Our Time Is Now
Page 10
The question was met with a long, drawn-out pause.
“Not around here,” Hoyt finally answered in a surprisingly sober tone of voice. “We’ve had at least two dozen calls in the past week.”
Hearing that, Jessica wondered what sort of mass delusion had taken hold of the local populace.
“And while I know that you don’t think this is newsworthy, there hasn’t been a Draygan sighting since 1939,” Hoyt continued. “Word on the street is that Draygan’s probably been holed up in a local cave, in hibernation for the last seventy-five years.”
Jessica rolled her eyes at hearing “word on the street,” knowing that probably meant gossip from a couple of old geezers hanging out at Fedder’s Barbershop.
Although she diligently scribbled the details, Jessica nonetheless protested the assignment. “I was kinda hoping you wouldn’t give me any more human interest pieces. My new job title, in case you’ve forgotten, is investigative reporter.”
“To get the ball rolling, I’ve compiled a list of people who claim to have seen Draygan,” Hoyt said, completely ignoring her last two remarks. “I want you to interview ’em and find out what it is that people think they’re seeing.”
Resigned to her fate, Jessica’s shoulders slumped dejectedly. “I’ll get right on the horny-tailed, flying dragon story.”
“Who said Draygan could fly? I don’t recall saying that.”
Stymied, Jessica said, “Well, I just assumed that being a dragon, it could—” At hearing a deep-throated chuckle on the other end of the phone, she stopped in mid-sentence. “That’s right. Laugh it up, Hoyt. Your name won’t be on the byline, will it?”
“Have the story on my desk by Monday morning. And try to keep your DC cynicism to a minimum. You know there isn’t a dragon out there, and I know there isn’t one, but more than a few folks in Greenbrier County are of a different opinion. Folks who happen to subscribe to The Greenbrier Dispatch. Do you copy?”
“Loud and clear, boss. Don’t offend the paying customers.”
“That’s right. I’ll shoot you an e-mail with that list of names,” Hoyt said before he disconnected.
Thinking there were times when being low woman on the Dispatch totem pole could bite the big one, Jessica slipped her Smartphone into the front pocket of her cargo pants. Because her daily schedule had just become more hectic, she hurriedly finished dressing and rushed downstairs to the kitchen.
Several minutes later, after gobbling a breakfast bar and putting down kibble and clean water for Buster, she stepped through the back door.
As she stood on the stoop, Jessica let the autumn sunshine wash over her, bathing her face in its warmth. With an appreciative sigh, her gaze swept across the panoramic vista. Not only was Highland House situated atop a knoll that overlooked acres of rolling hills, bordered by the high mountain ridge in the distance, but the fall foliage was at its peak. Oaks and maples created a veritable mob scene of color: livid reds, bombastic oranges, and lusty yellows.
“I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anything quite so lovely,” she murmured, taking a last gander before she made her way toward the brick carriage house that was situated at the end of the pebbled drive.
Poking her head through the open double doors, Jessica was surprised to find Gideon bent over a long plank of lumber, using a handsaw to cut through the thick board. Since he evidently hadn’t seen her enter, she tapped him on the shoulder. The hairs on the back of her neck immediately stood on end when she touched him.
Putting down the saw, Gideon turned around and greeted her with a polite nod of the head. “I thought that I’d repair the floor boards on the front porch as they are in a sad state of disrepair.”
Even though she was tickled pink to have Gideon undertake a job that was beyond her skill set, she nevertheless said, “Should you be exerting yourself like this? That was a doozy of a headache you suffered last night.”
“I have fully recovered from my unfortunate spell,” Gideon said. Turning slightly, he set the handsaw on a nearby workbench. “And I am pleased to be of service to you. In light of all that you have done for me, it is the least that I can do to repay your kindness.”
“In that case, I’ve got a circular saw which will make the job go a whole lot quicker,” she told him.
Gideon raised a quizzical brow. “A circular saw?”
“As in vroom, vroom. You know, power tools.” She could see that the words didn’t register one iota of recognition with him. “Okay, I’ll play along with you, Gideon. But only because I need the porch fixed.” Stepping around him, Jessica grabbed the circular saw, plugging it into the wall socket above the workbench. “Watch closely as I am about to demonstrate how to correctly operate a power-driven saw.” As she spoke, Jessica donned a pair of transparent safety goggles. “You simply push this black button and… Voilà!”
In a matter of seconds, the thick board was neatly cut, and the smell of sawdust lay thick in the air. Gideon reached over to take the circular saw from her. The awestruck look on his face said it all—the man was totally bowled over by what he’d just witnessed. Pushing the on button, his eyes widened as he watched the blade spin in dizzying fast revolutions.
“Careful! That’s not a toy,” she cautioned. “You don’t want to end up being a nine-fingered carpenter.”
“As for the rest of these power tools—” Gideon gestured to the collection of Black & Decker tools neatly stored on the shelf above the workbench—“would you be so kind as to show me how to operate them?”
“Gladly. How about I give you a full tutorial after lunch?”
“I look forward to the lesson.” As he spoke, Gideon bent slightly at the waist. Given that he was attired in denim jeans and a T-shirt, with bits of sawdust clinging to his hair, the courtly gesture was oddly anachronistic.
As were a great many things about Gideon MacAllister.
“If you, um, ever need someone to talk to, I want you to know that I’m available,” she said, on the off chance that he might want to discuss last night’s strange incident.
Gideon cocked his head to one side, clearly baffled. “We are conversing now, are we not?”
“I meant that if you have anything that… that might be troubling you, I’m a pretty good listener. And you know what they say about confession being good for the soul.”
“That is most kind. However I do not wish to encumber you with such matters,” Gideon said stiffly. Circular saw in hand, he turned toward the workbench.
As she stared at his broad back, Jessica mentally kicked herself, worried that she’d come on too strong. For all that they were the brawnier sex, men could be ultra-sensitive when it came to their “feelings.”
Hearing a car engine, Jessica excused herself and hurriedly made her way toward the front of the house. To her surprise, a fire-engine red Dodge pickup truck, with a horse trailer hitched to the back of it, had just pulled up. Even more to her surprise, Darlene Malone, owner and operator of A Cut Above—a hair, nail and, of all things, tarot card-reading salon—stepped out of the vehicle.
Because of an excessive amount of blond hair, not to mention other excesses more anatomical in nature, Darlene was frequently likened to a young Dolly Parton. The buxom beautician took this comparison as the greatest of compliments. Since Jessica occasionally had her hair trimmed at the salon, she had a passing acquaintance with Darlene. However, this was the first time that Darlene had ever been to Highland House.
“I brought a pot of chicken soup,” Darlene announced. “For that sick man of yours.”
Dumbfounded, Jessica’s jaw slackened. “Gee, thanks,” she mumbled as Darlene gave her custody of the soup pot. “But he’s not my man. He’s simply a man. In fact, he’s my new tenant. And just how did you learn about Gideon?”
“I found out from my girlfriend Lou Ann who works part-time at the Walmart pharmacy counter. She mentioned in passing that you were there yesterday to get his medicine.”
“What a relief to know that the grapevi
ne is operating so smoothly,” Jessica deadpanned, annoyed that she and Gideon had been the object of local gossip.
Just then, the man in question came into view, carrying several freshly sawed floorboards on his right shoulder.
Eyes opening wide, Darlene ogled Gideon as he headed toward the front porch. “Honey, if I had a man who looked like that living in my house and he was paying me rent, I’d swear I had died and gone straight to heaven.”
Desperate to change the subject, Jessica decided to take advantage of the fact that Darlene Malone was the local high priestess of the occult. “What, if anything, do you know about Draygan? I’ve been assigned to do a story for The Dispatch, and I need some background information before I conduct my interviews.”
If Darlene was surprised by the sudden change in topic, she gave no indication. “I know that Mother Maebelle used to talk a lot about Draygan.”
“ ‘Mother Maebelle? Who is she?’ ”
“Maebelle Malone was my granny. And like me, she was a conjure woman. In fact, most of the women in my family, going back as far as anyone can remember, have been conjure women,” Darlene elaborated, clearly proud of her bona fides.
Jessica shifted the heavy pot of soup onto her hip. “A ‘conjure woman’? I’m not familiar with that term.”
“That’s a woman who has the gift of second sight.” As she spoke, Darlene opened her purse and removed a compact and tube of lipstick. “Folks used to come from miles around to have Mother Maebelle toss out the bones and read their fortunes.”
“Did Mother Maebelle ever see this so-called dragon?” Jessica next inquired, thinking the information interesting, but not anything that she could use for the article.
“Only from a distance,” Darlene informed her. “That was back in ’39, during the last Reckoning. Mother Maebelle claimed to have seen Draygan flying over Bobbitt’s Knob one night during the full moon.”
“What exactly do you mean by a ‘reckoning’?” Jessica asked, the word sounding to her as if it were loaded with dire implications.
Opening the mirrored compact and holding it near her face, Darlene meticulously applied a fresh coat of red lipstick. “Whenever Draygan shows up, folks around here call it the Reckoning, on account of the fact that death and destruction follow in the beast’s wake.”
Amused, Jessica couldn’t help but chuckle. Like most fairytale creatures, the mythical Draygan probably got blamed for everything from colicky babies to sick cattle.
“The last time that Draygan appeared, back in 1939, the Greenbrier River flooded, killing a total of fifty people. And the time before that, back in 1864, not only did the Yankees come through and burn all the crops, but there was a smallpox epidemic,” Darlene said as she pulled a tissue out of her purse and blotted her lips. “And during the 1789 Reckoning, the Shawnee Indians attacked the frontier settlement at Tilden’s Run, slaughtering every man, woman, and child in sight. As you can well imagine, folks are bracing themselves for what’s going to happen this time around.”
Although Jessica didn’t believe for one instant that the calamitous events just cited had anything to do with a flying dragon, it suddenly occurred to her that she might be able to put a historical spin on the local folktale.
“Thanks Darlene, you’ve given me a lot to work with. I should be able to access The Dispatch archives and pull the stories pertaining to the 1939 flood.”
“I can do you one better than that. If you want to talk to someone who came face to face with Draygan back in ’39, head on out to Gooseneck Holler and speak to John Henry Burdette. He was just a boy at the time, but he lived to tell the tale.”
“I’ll be sure to add Mr. Burdette to my interview list.” Jessica gave Darlene a grateful smile, the woman proving to be a font of information.
“Be forewarned: John Henry keeps a loaded shotgun at the ready. So you might want to take him a peace offering,” Darlene advised in an uncharacteristically serious tone of voice. “As I recall, he likes banana moon pies and cinnamon-flavored Skoal. And he’d probably welcome a case of RC Cola.” Then, chortling softly, Darlene said, “If nothing else, you could use it to shield yourself from the buckshot.”
“Very funny,” Jessica muttered, thinking that she was most definitely going to have to talk to Hoyt about collecting some hazard pay. She didn’t make enough money to get shot at by some backwoods hillbilly.
“Hey there, good looking!” Darlene suddenly called out as she enthusiastically waved at Gideon, who was in the process of prying a rotted floorboard from the front porch. “How about coming over here and joining us ladies?” Lowering her voice, Darlene said out of the corner of her mouth, “It’s not often we get an eligible bachelor around these parts. What exactly does Gideon do for a living?”
“Actually, he just got out of the military,” Jessica hedged. “So he’s, um, in between jobs right now.”
As Gideon approached, Jessica noticed the interested look in his eyes as he caught sight of the horse inside Darlene’s trailer.
“Darlene Malone, I’d like you to meet my new tenant, Gideon MacAllister,” Jessica said, making the obligatory introduction. “Darlene was kind enough to bring you a pot of chicken soup.”
“That’s most kind of you, Miss Malone,” Gideon said with a cordial nod of the head. “And I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Darlene smiled, dimples appearing at the corners of her mouth. “Likewise, Mr. MacAllister. Hey, I just got hit with a great idea: why don’t the four of us meet up at McGuff’s later tonight?”
Admittedly baffled, Jessica said, “The four of us? But there’s only three of us standing here.”
“In that case, I guess we’ll have to ask my brother J.W. to join the party,” Darlene said with a sly wink.
Inwardly groaning, Jessica hoped to head the other woman off at the pass. “If you must know, I don’t date very often and—”
“Honey, I understand,” Darlene said with a commiserating nod. “It can be tough hitting the dating scene. I don’t like to admit it, but I hit a six-month dry spell between husbands number two and three. And it darned near drove me crazy. As far as I’m concerned, living alone is for the birds.”
“Who technically live in flocks,” Jessica pointed out.
“I know that,” Darlene countered with a good-natured laugh. Then, casting Gideon a sidelong glance, she said, “What do you say, big guy? Are you up for having a little fun this evening?”
“I would welcome the opportunity,” Gideon replied, quick to accept the invitation.
“Then it’s a date!” Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Darlene gestured to the horse trailer. “While I hate to cut my visit short, I need to take Blaze over to Mitch Wilkerson’s place. He’s agreed to board him until I can scrounge together enough money to put in a new pasture fence. Although given what Mitch is charging, you’d think he had 14-carat-gold grass growing in those fields of his.”
Turning his head, Gideon stared admiringly at Darlene’s trailer. “Your horse puts me in mind of the stallion that I took with me when I first went away to the University of Virginia. Nicodemus also had a white blaze on his forehead.”
“You know, my property is fenced. You could board Blaze at Highland House for free,” Jessica impetuously offered: one, because she suspected Gideon would enjoy caring for the horse; and two, she hoped to prevent him from blurting anything about the buggy that had been hitched to his stallion.
“Honey, you are too kind.” Reaching over, Darlene affectionately squeezed her arm. Then, turning toward Gideon, she winked and said, “Hey, cowboy, how about helping me unload my horse?”
“I would be only too happy to assist you, Miss Malone.”
None too pleased about the upcoming “date night,” Jessica watched Darlene and Gideon troop off together. “A rowdy roadhouse, beer on tap, and a man who claims to be from the nineteenth century,” she muttered under her breath. “What could possibly go wrong?”
Chapter 13
“Now that
’s what I call a taste of Milwaukee’s finest!” J.W. Malone exclaimed, wiping a ribbon of white foam from his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Milwaukee? Do you mean to say that the proprietor of McGuff’s can actually secure beer from such a great distance without it spoiling?”
Hearing the incredulous tone in Gideon’s voice, Jessica gulped down another swig of ice-cold beer. Just as she’d feared, it was proving to be a very weird night.
J.W. nudged her with his elbow. “Gideon is a real joker, isn’t he?”
“You could say that,” Jessica responded with a strained smile. On the other side of the table, Gideon, seated next to Darlene, was clearly oblivious to the fact that he’d said something off-key.
As she tapped her fingers in time to the Blake Shelton song that blared from the sound system, Jessica peered around the smoke-filled tavern. Having worn a vintage maxi-dress that she’d recently purchased at the local consignment shop, she definitely looked out of place amidst the predominantly denim-clad clientele. Darlene, on the other hand, took top fashion prize for the evening in her skin-tight, denim mini-skirt and fringed leather vest. And though her brother J.W. didn’t have the same flair for fashion, he’d doused himself with enough Old Spice to ensure that he would stand out in any crowd.
Secretly, Jessica wished that she was sitting on the other side of the booth next to Gideon. Hands down, he was the best-looking man in the joint. Like every other male at McGuff’s, he wore blue jeans, but rather than the bold patterned shirts favored by most of the male patrons, he wore a white linen shirt and a dark gray vest—cleaned up remnants from his “Confederate” uniform. Dangling between his vest pocket and a button hole was a gold watch fob.
Beer pitcher in hand, J.W. reached across the table to top off Gideon’s half-empty mug. “My sister tells me that you just got out of the military. What branch were you in?”
Nodding his thanks for the refill, Gideon said, “I served in the 8th Virginia Cavalry.”
The remark made Jessica instantly jerk to attention. Scrunching her brows together, she silently pleaded with Gideon to put a damper on it.