There was precedent for it, Coral knew—a female bartender at Forest Trees in Pass o’ the River, and there had been another at Glencove, up the coast in Tavares, until she had died of the pox. So do we pass the ghosts that haunt us later in our lives; they sit undramatically by the roadside like poor beggars, and we see them only from the corners of our eyes, if we see them at all. It wasn’t even dirty yet. If it’s right, thank him.
Roland could not quite swear that a small sound—a womanly hmmpf, perhaps—had come from his other side. And what sort of letter could Rhea be sending Cordelia Delgado, anyway? Sheemie thought back to the day he’d seen sai Delgado’s face all covered with cobwebbies, and shivered. her father saying ka was like a wind—when it came it might take your chickens, your house, your barn. Why? I don’t know.
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