Free Long Hunt (9781101559208) by Cameron Judd

Over-hill Cherokee villages.
    Conversation dwindled. Houser bent to his work, and the injured man remained mercifully unconscious, making Houser’s labors easier. Reuben kept his eyes on the leaping flames in the fireplace and tried not to hear the meaty, ugly cutting sounds made by Houser’s blade. He began to feel a bit better and decided at last he could even sustain a glance at what the doctor was doing.
    â€œWhy is he cutting on his leg stump, when it’s already cut?” Reuben asked Fain.
    â€œI’m no physician, son, but I think what he’s doing is getting that leg in shape to heal better. He’ll pull what skin he can down over the wounded flesh and stitch it all up right neatly. I’ve seen something like that done before. Makes a world of difference in the healing if it’s done right.”
    Reuben was pale. “Lord, how did that fellow do it? Cut through his own leg? Wouldn’t the pain have made him stop? I’d never be able to do that.”
    â€œMen do what they have to do in such moments. And generally they can do more than anybody would think they could. I’m guessing that this gent probably was in such pain already that he might not have much felt his own cutting. All the hurting kind of mixing in together, you know.”
    Reuben shuddered. “God, I hope I never have to do such a . . .” He trailed off.
    â€œLikely you’ll never face such a situation, son, but if you did, you know what you’d do?”
    â€œNo, sir. But I think I’d just throw down the knife and hope for the best.”
    â€œNo. You’d do what you had to do, whatever it was. It’s the way the good Lord made us . . . and maybe part of the reason he lets us face such dreadful things at times. So we can learn just what we’re capable of doing.”
    â€œI don’t know that I want to know what I’m capable of doing, sir,” the youth said.
    â€œI understand what you mean, son. I do. I think most of us hope to pass the tests we’re put to, but that’s no reason to hope we get put to them in the first place.”
    â€œI need to go back and get with my kin,” Reuben said. “Thank you for helping me get that fellow some aid.”
    â€œNothing but what I’d have done for anybody, and hope anybody would do for me.”
    â€œEvening, Mr. Fain.”
    â€œEvening, son.”

CHAPTER SIX
    T he Molly Reese presentation had been given so many times that the preacher could have recited most of it without the aid of the papers on the lectern before him, just as the woman did her part without prompting or direction. She had it easier than he, of course, possessing no tongue and being able to produce only the most rudimentary approximations of understandable speech. She was not required to say anything to the congregants.
    Repetition of the performance had helped her overcome any sense of shyness or hesitancy she had once possessed. In earlier days she had felt a normal human resistance to letting others see her abnormality, and had gone through life with her mouth clamped tightly shut most of the time. Those who sought to see for themselves what was, or was not, inside the oral orifice were turned away consistently. She would not be treated like some living horror or mutilation.
    All that had changed when she met Abner Bledsoe. Something about the man had drawn her, pulled her out of herself, and filled her with fascination for him. Just what it was she could not say. It was certainly not physical—he was a plain enough fellow, to be sure—nor was it a serious interest in his religious teachings. God had done little for her, in her estimation, and she had decided years ago she could and would do without him. And if that meant she would also do without him when she entered the next life, whatever it was . . . well, so be it. Fine with her.
    She had met Bledsoe on a street in a town in Virginia. A purely random meeting,