Free The Hangman's Beautiful Daughter by Sharyn McCrumb Page A

a damned shame it is that the Titan Paper Company over in North Carolina isn't made to stop dumping pollutants into the Little Dove River. He said the cancer rate downstream from that plant—here in east Tennessee—is ten times the national average." Tavy let his hand fall limp in the pool of clear water on the table, and silent tears rolled down the furrows in his cheeks. "Taw, that damned river got me, just like it poisoned all the fish."
    Taw stared at his friend, seizing on something to focus on besides the grief and horror.

    "Somebody better let those people at the factory know," he whispered.
    Tavy Annis shook his head. "They already know all about it. Their lawyers have been fighting the cleanup orders for years."
    Laura Bruce clutched the telephone receiver as if it were a human hand. "I can hear you fine, honey," she said again. "It's hard to believe you're half a world away. Are you getting my letters?"
    Her eyes strayed to Will Bruce's clear blue eyes staring back at her from the photograph on her nightstand. She smiled at the image, as his voice flowed into her from another continent. She was propped up in bed on both pillows, cradling the headset against her neck, and resting her other hand on the small swollen mound beneath her cotton nightgown. "We're fine, Will. Both of us. I go back to the doctor in three weeks. How are things over there? Are you eating all right?"
    Soon he would ask her about things in the parish. Should she tell him about the Underbills, or would that only add to his burden? She decided to listen to his news first, try to gauge his mood, before she told him about the tragedy.
    Will Bruce's soft Southern voice rumbled through the phone lines. "I don't know, Laura. I'm stuck out here in the desert. I guess I feel like St. Augustine."
    "That sounds good," said Laura, puzzled by the weariness in his voice.

    He laughed. "Think again, pagan! Augustine had a major crisis out here in the desert. Wondered if his faith was worth a damn. This desolate country will do it to you. I sure wish I was back in the green hills of Tennessee."
    "I wish you were, too, Will. But I guess the soldiers out there need you."
    "Not so's you'd notice it. I'm not exactly in high demand. Every now and then somebody will drop by to try to scare up an argument on abortion, or ask me if I'm one of those crackpot kind of preachers who doesn't believe in evolution and who takes the last dimes from little old ladies' pension funds to buy myself a BMW. These kids think they're too young and too American to die. What do they need me for?"
    Laura closed her eyes. / don't need this, she thought. I'm doing your damned job here, Will. Don't make me minister to you as well. She said, "You sound tired, honey. I bet you're pushing yourself too hard. What if I send you some iron tablets?"
    "I'd rather have a box of Goo Goo clusters. And Doritos. How's everything back in Dark Hollow? I bet it's beautiful there with the leaves turning."
    "Wonderful," said Laura. "Prettiest place on earth." The leaves had been on the ground for two weeks now. "Everything is fine, Will."
    The headlights did not quite reach into the darkness. Maggie Underhill had to lean forward and strain to see the curves in the road that always seemed just beyond the pool of

    light. She glanced at Mark, slumped in the seat beside her, and thought for a moment about waking him up and asking him to navigate, but she decided against it. If the alcohol was beginning to wear off, he might insist on driving, which might be worse to endure than the blinding dark. Play practice had been long and tedious, and Maggie was exhausted. Better to let Mark sleep and enjoy the silence.
    Bare tree branches were thrust across the road like pitchforks, waving slowly in the wind.
    In summer this country road was beautiful. She knew that because they had moved onto the farm in May, and she remembered seeing its green splendor in the months that followed, but now she could not call to mind