by Sable Hunter
“What?” Easy sounded confused as he turned off the ranch property onto a parish road. “She’s just your garden variety psychic, I suppose.” He didn’t really understand psychic powers, but he always figured some people were born that way – with a little something extra.
“Yes and no. I’m sure being psychic has a lot to do with their ability to read cards and palms. But they’re also known for their ability to heal with herbs and…other ways. In South Louisiana, these people are called traiteurs. Creole faith healers. They mix religion and knowledge of local herbs and plants to help people with aches and pains. This is a longstanding tradition, dating back to the time when doctors and hospitals were a rare commodity.”
“I’ve never heard the word traiteur. Very much like a shaman, I guess.” Easy glanced at Jed. “My father held those beliefs. I grew up with them, took them for granted, I guess. I can remember him going out into the wild and gathering herbs and plants for our home use.” He smiled at the memory. “He’d always leave a small bead on the ground for thanks. I can remember helping him gather yellow dock, a leafy green plant with a long yellow tap root. Mother would cook it like spinach and dad would take the root and boil it. We’d have to drink this yellow dock tea to keep regular. Mercy, I didn’t like that stuff. I’d rather eat prunes!” Easy laughed, remembering how he and his brothers had balked at drinking the concoction. “He’d also make a salve from the juices of the stem mixed with beeswax. Mother said she used yellow dock for everything from diaper rash when we were little, to an acne cream when we hit puberty.”
“Sounds about the same, if you ask me. I guess there’s similarities in healing practices across the board, from culture to culture. Modern medicine isn’t all man-made remedies, a lot of the miracle drugs are just rediscoveries of methods and ingredients used long ago.”
“Yea. Jewel’s house is like an old timey drug store. She has cabinets full of herbs and oils. Bundles and bundles of dried plants and herbs hang from her rafters. So, I guess you’re right about them being traiteurs.”
“There are also other names for those type of folks. Rootworker. Conjurer.”
Easy listened closely, his mind assimilating what Jed was saying and comparing it to everything he’d experienced with Jewel. “A rootworker refers to someone who heals with roots and plants, I get that – but a conjurer is something different.”
“Right,” Jed agreed. “In these parts, a conjurer can mean anything from someone who summons the dead, to someone who works magic.”
“Huh. As a religious man, do you believe in ghosts?” Easy knew he could be setting himself up for ridicule, but since the topic had come up…
Jed gazed out his window, settling himself in his seat before answering. “There’s a lot of wiggle room in religion concerning that topic. The Holy Spirit, or what your people would call the Great Spirit, is just the tip of the iceberg. Most fundamentalist Christians don’t believe in your garden variety ghost.”
“Why not?”
“Well, they think scripture teaches that when a person dies, he goes to heaven or hell. There’s no delay time. When you bite the bullet.” He clapped his hands. “Bam! You’re walking the golden streets or you’re shaking hands with the devil. To believe in human spirits roaming the earth, you’d have to let go of that theory. So, Christians tend to either not believe in ghosts at all…or they think all activity of that sort is demonic.”
Easy slowed down to turn onto the main highway toward Thibodaux. “My people’s beliefs are all about the ancestors. We acknowledge them, ask them for guidance.” Easy chuckled. “I never really thought of them as spirits or ghosts, more as memories. Although, we’ve had these eerie lights on our property for decades. We live in the shadow of Packsaddle Mountain near Kingsland, TX. That’s about an hour northwest of Austin. Many times, we’ve seen this dancing orbs of light up on the mountain.”
“Ghost lights. Foxfire. Will-o’-the-wisp. Fue follet.” Jed leaned in, obviously interested in the topic. “There’s many different beliefs about what those lights could be.”
“Yea, Benjen, my brother, has a definite idea about them. He believes they are protective spirits.”
“He might be right. A warning. A guide. You never know.” He pointed across the field toward the north. “The strangest thing I ever saw happened to me not too far from here, up in Ascension Parish.”
“What was that?” Easy found himself clutching the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.
“I interviewed for a job at a big oil refinery south of Baton Rouge. After the meeting, I visited a high school friend of mine near Burnside. Afterward, I headed back north toward Interstate 10, a road that would take me near to the refinery where I’d had my interview earlier in the day.” He checked his watch, as if delaying what he was about to say for a few seconds. “These big oil and chemical companies buy thousands of acres of land and they’ll put the refinery right in the middle, leaving the acres on the perimeter to provide a buffer between the plant and the surrounding area. For safety’s sake. For privacy. Security. Who knows? Anyway, it was about dusk when I was passing by these fields – some planted with crops, others just grass covered. At first, I saw nothing more than I expected to see – just Louisiana landscape. And then, I noticed I could see people hoeing, toiling, some carrying large sacks across their shoulders. Initially, they were just hazy figures in the fields – and then, I noticed some individuals closer to the road. I slowed down. I didn’t want to hit anyone.”
As Jed spoke, Easy cut his speed. He was too fascinated by what he was hearing to be traveling so fast.
“At one point, some were close enough I could see they were dressed in rags. Some were in chains. As I stared, I noticed I could see through them. They seemed to be substantial – but translucent.” Jed shook his head. “I was enthralled. Afraid, yes. But also fascinated. I slowed my truck to a crawl…until one man dashed from the others and pounded on the hood of my truck, screaming silently to me as I watched him through the windshield.”
“Shit, man. What did you do?”
Jed barked out a laugh. “I hit the gas and gunned right through him. Every instinct told me he was a ghost, but I did stop and walk back to make sure I hadn’t hurt anyone.”
“That’s crazy.” Made his chess playing partner seem relatively harmless. “Of course, he probably didn’t mean you any harm.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Jed agreed. “I’m fairly certain he was looking for help.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve looked into this thing, a little. Some events leave a stain on time or a place.”
“Like a piece of video tape stuck in a loop?”
“Yea, I guess so.” Jed stared out the window, narrowing his eyes as he gazed at something in the distance. “Funny thing, though. Right after that, archaeologists working for the oil company found that those same fields contained over a thousand graves. Slaves buried from the surrounding plantations.”
“Why would an archaeologist be working for an oil company?”
“Well, the same thing Philip is doing at Belle Chasse. He wants to use the land for profitable purposes, but as an archaeologist, he also wants to make sure nothing of historical value is harmed in the process. Oil companies take a lot of flak for damaging the environment and digging in places where they might destroy our links to the past. They don’t hire these guys because of their concern, they hire them to save themselves legal and PR grief. I’m sure every archaeologist who gets a paycheck from an entity like an oil company knows their employer hopes they never find anything of merit. In Philip’s situation, he owns Belle Chasse, so his interest is genuine. He wants to preserve anything resting below the surface and also bring his family’s home back to life. Anyway, since then, the refinery put up special markers in commemoration of the slaves who were buried in those fields.
“Maybe that laid them to rest, you think?” Easy asked, then quickly added. “You’ll have to remind me to avoid that place, for sure.”
This made Je
d laugh a little more. “I’m not sure if they’re gone or not. Anyway, you can safely say I’m not exactly a skeptic. I’ve seen the unexplainable.”
“I have too, I think,” Easy confessed with a bit of hesitation.
“What do you mean?”
“I think Witch Hazel’s house is haunted.”
“Well, I’d be surprised if it wasn’t.” Jed’s mouth fell open as his mind jumped from point A to what he considered point B. “Are you living in the same house as Jewel Baptiste?”
“No. No,” Easy was quick to correct Jed’s assumption. “I’m renting Witch Hazel’s house. She moved to Florida and left it empty. Jewel lives in the house next door, the one closest to the bayou. She says it belonged to her father, Frank Baptiste, I think was his name. Although, I’m not sure why her parents kept separate houses. We haven’t got that far along in our relationship for me to ask that kind of question yet.”
“Oh, you’re in a relationship?” Jed was all ears. “I didn’t think you did relationships.”
“Well…I don’t…” Easy hemmed and hawed while Jed chuckled.
“Tell me about the haunting, Romeo.”
In the midst of his confusion, Easy was glad to change the subject. “The day I moved in, I thought I saw someone through the window. When I checked everything out, there was no one in the house. Later that night, I heard all kind of unexplained noises and footsteps. When I confronted Jewel about it, she told me I was right. She said the house was haunted by a man name Cotton Briggs who’d drowned years ago attempting to rescue some kids.”
“Sounds like a nice guy.”
“Yea, I guess.” Easy grinned. “She came over to the house and introduced me to Cotton.” His voice dropped an octave. “That’s when I had my moment like yours at the refinery.”
“What happened?”
Easy tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel, letting up on the gas as they came into town. “Cotton, or something…appeared.”
“What did it look like?” Jed seemed fascinated. “Like what I described to you?”
“Maybe. A little. What I saw was made more of light than shadows, a pulsing light with a rainbow of colors. The figure did appear to be human.”
“Wow. What did you do?”
“I challenged Jewel, accused her of performing some sort of parlor trick.”
“Damn.” Jed rubbed the scruff on his chin. “That wasn’t smart. You’re still walking around and you still have all your hair – I’m surprised.”
“We made up.”
Another laugh from Jed. “Are you sleeping with Witch Hazel’s daughter?”
“No.” Not yet. “We’re friends.”
“Oh, I’ve heard that before.” Jed shook his head, clearly amused. “I think your supernatural experience turned into a battle of the sexes. Frankly, I’m not sure which is scarier.”
“I’m not sure either,” Easy smiled and agreed. “There’s one more thing, though. Last night, I set up a chessboard to teach myself the game. This morning, there was a move on the board that I didn’t make.”
“Huh.” Jed grew serious. “This could be a neat experiment. Why don’t you put up a night vision camera, see what you get?”
“Well, I guess I could,” Easy said as he put on the blinker to turn into the farm equipment store.
“Yea, when you stop to shop for the surveillance camera, you can buy the other one at the same time.”
“Sounds fine.” Easy cut the engine and followed Jed as they left the truck and moved toward a large metal building. Outside, behind a hurricane fence, dozens of huge pieces of machinery sat, all painted the same bright Kelly green.
Removing his list from his pocket, Easy glanced at it. “You know, it’s a good thing the McCoys are made of money. This is going to be a tall order.”
“Not going to be cheap, that’s for sure,” Jed agreed.
As they sauntered up to the double glass doors, Easy noticed a newspaper vending machine. “Hey, I didn’t know they even made those anymore.”
“Yep, the Daily Comet, still available in print.”
As they drew near, Jed fished some money from his front pocket. “Hey, did you see the headlines?”
“No.” Easy had been too focused on the old-fashioned coin operated box itself. “What does it say?”
Jed held out the paper so Easy could see.
Local Woman Murdered
And underneath, in smaller print…Body found at Belle Chasse Plantation.
“It’s not just what it says,” Jed tapped the paper. “Look at the picture.”
Easy’s eyes widened when he saw himself, Jed, and Philip standing next to one of the police officers. The covered body of the woman lay to one side in the foreground of the photo. At that moment, he realized he hadn’t called his brothers or even told Jewel about the murder. When he’d arrived home, stopping the attack on Jewel and comforting her afterward had taken centerstage. “Hell, I guess I’d better make some calls in case this gets picked up on the newswire. We look like a damn line-up.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jewel wiped her hands, admiring the rows of old jars and antique bottles all full of tinctures she’d prepared from the dried flowers and herbs. Using the broom Easy had used to tease her, she swept up the refuse into a dust pan and carried it to the front porch to dump over the side into one of the flower beds. Upon her return, she paused to step down a couple of the stairs and pick up the newspaper that had been delivered earlier in the morning.
Heading back inside, she padded to the kitchen to pour her second cup of coffee for the day. Pulling out a dining table chair with her foot, she sat down to spread out the newspaper.
“Oh, my God.” The headline grabbed her attention immediately, squeezing her gut like a vise. She didn’t need to read the details to know this was the woman she’d seen assaulted and murdered in her vision the day Willie Mae Hill brought her husband’s undershirt to her reading. This was the woman who’d been violated in such an obscene and horrific manner.
“What the…?”
On the heels of one revelation, fell another. To the right of the article was a photograph of the crime scene. In that photograph were several somber looking men – and one of them was Easy Blackhawk. Shifting in her seat, Jewel began to read the article, discovering the name of the victim – Julie Davis – and the fact that her body had been discovered at Belle Chasse by the men in the photograph. “Why didn’t he mention this to me?”
As soon as she spoke the questioning words, Jewel knew the answer. He’d been too busy dealing with her crisis to worry about his own. Forgetting the coffee, she read the rest of the article – then read it all again. Deep inside of her, she began to feel a shaking begin. Bowing her head, Jewel thanked God she hadn’t mentioned the vision to Willie Mae. She still had no assurance Everett was behind this death, but she knew he was involved – one way or the other.
Jewel tapped her fingers on the table nervously, her eyes staring ahead unfocused. “What do I do? Go to the police?” Just the thought brought a sneering laugh to her lips. “And tell them what? I saw a vision?” The cops would laugh her out of the courthouse. Oh, one or two might believe her – but they’d never admit it in a thousand years. Her public reputation was shot to hell. Her word, no matter how well-meaning or even how deeply based in fact, would mean absolutely nothing. “No, I won’t be volunteering any information to the police.” Not at this point, anyway.
Standing to her feet, Jewel abandoned the paper, and moved to one of the ornate bookshelves. Going on tiptoe, she took down a carved wooden box. With almost reverent care, she opened the lid and removed an amethyst pendulum on a gold chain. From the bottom of the box, she lifted a folded, soft as butter piece of deerskin. Taking the two items in hand, she walked to the table and spread the skin out flat. For a moment, she studied it – the letters and numbers on the surface were faded but still discernible. This handmade, antique pendulum board belonged to her great-grandmother. “Okay, let’s see what we can fi
nd out.”
Taking a seat, Jewel took the pendulum in hand to charge it. Holding the jewel tightly in her palm, she imbued it with her will, calling forth the power of the universe to become one with the stone. Once she felt the connection, she held it in her hand over the leather, letting the natural movements cease until it became totally still. Without taking another breath, Jewel posed a question to the pendulum. “Was Everett Hill involved in the murder of Julie Davis?”
For four long seconds, the purple stone remained immobile. Then, gradually, the chain began to swing, and the amethyst began a slow spin. As Jewel watched, entranced, the movements changed to a back and forth motion, an arc growing wider and wider. The angle and direction changed minutely until a pattern stabilized – taking the pendulum directly to the word YES – repeatedly.
Jewel didn’t speak, this was merely confirmation, not a revelation.
Reaching out, she grasped the jewel, taking it in her palm once more. She felt helpless. Alone. She needed someone to talk to, to confide in. With a sigh, she bowed her head. The only name who came to mind was – Easy.
Ring! Ring!
The unexpected sound of the phone caused her to start. Jumping up, she found the receiver, answering it with a breathless, “Yes?”
“Miz Jewel, this is Irma. Do you have a minute?”
Jewel slumped with relief. She didn’t know who she was expecting the call to be from. One of the Hill brothers calling to say they knew she knew their secret?
“Irma.” She let out a relieved breath. “How are you?” As she caught her breath, realization that the woman must have received results of her tests dawned on Jewel. “What did the doctor say?”
Irma let out her own breath, it sounded a bit shakier than Jewel’s version. “I do have cancer.”
“Oh, Irma, I’m so sorry.” This wasn’t anything but what Jewel was expecting. “Tell me everything.” She made her way to the couch and sat down on the edge, as if relaxing would be ill mannered.
“Well, it’s in my stomach.” Her voice cracked into a sad laugh. “Isn’t that a hoot? Fat woman with stomach cancer. I guess I deserved it.”