The Girl Named Mud: A Gripping Suspense Novel Read online

  Dropping to her knees in the bush, Mud opened the bag containing the meat and pulled out the bowl with trembling fingers. She quickly removed the lid, stuffing chunks of the delicious-tasting meat into her mouth.

  She had never had anything so good in all her life. Not even the food her mama had made for her compared to the flavor now bursting across her tongue.

  Mud ate as much as her body could handle without water to wash it down with. She then replaced the bowl in the bag and pushed unsteadily to her feet.

  She might be young, but she was old enough to recognize her weakened state from going too long without food.

  It had been far too windy to fish over the past few days. And without the guts from said fish, she had nothing to bait her traps with. Plus, since the gardens had died out, there were no potatoes or carrots to entice a rabbit with.

  The walk home seemed to take forever, with Mud carrying the bags of her bounty. Her bare feet ached from stepping on rocks and twigs in her path. But that couldn’t be helped. Traveling at night was her only alternative to being seen.

  Thunder rolled in the distance, evidence of another storm coming. Mud hurried her steps. The last thing she needed was to get caught out in bad weather. Her mama had told her repeatedly that the weather would make her sick. And Mud hated being sick. Especially without Flora to care for her.

  She arrived home mere seconds ahead of the first drops of rain. The wind had picked up to the point where she had to strain to open the door to the shack.

  Once inside, she breathed a sigh of relief, set her bags down on top of her makeshift table, and yanked up the bucket resting beneath it.

  She placed the bucket outside the door in hopes of it filling with rainwater, just as she’d seen Flora do again and again. It would guarantee clean drinking water for days to come.

  Mud had resorted to carrying swamp water back to the shack more times than she could count. But she’d always boiled it, exactly as Flora had taught her.

  Luckily, she’d managed to find several boxes of matches back at the barbeque shack, since the ones Flora had stolen from the village were nearly gone.

  Pulling the door closed, Mud glanced around at the numerous bowls placed strategically around the shack to catch the water that leaked through the cracks in the roof.

  Satisfied that everything was in order, she took a piece of thin rope hanging on the wall and tied the tattered door closed. It wasn’t the best lock in the world, but it would work to keep the animals out. And there were some dangerous animals in those swamps. As for people, well, she had a blade on her at all times to take care of unwanted strangers.

  Mud blew out an exhausted breath and moved back to the table where she’d left her bounty. She picked up a half-empty cup of water, took a drink, and then set out to wrapping a piece of bread around some of the meat.

  She ate slowly, savoring every bite. Because God knew how long it would be before she got her hands on more food of that caliber.

  Chapter Three

  The chime of the doorbell caught Grace off guard. She shut the lid to the washing machine and hurried from the laundry room. “Just a minute!”

  A look through the peephole told her that her visitor was Opa, a beautiful Jena Choctaw Indian woman who attended Jasper’s church.

  Grace opened the door, noticing the woman held a large-sized box in her arms. “Hi, Opa.”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Holloway. I brought some toys for you to take on your next trip to the children’s home in Calhoun.”

  Grace sent the other woman a grateful look and relieved her of the surprisingly heavy box. “Won’t you come in?”

  Opa glanced behind her and then met Grace’s gaze once more. “I can’t stay but a minute. Talako is purchasing us some barbeque from Smith’s.”

  Smith’s Barbeque happened to be just across the street from the Holloway’s parsonage. Though the barbeque shack was considered to be in Shipper Parish, the Holloway’s home, along with the new church, had been built on tribal lands. Which was a good thing since the Choctaw Indians didn’t charge Jasper and Grace to live there. Especially with Jasper being a man of God and heading up several missions to different countries. The Choctaws respected him.

  Opa stepped over the threshold and waited for Grace to shut the door and set down the box before speaking. “Your home always feels so inviting.”

  Grace softly smiled. “Thank you. Please, have a seat.”

  “Oh, I can’t stay long, Mrs. Holloway. I just wanted to drop off the toys and let you know that Talako and I won’t be at church tomorrow.”

  “I hope everything is all right?” Grace moved to stand in front of the other woman.

  Opa nodded. “Of course. One of our young men has had his eighteenth birthday recently. We will be holding a special ceremony for him tomorrow.”

  Grace would give anything to be able to attend that ceremony. But she couldn’t. Not on a Sunday. Jasper would be horrified.

  Opa must have guessed her thoughts. “I will hold a place for you, if you would like to come.”

  “I wish I could,” Grace answered in an apologetic tone. “But I can’t. Especially not during church service time.”

  Touching her on the arm, Opa murmured, “I understand. You must be there for your people.”

  “You don’t know how much it means to us to have you and Talako attend our services. Especially with our beliefs being slightly different.”

  Opa’s gaze softened. “Our beliefs are not so different, Mrs. Holloway. Besides, what is inside one’s heart is truly what matters. And anyone can see that your heart is pure. Not to mention the missions that Reverend Holloway is responsible for is enough to guarantee our loyalty. Your husband is a good man.”

  Touched by Opa’s words, Grace fought the tears of gratitude that threatened. She opened her mouth to thank her beautiful guest when the doorbell rang once more.

  “That will probably be Talako looking for me,” Opa pointed out, a twinkle in her eye.

  Grace hurried to open the door.

  Sure enough, Talako stood on the stoop, holding his hat in his hands. His old green pickup truck sat running in the drive. “I am in search of my wife,” he teased, glancing over Grace’s shoulder. “I figured she would be in here, gossiping.”

  Opa laughed, moving past Grace to join her husband on the stoop. “We were not gossiping. I was merely dropping off the toys.”

  Talako grinned in return. “I am only joking, my bride. Let us depart before the food grows soggy.”

  Grace bade them farewell, closed the door, and made her way back to the laundry room to remove the clothes from the dryer.

  Taking the freshly dried towels to the living room to fold them, Grace found her gaze straying to the box Opa had delivered.

  She dropped the towels onto the couch and gingerly opened the box. Inside were dozens of small toys—everything from little red trucks to neatly dressed Barbies.

  Her heart constricted as it always did when faced with the knowledge she would never become a mother.

  Even adoption was apparently out of the question. Jasper seemed to feel that with everything going on with the missions, the responsibility of the church, and the constant traveling he did, they couldn’t possibly handle adopting a child. Besides, they had fostered a few children over the years, and it had always been hard on Grace to send them back to their families when the time came. And it always came.

  There was also the problem of money. Though they didn’t have rent to pay, being the pastor of a church in such a small town definitely didn’t pay much.

  Jasper picked that moment to arrive home.

  “Looks like the rain’s about to return,” he announced, stepping into the living room and wiping his feet on the small oval-shaped rug.

  Grace lifted her face for Jasper’s customary kiss. “That’s not good. The streets are nearly flooded as it is. Another inch or two of rain, and it’s going to be seeping under the door.”

  “You’re the one who wante
d to move here,” Jasper pointed out, kissing her offered cheek.

  It bothered Grace that Jasper didn’t love the small village as much as she did. There was something about the place that endeared it to her. It had a comforting feel… A feeling of home.

  Ignoring his comment about her preferred place to live, Grace finished folding the towels, closed the lid on the box of toys, and moved them next to the door. “Jasper?”

  He poked his head around the corner from the kitchen, where he’d recently disappeared to. “Yes?”

  “I’m heading back to Calhoun. I’ll be home before dinner.”

  Jasper stepped into the living room, his hand resting on his hip. “You were just there yesterday. And the rain is starting up again.”

  “I’ll be careful. Besides, I have some grocery shopping to do anyway. Two birds, one stone and all.”

  Jasper didn’t respond. He simply stood there, staring at her with a blank look.

  Grace gathered the box of toys, opened the door, and stepped out onto the stoop.

  Why did it bother Jasper so much for her to visit the children’s home? Was he afraid she would start pestering him again about trying to become pregnant?

  With an exasperated sigh, she sprinted through the lightly falling rain toward her car parked in the drive.

  Chapter Four

  Mud rolled over on her pallet, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. Her legs felt heavy, as did her eyelids.

  Nausea soon appeared, forcing her to her knees. She scrambled over to one of the bowls used to catch rainwater and emptied the contents of her stomach. Her mama had been right… Storms did make a person sick.

  Due to the rain, she had no choice but to relieve herself in the same bowl she’d vomited in. She would take it down to the swamp and wash it out later once the rain stopped.

  Mud grabbed her worn orange blanket and wrapped it around her shivering shoulders. She stumbled over to the table to pour herself some water, drinking as much as her unsettled stomach would allow. Then back to the pallet she went.

  How long had she been sleeping? Hours? Days? She wasn’t sure.

  She shivered so hard her back began to hurt. In fact, every muscle in her body ached. But it was her chest that felt the worst.

  Time seemed to stand still for Mud the longer she lay there, huddled on that floor, fighting the sickness that had her in its grip. She could feel the heat burning behind her eyes, yet the temperature in the room felt freezing.

  Fever, that’s what her mama had explained to her, years ago when Mud had awoken with one. And she would give anything to have her mama there with her now.

  Her eyes drifted shut.

  * * * *

  Mud turned over to her side, a moan slipping from her burning throat. It hurt to swallow, to breathe.

  The need to vomit hit her again.

  Pushing to her knees, she crawled to the door, moaning the entire way. She wasn’t going to make it.

  With shaky hands, she reached for the rope holding the door closed, and somehow managed to release it before falling to the ground outside and heaving.

  Nothing came up.

  Mud dry heaved so long her ribs felt as if they’d cracked.

  The shivering continued.

  After what seemed hours, she managed to stagger to her feet and stumble back inside to retrieve her knife.

  The bark of a willow tree was what she needed. Her mama had shaved some off and boiled it to break the last fever Mud had suffered with.

  But the closest willow tree happened to be on the banks of the swamp. Which meant… She had to walk.

  Mud couldn’t remember how many times she’d fallen to her knees on her way to the swamp. Her head ached almost as much as her chest did. But the nausea and shivering were uncontrollable.

  She stopped in front of the willow tree and retched again, the bright green leaves of its branches fading in and out of her vision.

  Panic began to set in. Mud reached for a limb to hold on to, when her legs suddenly gave out, and her world turned black.

  * * * *

  Voices. Mud could hear voices above her, next to her, behind her. Though the words made little sense, the urgency of them couldn’t be denied.

  And then she noticed a humming sound, matched only by the vibration beneath her body.

  Where was she? And who did the voices belong to?

  The Devil! Mud thought in more than a little panic. The Devil had found her in her weakened state—her sickness.

  But no, she’d killed the Devil long ago. Then why did he have her in his grasp now?

  Terrified to her core, Mud began to fight. She couldn’t allow him to take her. She wouldn’t.

  “Hold her!” the Devil growled from somewhere behind her head.

  A woman’s voice broke through the madness, interrupting Mud’s desperate attempt to get away.

  “I’m holding her as tightly as I can! I don’t want to hurt her. Drive faster!”

  The woman’s voice, though anxious, sounded soft and full of concern. But how was that possible? Flora had explained that the people of the village were followers of the Devil. And this woman had to be from the village. There was no other place she could have come from.

  Flora’s words abruptly slid through Mud’s mind like an oily film. “The Devil is sneaky, Mud. Don’t ever let him fool ya. He’ll make ya think he’s something he’s not. Trust me in this. I know him. He must never find you, girl! You understand? Never!”

  Mud clung to her mama’s directions. Flora wouldn’t have steered her wrong. Her mama had met the Devil; she knew him better than anyone. And Mud would heed her warning no matter what. She sank her teeth into the arm holding her down.

  “She bit me!” the female voice gasped, her hold suddenly loosening.

  Mud took advantage. She gathered every ounce of strength she possessed and heaved upward, only to stare aimlessly at dozens of trees flying by in her blurred vision.

  Nausea was instant once again. She fell to her side and retched, moaning through the pain that vomiting produced. Only, nothing came up. Which hurt even more.

  The vibrating and humming sound eventually stopped. Mud could hear a commotion happening around her, yet her sick, muddled mind couldn’t seem to process it.

  And then another voice joined the other two, this one full of more desperation than Mud had picked up in the first two.

  For some strange reason, the new woman’s voice didn’t terrify Mud.

  “Oh my God, where did she come from? We have to get her to the hospital! Put her in my car.”

  Mud had no idea what a hospital was, nor did she care. She had no intention of going anyway. No, Mud was heading home just as soon as she freed herself from the Devil’s grasp.

  Chapter Five

  Grace pushed the young girl’s matted hair back from her face in a panic. Not only did the child resemble a corpse, but Grace had never seen another human being as dirty as this one in all her life. Nor had she ever smelled anything quite like the horrific odor coming from the poor thing, either.

  “Who is she?” Grace asked Opa while taking in the dark circles surrounding the child’s sunken-in eyes and her filthy, tattered clothes. “She’s burning up with fever.”

  Opa shook her head, her hand gently rubbing the back of the child lying on the back seat of her car. “I don’t know. Talako found her beneath a tree on the banks of the swamp. She was unconscious.”

  Talako, who had already exited his vehicle, leaned in and took the girl into his arms. He rushed toward Grace’s car.

  Grace ran alongside him, opening the back door to her sedan. “Watch her head.”

  Bending to deposit the too-thin child onto the back seat, Talako softly admitted, “I didn’t know where else to take her, Mrs. Holloway. She has to belong to someone in town.”

  “You did the right thing,” Grace assured him, already climbing behind the wheel of her car. She knew that without a 911 system in place, people had no choice but to suffer their affliction un
til an ambulance from the next town over could arrive or travel to the hospital by any other means necessary. “I’ll take her to Calhoun Memorial and call you later with an update. Will you notify the Jena police for me?”

  Talako nodded and shut the back door, the sadness in his eyes obvious. “She was found on tribal lands. I will have to report it to the tribal police.”

  Grace nodded. “Okay then.” She knew without question that Talako thought the same thing as she herself did. Either the girl was a runaway, or someone had severely abused her and dumped her there. Whatever the case, Grace needed to get her to the hospital before she died in the back of her car.

  * * * *

  “Grace?” Jasper called out, rushing down the wide hall of Calhoun Memorial. “I got your message. Are you all right?”

  Getting to her feet, Grace nodded, accepting the hug her husband offered. “I’m fine, Jasper. And I’m sorry for worrying you, but I was in a hurry and, truthfully, panicking a little when I left that voicemail.”

  “It doesn’t matter, sweetheart. Tell me what happened.” He pulled back enough to look into her eyes.

  She blew out a weary breath. “Talako found a young girl out in the swamps. She was unconscious and barely breathing. She’s the skinniest, dirtiest little thing I’ve ever seen. Oh, Jasper, she looks as if she hasn’t eaten in a long time. Her skin was gray…” Her voice broke on that last word.

  “What?” Jasper breathed, running his palms up and down Grace’s arms. “Who is she? Does she belong to someone in Jena?”

  Grace thought about that for a moment. “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t think so. I’ve never seen her before. And from the looks of her, she doesn’t appear to belong to anyone.”

  “Did you notify the police?”

  “Talako is reporting it to the tribal police. Since she was found on tribal lands, there’s not much Jena PD can do about it. I’m sure the tribal police will inform them of the case, so they can search for the child’s parents.”