by Tess Oliver
Bitterroot Crossing
Tess Oliver
This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2010 by Tess Oliver
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by an means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author.
Contact author at: [email protected]
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Chapter 1
The scene in our crummy little kitchen repeated itself every morning as if someone had painted it on canvas. Dad was leaning back in his chair, his open robe exposing the coffee stained t-shirt he’d been wearing for days. No job, no need to shower had become his new motto. Mom was hunched over the kitchen sink peering through the window hoping to get a glimpse of something new or interesting in the neighborhood. For her something interesting could be as stupid as the Stewarts getting a new trash can. And Bobby, my younger brother, was sitting with his chin nearly submerged in his bowl of cereal trying not to be noticed by either ridiculous parent. He didn’t have to try so hard because the second I stepped into the kitchen, my dad’s disapproving scowl found me as the main target of the morning.
Dad’s unshaven double chin wobbled as he shook his head. “I don’t know what I hate the most, Nick, those silver hoops in your ears, that long hair, or that damn tattoo of barbed wire around your arm. You look like a hoodlum.”
“And yet, last time I checked, I’m the only one sitting here who has a job. And who uses the word hoodlum anymore?” My words made him wince, but I was sick of his crap. Lately he had lots of cruel words for all of us. Whether it was about Mom’s weight, or Bobby’s bad skin, or my long hair, it was always said to make him feel better about himself and make us feel shitty. He hadn’t always been like this. Losing his job and not being able to find a new one was turning him into a total jerk.
I walked to the cupboard to get a clean bowl. Mom straightened and smiled. She tucked my hair behind my ear and kissed my cheek.
“Anything exciting happening out there today, Mom?”
Her blue eyes widened. “Nick, haven’t you heard? That poor, young thing from the Sterling place has to start school today. Since her mom died,” she shook her head and clicked her tongue, “social services told her grandma she had to start coming to school. She was home schooled until now.”
“That’s real interesting, Mom.” I sat at the table across from Dad and tried to focus on my cereal so I could avoid making eye contact with him.
“It should be interesting. Your great-great-grandfather was part of the whole tragic love triangle between her great-great-grandma and that bounty hunter, Jack Bridger.” She motioned her head toward the window as if they were standing right outside.
“They say she’s a real freak. Got some hideous deformity,” Bobby said through a mouthful. “Bobby, that’s an awful thing to say.” Mom returned to her window vigil. “Still, it’s hard to say why her mother and grandma have kept her so secluded from the rest of the town. Now it’s going to be even harder for her to adjust.”
Mom pulled herself from the window and sat at the table. “You know when her Great-great-grandma Rebecca was shot by,” she leaned over the table and lowered her voice to a whisper, “Zedekiah Crush”, she sat back now and her voice returned to normal, “they say he didn’t even care if they hung him without a trial. He was so heartbroken, they say he just walked up to the noose and stuck his head through.” She clicked her tongue again, a really annoying habit. “They were both so young, only nineteen. Of course, back in those days, I suppose that was middle aged.”
Dad crumbled up his napkin and threw it on the table. “Why do you whisper his name, foolish woman? Zedekiah hasn’t risen from that swamp in fifteen years. And who is this they you’re constantly talking about. You act like you were there a hundred-fifty years ago when they hung that whole damn Crush Gang.” Dad sneered at Mom. “Come to think of it, you look old enough to have been born last century. Only I don’t think women were so fat back then.” He laughed. Mom lowered her hurt gaze to the table.
I stared at my dad thinking how sweet it would be to throw a punch at him. “At least Mom is not a direct descendant of the most hated guy in town.”
It always brought Dad down a few notches when I reminded him of his family tree. His jaw twitched beneath the gray stubble, so my comment hit the mark.
Bobby’s hand reached forward to grab his glass. He missed and the entire contents of orange juice spilled across the table and added a layer of stains to Dad’s t-shirt. Silence fell over the table. Bobby ducked instinctively as Dad’s hand flew up to smack Bobby across the head. I shot up and stopped his arm midflight. My hand tightened around his wrist as he glared at me. His face grew red but he was speechless. My reflexes were growing fast as lightning. I had no idea what was happening to me, but I wasn’t going to complain. And the whole thing was really starting to scare the crap out of my old man. Reluctantly, I released my hold on him.
He plopped back against the vinyl chair defeated, pissed-off, and more than slightly worried that he’d never be able to lay a hand on any of us again. And I intended to see that he didn’t.
“As usual, it’s been a pleasure.” I got up, dropped my bowl in the sink, grabbed my fedora off the coat hook, and headed out the back door.
Mom opened the screen door and stuck her head out. “Stay away from the swamp, Nick. The sirens have been going off all night.”
I kick started my dirt bike. Tina raced out of her house wearing the tight pink t-shirt I loved. “Wait, Nick.” She crossed the street and ran up the driveway. “Hurry before my dad sees. He hates this motorcycle.” Her lips flew at mine. Then she flung her leg over the seat, threw her arms around my waist, and pressed herself against my back. I turned onto the road and headed to the swamp.
Chapter 2
I finished tying my lace-up boots and returned to the book in my lap.
Nana poked her head into my bedroom. “I fixed a nice lunch for you, Jessie.” She stepped inside. “I put in one of those apple muffins you like so much.” She stared down at me. The lines branching out from her green eyes deepened and her wrinkled face smoothed to a frown. She wrung her freckled hands nervously in her apron. “You look so pretty,” she blurted then broke into sobs.
I laid my book on my bed, walked over to her, and circled my arms around her. “Nana, I’ll be fine. I’m not even nervous.” I released my hug and pointed down at my feet. “And I’m wearing my special boots. No one will notice that my left leg is shorter.” I strolled across the room with the walk I’d practiced all week. Normally, at home, I was barefoot and I moved freely about with my shorter leg not caring how it looked. But at school I intended on blending in as best as I could. Although knowing that a small town like Bitterroot Crossing rarely had a new student show up at school, blending in was probably going to be difficult. “Nana, if I move my arms just right, you can hardly see my limp.”
She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Your limp is not what worries me and you know it.” She came up directly in front of me. The aroma of apples and cinnamon drifted up from her apron as she took hold of my hands. “Promise me you’ll wear the cloak and hood at all times when you’re outside. We don’t need any trouble from the Crush Gang. And Zedekiah . . . .”
I squeezed her fingers in mine. “Zedekiah has not been seen since he chased my parents out of town. And he did not cause Daddy to leave Mom. That he did all on his own. You always said
he was flakier than a buttermilk biscuit. And when Mom came back here, the Crush Gang left her alone for the most part. Besides, Zedekiah doesn’t even know I exist. I’ll be fine.” She opened her mouth to protest, but I stopped her with a palm on her cheek. “I’ll wear the hood, even in the blazing sun. The Crush Gang won’t know I’ve left the farm.”
The expression on her face did not show reassurance. My own words hadn’t really set my mind at ease either. Not only had I inherited my Great-great-grandma Rebecca’s slightly shorter left leg, but my face was nearly identical to hers. And the Crush Gang’s troubles had begun because of that face. Zedekiah Crush had been a notorious outlaw and gunslinger with lightning reflexes. No one could outdraw him. Everyone feared his cruelty, a cold-hearted man who broke hearts in every town and left plenty of dead men in his path. By the age of eighteen, he’d already been widowed twice. He’d left his only son with people he barely knew and plundered every town along the railway. Rumor had it that he killed one of his own gang members because he’d eaten the last piece of pie. Put his empty fork right through the guy’s throat. Of course, that was only a rumor, and this town had a knack for embellishing stories. But one story definitely had truth in it. In Bitterroot Crossing there had been only one person who didn’t fear him, only one person who could reduce Zedekiah Crush to a helpless, stray puppy and that had been my great-great-grandma.
I lifted my gray wool cloak from the hook on the wall. I’d dressed in my favorite sleeveless dress. It was made from ivory cotton and was dotted with tiny purple violets. The fabric had been worn thin and soft from use. It was perfect for such a warm day. Unfortunately, it would not keep me from burning up under the heat of my heavy cloak.
I strolled into the kitchen nonchalantly as if I left home every day. Jasper, our dog, did not even stir from his morning snooze. The kitchen suddenly seemed cozier and more inviting than ever. It was such a familiar, comfortable place and everything I was about to encounter would be so unfamiliar. Still something deep inside of me thrilled at the idea of going out into the world. Aside from the occasional visit to the doctor or dentist, it was a world I’d mostly only read about. And even then, I went out under cloak and hood and only when the town haunts were not active.
Jasper lifted his big snout up for a minute signaling Nana’s arrival. “Maybe we could tell the school you weren’t feeling well today. You could start tomorrow.” Her voiced wavered and she seemed on the brink of sobs again.
“I’ll be back before you know it.” I put my school bag over my shoulder, kissed Nana on the cheek, and pulled the deep hood up over my head.
Mandy, our Belgian mare, was standing in the yard. The horse stood quietly while I climbed onto the fence, slid my dress up to my thighs, and jumped onto her broad back. I grasped a piece of white mane and pushed my boots into her sides. Mandy plodded forward on giant hooves. She would carry me down the dirt road to where the town’s main road caught up to the mountain.
Aside from the usual squirrels darting back and forth and the occasional bird tweeting, the road was quiet and deserted. During early summer it was dotted with the pink and white flowers of bitterroot. But now, in early fall, the June colors had all but disappeared. It was rare for me to venture beyond the fence around the farm, but truthfully, I was excited about the prospect of attending school. Mom had been a fantastic teacher but not interacting with people my own age had left me feeling lonely on occasion.
Through the years, Nana and Mom had grown distrustful of the town. ‘Too much ignorance down below’ Mom would always say. We never talked about it much, but I know it was not just the threat of Zedekiah lurking about that kept me home schooled. I only hoped that I would not stand out too much and they would accept me. Nana had warned me more than once that people could be cruel, but I decided to try my best to fit in. After all, how bad could they be?
Mandy’s ears stood up straight and she picked up a trot, snorting loudly as we passed the primitive road that crisscrossed our path. The surrounding air moistened and the bitterness of it filled my nose and throat. I turned my head and squinted through the trees to the swamp. Two hundred years before, the dirt trail had been used as a corpse road, a road used to convey dead bodies from town to the church graveyard in the next town. Eventually Bitterroot Crossing built its own graveyard, and the road became obsolete. Several years after the road fell out of use, swamp water began bubbling up from the ground beneath the road until it filled a swath of land larger than an acre. The trees surrounding it grew black and their long branches snaked around each other in an unnatural way. The entire area smelled of bitter smoke.
The townspeople had avoided it until the day they hung the Crush Gang. The havoc they’d wreaked had thinned the townsfolk’s patience. After a particularly nasty spell of thievery and plundering along with the death of my great-great-grandma at the hands of their leader, Zedekiah, they’d rounded up the gang and strung them up on makeshift gallows. Their bodies were never given a proper burial. Instead the corpses were paraded through town and dumped unceremoniously into the swamp. At the time, the citizens of Bitterroot had had no idea what their actions would lead to.
Voices and laughter drifted through the maze of long branches between the swamp and the road Mandy trotted down. The loud buzz of motorcycles followed. I could see the red glow of cigarettes. Some of the kids from town were hanging out by the swamp, most likely taunting its inhabitants before school began.
Some say the Crush Gang still haunted the town because they were so evil even hell wouldn’t accept them. Others say it was because they were never given a proper burial so their souls could never rest. But Mom, a true romantic, claimed it was because of love. Zedekiah Crush had been in a constant battle with the town’s lawman, Jack Bridger, not only because of his lawlessness but because they both loved the widow, Rebecca Colton. When Zedekiah pulled a gun on Jack, Rebecca jumped in front of the bullet and was killed by Zedekiah’s own gun. She left behind two broken men and a baby girl, my great-grandma. Mom always said that Zedekiah was stuck between worlds, tormented by what he’d done, and his loyal gang refused to desert him. Now several times a month, Bitterroot Crossing’s sirens sounded the alarm to warn that the gang, Crow, Steamer, Axel and Butcher, had risen from their sludge filled grave to torment the town. No one had died because of the hauntings, at least not since Zedekiah had appeared fifteen years before, sending two elderly citizens to an early death by heart attack. But the gang’s visits left plenty of destruction and frayed nerves.
Mandy and I’d come to the end of the path. I was about to slide off her back and send her back home when the three motorcycles came flying down the path. Two of them skimmed Mandy’s legs as they raced past. The normally steadfast horse skidded sideways nearly dumping me on the side of the road. The boys riding the bikes looked back at me and laughed loudly. The third bike slowed as it neared. I peered down at them from beneath the shade of my hood. The boy coasted past cautiously. He stared up apologetically at me with dark blue eyes. The girl wrapped around his waist had a huge grin. She was pretty with rose-colored lipstick and a long white pony-tail.
Her mouth opened wide along with her eyes as she glanced up at me. “There’s the freak from the Sterling farm,” she said loudly as they rolled past.
Once they were well ahead of me, I leaned forward and gave Mandy a pat on the neck. “Sorry about that, Mandy. It’s just some kids from town.” A lump formed in my throat when I thought about the girl’s words. I slid off of the horse’s back. The mare nuzzled my shoulder. I pulled her nose toward me and kissed the soft end. “Don’t worry about me, girl. After all, how bad can it be?”
Chapter 3
Dylan, Johnny, and Tina were standing beneath the giant oak in front of the school, smoking a joint. The smell of it filled the air, and they took little trouble to hide the thing when Mr. Hammersmith, the principal, stormed out the office door. In fact, Johnny was doubled over in a coughing fit when Hammersmith marched past them and headed toward me.
“Crush, I’ve told you before not to sit on that wall.”
I glanced over at my friends who were laughing behind their screen of pot smoke then looked back at Hammersmith. “Seriously? You raced out of your office to tell me to get off the wall?” I shook my head and slid off.
Obviously feeling triumphant that he had thwarted another one of my fiendish plots, the jerk turned on his heels and returned to the comfort of his office and swivel chair. I hopped back on the wall.
Tina ran over and jumped up next to me. She leaned over and kissed me. “Wait till you see my dress for the dance.” She leaned back on her hands, closed her eyes, and lifted her face toward the warm sunlight. “I will be dazzling.”
I turned and looked at her. She was wearing the usual self-important grin she wore when she was thinking about how pretty she was. Being dazzling was all she ever thought about. It seemed to be her number one goal in life. And even with her turned up nose, spray of freckles, and round blue eyes, her personality dulled the dazzle right off of her.
“My mom said the sirens have been going off all night. There won’t even be a dance Friday if the town’s on lockdown.”
She lifted her head and thumped my arm with her fist. “Don’t say shit like that. You’ll put me in a bad mood for the rest of the day. Just because you hate school dances.”
I shrugged. “I’m just sayin’.”
“Well, stop sayin’. I swear Nick Crush, sometimes you are the biggest downer.” She dropped down from the wall. Something on the road caught her attention. “No way, the freak is actually showing up to school.” She giggled and ran over to Dylan and Johnny.
I squinted up the road. The girl we’d seen on the horse was walking slowly toward campus. There was an odd hitch in her walk and even though the early fall air was heating up quickly, she was still wearing the heavy cloak and hood.