Witch in the Wind (Bandit Creek Books) Read Online Free Page A

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    From the time she was very young, Avy’s parents insisted that she treat Jack with respect because he was a shaman. They said he was a very wise man and hid the truth within his nonsense as a reward to anyone who was paying attention. As a child, Avy had a lot of trouble paying attention.
    “Sorry Jack. I didn’t catch what you said.”
    After a silent pause, she considered ignoring him but maybe he needed some help. She took a deep breath and walked over to the bench.
    She looked down at him. He was buried under what had once been a colorful woven blanket but was now threadbare, faded and torn. A shabby cowboy hat shaded his face.
    “Jack?” She tapped on the bench back as if it were a door. “Hey Jack.”
    A wrinkled claw of a hand pushed the hat up to reveal a grizzled face framed with wiry gray hair braided down over his ears and disappearing under the blanket tucked up under his stubbled chin.
    She thought she saw a spark of intelligence in his eyes. It was gone in an instant, unless it was never there. It could have been the morning sun.
    “The end before the beginning,” he said in a low growl. Then, he closed his eyes again with a long sigh, as if an arduous task was now complete.
    She tapped on the bench again. “Not getting it Jack. Could you expand on that?”
    He grunted in response. She frowned, not sure if he was actually saying anything or just snoring.
    “Jack?” She walked around to the front of the bench and laid her hand on his shoulder. “Jack, it’s Avalon Gwynn. Was there something you wanted to tell me?”
    This time the words emerging from his dry, chapped lips were crystal clear. “Coming together leads to the beginning.”
    He then fell into a deeper sleep, or more likely passed out, and this time Avy couldn’t rouse him at all.
    If the end leads back to the beginning, you’re going in circles, she thought. What the heck did he mean this time?
    She closed her eyes and leaned on the back of the bench. “Not much help there, Jack,” she said.
    She waited a few seconds and then squelched her impatience. She reached into her pocket and pulled out an energy bar she’d grabbed that morning. She tucked it under the edge of the blanket. “Don’t forget to eat, Jack.” She patted the blanket and continued on her way.
    Her next stop was the town’s undertaker, Deloris Brubaker . As hers was the only pagan family in town, Avy didn't expect Deloris to be much help. While the Wicca funeral ritual had some similarities to Christian ceremonies, Avy was determined to respect her family’s religious beliefs as her parents were laid to rest no matter what the townspeople might think of her. Like all the kids in town, she remembered Mrs. Brubaker as a scary, spitfire of a woman with a rasping smoker’s voice. Seeing the world through adult eyes gave her a different view. An hour later, she’d completed the funeral arrangements and found Mrs. Brubaker to be kind and respectful as Avy explained the ritual . Together, they arranged for a funeral service that satisfied her own and the town’s sensitivities.
     
    She stepped out the door and turned to give the undertaker a final wave. The sun was dropping behind the tips of the mountains and the air was taking on the cooler afternoon temperatures of spring. Her mother had loved spring with new life emerging in every nook and cranny of the town. Avy squared her shoulders and firmed her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She headed back to the vet clinic where she’d left her car.
    ***
    When Avy arrived home, she found several casserole dishes, loaves of home baked bread and plates of cookies on her doorstep. The one belief shared by everyone living in small towns was that a family in crisis could best be helped with good food. Her stomach wasn’t ready for beef stew, but the kindness behind the gift made her smile and put a hitch in her breath.
    Soon enough she’d have to face the other neighborly remedy for tragedy, a steady stream of