grab for her canteen until the women backed out of the hut.
Clara’s face flashed between pale and a little green. Sweat poured off her. “I don’t know how you swallowed the soup, Dr. Mary. I’m not sure mine is going to stay down.”
“Did you catch the expression on the older woman? She expected her food to be insulted.”
“What was in that anyway?”
“Pepper of some kind. Let me ask Hannabo.” Mary stuck her head out the door. William and Hannabo held their heads together in conversation. Surely she hadn’t done something else she didn’t understand.
Hannabo caught sight of her and said something to William. He turned around and walked over to her. “Is there a problem?”
“Not unless you consider having our tongues completely numbed from dinner.” She tried for a smile so he’d know she spoke in humor.
The serious look on William’s face dropped instantly and his eyes crinkled in merriment. “Red pepper. A country-wide favorite. Since you’re an honored guest, I am sure the spicing was generous.”
“You could have warned me. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to taste food again.”
“You will. It was a little tough to swallow my first time, too. The wives looked pleased when they left, so you must have held your tongue, so to speak.”
Mary marveled at this lighthearted side of William. She’d begun thinking he possessed only a serious side. “Why Pastor Mayweather, is that a pun? Humor becomes you.”
And just as quickly as it was there, the smile vanished. “Is there anything else you need for the night, Doctor?”
Mary wasn’t sure what to make of the sudden turn in demeanor. “No, we’re fine. Did I say something wrong?”
“No, of course not. Not this time at least.”
Of all the things to say. Couldn’t he just be nice and let it go at that? She bit back a scathing retort as he said, “If there’s nothing else then, may I remind you a lot of celebrating will go on in the village tonight. A lot of religious ceremonies are conducted after nightfall.”
Mary shuddered despite the waning heat. “What kind of ceremonies?”
William’s eyes narrowed and he tilted his head for emphasis. “None you need to be attending.”
This time she did sputter. “I assure you, I hadn’t planned to attend. I was merely curious.”
“See that you keep your curiosity in check this time.”
Of all the gall. He turned on his heel and returned to where Hannabo was waiting. Mary stood rooted and gape-mouthed at the man’s insolence. After a few seconds, William walked off and Hannabo came to stand at the entrance to their hut.
“Where’s Pastor Mayweather going, Hannabo?”
“Nana Pastor, he goes to speak to Chief. He hopes to show Nana Bolo the one true God and get him to put away his fetishes. He will not succeed.”
“Why not?”
“Nana Karl has tried for years. Nana Bolo’s devilmen are powerful. They have already given him what he wants. He will not listen to the stories of the white man’s God.”
“Devilmen? What do you mean?”
“They hold the magic. Their conjures are strong. The young girl who brought you dinner?”
“Yes, she is with child, I believe.”
Hannabo’s head nodded vigorous assent. “Because of the Devilmen. Nana Bolo made his offering when she did not conceive for some time.”
“Nonsense. Conception is not a sign of magic.”
“Devilmen do many things, miracles sometimes, Mammy Doctor. I believe in the Jesus God, but I’ve seen devilmen work. They hold much power.”
A shiver that belied the heat ran through her. Evil seemed so distant back at home in a Virginia church. Not so distant on the battlefield. Witchcraft prevailed in this darkness.
“Our worlds are very different this way, Hannabo.”
He nodded in response.
“There is another difference I wanted to ask about. Why do some of the women cover their…uh, chests and some do not?” She felt silly being embarrassed, but it was one thing to examine someone and another to ask about modesty issues so specifically to a man.
Hannabo replied as if it was no issue at all. “Young girls who are not promised in marriage wear only the skirt. Once they are promised or married, they wear more to show their status.”
So it was a question of status, just not the way she’d thought. She said good night and went back into the dark hut, feeling her way to her bed. Clara was stretched out, already snoring. Mary sat on the hard pallet and wondered what kind of witchcraft Hannabo had seen to make him think it held power. Exhaustion took a stronger hold than her questions, and she lay back to fall into a fitful sleep filled with the rhythm of drums, shouts and fervor.
When quiet finally reigned, she sunk into a deep inky blackness even dreams couldn’t penetrate. Later, a rooster announced the dawn. More than once.
Foolish fowl. The sun wasn’t up yet. She tried to shake off the hold sleep claimed but kept dozing off.
The only thing finally piercing the veil of slumber and startling her completely awake were the screams.
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