"How about your mother? Has she been able to make things happen?"
"Well . . . my father was in a terrible accident at the factory once, and the doctors said he couldn't possibly pull through. But my mother and grandmother willed him to live. That was twenty-five years ago, and you'd never know anything had happened to him, except for a slight limp."
"That's a convincing story."
"Some people call it witchcraft."
"Tell that to Norman Vincent Peale," Qwilleran said. Noticing that she was picking at her food, he inquired how she liked the chicken.
"It's rather salty. I'm not used to much salt."
"I agree the chef has a heavy hand with the saltshaker. Someone should set him straight . . . Are there any other examples of your mother's positive thinking?"
"She always used to arrange good weather for our family reunions," Chrysalis said with a whimsical laugh. "Seriously, though, she made up her mind that Forest and I would go to college, and you know what happened? The state started offering free tuition to mountain students!"
"With all that you've told me, how do you explain your mother's speech affliction?"
She stared at him with the hollow-cheeked sadness he had seen when she spoke of her brother's imprisonment. "She blames herself for the terrible thing that happened to Forest."
"I don't understand," Qwilleran said.
"She used all her mental powers to stop Hawkinfield from ruining the mountains. She didn't want him murdered; she just wanted him to have a change of heart!" Chrysalis stopped and stared into space until Qwilleran urged her to go on. "The horrible irony was that my brother was convicted of the murderand he was innocent. She made a vow never to speak another word as long as he's in prison."
Qwilleran murmured sympathy and regrets and then said, "What about the circle of light on the mountain?"
She shook her head. "Some of our kinfolk go out on top of Little Potato at midnight, carrying lanterns. They walk in a silent circle and meditate, concentrating on getting Forest releasedsomehow." She shook her head.
"Do they think the moving circle increases their effectiveness?" he asked gently, although he had his doubts.
"It's supposed to concentrate the force of their collective will. That's what they say."
"You sound as if you're not entirely convinced."
"I don't know ... I don't know what to think. When we picket the courthouse, we march in a circle, the same way."
"Now that you mention it," he said, "it seems to me that pickets always move in a circle."
"The picketing was Amy's idea," said Chrysalis. "She and Forest were getting ready to marry when he was arrested. They were going to be married at the waterfall at the cove, where the mist rises up like a veil. All the plans were made . . . and then this happened. He was held without bail and railroaded to prison. It's my brother's baby that Amy takes to the Lunch Bucket every day. His name is Ashley . . . I'm sorry. I've been talking too much, but it's good to have a considerate listener who's not a Tater. Lately, I've been getting to be like my mother, not wanting to speak."
"You must not let that happen, Chrysalis. Tell me about the trial. What did you think was wrong about it?"
"Well, first, the court-appointed attorney wasn't even there for the arraignment. He phoned to say he'd be late, but the court didn't want to wait around."
"That sounds like a violation of constitutional rights," Qwilleran said.
"How did we know? We were just Taters. Then Forest was held without bail, and the attorney said it was for his personal safety because the whole town was out to get him. My brother! I couldn't believe it!"
"If there was so much animosity, didn't he try for a change of venue?"
She nodded. "It was denied." "What was the attorney's name?" "Hugh Lumpton."
Qwilleran huffed into his moustache; another one of those ubiquitous Lumptons!
Chrysalis said, "He didn't put a single defense witness on the stand, and he let the state's witnesses get away with lies! The jury brought in a guilty verdict so fast, we hardly knew it was over!"
"I'm no lawyer," Qwilleran said, "but it seems to me you should be able to get a new trial. You'd need a different attorneya good one."
"What would it cost? We tried to borrow money to hire one when Forest was first accused, but the banksbeing mixed up with the land speculators, you knowrefused to give us a mortgage. They advised us to sell, but you wouldn't believe what the speculators offered for our choice piece of the mountain. But now it doesn't matter; we'd sell our land for any amount of money if it would get Forest out of prison."
"There might be another way," Qwilleran said, smoothing his moustache. "Let me think about it. But your brother would still have to convince a jury that he's innocent."
They finished the meal with sparse conversation. The salad dressing also was salty. Chrysalis moodily declined dessert and simply sipped a cup of tea, silent behind her staring, hollow-cheeked mask.
When they left the dining room, it was still only partially occupied, and there were plenty of empty tables with a view of the golf course. Qwilleran told his guest to wait in the vestibule while he had a few words with the hostess. Eight words were sufficient. Speaking calmly he said, "Give this to the management with my compliments," and he tore up his membership card.
It was still full daylight, and Chrysalis said, "Would you like to drive up to Tiptop the back way? It's only a logging trail, but it goes up the outside of Big Potato, and there's something I want you to see." She directed him through a maze of winding roads in true wilderness. "There!" she said when they reached the top of a knob. "Stop the car! What does that look like?"
Qwilleran saw a vast area of wiped-out foresta tangle of stumps, fallen trees, and dead branches. "It looks like the aftermath of a tornado or a bombing raid."
"That's slashing!" she said. "Everything is leveled, and then they take the good straight hardwood and leave the rejects. Maybe you've seen the logging trucks leaving the mountains. This is what'll happen to the whole outside of Big Potato if we don't stop them, and this is what speculators would like to do to L'il Tater."
The logging trail narrowed to a mere wagon track twisting upward. She pointed the way, and Qwilleran clutched the wheel as the car lurched through the rough terrain.
"Would you care to come in for a nightcap?" he asked when they finally reached the Tiptop parking lot.
"No, thank you, but I enjoyed the evening, and thank you for listening. It was very kind of you."
He walked her to the decrepit army vehicle. "I'm sincerely sorry about your brother's predicament. I hope something can be done."
She climbed into the driver's seat. "It would be easier to move a mountain," she said with a helpless shrug.
Qwilleran watched her leave before mounting the steps to the veranda. Koko was waiting for him in the foyer, prancing back and forth as if he had something urgent to report, but Qwilleran had other things on his mind. He went directly to the phone and called Moose County without waiting for the discount rates.
"Polly, this is Qwill!" he announced abruptly.
"Dearest! I'm so thankful you called. We have terrible news. Halifax Goodwinter has taken his own life!"
"NO!"
"He buried his wife last Friday, you know, and last night he overdosed."
"This is hard to believe! Did he leave an explanation?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all. But the rumor is circulating that his wife's death was a mercy killing. She'd been hopelessly ill for so long, and the poor man was going on eighty. There'll never be another country doctor like Dr. Hal. The whole county is grieving. Melinda is definitely moving back from Boston to take over his practice, but it won't be the same."
"I agree," said Qwilleran with a gulp. He was worrying less about Moose County's medical prospects than about his own personal relationships. Before Melinda moved to Boston, she had been hell-bent on marriage, and he had been equally determined to stay single, even though he found her disturbingly attractive.