by L. L. Soares
“I didn’t do either one. I saw a couple cars go by and I saw you come home, that’s all. I could see the fields. I listened to the trains and I counted stars. I wish more happened around here.” Cathy took a drink of milk.
“Lots used to happen. Lots of scary stuff used to happen.”
“What scary stuff?” Cathy put her glass down and looked at Richard.
“You’re probably too young to hear about it. Wait until you’re older and I’ll tell you all about the murderers, and the ghosts.”
“Tell me now, Richard, please.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Richard sat across from her at the table and waited while Cathy talked.
“I promise I won’t be scared. I just want to know.” Cathy got up, walked over to her brother, crawled onto his lap and hugged him.
“You have to promise to go back to bed and right to sleep. Okay?” Richard tickled her neck and she giggled. “Shhh—you’ll wake up Mom.”
“I promise.” She looked up at her brother.
Tall and thin, he looked a lot like her. The dark hair and blue eyes capped a wide smile. Richard would turn eighteen in December. He loved to scare his siblings. He let his imagination run wild and harassed his brother and sisters with far-fetched stories of ghosts and murderers.
“Cathy, I really think you’re too young. You’ll have nightmares from the stuff I can tell you.”
“I won’t, I promise”
“You also have to be sure you never mention anything I tell you to Mom or Dad. They would be so mad. No one is allowed to talk about this stuff.”
She watched her brother and bit her lip. “I won’t tell anybody.”
Richard continued, “You know how you’re never supposed to go into the basement? Dad always says it’s too dirty. The old coal chute used to be down there. Well, that’s not the reason.”
Richard put his nose an inch from his sister’s nose and stared into her eyes.
“It’s the coffins in the walls. The people who lived here long ago, killed all their babies and buried them in the basement. Whenever I go down there, I can hear their ghosts scratching at their coffins.” Richard spoke slowly and watched his sister closely.
Her eyes opened wide and she sat frozen.
“You’ve probably heard them yourself and never knew where the noise came from.”
Cathy sniffled and looked at her brother. “Richard, can we talk about the other stuff now?”
Richard leaned away and took a drink from his beer. “You’re scared. I knew I shouldn’t have told you any of this.”
“I’m not scared. I just want to know the rest.”
“I don’t know. I guess we could talk about the scarecrows.”
“I’d like to hear about them.”
Richard pretended to think about it, and then nodded to his sister. “People used to stop on the highway and just steal corn from Mr. Lewiston. That’s why he got those scarecrows, you know. They aren’t just regular scarecrows. They can come alive and take care of those corn thieves.”
“You mean they can walk and hurt people?”
“They say it’s really ghosts inside those scarecrows. My friends and I, we’ve seen them at night. Sometimes they stand on the edge of the field, and watch the cars go by. People have gone missing around that field. Those scarecrows killed them and threw them into the pond over at the old racetrack.”
Cathy never took her eyes off Richard and he never cracked once. His face stern and his jaw set, he watched his little sister.
“Remember, never, ever, go into that cornfield at night. Those scarecrows will kill you.”
Wednesday, July 27, 1966
Dr. Wagner returned to New York and stayed just long enough to collect her associate, Dr. Steven Webster, and the tests she needed for Cathy. Steven had almost twenty years’ experience dealing with various mental issues in children. He had joined Diane in the hopes of being able to help children. They flew to Windsor and drove to their motel in Chatham. Shortly after seven Wednesday morning, they arrived at Cedarview Hospital armed with a large file, full of tests for their patient.
They arrived at administration, and informed Alexis that they would spend most of the day testing Cathy.
“I don’t know how you handle this in New York. Here in Ontario, we have strict procedures and guidelines for testing patients. Especially those classified as potentially violent. You’re not going to spend an entire day harassing one of my patients.” Alexis stood up and stared at both of them.
“We need these results to diagnose the patient. I don’t understand the problem. We’ve done this before without any incident. Most people are thrilled to have us work as quickly as we can.” Diane hated that this woman took control.
“I follow the guidelines to protect my patients from harm. Every procedure requires approval by the hospital supervisor. That would be me. The tests are booked around the patient’s normal schedule. Speed is not a consideration.” Alexis put her hand out.
“This is ridiculous.” The doctors looked at each other and Diane handed Alexis the file that held all the tests.
“I’ll have to check over the tests, and if I determine they’re pertinent, possibly helpful, and will in no way harm Cathy, I’ll approve them. You also will need to get separate approval from her father for each test. She is a minor.”
“Mrs. Keith, please be reasonable. We don’t have time to waste on this.”
“I don’t consider ensuring the health of one of my patients a waste of time. Cathy has lived here almost two years now. A few days won’t make a big difference. You won’t be doing any testing today. I suggest you contact Mr. Millard to sign off on these. Once everything is in place, I’ll schedule the tests.”
She referred to a file on her desk, scribbled Robert’s address and phone number on a piece of paper, and handed it to Diane.
She threw the note onto the desk and stormed out.
Dr. Webster shook his head. He picked up the piece of paper, looked at the notation and smiled. He nodded to Alexis on his way out.
Alexis sat down and opened the file they left. There were twenty-eight tests. She almost closed the file right then. To be fair to Cathy, she decided to review each one. She couldn’t approve any test until she had checked it. She started with the first one.
Back at her motel room, Diane phoned Robert’s house and got no answer.
“Why don’t we just drive out there? We may be able to interview some of the people mentioned in her story.” Steven had read the case files and reviewed Cathy’s version. Fascinated by the story details, he wanted to see the scene of the murder. He felt meeting the various players in the child’s story could play a role in his diagnosis.
“It would take a couple hours to drive to Windsor.” Diane wanted to review her notes and references.
“I’m going. I need to see, hear and touch the environment. Come with me. You might be surprised how much you’ll learn.”
“No. I have enough to do here. Go ahead if you think it will help you understand her story better. Do your interviews, since you’re so interested in getting personal with this.” Diane couldn’t believe he thought there a basis for the story. “She’s a child who made up a story to cover her own guilt. It’s that simple. Why complicate things? I’ll work on these. Do whatever you want. If you’re going, get the father to sign off on the tests.”
Steven returned to his room. He thought about the story while he changed from his suit into casual clothes. It only increased his desire to know more. His experience told him any child’s story was normally grounded in fact. He grabbed his own file on the case and headed for the lobby. He walked up to the counter and smiled at the young clerk.
“Hi. I wondered if I could arrange for another rental car.
“If you want to have an early lunch or coffee in the restaurant over t
here, I’ll see what I can do for you. It takes about thirty minutes for them to bring the vehicle here from Chatham.” Steven thought a quick lunch sounded good.
An hour later, he headed to the farming community on the outskirts of Windsor. He turned off the main highway onto Highway 2. All the roads that ran off Highway 2 were unmarked, and most were dirt or gravel. He stopped at a roadside stand to get directions. When he asked for a route to the Millards’ property, he got a vicious stare from the older woman tending the stand. She said nothing and turned her back on him. He went back to the car, knowing he asked the wrong question. He must be close because the woman knew the name. The next stand he stopped at, he tried a different approach. “I would love a basket of those strawberries.”
The older man grinned and handed him the berries.
“These are summer berries. They run fifty cents a basket. You must be American. I know that accent. Besides, I know everyone from around here.” The man looked older, probably retired, and had a nice smile.
“Well, then maybe you can help me. I have a cousin by marriage who lives around here somewhere. I met him a couple years ago at a wedding. He grows a lot of corn, and he bragged he owned the biggest farm in the area. I think his son is retarded. I thought of dropping in on him, and I can’t even remember his last name.”
“That would be Barry Lewiston. He lives over on the third concession. He owns the biggest farm around here. Just take the highway north to the third. I don’t think it’s marked anywhere. It’s the road across from the railway roundhouse, about a mile north of here. Just stay on the highway. You’ll see the roundhouse and hear the trains.”
The man thought for a minute. “Wait. There are several signs pointing you to a new subdivision that’s up at the end of the concession. You won’t need to go that far. When you hear the trains and see the signs, turn right. Barry’s is the first farm on the south side of the road. You’ll see the cornfields.”
Steven reached into his pocket and pulled out a dollar. “Thank you for the help. I guess I’ll drop in after all. Can I get another basket of those strawberries? Hate to show up empty-handed.” The old man handed him another box of berries and took the money.
“I don’t know if Barry still eats fruit. I’m sure that boy of his will go for those berries. That’s such a sad story.” The old man looked down and shook he head.
Steven knew this man had gossip to tell and decided to learn all he could.
“Is there something I should know?”
“It’s been five or six years ago now. Jimmy, that’s the boy’s name, he fell in that pond at the old racetrack. By the time they got him out of the water, he had brain damage. He walks and talks okay. Barry took him out of school because he couldn’t learn anything. The boy has no sense at all. His older brother blames himself for the accident. He felt so guilty about his younger brother, he ran off and never came back. Barry drinks a lot now. You’d best catch him early, before he starts tippling.”
“Thanks again. I’ll keep your advice in mind.” Steven walked back to the car. He smiled as he pulled around and turned north onto the highway. The man grinned and waved with both hands. The pond at a racetrack—there was a question that needed an answer.
Chapter Five
May 1964
“Cathy, we’re going over to the Lewiston farm.” Robert found her playing with her doll on the front porch.
“Why?”
“I need you to see how scarecrows are made.” He had talked to Barry about her fear of his scarecrows. Her visions had turned into nightmares. Clare got up with her almost every night. He had to stop her dreams.
“I don’t want to go see them. I‘m scared, Daddy. They hurt people.”
“They don’t hurt people. I will prove it to you. Let’s go.” Robert took her hand and they headed up to the road. They walked along the creek and enjoyed the beautiful spring weather. The night before brought rain, and the noisy birds crowded the fields.
“Cathy, you need to be very polite to Mr. Lewiston, and I don’t want to hear anything about walking scarecrows. He knows you’re afraid of them and he’s going to show you there is no reason to be afraid. Listen and learn, young lady.”
“I‘ll be good. Will you stay with me?” The child spoke quietly and then looked up at her father. “Please don’t leave me alone with them, please.” She held back tears.
Robert lifted the child off the ground and hugged her. He spoke to her softly. “I won’t leave you alone. I promise. No crying, okay?”
Cathy nodded and he put her down and grasped her hand again. They walked up the lane, and before they were halfway, a teenage boy came out of the large barn behind the house. He ran toward them.
Mr. Lewiston came out of the house and called, “Jimmy.” The teenager stopped and turned around. “I told you that you could talk to them, but you have to wait for me.” Barry caught up with Jimmy and patted his shoulder. He turned to greet his neighbors.
“Hello, Robert. Hi, Cathy.” Barry smiled at her. “You’re growing into a very pretty little girl. You look just like your mama.”
She looked carefully at the tall man with the wide shoulders and big stomach. He wore overalls and an undershirt. Barry turned to her father. Jimmy and Cathy watched each other.
“Jimmy usually does up the scarecrows and he’s doing that now. I told him he could explain what he does. We normally hang them in the fields when we finish seeding.”
“Thanks, Barry. I know this seems ridiculous. When she was little, I told her the scarecrows would get her, just to keep her out of the fields. Terrified she’d get lost, made me say stupid things. I guess it’s my fault she’s afraid now.”
“Hey, we do whatever we can to protect our kids. I understand.” Barry turned to Jimmy. “Okay, Jimmy, lead the way.”
Jimmy started walking slowly to the barn. He kept turning around, looking at the little girl. They grinned at each other. Once inside the barn, Jimmy led them to the back where bales of straw and a pile of old clothes were sitting on the floor. There were pieces of dowelling and flat wood in a pile next to a small table. Jimmy sat at the table and picked up a wooden cross, made from the flat pieces of wood. Barry started to say something and stopped. He looked at his son.
“Jimmy, can you tell these people how you make the scarecrows?”
Jimmy looked at his father and, with a full smile, nodded. For the next hour, he explained to Cathy what he did to create the scarecrows. The body had to fit over the tall pegs that were already in the field. He used work gloves, old rubber boots, a plaid shirt, and a butcher’s apron to make the first one. When he had the body ready, he pulled a straw-filled burlap bag over the end of the wood and started to paint a face on it. Robert watched Cathy and she watched Jimmy.
“Are you all right for a few minutes? I’m going with Mr. Lewiston and have a cigarette.” Enthralled by the process, she simply nodded at her father’s comment and never took her eyes off Jimmy’s project.
Robert signaled to Barry and the two men went outside. They strolled slowly up the lane and stopped where they could see the empty fields all around them. Each lit a cigarette and stood quiet for a few moments.
“I think she’ll be fine. Jimmy isn’t capable of much around here, but he does a good job on those things. It’s interesting, especially to a kid Cathy’s age. I don’t think she’ll be afraid anymore, now she knows they’re just wood and straw.”
“That would be nice. Last fall she drove us crazy with her stories of wandering scarecrow killers. Then this winter she woke up almost every night with nightmares about them.”
“Amazing what kids come up with these days. It’s that damn television. Have you watched some of those detective shows? No wonder kids think about killing.”
“You could be right, but like I said before, I think I can take credit for her fear this time. She already had a pretty active imagination.”
“Most kids do. If Lowell hadn’t decided he could be rich digging up that racetrack, Jimmy would be fine now. I can’t blame him, mind you. That boy always dreamed big.”
“Have you heard from Lowell? Has he called you?”
“Not a word from him since he left last fall. He and Jesse, his girlfriend, just took off. Her mother thinks they’re probably in some hippie commune somewhere. I think I probably agree with her. They even left his car here. Maybe that ‘live off the land’ stuff they were yapping about really took over those two kids.”
“I guess that’s common for kids to believe in that crap.”
“Yeah, hard work is just not that exciting.”
The two men stood in the fresh spring air and caught up on the latest gossip. They didn’t worry about the kids inside the barn as they shared the slow, easy atmosphere of the open country.
Jimmy finished the first scarecrow. It looked like an old woman. He stuffed the clothes with more straw until it became a very fat old woman. He had painted red lips, brown eyes and black eyelashes on her face and added an old mop head for hair. The little girl laughed when he pulled the scarecrow up to a standing position.
“Well, what do you think?”
“That’s really good, Jimmy. Does she have a hat?”
“I almost forgot. Can you hold her up for me?” Cathy stood up, held on to the wood in its back with both hands, and kept it standing. Jimmy nodded and, from behind his table, retrieved a big floppy straw hat with red plastic flowers covering the brim. They both laughed when he placed it on the head and tied the ribbon around its neck several times.
“She’s very beautiful, isn’t she?” Jimmy took back his art piece.
“She sure is. I don’t know how I could ever be afraid of her.”
Jimmy laid the scarecrow down and took Cathy’s hand. “You’re afraid because you saw them doing bad things. They won’t hurt you, because you’re my friend now. They don’t hurt me or my friends.”
Jimmy went back to his table, turned and watched her. She looked at the hat perched on the scarecrow’s head and laughed aloud. “Jimmy, that really is an awful hat.”