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.You’d best be on your way, Cal.”Masham looked displeased.“Seems to me you’re wavin’ that gun at the wrong people, Billy.Did you know that Wolf Caley’s dead?”“I hadn’t heard.”“Well, he is.And Big Josh’ll be home tomorrow.Max Tibbett rode in ahead this afternoon, and as soon as he heard about Wolf he took a fresh horse and rode south again to tell Josh.You just shouldn’t be here, Billy.” Marsham’s voice had taken on a rising note of complaint and he seemed genuinely upset by Gregg’s foolhardiness in remaining.Gregg considered for a moment.“Come up and help yourself to a jar, but don’t make any noise—I’ve got a guest and a newborn baby I don’t want disturbed.”“Thanks, Billy.” Masham dismounted and walked up the hill with Gregg.He accepted a heavy stone jar, glancing curiously towards the house, and rode off with his prize clasped to his chest.Gregg watched him out of sight, put the Remington away, and decided he was entitled to a shot of whisky to counter the effects of the news he had just received.He crossed the familiar ruts of the buckboard’s turning circle and looked in through the front window of the house to see if Morna was in the main room.He had intended only to glance in quickly while passing the window, but the strange tableau within checked him in mid-stride.Morna was dressed in her own blue maternity smock, which appeared to have been re-shaped to her slimmer figure, although Gregg had not noticed her or Ruth doing any needlework.She had spread a white sheet over the table and her baby was lying in the centre of it, naked except for the binder which crossed his navel.Morna was standing beside the table, with both hands clasping the baby’s head.Her eyes were closed, lips moving silently, her face as cold and mask-like as that of a high priestess performing an ancient ceremony.Gregg desperately wanted to turn away, convinced he was guilty of an invasion of privacy, but a change was taking place in Morna’s appearance, and the slow progression of it induced a mesmeric paralysis of his limbs.As he watched, Morna’s golden hair began to stir as though it was some complex living creature in its own right.Her head was absolutely motionless, but gradually—over a period of about ten seconds—her hair fanned out, each strand becoming straight and seemingly rigid, to form a bright, fearsome halo.Gregg felt his mouth go dry as he witnessed Morna’s dreadful transformation from the normalcy of young motherhood to the semblance of a witch-figure.She bent forward from the waist until her forehead was touching that of the baby.There was a moment of utter stillness—and then her body became transparent.Gregg felt icy ripples move upwards from the back of his neck into his own hair as he realized he could see right through Morna.She was indisputably present in the room, yet the lines of walls and furniture continued on through her body as if she was an image superimposed on them by a magic lantern.The baby made random pawing movements with his arms and legs, but otherwise appeared to be unaffected by what was happening.Morna remained in the same state, somewhere between matter and mirage, for several seconds, then quite abruptly she was as solid as before.She straightened up and Gregg could see that her hair was beginning to subside into its previous helmet-shape of loose waves.She smoothed it down with her hands and turned towards the window.Gregg lunged to one side in terror and scampered, doubled over like a man dodging gunfire, for the cover of his buckboard which he had left on the blind side of the house.He crouched there, breathing noisily, until he was sure Morna had not seen him, then made his way to his customary spot at the top of the saddleback where he squatted down and lit a cigarette.Even with the same reassurance of tobacco, it was some time before his heart slowed to a steady rhythm.He was not a superstitious man, but his limited reading had taught him that there was a special kind of woman—known from Biblical En-dor to the Salem of more recent times—who could work magical cures, and who often had to flee from persecution.One part of his mind rebelled against applying that name to a child like Morna, but there was no denying what he had just seen, no getting away from all the other strange things about her.He smoked four more cigarettes, taking perhaps an hour to do so, then went back to his house.Morna—looking as normal and sweet and wholesome as a freshly baked apple pie—had lit an oil lantern and was brewing coffee.Her baby was peacefully asleep in the basket Ruth had left for it.She had even removed her gold bracelet, as though deliberately setting out to make him forget that she was in any way out of the ordinary.When Gregg glanced into the darkness of the bedroom, however, he saw the ruby glow, flashing so quickly now that its warning was almost continuous.And it was far into the night before he finally managed to sleep.Gregg was awakened in the morning by the thin, lonely bleat of the baby crying.He listened to it for what seemed a long time, expecting to hear Morna respond, but no other sound reached him from beyond the closed door of the bedroom.No matter what else she might be, Morna had impressed Gregg as a conscientious mother and her prolonged inactivity at first puzzled and then began to worry him.He got up out of his bedroll, pulled on his pants and tapped the door
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