But he was not used to working with magic for very long, and before too long it started to all slip away from him—not in a catastrophic sense, but as if his internal “eyes” blurred with fatigue, as if the tools were slipping from fingers too tired to hold them. She eased away from him and watched as his hands dropped from the stone, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion.

“Y’all need rest,” she said firmly. “Rest inna bed.”

“Oh,” he replied, grinning wearily, “straw ain’t so bad.”

“Bed’s better.” She gave him a little shove toward the door into the barn. “Y’all go et somethin’ an’ git some sleep.”

Hopefully McDaran’s spell over his family had worn off, now that he was gone, so they’d see Josh was exhausted and fuss him into some good food and adequate rest. An’ I hope they’s feelin’ guilty too, she thought. They shouldn’t oughta hev done thet to him, spell or no spell.

But as she trudged up the lane to the cabin, her own steps were heavy, and her thoughts as gray as the clouds gathering overhead. Jolene had certainly taken notice of Josh . . . which was the very last thing that Anna had wanted.

Now she knew what Jolene was—more or less—and this was not some simple town rivalry of two girls after the same boy. Now she knew why Aunt Jinny kept hammering on Niver get atwixt Jolene and what she wants.

And now Jolene knew everything Anna hadn’t wanted her to find out. Now she knew what kind of a craftsman and artist Josh was. Now she knew he had magic! And Great-Granpappy had said in his book that Jolene had a habit of trying to claim artists and craftsmen for her own. Did that extend to artists and craftsmen who were magicians?

Likely. Prolly that makes her want ’em more.

Had she actually claimed him, with her gifts of tools and seductive stone?

No . . . he’d’a tol’ me if she’d got him ter make some sorta promise. She wanted to smack herself in the head now for not warning him before she had sent him off to bed—but there had been so much going on, and she hadn’t yet told him what Jolene was, and would he even believe her if she did without some proof?

The proof’s there in thet stone. Iffen thet there stone come outa the Burra Burra mine, I’ll et it m’self.

She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that it wasn’t until she was over the stile and halfway to the porch that she looked up and saw Aunt Jinny waiting there for her, with a letter in her hand and a stricken look on her face.

She ran the rest of the way and seized Jinny’s hands in her own. “What happened?” she all but shouted.

“Oh, honey-chile,” Jinny blurted, her voice cracking. “Yore Pa’s daid. An’ yore Ma done kilt hersel’ arter.”

18