“It were jest a bear with her cubs, Maddie Holcroft,” Aunt Jinny said crossly. “It weren’t nothin’ unnatural. Get a-twixt a mammy bear an’ her cubs an’ y’all might as well call th’ undertaker.”

“I heerd these weren’t no cubs.”

“An’ I knowed these was a buncha city boys an’ plantation sons what niver seed a bear in their lives,” Jinny retorted.

“An’ the bullets thet bounced right off?”

“They was turrible bad shots. Ain’t nothin’ magic ’bout thet.” Mrs. Holcroft was obviously taking a great deal of pleasure out of teasing Aunt Jinny with this story and making her cross. Perhaps Aunt Jinny was one of those people who did not like magic, because it was the Devil’s work.

Perhaps the reason Mrs. Holcroft enjoyed telling this story was as simple as the fact that it wasn’t easy to get under her aunt’s skin, and this story for some unknown reason did exactly that.

But there was only one really important part about the story as far as Anna was concerned, and it had nothing to do with spirits or magic.

“Is there still bears?” Anna asked, in a small, frightened voice.

“Not ’round this farm nor my place, chile,” Aunt Jinny said, patting her hand. “Old Raven an’ Young Raven see t’thet, don’t y’all worry none. Bear thet gets close, ends up in they pots an’ on they smokin’ racks. An’ asides, I ain’t no city-born fool. Go out in the woods wi’ me an’ yore safe as safe.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“I’m certain-sure.” Jinny glanced out the door. “An’ I’m certain-sure thet we need t’ be gettin’ back, or there won’t be no hot supper, an’ I don’t reckon t’ et cold cornbread an’ drippin’.”

“I’d ast all y’all t’ stay fer supper, ’cause Matt’d admire t’ see y’all an’ meet Anna, but I know better,” laughed Mrs. Holcroft. “But yore allus welcome. Both on y’all, t’gether or alone.”

“Thenkee kindly fer th’ tea, an’ I do admire thet liddle angel o’ Josh’s, an’ I’m right glad I got a chance t’see it afore it ends up in a parlor I ain’t niver gettin’ invited to,” Aunt Jinny said with a smirk, standing up.

Maddie Holcroft snorted. “Not us neither,” she pointed out, but her face showed her pride in her son’s talent. “But at least we gets t’see it fust.”

The walk back was more tiring, since it was up the gradual slope. “Aunt Jinny?” Anna ventured. “Do the Holcrofts go t’church on Sunday?” Because the fact that she had not gone was wearing on her mind, and the arched vault of the branches overhead put her powerfully in mind of a church roof. It felt wrong not to go to church, no matter what Aunt Jinny said. So maybe she could walk down here and go with the Holcrofts.

Plus . . . well, if she could go with them, it would be a weekly chance to see Josh.

“B’lieve they do,” Jinny admitted. “They do got mules an’ a wagon.”