Chapter Two
The trail Miss Georgia followed dipped down into a small ravine. In rainy weather, a creek meandered through, but now only a few pools of water puddled in the low places. This wet weather creek dead-ended farther back in the woods, in a cave. Miss Georgia had only been as far as the cave twice—once with her father when she was a child, and once when she had been picking blackberries and been caught out in a rainstorm. Then, she had stepped barely inside the opening, to keep from getting drenched.
She did not like the cave, or any cave, for that matter. How far it cut into the hillside was anybody’s guess; she was in no hurry to find out. Tales abounded about Eagle Cave, and none of them were good.
Miss Georgia was almost home. She climbed out of the gully, and entered the darkest part of the woods. Just on the other side of that grove of cedars her small house waited for her. She smiled as she thought of Elmira, sitting on the windowsill and her cat’s daily ritual. As soon as she got in the door, her small, gray cat always led the way to the kitchen and her food dish.
Something whisked by her face and, involuntarily, she ducked and brushed her hand in front of her. Looking up, she saw a bat swooping out of the cedars, and another, and another. What was going on? She knew there were bats living in Eagle Cave, but they slept during the day, coming out only at night to catch small, flying insects. Something must have disturbed them to cause them to leave the walls and ceiling of their subterranean home.
Miss Georgia quickened her pace until she was almost running. She had nothing against bats. They were God’s creatures, after all, and filled a spot in the nature of things, but she did not like for them to fly so close.
The feeling of being watched persisted until she burst from the woods and saw her house in front of her. She paused for a second and took a deep breath, willing her pounding heart to return to normal. What a strange day. First, the unreal feeling of leaving the empty classroom for the last time, the news about Tommy’s father, and now this. A small smile tugged at her mouth. Maybe her daily routine of teaching had been holding everything together and now that the order of her days would be different, even nature was disturbed. Scoffing at herself for fanciful thoughts, she opened the door and called to Elmira.
As always, her furry companion jumped from her seat in front of the window where she watched for Miss Georgia’s return. With tail erect, she trotted through to the kitchen, then looked up, winding between Miss Georgia’s ankles.
Miss Georgia loved this house and the ten acres she called her own. It had once belonged to her parents and this made it doubly dear. Out back was a small garden, new plants already up and thriving. Behind that was the chicken house, and just behind the back porch was the well. It was a good well with cold, pure water. Never had it ever run low.
Going about her familiar after-school routine was comforting. She refilled Elmira’s food and water dishes and opened the pie safe. This safe had been her grandmother’s and Miss Georgia still kept food in it. Its tin-inlaid doors closed over shelves of canned food and, often, left-overs. She kept tins of tuna here too, an extravagance for her little cat.
In her kitchen, everything was cozy and comfortable. She stirred up the coals in the wood-burning stove and set the kettle on to heat water. Maybe the strange happenings of the day were not really as unsettling as she thought. By this time, Tommy’s father was likely home by now,, contrite and humble for an extended drinking spree. And, that feeling of being watched in the woods? It was probably her vivid imagination, as her parents used to tell her.
She had just returned from the well with a bucket of fresh water when someone knocked on the front door. Setting the bucket on the table, she hurried to see who it could be. It was getting on toward suppertime, not the usual time for someone to come calling.
She opened the door to see Lathe Caldwell, sheriff of Newell County, standing on the porch. He removed his hat, a gray Stetson, and managed a grin. Lathe looked so much like his father that she had a moment of flash-back before realizing this was the younger, not the older Caldwell. Lathe’s horse, sweaty around the saddle, waited beyond the porch.
“Sorry to bother you, Miss Georgia, but we’ve had a little trouble in town this morning. Bank was robbed by two men. The teller managed to shoot one of them and wounded the second one, Jase Marshall, but he got away. He lives around here, thought you might’ve seen him.”
So that was why Tommy’s father hadn’t come home. “I haven’t seen him,” Miss Georgia said. “Tommy told me his father hadn’t been home for a couple of nights. I guess you’ve looked there?”
Lathe nodded. “Yep. First thing.”
Georgia thought about the bats being disturbed. “And, you checked Eagle Cave?”
“Did that too,” he said.
If he had checked this morning, that didn’t mean that Mr. Marshall hadn’t gotten to the cave later and, perhaps was in it now. She didn’t say anything, though. She thought about Tommy’s concern and his mother’s tears. Somehow, Georgia didn’t feel like sharing her suspicions with young Lathe.
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