Night of the Spirits
by sloanranger
Part 6
Angus was back in his cabin within minutes, pouring a drink from his jug with a shaky hold. The tin cup shook so badly in his grasp that he lost half the contents. The remains however, he got down his throat by grabbing tightly with both hands.
Exhaling loudly, he was starting to feel better when someone knocked on the door to the cabin.
"Who's that?" He said, his voice raised to carry over the sound of the keening wind.
"It's Jeb Crayton's widow, you fool," the old woman answered, her voice loud and cracked over the wind. He looked out the only window in the cabin, filthy now, his woman gone for so long.
He opened the door a crack and found Cray's wife standing there holding a bundle of branches and sticks in her arms like they was a baby. She wore an angry scowl and the wind was trying to tear the hair from beneath the ragged scarf on her head.
"Why, what'r ye doin' out in this storm, Miz' Crayton?" He tried to sound concerned. "Come on in out 'a that wind."
"I'm gatherin' firewood a'fore this blow gits any worse and I ain't comin' in. Question is Angus, what in blazes are you doin' here? I know sure as sin you ain't had time to bury that dog."
She was getting that queer look on her face.
"Why, Missus, he's in the ground jest like you wanted."
"Don't you lie to me, you tosspot."
(To be continued).
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Night of the Spirits - @Short Story
Storie brevi@SHORTSTORY - Historical Fiction, Horror: Dying man Jeb Crayton, asks his friend Angus, an old Scot who likes his liquor to help his widow after he's gone. Days later, Angus is asked to bury Jeb's dog, Joe. It becomes a horrific task.
