform ran to meet Angelita. “I was so worried. I saw four sets of footprints, but we lost the tracks.” sweeping her up in her arms. “Where are your friends? Are they okay?” Angelita stepped back a few steps toward the thicket.

“Chris! What do you mean carrying your friends out here…such a dangerous place…and the middle of a hiding. “What do you have to say for yourself? We were worried sick!”

“Cindy…who else is with you?” Mr. Harkins’ tense voice came across, “I suspected something was up. Mr. Juarez called me expecting that Angelita was with you. What on Earth are you up to?”

“Papa…” Angelita looked up at her dad. “We just wanted to see the falls.” pressed.

Taking her dad by the hand, Angelita continued, “Let me show you something.” Soon the misty glare of the for the tree with the three trunks as a reference. Coming to the tree, again a silvery cloud blocked the way. Even the to the ground at the tree’s base she said, “This is what I wanted to show you Papa.” They focused on the ground, the disturbed snow. She described what happened.

Sweeping down, a cold burst of air momentarily pushed aside the cloud like a curtain. We were treated to a

breathtaking view of the valley below. The road had fallen away only a few steps beyond, and an eroded slope reached the tree. Most of the home lights were extinguished in the valley. Frothing water from the falls sparkled in the dim moonlight. Paddy’s face turned pale at the sight. His body began shaking all over.

Returning, the plush, milky cloud curtain slid back across the road. Once more, the mist guarded the falls. Paddy, gaining control of his shaking, turned wide-eyed

I put a hand on his shoulder. “Time to go back.”

He didn’t say anything else for some hours.

welcomed the sight.

Jim’s voice was soft and encouraging.

Paddy seemed to thaw after his third cup of cocoa. We were all happy to be alive. “I never thought…”

Mr. Juarez looked hard at Paddy. “Paddy Pennington... I think you have something to say to Chris here.”

Pausing, Paddy cleared his throat. He looked over you. You saved my life. And…I will never call you ‘chicken’ again, well… probably not anyway.” Then he looked up with a bit of a smirk.

“Apology accepted.” I was kind of glad Paddy was

“Chris, you saved me too.” Angelita added. “I got close to the edge too. You stopped us just in time. I really knew I shouldn’t have been following along with them.” She looked down at my hands with beautiful, dark eyes sparkling. Her expression was as sober as ever, but softer now.

What did I see in her eyes?

“You’re bleeding!” Inspecting my sore hand, a small cut was revealed.

“I didn’t do much.” All added together I really hadn’t done much. “I just pushed Paddy down, then hung on for dear life.” What else happened? It was more than just my choices.

Something good had happened. My mind was carried away back to the scenes, drawn to the tree and the falls. Then a

“Come sinners to the gospel feast.”

“What’s that song?” Cindy asked, “I think I’ve heard it before.

“I heard it at church.” Angelita replied, “Oh what is it?”

“The title is just like the words, ‘Come sinners to the gospel feast.’” Mr. Juarez chipped in.

for some real food, more than cocoa and cookies. have your feast and a sleepover too. All the roads are shut down.” Disappearing into the kitchen, the rattling of pans me Chris.”

Melissa’s voice came over the phone. “I am so glad you are safe! I couldn’t bear it if I lost you. I am so proud of you Chris. Jim told me. You chose right in the end. That’s what counts.” I didn’t hear much else through the rest of the call.

Looking above the mantle, I was greeted with the sight of the Claymore sword and the McGee family tartan. I thought of the cost of blood paid for others, Chief McGee and Jesus. So, I told the story of Chief James McGee.

After more stories from others and the meal we arrangements. Before we went to bed, I had one more story to tell. “Have you ever heard of the Legend of the Dogwood, Jesus’ blood paid for sinners?”

Late that night, looking into the darkened ceiling from for a place in Heaven for Mom, a place for me, for Melissa, and for friends.

Mystery at Silvery Falls: A Novel Approach to Christian Moral Development