Evelyn Jeeters stood at the window of the rough-hewn log cabin, peering out into the dimming afternoon. Soft golden shades of late afternoon were descending over thickly grown evergreens outside. She pulled the faded muslin curtain aside and stared at a narrow dirt path leading away from the cabin. Surely Andrew would be home soon?
A sharp cry from Amy, her baby of five months, jerked her attention back inside. Amy lay on a feather mattress in a corner of the primitive room. Her tiny delicate body quivered with another spasm of crying and her hands clenched into fists of protest.
Hurrying to her, Evelyn glanced at the stone fireplace, where she cooked meals over an iron grate, seeing the big iron pot of soup simmering slowly. She hoped Andrew would be home soon -- Amy had come down with a slight fever that morning and had grown worse sick all day. She knew they needed the doctor.
Evelyn gently lifted Amy into her arms and tried to breast-feed her, but the baby's mouth puckered with refusal. Walking near the fireplace, she eased into her wooden rocker and began to hum a soothing melody as she rocked and watched the baby's crying lull a few moments. Oh, how she loved Amy! After only three months of marriage, she'd become pregnant; it was the happiest day of her life.
Living in a remote cabin, away from the brood of siblings she'd had as a family, Evelyn had been lonely. Like most 1900 pioneer Appalachian hillfolk, she wanted to have a large family, to hear the pitter-patter of little feet surrounding her always. Her folks, Andrew's folks...most everyone she knew felt the same. And now, trying to quiet the baby's feverish cries, she rocked Amy and worried about the quickness of such an illness. If anything happened to Amy...
The huge mantle clock's ticking reminded Evelyn the minutes were swiftly passing, and she saw it was nearly four o'clock. The creaking rocker, the hissing fire and the ticking clock combined to create the warmth and comfort of home as Amy continued to refuse feeding and Evelyn cast an anxious look toward the window, noticing how the light was growing deep with shadows. Autumn afternoons were becoming shorter, and nightfall sooner; the wind whistled through the rafters overhead and Evelyn fretted, wondering what was keeping Andrew so late?
Andrew had always arrived home long before this time; his part-time job at the nearby Gristmill, helping grind cornmeal for a bit of cash income, usually ended at two. Today he was to stop at the country store and pick up supplies...but, that didn't explain this much delay! Of course, his old mule was slow...old trusty Nell. She was stubborn but dependable, not like the sleek black horse Andrew bought last spring. Midnight, he called the fast, fancy Arabian, and sternly warned Evelyn against riding it alone.
Firelight reflected on the knotted-pine log walls, casting long shadowy fingers throughout the room. Evelyn's anxiety was mounting by the minute, the ticking clock irritating in its reminder of time passing. Amy kept refusing to be breast-fed, and Evelyn gave up, lifting the tiny bundle into her arms, starting to pace back and forth, hoping to stop the wailing.
Standing at the window, she pulled back the muslin curtain, saw the wind rising to scatter fallen leaves across the ground; the forest surrounding the cabin looked dark, forbidding. She remembered how Andrew had prized this isolated spot for their cabin -- way back in the wilderness, on the edge of a high bluff. She could see out the wide city-bought window to the valley spread out in the distance below but it seemed far away, too far from others now who could help her with the sick baby.
Just then she heard the pounding of hooves, and was relieved to think Andrew was coming --but then she realized old Nell could never get that kind of speed. Amy was dozing now, and swaddling her in blankets, Evelyn lay the baby on the feather mattress. Grabbing her shawl, pulling it over her shoulders, she went out the door to see who was coming up the trail.
Shivering, she tightened the shawl, and saw old man Peters galloping up the dirt path, reining in the horse sharply and calling to her, "Ma'am, Andrew's dad took sick, his folks sent word round about noon, he took off and said to tell you he'd be back tomorrow."
Peters owned the mill, and Evelyn didn't mind letting her fear show when she cried, "My baby's sick! I need a doctor!"
"What can I do? Go for the doc?" Peters started to dismount, but then he scratched his chin, asked, "Ain't doc Sam closer by the back trail?"
Evelyn nodded, realizing that she could get there quicker by going along, than waiting here with Amy and told him so. But he looked off at the woods anxiously, as if something else was bothering him, and she asked, "What's wrong?"
"Ma'am...ain't safe for folks to be in those woods after dark. You stay here, I'll go..."
She was shaking her head, about to protest when Peters' horse reared up, let out a loud piercing shriek and began bucking, snorting and leaping around wildly, the big eyes rolling up in its head and though Peters struggled mightily, the beast threw him, then stomped over and about him as Evelyn watched in horror, feeling helpless but unable to intervene.
The horse finally exhausted itself, and ran off back up the trail; Peters was bloody, still conscious, but moaning and unable to get up as Evelyn rushed to him, screaming, "My God! Why did the horse do that! Dear Lord, you're half dead!"
He was trying to sit up, mumbled, "Something spooked that mare..." but clenched his stomach as if about to vomit; his face was sickly pale, and Evelyn knew he was injured badly. She managed to help him into the cabin, easing him onto the feather mattress, where Amy was now wailing furiously again. He took one glance at the baby, reached to touch her forehead, and said, "Ma'am, your baby has the fever, lots of younguns coming down with it hereabouts. You better get her to doc soon as you can."
"But...how?" Then Evelyn recalled Midnight out in the barn, that fierce black horse with the speed of lightning in its hooves. "I...there's a horse in the barn, but what about you?"
"Just take the baby and go. You can send the doc back after he's tended to that there baby, I'll lay here and try to hang on." Peters looked at Evelyn and she saw her worst fears in his eyes: Amy would die if she didn't get the baby to a doctor soon!
Making no further protest, Evelyn went into the tiny closet, shut the door and quickly changed from her long cotton dress into denim jeans and red flannel shirt. Back in the room, she glanced briefly into the faded mirror over the wash basin, tucked her long auburn hair into a secure bun, alarmed at the fear in her wide green eyes.
Quickly, she went to the pantry, fetched a thick blanket, a few diapers and the softly worn leather backpack Andrew had made for her to carry Amy in while riding a horse. Putting on her jacket, she went to wrap the baby up, easing the fevered little body into the snug backpack, securely strapping it on her back.
Looking down at Peters' worried face, she grabbed her red scarf and began tying it over her head, telling him, "I know the trail is dangerous, but I'll be careful, and I've got to do something!"
He grimaced, shifting around in misery, still clutching his stomach, but managed to warn, "Stay clear of that ridge, there's loose rocks, could cause the horse to stumble or throw you!"
"I will. And I'll send the doc back soon as he can come to help you."
She hurried to the door, but he called, "Be careful with the horse, something spooked my mare...maybe..." But he clammed up, as if not wanting to scare her any worse than she already was.
"I'll be careful as I can, but I've got to get Amy to the doc! If she..."but the words stuck in her throat, and she swallowed hard, unable to voice the awful prospect of losing her first child.
Evelyn hurried to the barn, and once inside, saw Midnight standing in the back stall, sleek and black as its given name. The horse stamped its foot impatiently, snorting and staring steadily at Evelyn; Amy was snuffling, her wails having abated temporarily.
Approaching the horse, she walked cautiously, talking in soothing, calm tones to the animal and her voice seemed to quiet it into an almost docile stance. Evelyn got the saddle, put it on with no trouble, and led the horse outside into the dusky light of a chill evening...determined to save her child's life no matter what risks she had to take on the long trail ahead.
Evelyn saw the forest was gray with gloom but gave a quick spur with her boots to prod Midnight, and they jostled onto the dimly worn trail -- a narrow serpentine passage winding along the edge of a high rock bluff. She glanced down at the sheer drop to the shadowed valley below, carefully holding the reins to keep Midnight on track.
The swaying, rocking motion of riding must have lulled Amy, for the baby was quiet and Evelyn prayed their trip would be speedy, but as she held Midnight in a slow trot, it seemed they'd never make it by dark. Worse, she saw a snarled tangle of vines, weeds, briars had grown across the trail in some places, and had to maneuver even slower through these treacherous spots.
Deeper into the forest, the woods thickened, the evergreens obscuring the skyline, darkening the path the farther they went. Evelyn heard Amy whimper, and tried to talk in a reassuring murmur, bringing a measure of comfort and love to the sick baby. Cool now, a light wind rustling the dry, dead leaves overhead, the clop, clop, clop of the horse hooves penetrating the darkly silent forest, an eerie echoing seeming to follow them as Evelyn shifted in the saddle, apprehension and nervousness mounting as they journeyed along the thin ribbon of trail.
She'd only been along this path once, and it had been with Andrew; they'd rode quietly, being mindful of the sheer rock cliff dangerously nearby. Andrew had shown her how to maneuver through the worst spots, and she tried to recall his voice now --not just for guidance, but for companionship. It was so isolated along this path; no one took it unless they were forced to by an emergency... as she was now, hearing Amy begin to whine, fret a second and then fall silent again.
Swiftly, the daylight began to fade, leaving only a glimmer of purple twilight and making it even more difficult to stay on the worn path; but Evelyn looked up to see a short clearing ahead, and as Midnight emerged from the woods, she gave him a spur, feeling the powerful beast gallop, sure-footed and quick to traverse the straightaway.
But all too soon, they were back in the dark woods, and Evelyn slowed the horse, feeling the jerk of protest in its resistance on the reins. Yet they slowed back to a trot, and just as she was about to breathe a sigh of relief, a shrill scream pierced the forest. The horse snorted, tried to stop, but she goaded it onward, panic rising as she heard another similar eerie shriek echo throughout the woods. She thought about the rifle hanging on the wall, back in cabin... why hadn't she thought to bring it along?
When the high, thin wail cut through the forest again, she pulled the reins, bringing Midnight to an abrupt halt; she sat there, trembling all over, listening intently. Within moments, the piercing wail sounded again, and she realized it was vaguely familiar -- and made chills run up and down her spine. The drab gloom preceding night now made it difficult to see, and she looked ahead, judging how far it was to the doc's cabin, thinking this trail was longer than she recalled.
Gently tugging on the reins, Evelyn got Midnight back into a slow trot, forcing her panic down, not allowing herself to act on the impulse to let the horse gallop at full speed ahead. Reckless idea, she chided herself, and kept a steady pace, cooing and murmuring to Amy, thinking how she'd tell Andrew about this harrowing experience, how he'd be proud of her bravery, her courage in getting help for Amy.
Some of the bare tree branches made skeletal images against the distant skyline when they hit a short clearing that ran even closer to the bluff; she felt the horse's muscles tighten, and knew Midnight was worth the price Andrew had paid -- this animal had an instinct for finding its way on the worst of trails!
Suddenly that wild scream shocked her senses, and it was closer now, which made her spur Midnight recklessly into a faster gait. They crossed the clearing, hit the woods and she had to duck to keep from being knocked off by low-hanging limbs...that shrill shriek following them, closer and closer, so that Evelyn felt clammy sweat breaking out over her body, her hands tight with fear on the reins.
Midnight kept up a fast trot, avoiding the low spots, the tangle of tree roots, almost leaping at times over snarled vines; she dodged and laid low in the saddle, feeling the straps of the leather backpack pinching her painfully. Amy was awakened by the noisy hooves hitting solid ground, the leaps and falls of the horse pitching them about...and the baby's wails of protest erupted mightily.
Evelyn pulled on the reins, forcing Midnight to slow; then, that ferocious scream came again, only it was nearer now! She sat up, listening, the baby's cries loud and heartrending, but Evelyn heard that high-pitched shriek clearly as it rang out again and again... and she knew what it was, why it had scared her so badly. Tears burned her eyes, and she spurred Midnight, knowing that a panther was one of the worst feared predators in the Tennessee mountains!
With abandon, she whipped the horse into a faster run, glad the path had widened, the treelimbs were higher and she detected a clear way ahead...the ride no longer the real danger. But all at once, she heard the panther's cry behind her, and glanced back over her shoulders to see a sleek, black creature pursuing them, running at top speed.
Even though Midnight galloped harder, the panther was swifter; it slipped into the woods, wound around just out of view, and Evelyn thought it had gone away, when suddenly the beast leapt out dead center of the path! Midnight reared up, whinnying and slinging his head, hooves pawing thin air...and she gasped, hot fear making her scream out, the baby's cries louder and wilder too.
Somehow, Evelyn managed to subdue the horse, and it didn't buck them off, came to a halt, still pawing the ground with one foot, snorting and standing with tense muscles before the pacing panther. She saw the wicked gleam of fiery-yellow eyes in the panther's black face, its angry, hungry pacing portending a savage attack.
Without knowing quite what she was doing, Evelyn whipped her scarf off and tossed it down in front of the horse, attracting the panther's attention. As the creature sniffed the bright red scarf, Evelyn slapped Midnight's backside and they were off, galloping along the path, darkness almost upon them now.
Amy's screams were ear-splitting and made Evelyn sob aloud, suffering pangs of guilt and remorse for not leaving earlier, trying to get to the doc before it was too late. As they rounded a bend, Evelyn thought she saw the glint of lantern light in doc's cabin off in the distance...but just as she was about to sigh gratefully, the panther suddenly leapt in front of Midnight again, forcing the horse to a shrieking, protesting halt.
She looked around wildly, grabbed the blanket off Amy, and tossed it down, seeing the panther's wild eyes scan her, now fiercely provoked, but beginning to lower its head and sniff the blanket. Evelyn spurred Midnight, and the horse galloped past the angry panther, falling in behind them, a race for the cabin the only thing that mattered.
They were on a straightaway, going at full speed, then up a slight incline and rounding a bend, Midnight never once faltering, Evelyn grateful for his sure-footed speed. Then they were back into the last long stretch of deep forest, pounding hooves shattering through the woods and the panther's seething, frustrated snarls and shrieks right on their heels.
Evelyn saw the distant cabin ahead, a flickering light in a window, and felt they were going to make it, they'd be safe and Amy would have the doc's care... when Midnight came to a shuddering stop, pawing and sniffing, snorting and twisting, turning in the path. Evelyn saw that another panther had leapt in front of them, and the other one was still behind them, blocking all escape!
Midnight was on the verge of a revolt, trembling and shuddering, and she feared the horse might pitch them off, so she began talking in soothing tones, murmuring to the animal, praying it would calm down. The horse snorted, whinnied yet began to settle somewhat, still twisting back and forth, turning round on the path and sensing the lost cause of confronting the panthers.
Evelyn groaned aloud, seeing the cabin so close yet so utterly unreachable! Amy was quieter now, as if she'd also instinctively picked up on the futile predicament...a sniffle from the baby bringing fresh tears to Evelyn's eyes as she watched the panthers moving in, closer and closer, with each pace approaching nearer to Midnight's clenched body.
The panther in front let out a fiercely angry squall that reverberated through the forest, and with that sound came Evelyn's realization she had only one means of saving her baby's life. Although ravaged with despair, fear and dread, sorrow at knowing she'd never be able to raise Amy, the one chance to save her baby was suddenly clear.
With resolve, Evelyn did what she felt she had to: She unstrapped the backpack, and though the panthers were closing in, Evelyn concentrated on tying the leather straps securely to Midnight's saddle, making sure the baby wouldn't fall off... that the straps would hold Amy firmly through her perilous ride into the safe harbor of doc's cabin.
Evelyn leaned down, kissed Amy tenderly on her hot, wet cheeks and whispered, "I'm so sorry baby, but it's the only way. I love you, and someday you'll understand why I had to make this sacrifice."
Without pausing, Evelyn slipped quickly, smoothly to the ground, saw the panther in front start coming around the horse, heading for her with a hunter's deadly gleam in its yellow eyes. And when it was out of the way, Evelyn slapped Midnight on his rear, making the horse hit the trail ahead with a swift, sure gallop toward the doc's warm-glowing cabin.
There, in the lonesome pines, Evelyn knew she'd made the ultimate sacrifice. Her reward was knowing that Amy had a chance to survive now, that Midnight was already approaching the cabin even as the two sleek, hungry panthers closed in on her..
She faced her killers with courage as a savage, high-pitched wail reverberated eerily through the deep, dark forest.
[Note: This story was based on an old southern Appalachian folk tale my grandmother passed along to me when I was a child.]