Canal Days Calamity

by Jamie M. Blair

  Good gravy, why did I let that freshman spring break girl inside my head talk me into this? This had to be Mia’s influence in my life. I was channeling a teenager’s ability to reason.

  Lightning struck too close for comfort, sending up sparks from a stand of trees about thirty yards away.

  Canal Days and Elaina’s polka dots hadn’t killed me, but Arnie or Mother Nature might.

  The path curved to the left and opened up into a wide stretch of field. Straight ahead sat a red barn. Sue was nowhere in sight.

  Arnie sped around the barn to the front, where a pair of doors stood open. I could barely make out another person moving around inside. Someone tall. A man.

  The four-wheeler stopped and so did my heart. The man inside was Avery Bantum. Something inside me was telling me to run and run fast. Maybe it was that freshman college girl who got me into this, shouting, Get out of here, Cameron! These two men together were double the trouble.

  Arnie stood and swung his leg over the seat, getting off the four-wheeler. Instinct took over, and even though I’d never driven one before, I slid forward, turned the key, and twisted the hand throttle.

  The knobby tires jumped off the ground and the thing leapt forward like a wild cat. I barely hung on. Behind me, Arnie was yelling for me to stop.

  The wind raced by and rain lashed my face. I couldn’t see very far ahead and my eyes were blinking like a turn signal on the fritz. I hit a divot in the ground and the ATV lurched to the left, sending half of me off of the seat. I struggled to right myself and kept going. How could anybody think this was fun?

  The open field narrowed and trees encroached from the right. I followed narrowing land, not slowing a bit to let them catch up. Avery had gotten himself to that barn somehow, and for all I knew, they were on my tail on another ATV or riding a tractor or in a truck.

  Keeping the throttle twisted, I soldiered on, wondering where I’d end up. Where was Butch’s house on this property? Where was Sue?

  Without warning, the ground dropped out from under me and I was flying through the air. Good gravy! I’d been at the top of a hill and hadn’t known it until I shot off of it at top speed. How was I going to land this thing without breaking my neck?

  Every muscle in my body constricted, hanging on for dear life. I was dropping down fast, the ground rising to crush me. I let out a whimper of fear, the best I could do while holding my breath, and closed my eyes. I made several quick promises—if I made it through this I’d never eat another cookie, I’d never get frustrated with Mia, I’d never … Oh who was I kidding? I couldn’t keep those promises.

  I landed with a teeth-rattling thud. The lumpy tires bounced a few times, jolting me off the seat. My hand still gripped the accelerator, holding on for all I was worth and thus sending me speeding downhill. My brain couldn’t catch up with my body to tell it what to do, like slow down!

  At the bottom of the hill, there was a fenced area with rickety wooden stands, like bleachers. Inside was an oval track. For all the world it looked like a peewee football field. Why would Butch have a peewee football field on his farm?

  I got closer and finally pried my fingers from the throttle, eventually coming to a stop. I’d never been so eager to get off of something in my life, not even the time I let Monica talk me into riding the biggest roller coaster at Cedar Point. Although, that was a close second.

  I walked up to the fence surrounding the track. It was flooded and muddy. Another low fence ran along the inside of the track. At the far end before the turn sat a low row of gates, like those I saw at the horse racing track, but these were smaller, closer to the ground. A horse would never fit behind or between them.

  What on earth was going on here? Miniature pony racing? Did people race Shetlands? Did Butch own one? He might not have bet on horses, but he had his own track right on his farm.

  A track … Track Times! It wasn’t the name of a newspaper or magazine, like The New York Times. Why didn’t it come to me before? Track Times had something to do with racing, and Butch was in debt to them so much he willed them his farm. Or did he? Certainly he wouldn’t have known he was going to be murdered. If he’d changed his will to give his land to Track Times upon his death and then committed suicide, freeing him of his debt … and his life … well, it would be drastic, but it made more sense.

  Unless Track Times, which Avery Bantum made large bank deposits to, was owned by Avery, and the will was a fake. Arnie Rutherford knew his way around fake contracts and documents; he’d been arrested for fraud in the past. Did they set this all up? Did they kill Butch?

  One thing was certain, I had to get out of here fast.

  I hopped back on the four-wheeler and turned the key.

  Nothing happened.

  Good gravy, what if I had to prime the engine or do who knew what to get it started? I was terrible with this kind of thing. It was a good day when I could get the lawn mower going, which was why Andy had been such a blessing.

  I twisted the throttle a few times, then turned the key. Not a sound, nothing but a faint smell of gasoline. Had I flooded the engine? Did I break the whole thing taking that hill like Evel Knievel?

  With no other choice, I got off and started running. There was no way I’d make it back up that hill, and no way I’d go back toward the barn, so I rounded the track and took my chances with what was on the other side.

  The water ran off of the track in the same direction I was jogging, so I figured it must be all downhill from here. Figuratively and literally.

  A path ran through a thin outcrop of trees. It was rocky and rutted. The slippery mud made it even more hazardous, not to mention I was hoofing it in bare feet. There was no running or jogging, or even walking fast. I picked my way over exposed tree roots and rivulets of running rain water. In the distance down below, I could just make out the roofline of a house through the treetops.

  The rain was slowing, and the sky was growing lighter. A bird chirruped overhead. Then I caught another sound. The whine of a small but powerful engine. The four-wheeler!

  I tried to hurry, but the rocks were sharp and my feet were sinking in the mud. Whoever was behind me was gaining. The engine grew louder and louder with every passing second. I had to get off the path and hide.

  “Look at you.”

  I startled at Arnie’s voice. He stood at the bottom of the pitted trail. It must be Avery coming up behind me.

  “Mud up to your neck,” he said. “No shoes, and you didn’t have the good sense to take that helmet off your head. What a sight you are.”

  I reached up and patted the sides of the helmet. I hadn’t even realized I’d still been wearing it. Not that I would’ve wasted the few seconds it took to take it off. But as he neared, I thought maybe it was a good thing I still had it on.

  I kept quiet and waited for him to get closer.

  “What made you run, Mrs. Hayman? I thought we were friends. I did give you that warning about digging up information on this place, after all.” He laughed. It was deep and threatening, like some evil villain from a cartoon. “You need to learn to keep your nose out of things that aren’t your business,” he continued, taking one more step closer, as close as I needed him to be.

  I whipped the helmet off my head and swung it with all my might, striking him in the side of his face. He wobbled, and I took off down the path. He had to have driven something to Butch’s house to get in front of me so quickly on my way from the barn. I was hoping it was a vehicle this time and not another ATV.

  But Avery was still fast approaching. I heard the whine of the engine slow and dared a peek back over my shoulder. He was astride the four-wheeler I’d been unable to get restarted at the track, stopped next to Arnie. Arnie hopped on the back and they took off after me again.

  I darted into the trees, racing over rocks and stones and sticks and tree roots. Sharp pains shot through the bottoms of my feet
, but I didn’t have time to worry about it. If I could still run, I was going to run, no matter the shape of the soles of my feet.

  My only hope was that the trees would be close enough together to stop them from getting me. So far, they’d had to take a different route through the trees, but they still had sight of me. It was enough to keep distance between us.

  I descended the hill, planning my next move. I didn’t have the stamina to keep running much longer. My only hope was getting inside the house and calling for help. But what if it was locked? What if there was no phone.

  Good gravy, what a time to leave home without my handbag with my cell phone tucked all snug inside one of its many voluminous pockets.

  There was nothing I could do but take a chance and head for the house.

  I broke left and darted through a briar patch I hadn’t seen. There was no stopping, and I had a good feeling I was bleeding. If Avery and Arnie caught me, they’d harm me a lot more than those briars.

  I broke right and bobbed and weaved through a few low branches with the footwork of a professional boxer. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.

  A few yards ahead there was a path between the trees that led straight down to the house. I took a deep breath and sprinted downhill, gathering speed like a snowball in an avalanche.

  My top half started to go faster than my feet. Gravity was a jokester, apparently. I took longer strides, but my legs just wouldn’t go any faster. Losing balance, I wheeled my arms backwards, hoping to stop myself with wind resistance, I guess.

  Who was I kidding? It was just instinct. I couldn’t think of anything at that moment other than, Good gravy, I’m going tail over teakettle!

  Which was exactly what happened.

  The ground came up and I went down, tumbling and somersaulting to the bitter bottom of the hill. I should’ve left my helmet on, because the last roll was a doozy. I whacked the back of my head on a large rock hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.

  I lay there for a second or two, until I could see straight again. Then I slowly stood, staggering with dizziness. On my left, Arnie and Avery were hurtling through the trees. On my right, flashing red and blue lights speeding up Butch’s driveway.

  It was Metamora One.

  Ben.

  The world spun. The earth tilted, and I went down, falling into blackness.

  • Twenty •

  I don’t know how long I was out, but when I opened my eyes, Roy was staring down at me and Brutus licked my face. “Ya went down like a sack of potatoes, Cameron Cripps-Hayman.”

  “Thanks, Roy.” I lifted my head to get up, but there were hands on my shoulders holding me down.

  “Stay still now,” Johnna said, kneeling behind me. “I’ve never seen a goose egg that big before.”

  “That’s one nasty bump you got there,” Roy agreed.

  “Where’s Ben?” I asked. “What are you two doing here?”

  “Ben’s reading Arnie Rutherford and Avery Bantum their rights,” Nick said.

  I turned my head to find him standing a few feet away beside Mia, who was white as a sheet with her eyes locked on me. “Mia,” I said, “are you okay?”

  “I thought you were dead,” she whispered. “When we got here. I thought—”

  “Shh,” Nick whispered, “she’s not. She’s fine.”

  I saw the look of compassion he gave her, and knew she was right. Nick wasn’t a bad guy despite outward appearances and the assault charge he’d landed himself in the past for fighting.

  “Ben figured there was trouble,” Roy said. “Nick told him what he knew, and Johnna and I had been checking on Elaina when Sue came running in like her pants were on fire. Once we told Ben, he told us all to get in his truck and here we are.”

  “There’s a dog track,” I said, delicately prodding my head to feel the giant lump. “Over that hill. Track Times must be owned by Avery and Arnie. That’s who Butch owed. That’s who got his house when he died.”

  “Dollars to donuts they killed him,” Johnna said.

  “With Arnie’s past, he’d know how to forge Butch’s will, too,” I said.

  She squeezed my shoulders as she thought about it. “I told ya he was guilty as sin.”

  “Okay, okay. Let go.” I reached up and pried her fingers loose but stayed on the soggy ground. At least the rain had stopped.

  A medic from Brookville came over with a bag of equipment to check me over, shooing Brutus, Johnna, and Roy out of the way. She took my vitals and pronounced that I had a concussion and several lacerations on my feet and legs. But other than the scrapes, bumps, and bruises, I was fine.

  She helped me sit up just in time to see Sheriff Reins arrive in the big white cruiser that always reminded me of a whale. He and Ben spoke, and then Arnie and Avery were put in the back of Reins’s car.

  My whole body ached and I was exhausted, but I had to get up. The grass was spongey with water and I’d been lying in it for I didn’t know how long. The medic helped me stand, and I let her know I was fine.

  “Mia,” I said and motioned for her to come to me.

  She walked over, hesitant, like my shakiness was an indication of my imminent demise. “I’m fine,” I told her, pulling her in for a hug. “I just need to take it easy for a day or two and I’ll be back to normal.”

  She hugged me tight and nodded against my shoulder but didn’t say anything. This had really freaked her out.

  “Cam!” Monica shouted.

  I turned to find her running across Butch’s backyard toward me. Quinn, with Conan at his side, and Mom, Sue, and Elaina trailed behind her. She reached Mia and me and threw her arms around us both. “I was so worried!”

  “You know,” Roy said, sauntering up to us, “we never had this trouble until you came to town, missy.”

  Monica shot him an indignant look. “Don’t you have a barstool to be on?”

  He pointed to his eyes and then to Monica, letting her know he was watching her.

  Sue came up and shook her head. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t find you. I figured I better go back and find help.”

  “I’m glad you did, or we would both be in a world of hurt right now,” I told her. “Ben got here just in time.”

  Elaina was regaling Quinn with pleas. “What kind of dog lover are you? Good Luck Chuck needs saved!”

  “Chuck’s a dog!” I said. “Of course! Dog racing!”

  “He’s in the barn!” Elaina yelled.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have seen the barn?” Sue asked. “This is all I’ve heard since this morning from her.”

  I pointed up the hill. “At the top of this incline there’s a dog track with another hill on the other side of it. At the top of that there’s a barn.”

  “Or we could just drive around to the farm workers’ entrance,” Roy said, raising his brow and looking smug.

  “Let’s do that,” I said, wincing as I took a step forward.

  “You should stay here,” Monica said, putting an arm around me.

  “Not a chance. I came this far, I’m seeing this through.”

  I hobbled to the driveway with the help of my friends and family. Ben rushed to my side. “What are you doing? You need to be resting. I’ll take you home.”

  “I’m fine. There’s a dog in the barn. We’re going to rescue him.”

  “You’re not thinking of bringing another dog into the house, are you?” Panic flitted across his face, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “We’ll see. One of us will have to take him.”

  “Reins is taking Avery and Arnie to the station. I’ll go with you.”

  Our ever growing crew grew larger as two more cars pulled into the driveway. Logan and Anna in one, and Carl Finch in another.

  “We heard something was going on,” Anna said, tugging Logan along by the hand. This kind of situa
tion gave him hives. He’s the agency’s research guy, staying nice and safe behind his computer monitor.

  Roy filled them in while Carl sidled up to Mom, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  I glanced around me. My mom and sister fit right in with my friends and Action Agency members, which, with Nick here, was like having the old band back together. They’d rushed to my rescue, propped me up when I couldn’t stand on my own, and now they were dashing off to save another. Looking back, my life before moving here four years ago was empty. Sure, I had co-workers and a few friends I went to dinner with every now and then, but nothing like this. Metamora and the people who lived here had more heart and soul than anywhere I could ever imagine. And they’d taken me in as one of their own.

  We piled into the cars, Ben helping me up into the passenger’s seat of Metamora One with Brutus in the center between us, tongue lolling and a doggie smile stretching his lips. Roy and Johnna rode with Sue and Elaina, and Mia and Nick rode with Monica, Conan, and Quinn.

  All the cars pulled out, Sue in the lead with Roy giving directions, I assumed. Metamora One brought up the end of our parade down the driveway and around the corner to the farm entrance.

  A bumpy lane led back to the side of the barn I hadn’t ventured upon during my ATV exploits. We all piled out and rounded the barn to the front where the doors still stood open.

  “Chuck!” Elaina called. “Chuck, where are you?”

  A scuffing sound came from a horse stall in the back corner of the barn. Elaina rushed toward it with Sue right behind her. They flung the door open and there he was, Good Luck Chuck. The white dog with reddish-tan splotches on his sides and haunches looked up at us. A muzzle was fastened around his head and his ears sat flat.

  Elaina reached for the buckle to unfasten the muzzle.

  “Wait,” Quinn said. “Let me. We don’t know his temperament.”

  Everyone stepped back to let Quinn pass into the stall. He shut the door and patted the dog on the back. Chuck shivered and quaked, retreating backward.