Free Fiery Possession by Margaret Tanner Page A

swung away and stalked off.
    Nervous tension twanged through her body, her legs trembled and her hands felt sweaty.  As she accepted an invitation to dance from another young man, she fought a desperate battle not to let him see her turmoil. As they returned to the floor, Luke had disappeared, but Tim started dancing with Amy Kirkman. For the next little while, she forgot the ugly incident. Thank goodness it would be supper time soon, dancing could certainly be fatiguing. I’ll be glad to have a rest and something to eat.
    Everyone gathered around the front of the barn to listen to William explaining what they would do with the money they had raised. Jo glanced up just in time to see Amy, followed by Tim Campton, heading outside. A sudden feeling of dread surged through her. Quickly, but hoping not to attract attention, she sidled across the barn until she made it to the door.
    In the few moments it took for her to become accustomed to the darkness, the pair had disappeared. Hurrying first in one direction, then the other, she found herself near the carriages. Instinctively she went over to their buggy and picked up Ian's rifle.
    A short, sharp cry rent the air and she charged in its direction.
    “Amy!” Fear raised her voice. “Amy!”
    Another scream came from near the stables, and Jo ran. The night was not pitch black because of the star-filled sky and filtered light thrown out by the lanterns strung out along the wall of the barn. Horror temporarily froze her feet to the ground as she saw Amy desperately struggling with that monster Tim Campton.
    With strength dredged from God alone knew where, she screamed out. “Let her go.”
    Tim dragged Amy towards the stables. Jo rushed at him, hitting his back with the butt of Ian’s rifle.
    “Bitch,” he snarled, letting Amy go as he swung towards Jo in a maddened frenzy. One hand contacted with the side of her neck, the other hand grabbed the front of her gown and the sound of the material ripping mingled with Amy’s screams. She tried to wrench herself free, but fell to the ground.
    Rising groggily, she saw Tim holding the rifle. He advanced towards her. He was going to shoot her. No sound came out of her paralyzed throat. Like a maddened beast he lunged forward, tripped over something, and in the split second it took before he hit the ground, a shot echoed on the still night air.
    Luke arrived on the scene first, followed by Ian and the Kirkmans. Tim thrashed around in his death throes, blood spurting out everywhere. Ian helped her stand up. Someone threw a shawl or blanket about her shoulders. Luke knelt on the ground, cradling his dying brother's head, running his fingers across Tim’s forehead, brushing away a tendril of hair.
    Tears were beyond Jo. Horror struck her dumb. Ian and Fiona tried to comfort her while the Kirkmans consoled Amy. The terrified girl’s hysterical screams became louder, reverberating through the darkness.
    As Ian helped her away, Luke raised his head. His eyes stared straight into hers. He did not speak. The sheer savagery of his expression registered with her even though she was on the verge of collapse.
    The next few minutes turned into a terrifying nightmare. The screaming, the blood, she had never known such horror. Because of her a young man had died. “It was my fault,” she cried in a voice husky with anguish.
    “He tripped over and the gun accidentally went off,” a man said.
    “He attacked young Amy Kirkman. It wasn't your fault. No one can blame you,” a different man consoled, as he handed her a flask of brandy. The liquid scalded going down her throat, but it brought the warmth back to her trembling limbs. The top of her gown hung loosely, ripped from shoulder to waist and she clutched at the shawl to keep herself covered. In a detached kind of way she watched a police constable, who had been at the dance, talking to the men who had stuck up for her. What a shocking end to what had been an enjoyable occasion.
    Even in her