Free Dorothy Garlock by Annie Lash

them Gentrys ain’t had a brush with ’em afore now.”
    “I’m glad you’re with me, Zan.” Annie Lash impulsively hugged his arm.
    “Ya ain’t got no cause to worry none, gal.” Zan chuckled. “I’m a thinkin’ thar ain’t much what goes by Jeff and that Frenchman. I ain’t ne’er seen a man use a knife like that Frenchie. He ain’t no slouch, that’s sart’n.”
     
    *  *  *
     
    The moon came up over the treetops. Annie Lash took her soap and washcloth and walked through the trees to the other side of the small finger of land to the water’s edge. With a quick nervous glance behind her to be sure she was alone, she unbuttoned her dress to the waist and pulled it back over her shoulders. The water was cold, but she scrubbed herself briskly and splashed water onto her face. It was wonderfully refreshing to be clean again, even though she shivered in the cool night air.
    After she pulled her dress up over her bare shoulders and buttoned the bodice, she moved back under the trees, sat on a boulder, and took the pins out of her hair. She freed it from the braid and let it fall about her shoulders to her hips. It felt good to have the heavy weight off the top of her head. Her fingertips massaged her scalp and raked through the long strands to remove the snarls before she began the long sweeping strokes of the brush.
    Night fog began to rise from the river in wispy patches. She lifted her hair and swung her shawl around her shoulders to hold off a chill. It was peaceful here in the darkness. It had been a long time since she had been alone out under the stars so she lingered, brushing and then braiding her hair.
    Annie Lash saw the girl as soon as she came out of the woods. She darted from the tree line to the water’s edge, stood poised for a moment, then lifted her dress up over her head. Her naked body was merely a white form in the darkness. Quick as the wink of the eye, she was in the water and disappeared from sight.
    Annie Lash thought her heart was going to stop beating and never start again. She got to her feet, keeping her eyes on the place where Maggie had gone into the water. She knew the perils of the river; the pockets of quicksand, the whirling eddies that could grasp a stout log and draw it to the bottom. Just as she was about to shout for help, Maggie sprang up out of the water and leaped up onto the bank. She picked up her dress and slipped it over her head. Annie Lash sank back down on the rock, her heart pounding with anger at the girl for giving her such a scare.
    Anger was soon replaced with awe. She stared in openmouthed amazement at the girl on the sandy riverbank. She was singing softly and the beauty of her voice was both surprising and delightful. It was as clear as the song of a lark and Annie Lash thought it no wonder the hill folk thought she was a witch. Maggie began to dance, her bare feet scarcely touching the soft sand, her arms curved gracefully upward, her hair flying as she dipped and swayed and turned and spun in perfect harmony with the tune she was humming. She was completely absorbed, twirling, dancing, singing to herself. And then—almost like the mist—she was gone.
    For a fleeting second Annie Lash wondered if she had dreamed she saw a girl dancing and heard the bell-like tone of her singing. She sat for a long while, her hands in her lap, thinking about it. It was almost as if the girl were enclosed in a timeless world.
    “What are you doing out here by yourself?” Jeff’s sharp words from behind her caused Annie Lash to jump to her feet in alarm. “I thought you had bedded down on the raft until Light told me you were here.”
    “I came here to wash—”
    “Zan thought you were on the raft, too. You should have told him where you were going.”
    “I’m not a child, Mr. Merrick. I was within calling distance.” Annie Lash was astounded at the coldness of his voice and then angered. He certainly was a man of many moods.
    “It’s foolish and stupid