Page 4 of The Women of Wild Hill

So that’s how Kayleigh found herself on the road to a ranch outside Endswell, Texas—a town two hundred miles from where she lived and at least a hundred from anywhere else. She’d set the cruise control at the speed limit. She couldn’t afford to get pulled over.

When she came to the sign for the Allswell Ranch, Kayleigh took the turn off the highway and drove another three miles through the parched wilderness until she arrived at a magnificent stone homestead surrounded by a landscaped lawn of native vegetation.

At some point in recent years, it had received a loving renovation, and though the hog statue out front was of questionable taste, the building could have passed for a chic spa or a bed-and-breakfast. It all looked so normal that she began to wonder if she’d found the right place.

But it did give her the confidence to shut off the engine.

It wasn’t until Kayleigh was out of the car and almost to the porch stairs that the statue in front of the homestead snorted, and she realized she was standing mere yards from a living, breathing hog.

She was a Texas girl, born and raised. Her daddy still kept a shotgun over his door to kill any hogs that came to root up the backyard or terrorize the neighborhood kids.

Even the small ones were dangerous, she’d always been told, but this wasn’t a regular pig.

It was like something straight out of a fairy tale.

Kayleigh was surprised to find she wasn’t terrified but mesmerized by the two little piglets scampering around the giant sow.

“Don’t worry, Petunia won’t hurt you,” said a woman. “She’s here to annoy the hell out of me.”

Kayleigh heard bootheels on the homestead’s front porch and stole what she thought would be a quick glance behind her.

She didn’t think it wise to lose sight of the hog for too long, but when she saw the woman approaching, she couldn’t pull her eyes away.

She, too, seemed to have stepped out of a fairy tale.

Black curls, sprung free of her braid, twisted and turned in every direction.

Even from a distance, Kayleigh could tell her eyes were unusual.

Set in her golden face, they gleamed like gems. Foreign words written in black script cascaded down her arms from her shoulders.

Kayleigh had long known there were women like this in the world—and she’d always believed it was best to avoid them.

“Are you Kayleigh?” The woman’s smile felt welcoming and her voice as soothing as a warm bath.

She didn’t wait for a response. “Hey there, I’m Phoebe.

” Then her smile faded and her eyes narrowed as she took in the bruises that even the thickest concealer in Kayleigh’s makeup bag hadn’t been able to hide.

“Hope you don’t mind my saying so, but you look like you’ve seen some trouble. You doing okay?”

Kayleigh’s stomach heaved, and she placed a hand on top of it. “I’m just feeling a little bit carsick. Is there a place I could sit down?”

Phoebe nodded, as though agreeing to allow the real problem to remain unsaid. “Come with me and I’ll get you all fixed up. Your sister said you need to get back to the city by six. That right?”

“Yes.” Kayleigh hesitated for a moment to estimate the odds of getting murdered by Satan worshippers. Then she hurried to catch up with Phoebe, who’d headed off toward the homestead, her path taking her straight past the pig.

“Shoo, damn it!” Phoebe ordered the pig as she passed.

The pig snorted three times in response, and Kayleigh did a double take. It sounded like the creature was speaking some kind of strange language. And the two of them reminded her of a bickering couple.

Unable to contain her curiosity, Kayleigh tried to find words that didn’t make her feel crazy. “Did you say that hog’s here for you?”

“Yeah, she wants me to go see my sister,” Phoebe explained.

“Why would a pig want you to go see your sister?”

“Not sure. Doesn’t matter ’cause it’s not gonna happen,” Phoebe told her. “My sister’s an evil bitch.”

Phoebe guided Kayleigh through the house to the kitchen.

Rustic though it was, the place had been decorated by someone with taste and an eye for quality.

They’d preserved the wide-plank pine floorboards, and the replastered walls gave off a subtle glow.

A long soapstone-topped island ran almost the full length of a kitchen furnished with appliances that would have sent Kayleigh into paroxysms of jealousy on an ordinary day.

Phoebe pulled out a stool. “Have a seat,” she said and Kayleigh obeyed.

“When will the healer be ready to see me?” Kayleigh asked as Phoebe opened the fridge and took out a pitcher filled with a pale purple liquid.

“She’s seeing you right now,” Phoebe told her.

“You?” Kayleigh couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice or her eyes off Phoebe’s tattoos.

“Yes, me.” Phoebe poured the purple liquid into a glass, which she then set in front of Kayleigh. “Who did you think I was? The maid?”

“I don’t know. I just think maybe I’ve made a mistake.” Kayleigh slid off her stool.

Phoebe smiled and leaned across the counter toward the woman.

“I hope it’s not my tattoos that have you scared,” she said, making it perfectly clear that she was not talking about her body art.

“You see, I have a problem with folks who judge other people by their appearance. I guess you could call my tattoos asshole repellent, and I don’t have any interest in helping assholes.

When you drove up in that fancy car, I thought for a second that you might be an asshole.

But then I remembered you can’t judge a person until you get to know them.

So I went ahead and decided to help you. ”

Kayleigh froze, unsure how she should respond.

Phoebe pointed to the glass. “My daughter, Sibyl, helped me perfect the recipe. Try a sip before you run out of here,” she insisted. “Then, if you still want to leave, I’ll walk you out past the pig.”

Kayleigh eyed the glass. She’d spat the last of her water out on the road, and now she was parched. “Okay.” She put the glass to her lips. She’d expected the smell of grapes or blackberries but was met by a lovely floral fragrance instead.

“Desert lavender and blessed thistle,” Phoebe told her. “Plus a few other things Sibyl threw in for flavor.”

“You’re sure it’s safe?”

“People drive hundreds of miles to stock up on this stuff.”

Kayleigh took a small sip. The taste was delightful, so she risked another.

The coldness slipped down her throat and pooled in her belly.

Her stomach began to churn in earnest, preparing to launch its contents back out and onto the floor.

She felt her abdominal muscles clench and then—miraculously—relax.

For the first time in hours, she couldn’t feel her organs or taste vomit at the back of her throat. She lifted the glass a third time.

“Think maybe you want to stick around for a little while?”

Kayleigh set the glass down on the bar and wiped her mouth with the napkin that Phoebe held out to her. “Yes,” she said.

“Finish up. I’ll be back in a minute.”

PHOEBE FILLED A DOG BOWL with water and another with vegetable scraps. She took them both out to the pig, who showed no interest in eating.

“You going on a hunger strike is not going to make me change my mind about Brigid,” Phoebe told the sow. “Eat your fill and feed your babies, then get on home. Your work here is done.”

Phoebe walked around the house and into the old stable that now served as her workshop.

She laid a plain white cloth out on her table.

In the center, she shook out a teaspoon of herbs from a jar on the shelf.

She added a sprinkle from another jar and a handful from a third.

Finally, when the mixture looked like alien potpourri, she gathered the four corners of the cloth and tied them into a poultice for her latest client’s black eye.

When she finished, Phoebe opened the safe she kept hidden behind hay bales and took out two small manila envelopes. With these in one hand and the poultice in the other, she returned to the kitchen and set the envelopes down in front of Kayleigh.

Phoebe pointed to envelope one. “Inside is a mifepristone pill. It will stop the embryo inside you from growing.” She slid her finger to envelope two.

“This is misoprostol. It will make your uterus empty. The entire process should take around five hours. It will look and feel like a heavy period. No one will be able to tell the difference.”

“These are abortion pills?”

“Yes. They’re safe and effective. You are more likely to overdose on Tylenol than experience complications with these drugs.”

“So that’s it?” Kayleigh looked relieved. “I thought maybe you’d be giving me herbs.”

“Oh, there are plenty of herbs that will end a pregnancy, but none work as well as these pills. But I did make an herbal remedy for you.” Phoebe slid an object across the table—the poultice she’d crafted. “This is for your eye. If you’d like, I can make something special for the man who hit you.”

It took Kayleigh a beat to grasp Phoebe’s meaning. “Oh no!” she cried when it became clear to her. “I could never harm my husband. I’m a Christian woman.”

“I’m sure the next woman he beats up will be as well,” Phoebe replied.

Kayleigh didn’t appear to be breathing. “The next woman?”

Phoebe had never been the sort to mince words. “Your husband has a fatal disease. But it won’t kill him. It’s going to kill you. Then, when you’re gone, he’ll move on to the next woman. And he’ll pass his disease down to your sons.”

Kayleigh’s hand flew to her heart, as though she needed to keep it from bursting out through her chest. “How do you know about my boys? Are you some kind of witch?”

“I’ve been called worse,” Phoebe said. “But the truth is, I had a long chat with your sister when she called.”

“What did she tell you?”

“She said your husband beats you and that your latest pregnancy is the result of rape.”