Hollander quickly refilled his bowl and began puffing out steamy, scented smoke. He gripped his pipe and said, “I get out of this one, I’m gonna enshrine this sucker.”

“Stay right there,” the deep voice said. Less menacing tone this time. “I’ll come fetch yeh.”

The air suddenly thickened until they were engulfed by pillows of soot. Their eyes burned, overflowed tears, their throats were desiccated from smoke and heat. They coughed and sputtered, stoned by flying insects. Bees in their hair, under their clothes, on their hands, up their pant legs. Not biting now, just exploring, thready legs pricking skin as they crawled. The seconds dragged on as they stood choking in the inferno. Finally, two strong arms led them into open air and brushed them free of their live dust. Decker sucked in several deep breaths, coughing, clearing his lungs and mouth of the foul taste of ashy residue. Behind him were humming bellows of smoke rising and, thinning in the breeze, a cackle of crazed laughter.

The male voice said, “You men wait right here while I take care of them bees. And put away them guns. You won’t need ’em here.”

Through fuzzy vision, Decker made out the speaker. Not a large man, physically, but there was something about the way he carried himself. Independent. Straight back aligned perpendicular to a broad set of shoulders. A confident walk. He wore gloves but no veil. The hair atop his head was jet black.

Decker wiped his eyes. His neck was burning from bee stings. Despite the heat, he wore a jacket. So did Hollander. Thank God for long sleeves. He noticed thick welts on the back of Hollander’s neck and hands. “You okay, Mike?”

“Yeah.” Hollander winced with pain. “I’ll live. They got you bad?”

“Back of my neck.”

“Who’s the savior? Pappy Darcy himself?”

“Probably.” Decker watched the old man guide the bees back into the hives. Unlike Byron Howard, he worked quickly, effortlessly, ordering the old lady around as he needed her. The woman had transformed once again. No longer was she a possessed spirit. Now, she acted the perfect obedient wife, following her husband’s commands with slavish duty.

The old man directed the bees onto wood-framed wire matrices filled with honeycomb. Once the insects latched on to their food, he dropped the frames one at a time lengthwise into one of the pine boxes. The man worked nonstop for a half hour. It took six frames to fill one of the pine boxes. There were enough bees to replenish four hives.

When he was finally done, he brushed off his pant legs, shot a quick glance at Decker, then stared at the ground. There had been surrender in the old man’s eyes, a look that said nothing could hurt him anymore. He looped his arm around Granny Darcy’s shoulders, guided her forward. Then, almost as an afterthought, waved for Decker and Hollander to follow him.

29