Free Touched by Carolyn Haines Page B

afraid. It was about going home, across the River Jordan. That meant dying and going to heaven. I didn’t like the song.
    Coming through the trees, the pure, true voice of the woman singing had power. We eased along, being as quiet as we could, until we came out at the top of an incline that swept all the way down to the amber creek.
    The Baptist choir was standing on the sandy slope in the beautiful robes they wore each Sunday: crimson red on the whitest sand I’d ever seen. Farther back on the grassy part of the slope just above and behind the choir were the spectators with their picnic baskets. After the service there would be food.
    In between both groups was a cluster of young girls, all in white dresses. They’d come to be washed in the blood and accepted in the church as members. Even as we stopped the wagon, undid the belts, and lifted Duncan and her chair out onto the sand, the minister was walking down into the amber swirl of water. The baptism had begun.
    He was a tall man with dark hair slicked back neat against his head, his lean body cutting the current of the water as he waded in until he was waist deep. Turning to the bank, he lifted his hands. The choir finished off the song they were singing about coming to the Lord. The young girls clumped together; then one stepped out and began to wade into the water.
    “It’s Lily Anderson,” JoHanna said. She pulled a blanket out of the wagon and threw it on the ground for us to sit on beside Duncan. Up on the slope just in the shade of the small scrub oak trees, we had a good view but we weren’t actually a part of the event. A strip of white sand separated us from the others, like a barrier neither wanted to cross.
    The day was bright and hot, and the water of the creek looked tempting. I remembered what JoHanna had said about swimming around naked. It was scandalous but also tempting. Did she really do such things? I looked at Duncan, but she was leaning forward in her chair, watching the girls who were about her age. They were all singing away, their young voices piercing but thin. Annabelle Lee had the best voice, and she knew it.
    Her mama was on the edge of the crowd, so proud she was about to pop. There were a couple of men there, but Elikah said religion was women’s business and most of the men seemed to feel the same way. They just made themselves scarce when it was time for a service.
    Little Lily Anderson gave a squawk of fright when the preacher lifted her up and dunked her backward in the water. She came up squirting a gusher out of her mouth and drew a few giggles from the congregation and a smile from JoHanna. Duncan, though, didn’t look amused. What worried me was that Pecos seemed to pick up on his mistress’s attitude. The bird was bristling as he sat on the back of her rocking chair.
    “Hush, Pecos.” JoHanna reached into the picnic basket and brought out a handful of dried corn. She scattered it at Duncan’s feet, but the bird ignored her. His little head ducked and darted, beady eyes fixed on the proceedings at the creek.
    “I had a dog, once, a long time ago.” I thought of Suke and the loss of her was just as fresh as it had been when Jojo took her off and shot her. “I never thought of having a pet rooster.”
    JoHanna leaned back on one arm and let her other touch Duncan’s foot. Duncan had on socks and shoes, her little feet ready for action, even though she couldn’t walk.
    Down in the creek Annabelle Lee was wading in. The preacher was talking, but I wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. It was like a chant, familiar yet dulled and unclear. The sun made the sand dazzling, and I was beginning to drift off into one of my island fantasies when JoHanna leaned forward.
    “Annabelle looks a far sight better dry than she does wet,” she said.
    She did in fact. But for the first time the child looked genuinely pleased. Had she found something special beneath the cold water of Cedar Creek? “Do you think they really