Matt turned the cart and led Susie back home. That left the two of them ferrying the purchases one package at a time over the stile and up to the cabin. Anna marveled at herself. Why, before she’d left home, she could scarcely lift half a load of laundry—now she was toting entire bags of flour all the way to the cabin and stacking them too! She was beginning to feel more than well—she was beginning to feel strong, and she very much liked that feeling.

Aunt Jinny made up a cold dinner of fresh ’maters, pickles, and cold ham and a few other odds and ends, and they sat down to it once everything had been put away, eating in silence for most of it. Finally Aunt Jinny spoke.

“I don’ want y’all next or nigh thet Billie McDaran,” she said. “He’s as pizen as Ducktown.”

Anna looked up from her food, licking the butter carefully from her fingers. They’d both just scraped a thin layer of it over their cornbread, making it serve as a treat at the end of the meal. “I got inside when y’all tol’ me, but I seed ’im. I reckon he didn’t see me none.” She nodded in agreement with what her aunt had ordered. “Y’all’s right, Aunt Jinny. He’s pizen. He’s got th’ Glory, but it’s all twisted wrong.”

Her aunt pursed her lips before she spoke. “I’d’a thunk it was him as pizened Ducktown in th’ fust place, but it was pizened afore he got there. He thrives on th’ pizen, though. His heart’s as black as his hair. He needs me, on account’a th’ way he thrives on pizen. He cain’t grow nothin’. An’ he needs m’potions. So he won’t cross me. But y’all—he’d et y’all up and spit y’all out, jest ’cause he kin.” She thumped on the table with her knuckle to get Anna’s full attention. “Hear me, now! Y’all’s a purdy liddle gal. Y’all know what happens t’ purdy liddle gals with men like thet?”

She shook her head.

Her aunt tsked, briefly cursed her Ma for a fool and an idiot, and then told her.

“Likely, he’ll try an’ beguile y’all. Use thet there twisted power of his t’git y’all so tangled up in his wiles thet y’all’s as bad ’bout him as yore Ma is about yore Pa. On’y, there ain’t a-gonna be a weddin’ an’ a ring; there’s gonna be a beddin’, with no weddin’. Then he’ll git tired of y’all, an’ boot y’all out, an’ there ain’t gonna be a honest man or woman thet’ll so much as look at y’all arter thet. But wust is, he’ll beguile y’all jest enuff that yore guard is down—then he’ll take y’all howsomever he fancies, an’ mebbe wust of all, they’ll be a chile out of it.”

By this time, Anna was feeling sick and terrified, no longer strong. If the cost of staying here, if the cost of having the Glory was she had to be afraid of the likes of Billie McDaran—maybe she didn’t want to be here at all anymore!