“We figured it was a mix of lore and truth,” Cooper offered as he positioned Hannah between his legs and massaged her tense shoulders. She was invested in the story, although he couldn’t figure out why ... other than the obvious.
“Clement wasn’t some benign father,” Abigail explained. “He wasn’t some magical man who could make crops grow in terrain where they had no business growing.”
“We figured the wife did that.”
“Josette? She did. She’s not a victim in this either, though. I have to warn you about that.”
“I didn’t realize there was supposed to be a victim.” Cooper dug into Hannah’s tense muscles and gave them a hard rub. “Baby, you need to unclench a little bit. You’re going to be sore if you don’t at least try to relax.”
“I’m going to be sore regardless from climbing that hill,” Hannah muttered. “I’m fine. I want to hear the story. Stop interrupting.”
He hiked an eyebrow at Abigail’s amused expression. “I’m sorry, Ms. Hickok.”
She let loose a frustrated hiss. “No, I’m sorry. I just ... I need to hear this.”
Because he recognized she was telling the truth, he nodded and went back to massaging her back. “I’ll be quiet. Lay it on us, Abigail.”
“I don’t know that what I’m going to tell you is that different from what you think you already know,” the ghost offered. “The story is largely the same, and yet the details are what’s important, and those tiny details are vastly different.
“First off, Josette was a woman of color in New Orleans, but she wasn’t a slave,” she continued. “She was a Creole woman of Haitian descent who had her finger in several different magical pies in the city. She was a healer and the people of the city went to her when they needed remedies for relatives who weren’t recovering under normal circumstances.
“When she started, Josette helped the poor because the rich people in New Orleans wouldn’t go to a black woman. Josette was half-white, her father a business baron of some sort, but it didn’t matter. Her skin was extremely light so she could pass in certain circles, but when people found out she was trying to pass, things got ugly.
“Because she was fed up with being treated so terribly by her own people — she was half white after all — she started seeking out richer clients. She had to work her way throughout the various groups in the city, healing more and more people, until word began to spread. Ultimately, there was a rich property owner who had a sick daughter she was willing to do anything to protect, and she sought Josette out.”
Abigail leaned forward, her eyes on fire. “Here’s where the story starts getting interesting ... at least for the first time. Rumor has it that this woman’s daughter came down with a rare illness out of the blue. Nobody knew what it was, but the girl had issues breathing, and although she’d always been hardy before the illness, she was turning frail. The mother had already lost her husband and two sons. The daughter was all she had left and she was willing to do anything.
“She called Josette to her house and allowed her to diagnose her daughter,” she continued. “Josette said she’d been taken over by an evil spirit and it would take strong magic to remove the spirit ... and save the girl. The mother agreed to pay because she didn’t care about the money, only the child, and Josette had the girl drink a potion and then proceeded to chant for twelve straight hours.”
Hannah’s eyebrows drew together. “So ... she was basically doing an exorcism.”
“In theory, but that’s not what it was. You see, the girl wasn’t sick as much as poisoned. Josette was friends with the house slave and paid the woman to poison the child. This all came out years later in court when the house slave was tried and convicted. Anyway, the potion Josette gave the girl flushed her system and she chanted to keep attention on her as the poison slowly left the girl’s system. At the end of the twelve hours, while the girl wasn’t completely back to normal, she was well on her way.”
“That’s sneaky,” Cooper muttered. “It’s also smart, though. In those times Josette couldn’t elevate herself in society without help.”
Abigail bobbed her head. “And she got it from one of the richest women in the city. After that, when the woman exalted Josette at every turn, she started getting business nonstop. Before it was all said and done, Josette had her own huge house in the richest part of town and she was accepted by those who had ignored her before.”
“The rich people,” Cooper surmised.
“No, the white people,” Abigail corrected. “Hanging with the rich was certainly a boon but to get any sort of status — at least to Josette’s mind — she needed to be seen as white.”
“That’s a really sad commentary,” Hannah mused.
“It is,” Abigail agreed. “For three years, Josette wowed the rich in New Orleans. She lost a few patients but helped many more. It’s possible she poisoned some of those patients herself to get the accolades of course, but that’s neither here nor there.
“Josette ran into trouble when a rich fur trader crossed her path and decided he had to have her,” she continued. “His name was Clement Creed, and he recognized her for what she was.”
“A witch,” Hannah volunteered.
Abigail grinned at her. “Witch is probably not the right word. Josette practiced a variety of religions. She was magical, though, which is exactly what he was looking for. He pursued her, but she wanted nothing to do with him. She knew his life was on the road and didn’t want to leave New Orleans.
“Keep in mind that the city wasn’t even close to what it is now,” she explained. “The city in colonial times was mostly made up of deported slaves, trappers, and gold hunters. There
