Free The Last Sin Eater by Francine Rivers Page A

grasped the thought and made it his own. “He con trap rabbits for himself. And he can find his own garden sass. It has to be summat that’ll tempt him down off his mountain. Can ye steal some preserves?”
    “No. Mama keeps count of the jars she puts up. I’d be found out.”
    “Molasses, then, or cornmeal. They won’t miss a cup or two.”
    “What con ye offer him?”
    “Only thing we have plenty of is whiskey, and Pa’s the same with it as your mama with the preserves. He sells it to settlers over the mountains.”
    “How’ll the sin eater know we’re doing it? It’s been weeks since Granny died.”
    “Miz Elda said no one ever thought of him before your granny did, and he found the gifts she left for him. I reckon he’ll come around and find out about ours, too.”
    I looked up at the mountain and wondered about him all the more. Did he creep down in the dead of night and peer in windows and walk through graveyards? Did he sleep all day while the sun was up and rise in darkness, walking by moonlight?
    Three sharp whistles sounded in the distance. Fagan jumped to his feet, stuck two fingers in his mouth, and made an earsplitting whistle back. “I’ve gotta go. It’s Cleet’s signal.” Cleet was his older brother. “You’d best get home, too. Sun’s going down.” He ran off, leaving me at the foot of the mountain with only Lilybet for company.
    I heard a crack. It was the same sort that echoed whenmy father was chopping wood. Startled by it, for no one was supposed to live near DeadMan’s Mountain, I stayed longer, craning my neck and tipping my head to hear it again. Crack! The sound echoed once more. Thinking my luck had changed and it might be the sin eater, I ran toward the west, forgetful of the dipping sun.
    “Time enow tomorrow, Katrina Anice,” Lilybet said, keeping pace with me. “Ye’d best go on home, now. It’s getting late in the day.”
    Closing my ears to her, I kept on.
    The burbling stream drowned out the sound, and I moved away from it, pausing to listen again. One last crack sounded, and then there was silence. Through a veiling of laurel, I saw a small cabin set back against the base of Dead Man’s Mountain, a thin spire of smoke rising from the chimney. A slender woman with a long, blonde braid was carrying an armload of firewood up the steps. She disappeared inside the house, leaving the door open.
    I wanted to stay longer, but the sound of crickets was growing louder as the sun was slipping behind the western mountains. I had to go.
    As I made my way through the heart of the valley, I was made uneasy by the mists rolling in. They was seeping through the trees and approaching fast. If not for the moon, I’d have lost my way.
    Just then, a sound like a woman’s scream split the night, making the hair stand up on my neck. I knew what made that sound. A painter, it was, and close enough to have my scent. Thinking to keep the stream between me and the beast, I splashed across, slipping twice and soaking myself from the waist down. I didn’t care how wet I got as long as I put distance and obstacles between me and that great prowling cat of the night.
    When the crickets stopped chirping, I knew it had leapt across and was stalking me. Whether it was behind or before me, I didn’t know. Too afraid I might run the wrong way, I stood frozen, staring into the growing darkness.
    No insect rasped.
    No owl hooted.
    My heart picked up speed, pounding harder and faster with each breath. I heard a twig snap behind me and my breath expelled. I burst forward, running as fast as my legs would carry me. All I could hear was the pounding of my own heart and the sobbing breath escaping my lungs.
    Why hadn’t I listened to Lilybet? Why hadn’t I started for home before the sun dropped past the horizon? A thousand thoughts raced through my head as my feet pounded the grassy earth. Not even the rosy glow remained, and the sky grew darker with each minute that passed.
    Lungs burning, I