B.J. stood up and brushed the grass and leaves from her jeans. “I had a talk with your vanishing man, Wooter Crenshaw.”
Sonny grinned his gratitude. “Man, that’s a relief! I sure figured I was seeing a ghost or something. But this guy is real, huh?”
“He’s real all right, but he didn’t tell me much. He seems to think he knows where Cluney is, but he wouldn’t give me a clue. Wherever she is, he said I couldn’t go there. But if there’s another moonbow tonight, he plans to try to find her. Go figure, eh?”
“Does this guy’s elevator stop at all the floors?”
B.J. shook her head and laughed. “I’m not sure he even has an elevator. He’s one weird old dude. Seems harmless, though.”
“And you’re figuring on staying here till after dark to see what happens, aren’t you?”
B.J. gave a brisk nod. “You bet I am! I don’t have any idea what’s going on around here, but I mean to find out. Cluney’s the best friend I’ve ever had and I won’t rest easy till she’s back, safe and sound. She’s not the type to just take off on some crazy whim.”
“Well, I hope she does turn up—and soon.” Ranger Taylor seemed distracted suddenly. He glanced all around, then turned back to B.J., frowning. “Hey, you haven’t seen an old sorry-looking hound around here, have you?”
“No. You missing your dog?”
Sonny laughed. “He’s not mine, he just thinks he is. He took up with me a few days back. Every afternoon when I come to work, he lopes over, begging for a handout. I brought him a steak bone today—figured he’d go crazy over it. Now he’s nowhere around.”
B.J. thought for a minute, then said, “You know, I’m sure I heard a hound baying at the moon last night. Maybe he figured the pickings were better on the other side of the moonbow or maybe he followed Cluney, wherever she disappeared to.”
“He’ll turn up,” Sonny assured himself. “Always does. Come to think of it, I know where he sleeps. Want to walk over there with me and have a look? It’s not far.”
“Sure,” B.J. said. “Why not?”
Sonny led the way past the gift shop and the ranger station, then into the woods and over a rise. Beyond a copse of trees lay a clearing in the forest with a mound of earth in the center and charred bricks scattered around.
“I never saw this place before,” B.J. said.
“Then you never walked over this far from the gorge, ’cause it’s been here right along.”
“What was it?” B.J. asked. “Somebody’s house?”
“That’s what they say,” he answered. “I’ve heard tell that back during the Civil War a preacher and his wife lived here and took in wounded soldiers. There were some mineral springs nearby and the water was supposed to be real healthy.” He pointed across the clearing to an old iron fence. “That’s the burying ground, where Preacher Renfro and his wife laid the ones to rest that were beyond their help.”
“Wow!” B.J. exclaimed. “I’m a nut for old graveyards. Can we take a look?”
“Sure. Follow me. It’s quite a sight—Union and Confederate soldiers lying side by side. I guess their taking in Yanks and Rebs is what caused the Renfros to leave the area finally. There were some harsh feelings toward them from both sides before the war was over. When the house burned, no one could ever say for sure whether it was by accident or what.”
Rhododendrons flamed pink and scarlet in the deep shadows between the graves. Rough slabs of rock had been carved crudely to give names, dates, and where the soldiers were from. Maine, Georgia, New York, South Carolina, and all points, north and south. Perhaps twenty graves dotted the overgrown enclosure.
“Hey?” Sonny called out suddenly.
“What’s wrong?” B.J. asked, sure that something was by the sound of his voice and the dark look on his face.
“We must have had some vandals up here. There’s a marker missing. I remember it just as plain as can be because he was the only one from Kentucky buried up here.”
“But why would anyone steal a grave marker?” B.J. shuddered at the thought.
“Beats me, but it’s gone. And it was right here just yesterday. ‘Major Hunter Breckinridge, Lexington, Kentucky.’“
“Say what?” B.J. gasped. “Hunter Breckinridge?”
“Yep, that was his name all right.”
“I know him!” B.J. cried.
When Sonny looked at her real hard, she stammered, “Well … I mean, I know about him. My friend, Cluney, found his diary hidden away in the college library. She got a real fixation about the guy. He lost his wife during the war. She didn’t die, she just disappeared. Cluney’s spent all her free time lately trying to find out what happened to both of them, but she didn’t have much luck.”
“Then she’s probably the one who swiped his tombstone.”
“Cluney?” B.J. scowled at the big ranger. “She’d never do such a thing!”
“Wait … a … minute!” Sonny edged between the graves, trying not to step on any sleeping soldiers. “Something’s not right about this. Damned if I can figure it.”
“What is it?” B.J. hurried over to stand beside Sonny.
“Man, this is so weird!” he whispered. “It’s not just the stone that’s gone, the whole damn grave is missing.”
“What do you mean?” B.J. cocked her head and looked up at him. His suntanned face had gone pale—the color of ashes.
“You see there,” he said, pointing. “That’s Captain Van Dyke from New York and right beside him now is Private McClenny from Florida. Well, Major Breckinridge used to lie right between the two of them. But you see, now there’s no space. Van Dyke and McClenny are slap side by side, like there never was another grave between them.”
B.J. rubbed the goose bumps that had just risen on her arms. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, I am! Why, I’ve been here a hundred times or more. I even recorded all the names and dates and where they were from, hoping I might be able to contact some of these fellows’ descendants. I’ll show you my chart back at the office, if you want.”
“I believe you,” B.J. said. “But how do you explain this?”
Sonny Taylor took off his hat and scratched his head. He gave a deep sigh, then said, “I can’t! No way!”
“Let’s get out of here, okay?” B.J. was already heading for the broken-down fence. “This place is giving me the creeps.”
Ranger Taylor wasn’t far behind her. He’d heard of some mighty strange things happening around Cumberland Falls, but this beat everything.
When they reached the clearing and the mound that had once been the Renfro lodge, B.J. stopped suddenly. The place felt cold to her, as if she’d just stepped into a freezer locker. She tried to move, but found she couldn’t.
“Hey, Sonny, I think this place is haunted. It’s grave-cold,” she called out with false bravado. “You better come over here. Quick!”
He laughed. “You must be standing over the crack.”
“The what?”
“There’s kind of a seam in the earth somewhere around here. Cold air comes up from the caves down below, or that’s what I’ve been told. Even on the hottest day, you can be sweating up a storm, then you hit that crack and all of a sudden you got air-conditioning up your pant leg.”
“Man, is that a relief! I thought the buggers had me for sure.”
Once her fear dissolved, B.J. found she could move again. She glanced at the ground to see if she could see any sign of a crack, but only the mound of century-old debris lay around her. Something gleamed in the sun. She reached down.
“Hey, look, it’s an old medicine bottle.” Scattering more of the earth with the toe of her boot, she spied something else and picked it up. “A piece of crockery with a fancy transfer design,” she said.
“There’s bound to be all kinds of old junk in that pile,” Sonny pointed out. “The Renfros were still living here when the place burned down. Everything they owned went up in the blaze. They were luck
y to get out alive, I’ve heard tell.”
“Did they have cans of Mace back then?” B.J. asked, eyeing a shining canister a few feet away. “Hey, that’s just like the ones Cluney and I carry. Our instructor in a class we took for self-protection sold them to us.” She picked the can up and frowned, feeling an uneasy tingle along her spine. “Yes, it’s exactly like the one I have in my purse right now.”
“Hey, in that case, remind me to keep my distance,” Sonny joked.
B.J. continued turning over bricks and kicking away weathered fragments of charred wood until the glint of silver caught her eye.
“Hey, Sonny! Wasn’t there supposed to have been a silver mine under the falls?”
He laughed. “Some guy spread that tale around in the eighteen-fifties, trying to sell land up here, but nobody ever found any silver that I know of.”
“Well, I just found some!”
B.J. dropped to her hands and knees, digging at the gleam in the dirt. When she pulled the thing free, she gave a sharp cry.
“What is it?” Sonny called.
“Oh, my God! Oh, no! And there’s blood on it!”
He was beside her instantly. “Let me see. What did you find?”
B.J.’s hand trembled as she held up the necklace, then her whole body began shaking uncontrollably.
“This belongs to Cluney,” she whispered. “Her moonstone necklace. She always wore it. And, look! The stone is all smeared with blood.” She pointed to the canister, lying where she’d dropped it. “And that’s her Mace. Somebody attacked her on this very spot. She tried to protect herself, but it looks like she failed. Oh, dear God … Cluney!”
“Heaven help her!” Ranger Taylor groaned. “Looks like she might’ve been kidnapped. I’d better call Sheriff Elrod.”
After finding Cluney’s necklace, B.J. was more determined than ever to remain at Cumberland Falls until the moon rose.
“Why don’t you go on home?” Sonny begged. “I’ll keep an eye on our old guy.”
“No!” B.J. was adamant. “If Wooter does take off for parts unknown, I need to be here to follow him. It wouldn’t do any good for you to follow him. I know Cluney; you don’t. Besides, now that Sheriff Elrod’s men are searching again, I can’t leave the park anyway. They’re bound to find something. I’d go crazy if I was way down the mountain, waiting all alone.”
So B.J. set up watch in the ranger’s office, fortified with hot coffee and pleasant company. There was one thing about Ranger Sonny Taylor—he sure was a talker.
“Were you raised around here, B.J.?” Dire circumstances had put them on a first-name basis.
“Nope. Born and raised on the French Broad River in Tennessee.”
“That’s pretty country. How come you left there to come to the coal-mining section of Kentucky?” he wanted to know.
They were both in his office, keeping a sharp eye on the falls even as they chatted. It was dark. The moon was on the rise. But so far Wooter Crenshaw had yet to put in an appearance.
“I don’t know exactly why I came; I just know I had to come. It’s funny, but I never did feel like Tennessee was the right place for me. And there was something about Kentucky … well, I just couldn’t stay away. I’ve had this feeling all my life that I’d find myself in these mountains. It’s like there’s some secret here that I could never discover anywhere else on earth.”
“Like Kentucky, do you?” He gave her a big grin and handed her a donut.
She smiled back and accepted his chocolate-glazed offering. “I guess you could say that.”
“You married?”
“Nope,” she answered. “Never even close.” She laughed. “Maybe that’s the secret I’m supposed to discover in Kentucky—how to find and hold a fellow.”
“You know the kind you want?”
“Oh, sure! I could practically draw you a picture of him.” She tapped her temple with one finger. “I’ve got him right up here, even though I’ve never seen him. Seems like I was born knowing what he’ll look like and how it’ll be between us.”
Sonny stretched and gave a big yawn. “Well, you’re one up on me. I been married and divorced twice already. Looks like I never know what I want. I just know what I don’t want, after it’s too late and I’m stuck with it.”
Suddenly, B.J. sprang to her feet and peered out the window. “Hey, looka there! It’s Wooter pulling into the parking lot.”
“You sure?”
“He’s the only one around here I know of that has COFFINS painted in three-foot letters on the side of his wagon. I’m going to sneak out there and keep an eye on him.”
Sonny rose, too, and looked out. “Okay, but you be real careful, now. If anything happens, you holler.”
She turned and gave him a wink. “You can bet on it!”
B.J. eased out and went around the side of the building so Wooter wouldn’t spot her in the lights. Lurking in the shadows, she watched him urge his mules closer toward the edge of the gorge, near the spot where she and Cluney had been the night before. She followed, but at a safe distance to avoid detection.
Wooter sang a toneless song to himself as he climbed off his wagon and headed down the stone steps. He had no flashlight, nor did B.J. She wondered how he could maneuver so well in the dark. She was having her share of problems—stumbling over loose rocks and tripping on roots. The moon was out, but not high enough yet to be of much help.
Then it happened! Just as B.J. reached the head of the stone staircase that led down to the overlook, a bright glow shimmered over the falls. She looked down and saw that Wooter was now standing in the middle of the brilliant light. He turned and glanced up at her.
“Go back!” he warned.
“No! I’m coming with you!” she cried.
Taking advantage of the light that now blazed around Wooter’s form, B.J. hurried down the stairs, slipping and sliding on the damp, mossy stone. Suddenly, a brilliant flash blinded her. She cried out and threw a hand over her eyes. The next thing she knew, her foot slipped and she was bounding down the stairs, tumbling head over heels.
She screamed, flinging her arms out, trying to grab hold of something to stop her fall. But it was no use.
Wooter’s face flashed before her, then Cluney’s face, then everything went black.
The next B.J. knew, she was back inside the ranger station. Sonny Taylor was bending over her, holding a damp cloth to her forehead.
“Don’t try to move,” he cautioned. “Something may be broken. I’ve called an ambulance. You just lie easy till they get here.”
“Sonny,” she whispered through bruised lips, “I saw her. I saw Cluney. She’s out there, just like Wooter said. He found her and he’s brought her back. I saw her!”
“Take it easy now,” Sonny soothed. “I don’t know what you saw, but old Wooter’s left us again, wagon and all. I followed you out there, scared of what might happen. I saw him down on the ledge a second before you took your tumble. But when I got down to you, he was gone—vanished!”
B.J. closed her eyes and moaned.
It was nearly dark that evening and Cluney had almost recovered from her episode earlier that afternoon when the unexpected visitor arrived. She was still shaken, but was trying to hide it. So far, her bearded attacker hadn’t returned to the lodge. She’d asked Mary a few guarded questions about the man and found out he was a Reb from Alabama named Jeb Smith, who’d wandered up one day dazed and belligerent, but with a wound in his leg that needed tending. So Mary had taken him in and nursed him along with the others.
“He’s all mended now,” Mary had told Cluney, “except in the head. Crazy as a bedbug, he is, all the time talking about some woman that leaped over the falls. I don’t know why he keeps hanging around here. Looks like he’d go on his way. I reckon he’s just hiding out from the war. Most of these boys don’t look forward to going back. To tell you the truth, I figure he deserted and he can’t go back.”
Cluney confided i
n Mary that she thought he might have changed his mind quite suddenly about leaving. She only hoped she was right.
The two women were folding bandages by the fire in the main room when Mary cocked her head and asked, “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Cluney asked. “All I hear is Free outside splitting wood.”
“I’m going out and have a look-see.”
Mary walked over to the front door and peered out, then gave a glad cry as she ran into the yard.
“Well, bless my soul! Look who’s coming up the mountain. And bringing a wagonload of supplies. If he ain’t a welcome sight. I declare, if I had to eat one more squirrel, I’d go to burying nuts and jumping through the treetops. Free, run over yonder and unhitch them mules for him.”
“Yes, ma’am, Miz Mary.”
Her mind on other matters, Cluney listened only distractedly to Mary’s voice as she welcomed their gift-bearing visitor. Cluney had to agree, though, that something other than squirrel would be most welcome on the menu. Hunter would be pleased, too. Maybe she’d fix the two of them a little candlelight supper. Yes, that would be nice, she decided. If only she had a bottle of wine…
Just then the door banged open. Mary ushered her visitor into the room.
“Cluney, look who’s come. It’s my friend from Baldy Rock. Wooter Crenshaw! And he’s as welcome a sight as I ever saw.” She gave the old man a squeeze. “Bless my soul, if you don’t show up ever’ time when I’m just about at my wit’s end and the larder’s down to rat droppings.”
Cluney spun around—eyes wide, mouth open. There before her stood the little old coffin-maker, a jug of moonshine in his hand, which he gave to Mary Renfro.
“Thank the Lord, you brought more medicine!” she cried. “We been needin’ it bad.”
“Wooter?” Cluney could hardly believe her eyes.
He touched the brim of his battered straw hat, smiled real wide, and said, “How do, little girl?” just as if this were any normal day when his sign was out and Cluney had stopped by his place for a chat.
Once Upon Forever Page 17