She had no desire to leave without taking Hallie, she did not try, but deep in her heart was the conviction that for some strange reason she was virtually a prisoner within those gates.
At once her mind was rife with speculation. Who were these people? What had they to fear from contact with the outside world? Were they moonshiners? She had heard much of mountain moonshine stills before she came to the Cumberlands. If they were moonshiners, where had they sold the product of their stills?
“No, it couldn’t be that,” she shook her head.
Were they a band of robbers? If so, whom did they rob? She thought of the peddler and the one-armed fiddler, and shuddered.
Still, as she thought of it now, she had seen very little in these cabins that could have come from a peddler’s pack. The bare-topped wooden tables were innocent of linen. Towels were made of coarse, hand-woven linen. The women wore no jewelry such as might have come from a peddler’s black box.
“It’s all very strange and mysterious,” she said with a shake of her head.
Only one thing came to her clearly as she returned to the cabin—she must remain beside little Hallie until she was out of danger.
“After that—what?”
This question she could not answer.