Free Hawks Mountain - Mobi by Elizabeth Sinclair

him like a ball leaving a cannon barrel. “ I .  . . I can’t.” Before she could say anything else, he gathered his book and slipped off the rock. “See ya.” Then he headed for the woods at a brisk walk.
    He could feel Becky’s open-mouthed stare burning into his back. His response to her invitation had been rude and nothing short of uncalled for, but fear had driven the word from his lips. It didn’t make sense, but every time he got in a group of people, all he could see were bodies of fallen soldiers crying out for his help and a little boy beyond help.
    That night, the nightmare came again.

Chapter 7
     
    The church auction had concluded and shadows lengthened as the afternoon waned. From where she sat on the quilt Granny had spread over the grass beside the side door to the church, Becky could see the road leading down from Hawks Mountain . Periodically, she’d glance in that direction looking for Nick. In her heart, she knew he wouldn’t come, but she couldn’t allow that small flicker of hope that he might change his mind to die.
    “He’s probably not going to come, child. I told you, he doesn’t socialize.”
    Granny lifted her casserole of brown beans and ham from a big basket. She set it on the blanket next to a platter piled with squares of golden cornbread. In the center of the platter sat a tub of sweet, amber honey. Beside that stood a thermal jug of icy cold sweet tea. The idea of a covered-dish supper was to bring enough to feed your family, but Granny always brought enough to feed half the town, and usually did. No one could resist her ham and beans served with the added treat of her golden cornbread slathered in honey.
    The heavenly smell that drifted up from the food almost drew Becky’s attention from the road. Almost. Despite the temping aroma of Granny’s food and the din of the voices of the town’s people scattered on their own blankets all over the church lawn, Becky could not be distracted from her vigil. She was well aware of Nick’s reputation for staying to himself. Still .  . .
    He has to come! He has to!
    “Jake, you git your nose outta there,” Granny scolded. She gave her canine companion a playful swat and pushed his shaggy body off the quilt where he’d been trying to inspect the food. “There’ll be some for you later.” She watched him hobble off to join Davy Collins, the mayor’s son. “Doc Mackenzie and Nick sure did a fine job fixing up old Jake.”
    “Yes, they did,” Becky agreed absently, her gaze still trained on the road.
    She and Granny had brought the dog home two days ago, and other than the cast on his leg, no one would ever know he’d been hurt. And if the way he’d been eyeing the food was any indication, his appetite certainly hadn’t suffered either.
    “Davy, get away from that flea-bitten, dirty mongrel!” Mayor George Collin’s voice rang out over the din of the picnickers.
    At the sound of the mayor’s voice, Becky’s attention left the road. Her gaze shifted, along with a lot of other folks sitting nearby, back and forth between the mayor to her grandmother, waiting for the inevitable explosion from Jo Hawks. No one was disappointed.
    Granny reared up, hands on hips, and strode to where the mayor stood glaring down at his son, who was lying on the grass with his arm around Jake.
    “George Collins, I’ll have you know that Jake is neither dirty nor mangy. He gets a bath once a week after which he’s de- fleaed . And he may not be AKC material, but he’s not a mongrel, and he’s a darn sight smarter than some folks I know.” She glared directly at the mayor.
    It made Becky and a few other onlookers smile to see the mayor flinch under Granny’s tirade. According to Granny, ever since he’d been elected, his ego had grown to the size of a horse barn. The way he strutted around like a Bantam rooster, a person would have thought he had been elected the mayor of New York City instead of the tiny town of Carson . When Becky was