The Tramp (The Bound Chronicles #1)

by Sarah Wathen

  “I can find it,” John said, not entirely certain that he could. But the unfamiliar trail was not what was setting his nerves on edge. That kid in the car looked more passed out than asleep; and John didn’t like the way Candy’s uncle smiled with his mouth but not his eyes. Creepy. He thought about saying something, but only managed to return Candy’s own soft, “Bye.”

  John watched her walk away, her cut-off jean shorts still damp and muddy in the rump, and her coppery braids twisting down her back, trailing blue flowers with every step. She got into the cab next to her “sleeping” cousin, pinned between him and that Uncle Creepy, and waved from behind a filthy window. Her uncle slammed his door, avoiding John’s gaze. Then, the ratty truck spun its wheels hard, and they peeled away off the grassy shoulder, tires squealing on the asphalt. John gasped and trotted over to the road to see them racing away in a cloud of dust.

  “No…”

  He sprinted home, his feet pounding the packed earth and his lungs choking on their exit.

  §

  “I’m sure,” he told his grandmother, “Candy called him ‘Uncle Brian’.”

  “John says it was Brian, not Pat, that picked her up,” Grandma Pearl insisted into the phone receiver. She had been in the middle of making their usual Sunday dinner with Aunt Beth when John burst through the door. Dinner sat forgotten on the stove. “Yes, Sheriff—that’s right. Candace Vale, little Candy. She must be about seven...”

  John’s aunt patted his hand and pushed the glass of juice towards him once more, urging, “Honey, you need to drink this. You need to calm down.”

  John was sure they put Benadryl in the juice to make him sleepy, but he wasn’t having it. He arrived on the scene huffing and puffing, after sprinting for over a mile, but he was not in a panic. He needed to know what was happening in that nasty old truck; with that man with the oily smile. He needed to know that Candy was safe and he had a queasy feeling in his gut that she was not. His report of the strange episode had been greeted with blanched expressions from both his grandmother and his aunt. When his Uncle Dan, who had been chatting in the den with Grandpa, heard what they were talking about he raced out the door and jumped into his jeep, rambling on his cell phone. John’s cousins were loitering in the side rooms and hallways, lurking around corners and eavesdropping.

  “So, you said Brian told her that you couldn’t come with them? That Candy’s mom told him to come?” Beth wrung her hands under the table. “No, that doesn’t sound right…” She trailed off, beseeching her mother with her eyes.

  “No,” Grandma Pearl snapped. “Damnit, I know for a fact that no one in that family has seen or heard from Brian McBride in over two years. He is dead to them.”

  part one:

  moving on &

  holding back

  chapter one

  “We’re lost.”

  Shannon strained her eyes to peer down the winding mountain road. The trees were dense and she could only see a few yards in front of her as they rounded each bend—bushy Fraser firs, towering oaks and wide-leafed maples. Blood red and dazzling orange maple leaves would be the crowning glory of an autumn drive, but in summer bugs swarmed the sticky air and dense trees were suffocating. The road was two-lane, but narrowed as they progressed. Their rented Dodge Durango smoothed out the curves and inside the cab it was quiet. Not like Shannon’s roiling gut. Her composure wrenched away with each turn, her fingers biting the seat cushion. But at least they were finally descending.

  “We’re lost, aren’t we?” She looked at the side of her husband’s clean-shaven face, daring him to take his eyes off the road again.

  “You’re sure this isn’t on the map?”

  “Kevin. We left the map at the cabin. Remember? You said the GPS would be fine.”

  “Well, what does the GPS say?”

  “It says the road is under construction and to turn back, that we’re lost.”

  “Come on, the GPS didn’t say that,” he chuckled. He was calm while her nervousness rose like bile, threatening to spew forth. She hoped he got plenty of splatter when it did. “Shan, this is the best part of a vacation, finding all those less traveled nooks and crannies. This is where the real people live, not like the campgrounds or furnished log cabins. If you want to really know a place, you have to get lost now and then. Not that we’re lost.”

  “Kevin, come on.”

  “Let’s play the alphabet game again,” said Maddie, their youngest, nestled in the back seat. She fought her seatbelt to tuck her legs under her bottom, the better to bounce in anticipation.

  “Maddie honey, there aren’t any road signs to play that game.” Shannon had become increasingly alarmed about the lack of signage for the last several miles. Leave it to the kids to highlight her fear with the game that had been driving her crazy for two days.

  “Mommy, are you okay?” Madison was a sensitive child, and honed in on her mother’s mood like she had a PhD in Stressed Out Bitch, so Shannon always had to be careful to keep her cool.

  God, I wish I had a glass of Cabernet in my hand right now. “Mommy’s okay, sweetie.” She reached back and squeezed her daughter’s knee. “Daddy’s right, it is fun to explore new places.”

  “Oh, Shan. Look at this.” Finally out of the stifling forest, the ridge opened up on one side to reveal a beautiful valley below. Patchwork fields of kelly green, wheaty gold, and bright buggy-lime; woven together with the hard lines of black asphalt highway and concrete thru-streets. The bucolic pattern was stitched through with the lace of white gravel parking lots and tree-lined streets, dotted with brick, stone and wooden dwellings. It was a village, nestled in a valley and hidden from view—until that moment. Her mood sky-rocketed and she rolled down her window, hoping to catch the scent of flowers, or maybe the call of a bird.

  “Wow. It’s absolutely perfect, babe,” she sighed. “How could this not have been in the travel book? Look—a sunflower field.”

  Kevin stroked his chin. “I told you. You just have to get off the beaten path to find the jewels.”

  “Hands back on the wheel please.” She allowed a smile, but they weren’t on level earth yet.

  Nearing the valley floor, Shannon got a clearer view of the land and she gazed around solemnly, watching the mountains rise up on either side. Soaring summits encircled them; their jutting baldness stark compared to the lushness at their feet. The channel of parceled lowlands was long and narrow, lying between two parallel mountain chains; the mountains were stone behemoths, separated like the ancient arms of some half-buried giant that had fallen, clasping his hands overhead in unanswered prayer.

  “Okay. You were right, oh sage, and noble patriarch. Never will I doubt you again.” Shannon laughed and replaced her sunglasses, shaking her hair out into the fresh air.

  “Uh, Mom. You’re blowing all the pages around back here. Close the window.”

  “Hey, young man. Don’t take that tone with your mother.”

  Shannon rolled up her window anyway. At least he was communicating. Her teenage son had been sulky for most of the trip and it was wearing on everyone. He had made a techno-nest for himself in the wayback, surrounded by pillows, snacks, comics, and his iPad and headphones. He missed most if not all the scenic drives.

  “Thanks, I could smell the cow patties all the way back here.” Like most of Braden’s conversation those days, his words dripped with sarcasm.

  “Brady, please.”

  “What’s a cow patty?” Maddie asked, her chipper voice in stark contrast to her brother’s affected gloom.

  “It’s cow shi—”

  “Braden!”

  “Pottymouth! Mommy, that’s a pottymouth!”

  “Yes, it is, Maddie. Thank you. Son, you better add a quarter to the jar.”

  Braden whined. “It’s not a pottymouth if I’m talking about the real thing, Mom. I mean that’s a noun, not an expletive. Right,
Dad?”

  Something about that made Shannon smile inside; he wasn’t as grown up as he liked to pretend. Oh, we all just need to relax and stretch our legs outside.

  “You can say ‘poo-poo’,” Maddie offered.

  “Big kids don’t say ‘poo-poo,’ stupid,” her brother explained, waxing didactic. “You won’t understand until you’re my age.”

  Fourteen is so ancient, son. Shannon repressed her smirk, keeping her voice even with an effort, “No name calling, please.”

  “If you feel inclined towards the scientific, Brady, just say feces. Not the other.” Kevin smothered his own amusement and risked a conspiratorial glance at his wife.

  “Well, feces then. See, Maddie? All those brown patches out there in the cow fields are feces,” said Braden, jabbing a finger at the passing turds.

  “Ew, gross.”

  “It’s just natural, you two.” Shannon knew their side trip into the country town could go awry any second. “What happens when you eat, huh? Cows have to eat, too. And when they do, sooner or later, they defecate.”

  “Yeah, and then we eat them,” her son quipped.

  Shannon could have slapped him. She held her breath, watching her daughter’s face in the rearview mirror, waiting for the inevitable next questions from her sensitive six-year-old.

  “Cows?” Maddie’s eyes opened wide, with both wonderment and horror; focused on the peaceful giants slipping past her window and chewing their cud.

  Shannon sensed her husband’s foot growing heavier on the gas.

  But Braden was on a roll, “Well, where do you think burgers come from? Meatballs, hotdogs—although lots of hotdogs are pigs.”

  Shannon twisted around to give her son a warning look, and felt a pang of regret, seeing the new knowledge settle onto her daughter’s features. No questions yet; she gazed out the window in silence, but Shannon bit her lip to see a tear sliding down her daughter’s baby-plump cheek. In the end, they were obliged to stop the car, and approach the fence, so that Madison could apologize to the cows for having eaten their brothers and sisters and mommies and daddies. Braden said something under his breath about all cows not being so closely related, and Shannon felt her insides clench with the effort to keep her cool. She knelt beside her daughter, and hugged her, explaining that those cows there were likely dairy cows: “See how there are only a few, and all of them are mommies? They’re lucky to have such a wonderful green pasture and fresh grass to eat.” When a member of the herd grew curious, and drew near to the fence, the whole Derrington family got the willies—they were so huge up close—and instinctively headed for the car in unison.

  After a few more minutes drive, they neared the heart of the valley and approached what looked like a town square atop an enormous hill. Shannon exhaled with relief. She was glad for a bit more civilization and hoped for something to eat. The more meatless, fake and packaged, the better. Three sides of the square were enclosed by brick, and trees abounded, but she could see stores and maybe a restaurant.

  “This looks pretty neat, but it feels like we’re looking at the back of everything.” Kevin absently checked his gas level and range.

  Shannon pointed to a break in the enclosure. “Keep on driving around, I think the road turns uphill there.”

  “Aha, there we go…”

  A narrow steep avenue veered off the main road. Shannon saw with dread that they were headed up into more dense wood. She preferred the open sunlit valley much more than the endless switchback mountain roads that had crowded her vacation. As their path darkened under the heavy canopy of leaves once again, she realized she had felt safer in the open valley, bathed in sunlight. Her hands gripped the seat as the big SUV engine powered up the incline. Without warning, the trees cleared and the road leveled off. To the side was a small gravel parking lot.

  “Let’s check it out,” said Kevin, squeezing her leg in comfort. Brady made a barfing noise from the wayback, always disgusted by parental fondling of any kind.

  “Please, let’s just stop.” Shannon struggled to swallow the biting reply that threatened issuance as surely as the contents of her stomach. They were near the summit, she was sure of it, but the lot looked like a safer alternative and gave them a chance to get their bearings. She could see that the road ended a couple hundred yards away at a tall ornamental gate with a “No Trespassing” sign. A sizable house lay beyond, mostly hidden by trees.

  Kevin had his pick of half-a-dozen parking spaces, and he slowed the car to a gratifying stop. They faced a low brick wall with a little wrought iron door. On the other side, there was tree-lined path that led to a bricked courtyard. Shannon craned her neck and saw a dazzlingly blue open sky through the trees. If there was a god, he had earned her gratitude. She hoped there were antique shops or a place to find a few good souvenirs. There wasn’t much in the way of shopping at their rented cabin and Shannon was dying for some money-spending fun to take the edge off. “Cool guys, let’s check it out.”

  “Agreed. I’m up for an adventure. How about you, kids?” Kevin shut off the engine and got out, whether the kids were up for it or not.

  “Is there food?”

  “Well, we’ll never know until we explore, Brady.”

  “I’m starving, Dad.”

  Without turning back, “There probably is food, Son. Let’s look around.” More resistant to Braden’s barbs than Shannon, he ignored the whining and headed for the entrance to the square. “Hmph. Buffalo Square, Est. 1927. Neat, guys.”

  Shannon tried to mimic his confidence until she heard her son comment on his hunger for a fat, juicy hamburger, and Madison started to mewl. “Nobody’s getting a hamburger—not today. Maddie I think I see a fountain.”

  Shannon held out her hand to her daughter, turned a cold shoulder to Braden, and the two girls caught up with Daddy at the gate.

  “There is a fountain. Let’s make a wish, Mommy!”

  “Okay, and guess what…” Shannon saved a secret cache of travel surprises in her purse, for trying moments, and the occasion seemed worthy. “I have a special wishing coin, just for you, just for this very special fountain that we found in this secret place. Come on, I’ll show you when we get there.”

  The courtyard was tiered to accommodate the steep grade of the hill; Shannon fought the urge to shout a warning, as Madison skipped over to the fountain in the center of the square and perched on the concrete seats that ringed the fountain.

  “Here you go, my special girl.”

  Madison gasped at the shine of the silver dollar when her mother placed it in her palm. The thing cost over twenty bucks online, but it was worth it to see the look on her daughter’s face. “So, do you think it’s maybe a secret fountain?”

  “I think it must be. It’s so quiet up here, and see how the trees are so thick around us? I bet there are elves in those trees and they use those branches as their whisper network.” Shannon noticed with a sinking heart that the fountain was dry. To head off disappointment, she pointed up, “Look, did you see that? A yellow fairy.”

  “I see it! Yellow means friendship—she’s a friendly fairy, Mommy.”

  The “fairy” was a yellow butterfly. Yet, what was more magical than a butterfly appearing right when you needed one? “Okay, so make a wish and make it a good one.”

  Her eyes scanned the square for her son. Braden was headed for a bronze buffalo that stood in deep shade, guarding an imposing building in the style of a French manor house. The building was cloistered in a tangled nest of ancient oaks so deep and dark the back of it disappeared in shadowy, clinging green and brown. A monotonous drone of locusts pressed down around her, the waves of noise so thick and wet she could almost feel its weight on her back.

  Braden squatted down, dwarfed next to the buffalo statue. “I guess it’s called Buffalo Square because of this.”

  Kevin snapped a picture.

  Already
bored with the buffalo effigy, Braden stood back up and wrinkled his nose. “It smells funny here.”

  “Oh son, that’s nature. Fresh country air.”

  “Doesn’t smell very fresh to me. It smells like something rotting.”

  “Old places tend to have a little more mildew here and there, Brady.” Kevin draped an arm over his son’s shoulder and walked him around the edge of the courtyard, gesturing around them and speaking in low tones. A gentle attitude adjustment. Shannon wondered how one of her children could be such a ray of light and the other such a wet blanket. She shrugged inwardly and followed their progress around the square. There were several Victorian houses converted to storefronts; their present state only hinting at their former splendor: a bait and tackle store, a bookshop, an inn, and a small post office—all empty and dark from the looks of it. Closed.

  Something in the gutter in front of the bookstore caught her eye.

  “Huh, what’s that?”

  Leaving Madison to count the multitude of coins already thrown into the fountain, Shannon walked closer to investigate what turned out to be an abandoned doll lying face down. It slumped over the curb with its head and neck scrunched against the pavement. She felt an urge to help the poor little thing. She loved old-fashioned dolls and that one was the kind of china doll that her grandmother used to make. It had porcelain hands and feet, with black-painted Mary Jane shoes, and its tufted eyelet dress and pinafore looked handmade. She picked it up, turning the doll over to look at its face.

  She dropped it with a start. “Oh my god.”

  The doll’s forehead was broken, most of its delicate face gone, and someone had stuffed the hollow porcelain head with ground meat. The meat had begun to rot and was seething with maggots. The doll lay on the ground staring up at her with one lolling eye, the putrid meat spilling out onto the sidewalk like ruined toy brains. The maggots roiled, in panic, worming into the blood-encrusted plastic hair. Shannon clapped a hand to her mouth, then realized she had touched the vile thing and shook out her hands with a groan.