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325 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published April 1, 1996
A fancy sash buckle with a rose-colored finish caught Jesse's eye. "What kind of animal is this?" he asked the drummer.
"It's a dragon."
Jesse's brow furrowed. "We don't have any 'round here like this one," he said.
"It's a mythical beast," the drummer explained with a little chuckle.
Jesse nodded solemnly. "Don't know the place. And I don't expect Miss Althea's ever been to Mythica either."
Jesse loved the smell of women. Old women, young women, women who'd spent the morning laboring over a tub of laundry, or women who were dressed up for Sunday with dabs of rose water behind their ears, Jesse relished the sweet redolence of them. And Althea Winsloe had an aroma that Jesse much admired. It was a mixture, of course. Not that he couldn't sort them out perfectly. And he didn't consciously even try. But he did take another deep breath, merely to enjoy it. There was the clean fragrance of yellow soap, the smooth sweetness of fresh-churned butter, wood-smoke and sage, yarrow and hobblebush. All smells that were very familiar to him. And there was something more, some underlying scent that was almost beyond his detection. He couldn't describe it as sweet or spicy. It wasn't balmy or savorous, perfumy or yarbish. But it was there. It was always there. And no other woman on the mountain smelled that way.
He probably could be a husband, she thought. Some not very bright girl would surely be lucky to find such as him.
"The worst thing that will happen," Granny postulated, "is that you'll get so big you won't be able to get out of bed. And, mark my words, once you're in that bed, that man'll be in there with you."
Meggie blushed brightly as the women around her giggled at the naughty insinuation.
"Course," Granny continued, "nothing worse can come of it. He done got a babe in yer belly, the fiddler is paid up for a spell, so this lollyin' is plum free."
He turned to her. Grabbing her arm he pulled her to him roughly.
"Are you ready to be my whore?" he asked. "Are you going to do what I tell you, when I tell you? Are you willing to heed whatever I say?"
"Yes."
He reached over and pulled at the pins in her hair, deliberately jerking at them.
"Your hair should be loose and wild," he said. "A whore ought to look like one. That's what I've always thought."
"Eben, wait, let's talk about this, let me explain."
She was on her knees, wide-eyed with fear and disbelief. Eben's temper was hot and his heart was cold.
"There ain't much left to explain is there? If your belly swells up with a baby, you have my permission to call the boy Eben. But his last name won't never be Baxley. Nobody, you hear this, woman, nobody makes me do nothing I don't want."
He'd left her then. He'd turned from her and strode away as far and as fast as he could. He'd left her there, half-naked in the woods, crying and calling after him.
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