An athletic horsewoman, she leapt from the steed’s back the moment it pulled up before the tavern, hitching her mare to the provided post with practiced flair. Standing before the general store next door, young Tommy Hanes stabbed a seven-year-old finger at the interloper. “Mommy! Mommy, look! That bad woman is back! Look, Mommy...” “Hush! Tommy, no!” Desperately clamping a hand over her precocious son’s mouth, Mrs. Hanes, eight months pregnant with her fourth child, smiled weakly at the witch. “My Lady, I’m so sorry! Please forgive my son. He doesn’t know what he’s saying!” Hands still on the bridle, the young woman paused, contemplating the boy. “Did your son say that I was a bad woman?” “No! I mean, yes...but...” Tommy’s mother stammered. “Please, he’s my son!” In her early 20's, the sorceress was dressed in tight blue jeans and a low-cut white blouse. Around her neck hung a delicate chain attached to a round silver pendant centered by a pulsing green stone.
