Some Good Deeds free porn video

The banging at the door didn't surprise Mama Selma, even though the hour was late. She was no stranger to unexpected visitors, and she didn't sleep much these days, regardless. She calmly put her book down and grabbed the candle before rising from her chair. The sound continued as she walked, the intensity of the thumps growing with each knock. This didn't bother Mama Selma either. Folks that came to her door were rarely on social calls. More likely a husband had become particularly drunk and sloppy with his fists, or a child had come down very sick. Such matters had become almost common these days. The depression, the president called it in the newspapers. No one had the money for, well, much of anything, which made the women desperate and the men ornery. A cool demeanor was a great asset in such times, and Mama Selma took a moment to solidify her guise of tranquility before opening the door. She was an excellent actress. So good, in fact, that she didn't even blink at the sight of a large, blood-covered man with a limp woman slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain. This was bad, possibly worse than anything Mama Selma had ever seen, no matter the explanation. But she knew her part, and she did not let her worry show. She'd played this role for decades, and would not relinquish it now. The man, Leonard Walse, was panting heavily and between bouts of tears. He was an old farmhand, with a grizzled beard, a face like a lumpy potato and numerous scars from a lifetime of accidents and close calls. His heavy workman's muscle coordinated with the blood on his hands and shirt to make him look imposing despite the moisture on his cheeks, an unnerving combination of frightened child and dangerous lunatic. Mama Selma couldn't tell who the girl was. She could only see legs and backside, secured on Leonard's shoulder by a thick arm. The legs twitched slightly every few seconds. A good sign, Mama Selma thought. At least she was alive. The two figures stared in silence for a long moment as Leonard caught his breath and gathered his nerve. He still had a bit of brown in his grey hair, but standing in that doorway he looked downright ancient, which was at odds with his panicked energy. When he spoke, it rushed from him like a jug filled past bursting. "Mama, you gotta help me. Faye's hurt bad, real bad, and I'm scared to bring her to the hospital. I'll tell ya everything, but we gotta get her somewhere safe. I dunno what to do, she's breathing, but she's in a bad way, and I don't know how to patch nothing but cuts and bruises." Retaining her solemnity, Mama Selma nodded and gestured Leonard to come inside, closing the door and quickly but calmly leading him to a spare bedroom. His words meant that was Faye Bowman on his shoulder. She could see it now, her scrawny behind and twiggy limbs, but knowing raised the question of where her husband, Edgar, was. The answer was unlikely to be reassuring. Leonard continued speaking as they walked. "I know what it looks like, I woulda carried her in my arms, but I needed to go fast. She been hurt so bad, so bad. I don't know why I walked away, I shoulda known something would happen. She trusted me and now I gone and got her killed. Oh Lord, I gone and killed two people." Mama Selma listened closely for facts to sort them from Leonard's melodrama. The man was a worry-wort, and she doubted the deaths of two well-respected people were on his hands. Besides, Faye was in her care now. There would be one death at most, and she wouldn't shed a tear if it came to that. In the bedroom, Mama Selma untucked the bed and helped Leonard gently lay Faye down. She could see why the farmhand was in such a panic. The girl was unconscious, her face was a mess of raw red skin and barely crusted blood punctuated by purple-black bruises that were already setting in. One side was swelling severely, bloated and deformed against what was still a noticeably a pretty face. Still, her breathing was steady and none of the cuts looked particularly deep. The girl might have been in danger had Leonard left her where she lay, but here she would pull through. Diagnosis complete, Mama Selma took more direct control of the situation. "Leonard, take a seat. I'm gonna need you to stay put and watch Faye while I get some supplies. You can explain what happened once I got her hurts dressed. Right now, just try to calm down, and shout for me if she wakes up." She'd also have suggested Leonard shout if Faye stopped breathing or otherwise took a turn for the worse, but she didn't want to plant the idea in his head. He was a good man, possibly the best she'd met in her long, long life, but he was prone to overthinking and worry. If he bothered her every time Faye took a deep breath or twitched in her sleep, Mama Selma would never get set up. She hurried around the first floor of the farmhouse, grabbing supplies and knickknacks arranged to a plan only she could understand. Mama Selma had learned the art of organization through chaos back when her husband was alive and their children were young, when her home had seemed so much smaller. A more ordered approach was certainly possible, what with Leland long buried and the kids grandparents themselves, but the clutter reminded her of happier times. When she returned, the crestfallen Leonard was sitting and staring at the floor, head in his hands. He didn't even look up as Mama Selma set down her bucket of water and started wiping off Faye's face quickly and efficiently. Leonard was right to bring her here. The damage was bad, but mostly cosmetic. A doctor would have given her stiches, perhaps something cold to put on her wounds, and let her be. Recovery would have taken days, or even weeks, and left her scarred. Mama Selma's patients rarely had the luxury of such time, not if they didn't want repeat incidents, and Faye would be on her feet by sunrise. Her methods were potent. For once, the large man's melancholy was useful. Mama Selma didn't have to hide her work as she took out a bowl, set it on the nightstand, and started mixing together a variety of ingredients, some medicinal in nature, others decidedly not. She'd cultivated a whispered but persistent reputation as a modern day witch, with folk cures that did the job far better than any medicine could. It wouldn't help matters for someone to prove those rumors true, but Leonard was too busy feeling sorry for himself to notice. The result of Mama Selma's labors was a sticky white poultice, despite the fact that few of the ingredients had been white and none had been wet. She used a small towel to gently apply it to Faye's wounds, where it hissed and bubbled slightly on contact with flesh. Frowning, she decided she needed to use a bit more for good measure. She'd made plenty, and didn't want to take any risks. "Leonard, gonna need you to leave now," she said. He slowly removed his hands and looked up at her. "I work better in private. Go to the sitting room, take any chair you like. I'll join you in a minute and we can figure this all out." Leonard nodded, rose and left without a word, towering and plodding. Alone, Mama Selma took handfuls of the poultice and covered Faye's entire face. The hissing grew louder, and the bubbling was accompanied by a slight stench. The stuff worked wonders, but its effects were off- putting to those that didn't understand the Art. When she was finished Faye wore a mask of what looked nothing so much like overly wet dough. The swelling was no doubt already fading underneath, and by morning the girl wouldn't have so much as superficial scarring. Mama Selma trusted Leonard would not draw attention to the fact that those wounds should have needed weeks to close. After all, he'd been very tired and frightened, and had likely overreacted. After a few minutes of cleanup, Mama Selma took her supplies, stashed them in a closet, and joined Leonard in the sitting room. This time he was looking up as she entered, his eyes red, his appearance feverish. He looked like a big, dangerous madman, and his bloodstained shirt didn't do him any favors. "She gonna be okay, Mama?" Leonard asked as she took a seat. Mama Selma nodded curtly, and relief eased Leonard's features. "Oh thank you, thank Jesus. I thought she was gonna die, I really did. You're a saint, Mama, you know that?" She smiled beatifically. She'd long learned to accept such overblown comments with grace. "There's just one more thing. I... I need your help. I really do. I know you help certain people, I seen you protect them from the scariest sons of bitches I seen, pardon the language. I heard you make girls disappear so even the sheriff can't find'em, and, well, I think it's my turn. To disappear, I mean. I'm awful glad that Faye's gonna be okay, but what with what happened to Edgar I'm still a dead man." So. Edgar was indeed the other murder he'd preemptively confessed to committing. And if that were true, for once Leonard was underestimating his woes. Edgar was a nasty, powerful man, and friends with people even worse. Tough times had made that lot more powerful and even nastier, and they wouldn't rest until Leonard was hanged. Didn't much matter whether Edgar was alive or dead; they'd be coming for him as a scapegoat for Faye, despite her miraculous recovery. That being the case, the only way she had of helping the poor farmhand was extreme, something she'd never done in these circumstances. She had to make sure Leonard had no other options before offering. "You know I only get involved with the affairs of women. You're no bad man, I know it well, but you aren't no woman, either," she said. "Way you're talking makes me think I need to do something drastic, and I don't think a man would like how I handle drastic. Most women don't, and a man would find it unthinkable." "Well, it's helping a woman that's got me in trouble, and I ain't got no one else to turn to. I figure you'd give me the help you gave Faye," Leonard replied. "I don't care if I like it, there's gonna be a posse after me soon and I ain't keen to face them. I'm a good Christian, but I fear death, Mama, more than I fear whatever witchcraft you do. Seems to me you're the good sort of witch, if you is one at all." Well, he had earned her help, it was true. By Mama Selma's estimation, Leonard had done more to help the women of this community than anyone short of herself. He had a reputation as someone who could fetch a drunk husband from the bar, or escort you anywhere at night, or watch your child while you dealt with pressing matters. He was to minor crises what she was to the major ones. Funny, how Leonard never found a wife despite his kind demeanor and sterling reputation. Yes, he was poor, and no, he wasn't particularly attractive, but that hadn't stopped any number of other men from settling down. Mama Selma had her suspicions, though she kept them private. They were irrelevant. "Leonard, I'll be honest: you're the best damn man this town ever had," she said. "But the only advice I can give you, if this is as bad as you say, is run. Get out of here, there ain't nothing worthwhile for miles around. Solid man like you can make something of himself anywhere." "That's the thing! Ain't nothing for me out there, no way I can start again. I got no education, no friends, no family, nothing," Leonard said. The misery and desperation in his voice mirrored what she'd heard from a certain few frightened young girls. "Too old for the heavy work, and no skills for the fancy stuff. That's why I'm begging you. They say you work miracles, and I sure could use one." This was the sign that Leonard was in a dilemma that deserved Mama Selma's most desperate assistance. She only considered it for women who were terrified for their lives, could not return home, and had nowhere else to turn, those who couldn't wait out the storm from the safety of her farmhouse or pick up their lives elsewhere. She'd gone through with it less than half a dozen times in nearly a century. This miracle, as Leonard called it, would be final, with no hope of him ever reclaiming his old life. Perhaps it was pity that made her decide. Here was a man who'd done his best for years, asking no real recognition, simply making the world a better place in small ways because that's who he was. The world as a whole had paid him no favors in return. He would be missed by a thankful but powerless few, and would forfeit what little he had, he would continue helping the needy for decades to come. "Alright, Leonard, I'll help you. First thing first, though, we need to get you cleaned up and calmed down," Mama Selma said. "You can use the bathroom, then go wait for me in the guest bedroom upstairs. It's the first door on the right. Take off those clothes, too. No way that blood is coming out, gonna have to burn them. There's some robes in the bedroom closet, one might be big enough to fit you." "Aw, thank you, Mama, thank you so much," Leonard said, eyes sparkling. "I'ma go clean up and do like you say. I think I got a bit of time, they won't find him 'til tomorrow, so what you're saying is good and smart. I'll get right to it." "You do that. And once you're settled, I need you to tell me exactly what happened." By now she had a pretty good idea, but the exact details could be useful. Once Leonard was safe, believable lies would be needed to protect herself and Faye. "Now get ready while I fix you my special tea." Leonard left, but Mama Selma hesitated a minute longer. Part of her wanted to tell the man what was about to happen. He seemed to trust in her abilities, but even so she doubted he would believe she could do this, and if he did he certainly wouldn't recognize it as for the best. She felt awful, robbing him of such a major decision, but she'd done similar hundreds of times, if not on this scale. Some folk needed help letting go, if they were to flourish. Leonard was a dead man regardless of which path was chosen. This way, at least, his soul would live on. In the kitchen, the old witch began brewing what could loosely be considered a pot of tea. It was mostly water, and leaves were in it, as were roots, flowers, and various other botanicals from plants few knew existed. These were joined by a plethora of ingredients that had no place in any drink. All the while Mama Selma chanted in a low voice, speaking words that predated any known language. Her ritual went on for some time as the mixture boiled. While she was certain of the effects it would have on a man, she wasn't sure how powerful it should be. Even in women, a more drastic change called for a higher concentration, so she erred on the side of potent. Better for it to be too effective than for it to prove a half-measure. Eventually, Mama Selma decided the tea was ready. She took the pot, a cup and a saucer and went upstairs to check on her guest. The first thing she noticed as she walked in the bedroom was how absurd Leonard looked. He'd picked out the largest robe she owned, but it was still fitted for a woman, and it barely fit on his slab-like shoulders. He'd stretched the arms to the limits and pulled some seams, and hadn't bothered trying to close the front. No matter. After this was over, there'd be a lot more sewing to be done than a single robe. The robe also failed to cover Leonard's manhood. Leonard, who was sitting at the foot of the bed, sheepishly covered it as Mama Selma entered his view. "No need for that, it ain't nothing I haven't seen a thousand times before. I even seen yours, when you was a baby," Mama Selma said. Leonard blushed and hesitated, but did as she asked. "Good. Now give me a hand and bring that table and chair to the front of the bed." Leonard did so, and Mama Selma put the teapot down, then took a seat herself. Leonard frowned as he looked at the concoction. "Not that I ain't thankful, but I don't drink much besides water, and when I do it's coffee," Leonard said. He looked even more sheepish than before. "You gotta drink," Mama Selma said as she filled the cup. "This is the part I know you won't like. It's gonna be bitter and you're gonna feel funny, but you gotta drink the whole pot. It'll relax you, make everything clearer. Can't help unless you drink it all." Leonard looked down at the cup, grimacing like a child, but once again did as he was told. He used the opportunity to cover his privates with the saucer, resting it on his thighs. After a moment's hesitation he took a sip, and failed to cover disgust at the taste. "The first sip's the worst. It'll get easier, I promise," Mama Selma said. "Now, why don't you tell me just how you two ended up here." "Okay, Mama. It started when Faye came to my house. She wanted me to go to town and fetch Edgar from the bar, since it was late. I do that a lot for her, except this time Faye wanted to come along. Said she was done, wanted to give Edgar a piece of her mind. I didn't think nothing of it." As he spoke, Leonard's voice became slower, more methodical. He unconsciously paused at the end of each sentence to sip his tea. Every time he resumed speaking his tone was almost imperceptibly higher. "Trip there weren't nothin' special. Faye complained a lot, but she wouldn't had come if she weren't angry. Said some nasty things about Edgar. I don't like him, but even I wouldn't say'em. They were real bad, understand? Not something you expect from a wife." Mama Selma would have expected it. Edgar was wealthy despite the troubles, and owned the biggest ranch in the area, but he was a snake of a man. This wasn't Faye's first visit to her house, and she was proud that the girl had finally chosen to stand up to her husband. A dangerous move, even with someone like Leonard behind you, but brave. While she thought, Leonard paused to finish his cup and push some hair from his eyes. His face was visibly smoother, less weathered. Then he calmly waited for his cup to be refilled, thanking her in a voice that was still as deep as a man's, but with a soft, feminine ring to it. He used a free hand to scratch at his chin and cheeks, where his beard had thinned. "Well, we got to the bar and Edgar weren't nowhere to be found. Faye's hissin' and spittin' like a cat with its claw stuck, but I just ask the bartender and he tells me he left a little while ago with a couple bottles in hand. Faye's about ready to leave, but I tell her he probably so drunk he didn't go far. So we get to looking." Leonard visibly relaxed as his story continued, and as the tension left his muscles they softened and started to fade. He'd already lost a noticeable amount of height, with no signs of stopping. His face had become androgynous, still a bit older and showing the signs of hardship, but even with the wispy remains of his beard, it was no longer distinctly male. "Couldn't been more than 30 minutes when we find him a little while away, lying down on a bench. He was asleep. Well, Faye weren't having none of that, and it was all I could do to keep her from hitting him awake. Granted, we almost had to, to get him up." Leonard brushed several locks of fuller, uniformly dark brown hair from his larger eyes, vainly attempting to get it to stay behind his ears. His nose had shrunk significantly, his bony cheeks were becoming noticeably plumper, and his pencil lips were growing thicker. Any traces of stubble had disappeared from his face, leaving him with the face of a somewhat plain and unfortunately masculine woman who had spent years working outdoors, but was clearly younger than Leonard had been. Mama Selma smiled as encouragingly she refilled his cup. He was doing well. "Thought things would be okay, at first. Edgar was more confused than anything, and Faye just wanted him home. They argued, and he was surprised to see her, but I seen worse. Was easy enough to make them shut up and start walking." By now Leonard's body hair had gone the way of his beard, and his arms and torso had become thinner as the last of his muscle melted away. The stretched out robe fit his shoulders perfectly. Already his waist started to dent inwards, while the nipples above fattened and the hips below widened. He'd lost inches of height, but none in his legs, which looked longer than ever as they slimmed and reshaped. While he was now short for a man, Leonard would remain tall for a woman. "Not sure exactly where it all went wrong. Wasn't long before they started arguing, but I ignored it. Just had to get them home. Lost track of time as it went. Wasn't comfortable, neither, felt like I was trespassing in someone's private life." Leonard paused to once again push hair out of his face. This time the hands were slender and at the end of girlishly skinny arms, the hair was thick and fell past his shoulders, and the face was completely smooth and decidedly pretty, well on its way to beautiful. Arched brows, soulful eyes, a sculpted nose and flush lips were all set in a face with a strong outline, as if carved from marble. As she poured Leonard another cup, Mama Selma felt satisfied that her potion had been more than adequate. The voice that continued speaking was high and sweet. "What happened was Faye told me to go on ahead, she wanted to talk to her husband alone. I ain't a prying sort, so I did. Hurried, too, since it was late and I was tired. Was a minute or two later I heard the screams. I shouldn'ta left Faye." Leonard's little breasts jiggled as he shifted and wiggled, trying to get his larger behind comfortable. There was nothing masculine in those child-bearing hips or full thighs, let alone the lithe yet curvaceous body above. His breasts were growing rapidly, making up for lost time, and Mama Selma suspected the penis hidden by the saucer was doing the opposite, going by how Leonard's smooth legs grew closer together every time he shifted. "I ran back quick as I could, but then I stopped. I couldn't believe what I saw. Faye was back against a tree, hands up at her face. Edgar weren't just hitting her, he was beating her, screaming about cheating and all sorts of horrible things. I didn't know what to do. I froze." An expression of extreme regret appeared on the face of a young woman, likely just into her twenties. His substantial-yet-still-growing chest heaved as he forced himself to continue, and what came next sounded strange in Leonard's new soprano. "Then I just did what I had to. I made him leave her alone. He didn't see me, not even when I clocked him in the head. Faye fell to the ground, then I don't know what came over me. I never felt like it before. I kept hitting him, again, and again, and again. I kept doing it even when he stopped making noise." Now Leonard began crying in earnest. The image of this sad, emotional angel could have been the subject of a masterpiece. She appeared at the end of her teenage years, with decades of beauty and womanhood ahead of her, and seeing such sorrow so young would had rended hearts. "I managed to stop, eventually. Then I grabbed Faye and ran here fast as I could. I think I killed him. Edgar's dead cause of me, and Faye woulda been too if it weren't for you. I shouldn'ta never let her come with me." Mama Selma doubted he was dead. The Devil had more lives than a cat. Still, Leonard had delivered justice, of a sort, and he would be safe now. She poured him the last of the tea to ensure just that. Leonard drank it quickly, and when she lifted the saucer off his legs, the totality of the metamorphosis was visible. "I don't know what to do, Mama. Please, tell me what to do," Leonard looked directly into Mama Selma's face with big, beautiful and above all confused eyes. It was time. "No need to worry, dear, you're safe. But please, call me Auntie," she said. "I am your aunt, after all." For a moment Leonard's confusion intensified, then calm returned. Her sobbing quickly subsided as memories of her old life made way for the new. Leonard's consciousness and personality, the core of who he was, would remain, but this newly minted young woman was otherwise a tabula rasa, free from the shackles of her old life. "I'm, I'm sorry, Auntie," Leonard said, sniffling. "It's just everyone else calls you Mama, and my head ain't workin'. I ain't even sure why I'm here, 'sides I need your help." "Don't you worry, sweetheart, we gonna sort all that out," Mama Selma said. "But first, now that you're calmed a bit, maybe it's time you remember your decency." Leonard stared blankly for a moment before looking down, then quickly shut her the front of her robe with a girly squeak. It wasn't her fault, of course. When she'd donned that robe she hadn't been a she, let alone had a chest worth covering. Now, though, it was home to one of the most impressive bosoms Mama Selma had seen, and it was time to instill some proper habits. The girl's instinctive behavior would come to match her new form in time, but at first even such obvious etiquette would need explaining. Even after closing the robe Leonard threatened to spill out of it, and Mama Selma sighed internally. The man had been so old, beaten and harsh she hadn't been sure how to dose him. And while the witch was satisfied with the results, she had to admit her newest niece was too sensual for her own damn good. Mama Selma liked to make her girls just a little bit pretty, enough to give them some small advantage, but this one's body was going to cause her serious trouble. She had looks to incite men to riot, and was completely oblivious to the fact. The sooner she was put back together, the better. "Sorry about that, Auntie," Leonard said, leaning forward scandalously. "My head's so fuzzy, and I'm so scared, I forgot to cover up." "No need to apologize. You're in shock, is all," Mama Selma said. "I'll help you a little bit at a time. Now, tell me your name." Leonard hesitated a moment before speaking. "It's, sorry, it's Margaret, Auntie." Mama Selma smiled. "See? It ain't so hard," she said. Margaret looked visibly relieved. "Now we'll just go nice and slow, help you remember why you're here and what you're doing. You been through a lot tonight, no shame in losing your head for a bit. Now, tell me 'bout your parents in Omaha. What were they like, before the accident?" Mama Selma continued asking simple, leading questions like that, and Margaret answered. Leonard would remember always being Margaret, now a girl on the cusp of womanhood, and would see nothing wrong with that. She was who she expected to be. But expectations didn't create history, and she had no memories of her past. Her mind would create a proper story, and it would be believable enough, but it would take time. For now, Mama Selma helped guide her to some basic memories, to soothe her and give her a proper sense of self. If Margaret were plainer the basic story of a distant niece who'd lost her parents would be enough, but such a comely woman would attract attention, and attention would mean scrutiny. That wouldn't be good for her development. Mama Selma had to make sure she had a solid enough base to fend off interested parties without causing confusion. After several hours of this Mama Selma was satisfied, and Margaret gratefully fell asleep. The old woman then checked in on her other guest, and satisfied that she was recovering well, started gathering the materials she would need in what were going to be several very busy weeks. There was an entire wardrobe to be sewn, letters sent to certain friends in a nearby city, and documents to be forged. Sleep could wait. Margaret needed her help now. The girl who had been Leonard was truly Mama Selma's niece now, their spiritual bond strong as any flesh-and- blood relation. When she finally let herself drift off in a chair, dawn had started streaming through the curtains. ---- Faye awoke in a haze, not sure where she was. She remembered having Leonard, that nice old farmhand, escort her to Edgar, who was drunk yet again. She remembered arguing with him, then asking for some privacy while she gave her husband a piece of her mind. Then Edgar had accused her of cheating on him with Leonard, of all people, then he started hitting her. She was used to it, but this time he didn't stop, didn't apologize no matter what she shouted. The last thing she remembered was Leonard coming back into sight, silent, surprise solidifying into anger... She sat up for a better look, and realized her vision was odd, blocked at the edges. Something was on her face, engulfing it. Was she at the hospital? She gingerly tapped the mask, hard and unyielding, found edges, and gave it a pull. It was a bit sticky, but it came off easily. Faye reached up and rubbed at sweaty skin as she looked at her surroundings, tried to piece together what had happened. She looked at the plaster face, crude and lumpy. Why had she been wearing it? Panic subsided as she took in the sheets on her overstuffed bed, the frayed curtains, and the simple but sturdy furniture. This was Mama Selma's place. She was safe. How she got here was a mystery, but that old woman had her ways. The mask was likely one of them. She gingerly, poked at her face. It was sore, but didn't have any of the cuts or bruises she'd have expected from last night. Faye put down the mask, gingerly slipped off the bed and onto her feet, opened the door to the room, and slowly walked out. She found Mama in the kitchen, sitting at the table in front of a plate of bacon and eggs, a large smile giving a sort of divine beauty to her wrinkled old face. Two more plates of food were at the table, and Faye felt her stomach grumble. Mama Selma waved her into the room. "Sit and eat, sweetheart," she said. "Glad you got up, should still be warm. Afraid I cook on my own time, even with guests. Old habits die hard, I reckon." "Thanks so much, Mama," Faye said as she took a seat. "Never felt so hungry before in my life." Mama laughed. "I won't judge. You had a rough night. But you're safe now, so eat." Faye did as she was told. She downed the plate, and had started on seconds before she remembered to ask what she was doing here. Mama Selma explained how Leonard had found her beaten nearly to death, returned the favor to Edgar, and carried her to the farmhouse, where Mama had put that mask and a special poultice on Faye's wounds. As she listened, her appetite faded. She wasn't sure how she felt about Edgar, especially not after last night, but she wouldn't wish death on her husband. He was a fool, and a drunk, and could be cruel at times, but she didn't wish death on anyone. "Oh, your Edgar ain't dead, mark my words," Mama Selma said, as if reading Faye's mind. Faye wondered if the old woman really was a witch, like the rumors told. "Leonard tells tall tales, 'specially when he's feeling guilty. Besides, he ain't got murder in him. Your husband just got what was coming, is all." Faye held her tongue. She was Mama's guest, and she wasn't quite ready to defend the man who'd beaten her unconscious, but the old woman sounded almost amused. Gentle or no, Leonard was a big man, and he could definitely kill someone with those heavy fists. But Edgar had to be alive. She wasn't sure if she'd go back to him, but the thought of him being completely gone was horrible. "Is Leonard here? I'd like to hear him tell it," Faye said. "Maybe warn him, too. One way or the other, sheriff's gonna be coming for him." Edgar and the sheriff were close friends, and either her husband was alive to join the hunt, or his death would inspire vengeance. Either way, the farmhand was in serious trouble. She didn't want him getting hurt, whatever he'd done. It was her fault getting Leonard involved in the first place. "Rest easy, I helped him the best I could," Mama Selma said. Her tone had an air of blatant self-satisfaction. "Neither the sheriff nor Edgar's ever going to find him, not if they turn this whole county upside down. About time some good deeds go unpunished." Faye was about to respond when she was interrupted by the sound of creaky footsteps on the stairway, quickly followed by the view of a breathtakingly beautiful young woman stepping daintily into the hall. Even her robe, which was too large and bulged like it had been stretched out of shape, did little to hide the contours of her body. Thick, curly, hair cascaded just past her shoulders, warm brown eyes took in the room with a look of wonder, and a shy smile added a touch of innocence. "Margaret, glad you could join us," Mama Selma said. "Take a seat while breakfast's still warm." The young woman gingerly stepped into the kitchen and sat across from Faye. She seemed unable to meet her gaze, still smiling as her eyes bounced around the room before settling on her plate. She blushed prettily as she started eating. "Margaret, this is Faye, who I told you about," Mama Selma said. Margaret look up, and Faye caught a brief spark of recognition flash across her eyes. She figured the girl had caught a glimpse of her last night. "Faye, this is my youngest grandniece, Margaret." Then Mama Selma leaned over to Faye's ear and spoke in a whisper. "You gotta excuse the poor girl, her parents just died and she's still grievin'. Handlin' it well, but scared, like you'd expect. I'm lookin' after her 'til she finds her feet." Faye nodded, then smiled at Margaret. She was surprised such a gorgeous young woman needed her aunt, hadn't yet found a husband to take care of her, but the girl did seem awfully shy. "Pleased to meet you, Margaret," she said. "Nice to meet you, too," Margaret said. Her voice was like a small bell, light but resonant. "Sorry to be rude, but I'm just takin' it all in. I been... strange lately. Just got here last night. Auntie says I'm tryin' to find myself before I go off to school. Just a few weeks left." "School? Pretty girl like you have no problem finding a husband," Faye said. "No sense making life hard for yourself. Wait too long and even someone so dazzling could end up a spinster." "That's enough, Faye," Mama Selma said. Faye blushed despite herself. The woman had a way of making her feel like a school girl. "Margaret here's a smart girl, and she'd be wasted on the swine that call themselves men around here. She's due to start at St. Bernadette's nursing school in the fall. Girl's gonna make something of herself, make the whole family proud." Margaret turned a deeper red as Mama Selma spoke. "Oh, I ain't that smart. I'm only going 'cause Auntie's been pushing me for years. I mean, I like helping people, so that'll be nice, but I'm still scared I'm not gonna do good." "Child, you need some confidence," Mama Selma said. "This girl's one of the best, nicest people you ever met, and only reason she thinks she's dumb is 'cause people see her and think looks is all she got. Lookin' forward to her showing 'em all wrong." The words only seemed to embarrass Margaret even more. "Thank you, Auntie," she said. Then she tried to change the subject "Ms. Faye, since I'm gonna be here for a while, can you tell me a bit about what's around?" Faye was happy to oblige, both to save Margaret from her doting aunt and to take her mind off her husband. They spent the better part of an hour discussing the nearby town, choosing to focus on its residents rather than its few attractions. At several points Faye saw that spark of recognition in Margaret again, but it never lasted more than a moment. Eventually, Faye felt she had mentioned everyone important, at which point Mama Selma started clearing the plates. "It's been very nice talkin' to you, Ms. Faye, but I gotta get to work," Margaret said. "I lost my luggage on the way here and Auntie's givin' me some've her old clothes, but they gotta get tailored. I'm no good with a needle, so I wanna get a head start." "Oh, don't act so dramatic, sweetheart," Mama Selma said. "I'm buying the girl some new things, she just insists on having a full wardrobe. Figure she could pick up some sewing while she's at it." Such an odd couple, Faye thought to herself. Now that Margaret had started to warm up, she could see the curiosity and kindness of which Mama Selma had bragged, and could tell she'd miss her when she went off to school. But Faye had also seen a seen an empathetic intelligence below that shy demeanor, and had to agree with Mama that she'd do well. "It was wonderful meeting you, Margaret," Faye said. "I'll be sure to stop by regular before you leave." Margaret smiled again, happy and confident this time. "I'd like that," she said as she turned around and strode back upstairs. The remaining women remained silent until she was out of earshot. "That girl is sweetness itself. I can see why you think so highly of her," Faye said. "Still, with a body like that, only a matter of time before she gets some boys fighting. Dunno how she'll handle it, such an innocent little thing." "I ain't worried. Margaret's got a good head on her shoulders, whatever she look or act like," Mama Selma said. She didn't hide the pride and admiration in her face as spoke. "Mark my words, that's a girl with a future." Faye had to admit a tinge of jealousy after watching Margaret sashay away. She was so beautiful, so young, and with so much potential. And here Faye was, no children after a decade spent with a selfish brute of a husband, trapped in a relationship that ran out of love a long, long time ago. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if Edgar were dead. Margaret also inspired hope. The girl had lost so much so recently, and she was going to carry on, do what was best even if it scared her. Maybe it was time Faye considered leaving Edgar once and for all, regardless of what came next. She'd become a pariah, certainly, but with Mama's help she could carry on. It might cost her everything she had, but a fresh start could be worth it.