“Now Nate, don’t you talk about bouncing babies just yet,” she laughed. “Right now I need to check on the boys for Mama. They were playing horseshoes last I saw them. Will you come to me to the clearing? ”
“To the clearing...to the ends of the earth...if you will only stay here in this orchard with me one minute longer.”
Before she could object, he tilted her face up to his and silenced her with a kiss. “Don’t be afraid. I will be the best husband you could ever ask for. I’ll love you, protect you, and I'll never let you go.”
A small voice in her head told her it was not she who would need convincing.
***
Oblivious to the goings-on at the fairgrounds and their sister’s engagement, Tobias and Calvin had thrown horseshoes until they had become bored—until a cotton tail rabbit popped out of its hole. Cal set out after it.
“Leave it alone!” Tobi shouted. “Mama doesn’t want us hunting rabbits.”
“I ain't aiming to kill it. I’m aiming to tame it.”
“Ain't ain't no word neither.”
It seemed as if that rabbit was meant to cross the boys path that day, because that one innocent game of chase would be the next step in a discovery that would turn the town on its head.
The boys ran happily through the woods, unaware of how far they had gone. When the cotton tail ran into the deepest part of the thicket, the boys struggled through underbrush and trees and jumped logs in an effort to keep up. Both were laughing breathlessly at what had become a game. As time passed, they lost sight of the rabbit when it scurried into a hole and disappeared. The game had ended, and they found themselves lost in a densely wooded wilderness. “Which way do we go to get back?” a big-eyed Tobi asked.
“I don’t know. I guess we got turned around somehow. Everything looks the same. We didn't come in a straight line. Now I don’t know which way we started from.”
They wandered first one way and then another, until Cal decided to go straight in one direction, in hopes of coming to a house or a road. Nearly an hour later, they came upon an old shack. The bushes had grown up over its windows and the porch was falling, and the rotting boards looked as if they had never been painted. Nevertheless, there was a water well out front, and they needed to quench their thirst. As they lifted the gourd filled with cold water, the screen door creaked opened, and an elderly woman appeared.
“Help yourselves to all the water you want, and come on in and sit a spell,” she said. “Nobody's happened upon this old place for several years. Come in the kitchen. I got me some peach fried pies coming out of the skillet. Canned the fruit last summer. Beat the possums to ‘em.”
The woman opened the screen door, and the aroma of spiced fruit and fried pastry wafted out to fill their nostrils. Reacting to the gnawing hunger in their bellies, the boys hesitated only for a moment.
Inside was very little furniture, except for cane bottom chairs and an old fashioned settee whose springs had long since given up any pretense of support. There were no pictures on the wall, except for an old framed photograph of a group of plantation workers in front of a house Tobi immediately recognized. In the foreground, dozens of field hands posed with solemn faces in the style of early photography. In the back row was a young man who looked vaguely familiar. On the front row sat a dark skinned pretty girl in her late teens, holding a baby boy with curly black hair. In contrast to the others, his eyes seemed unusually pale. Seeing the boys’ curious expressions, the woman pointed at the mother and baby. “That’s me when I still had my looks. Me and my man worked for Mr. Cyrus McCann back then. There’s a very young Buck Hennessy on the back row. Do you know him? He pulled more cotton than any man I ever did see. He was a strong as a mule...and twice as stubborn. And Cyrus was once the biggest landowner and cotton farmer in East Texas and maybe even the South!”
Then she pointed to the baby in her lap. That little one grew up to give me grandchildren and great grandchildren, but they don’t come ‘round here no more. And my man stays off in that room back yonder. I get so lonesome for somebody to talk to, I’m half crazy.”
“How do you get by, ma’am,” asked Tobi.
“Well now. What a serious question coming from a little runt like yourself. I manage. I’ve lived off my little nest egg from the time my man worked at the rock quarry down in the Blue Hole. He worked out there for some fellas from Galveston up ‘till 1903, chipping limestone out from the sides, but they worked off cables to hold them away from the water. They roped that place off long time ago. Ain’t nobody allowed near it. Any how, they hauled that rock off to the railroad, and the railroad took boxcar after boxcar to Galveston Island to build a wall against the ocean. The Great Storm of 1900 destroyed everything down there. You boys wouldn’t know of it, since it was way before you were born.”
Although Tobi listened intently as the woman rattled on, Cal was focused on his fried pie, whose fruity spice filling oozed from the flaky, golden half moons.
The torrent of words stopped midstream as the woman got a closer look at Tobi. “You got the same icy blue eyes, just the very same as someone I once knew.”
“Ma’am?”
“Are you kinfolk with the McCanns?”
“Yes ma’am. My name is Tobias McCann. My daddy’s Jesse McCann.”
“Then you’re kinfolk with Cyrus, God rest his soul. ”
With palsied hands, the woman opened her can of Levi Garrett, took a dip and slid the plate of pies toward the boys. Cal took a second pastry, but Tobi declined politely. The sight of the snuff dripping from the edge of the woman’s mouth caused his stomach to flip-flop.
“We better go now,” Cal said. “My sister’s probably looking for us. We gotta find our way back to the fairgrounds. Today’s Founder's’ Day, you know.”
The woman spat a stream of brown spittle into a coffee can. “Founders Day is it? I know nothing of what goes on outside these four walls. I could tell you the real truth about the early days in Morgans Bluff... someday when you got the time. Time’s all I got and little of that left now.”
Cal was shifting from one foot to another.“How do we get outta here?”
“Take a different trail from the one you came in on. It starts out over yonder behind the house. If you pass the Blue Hole, you’re on the right one...but don’t stop there, no matter how pretty it looks and how clear the water. It’s an unsound place.”
“Yes ma’am,” said Tobi. “My mama won’t approve of us going in a swimming hole unless my Daddy’s with us anyhow.”
“That makes her a good mama. Now don’t try to come back here no more. Most folks don’t get this far out in the thicket, ever since a couple of missionaries lost their way during the Indian Christian conversions. Nobody ever saw those fellas again. Now go on...but remember, there’s no reason for you to say you saw me. You boys look like you can keep secrets.”
“Yes ma’am,” they replied in unison.
The woman flashed a toothless smile that deepened the crevices lining her face. “Then off with you, and forget you were here. Remember what I said now. When you get to the Blue Hole, pass on by. Long time ago, folks used to say there’s a whirly dervish under the surface. It’ll wrap itself ‘round and pull you all the way to the bottom where nobody can ever find you. So once in a great while, when lost children like you wander out here, I warn them all the same.”
Cal rolled his eyes. “Come on, Tobi, let’s go.”
The more adventurous among human beings will always do what they are told not to do—like the strictly raised preacher’s son who crawled out of his window at night to buy moonshine, or the town banker who left his wife to run off with a younger woman. It all has to do with the the taboo of the of sweet and forbidden fruit—which in the end, leaves the bitter aftertaste of regret. So, of course, the boys stopped at the Blue Hole and were mesmerized by the mirror image of the blue October sky above it. The only line of demarcation between sky and water was the white stoney cliffs rimmed by southern pines. The sight w
as just too alluring from where they stood on the other side of the rope. A weathered wooden sign made the hazard clear: Danger! Do Not Go Beyond Roped Area.
“How deep do you think it is?” Tobi asked Cal.
“Dunno. Even with the water being so clean, I can’t see the bottom. It just gets a darker the deeper it gets.”
“Now I remember something. Mr. Hennessy told me about this place,” Tobi said. “He said it’s got no bottom, and that it goes all the way through the center of the earth and comes out in China. He says they float little paper boats on it.”
Cal hooted. “That old man sure loves to spin a yarn. Of course, it has a bottom, you numbskull. I’ll bet I can touch it. I can hold my breath longer than any fella in the county. You wanna bet ?”
Without waiting for Tobi’s answer, Cal stripped off his shirt and shoes and ducked under the rope. He took a huge breath and dug his toes into the sand in preparation for the dive.
“No, Cal! Remember what that lady said? Please don’t go in. We shouldn’t even be here. What should I do if the whirly dervish gets you? What if you can’t come back from the bottom, and nobody can get to you?”
Cal dove smooth and neat into the water and immediately disappeared below its calm surface. Tobi ran forward to the edge and stared down into a cobalt colored crater that became to him an endless abyss. Four minutes, or an eternity later, his brother had not surfaced, and Tobi began to shout his name. When he didn’t answer, Tobi called on a higher being: God, please bring Calvin up from the water…and forgive me for all the times I picked at him about being adopted...but God, you know he has teased me more than I can stand.
Just as Tobi decided not to wait for God and run for help, Cal broke through the surface gasping for air and breaking into a freestyle stroke. He crawled out and leaned over, hands on his knees, and took great wheezy breaths. “I saw something on the bottom...a skeleton with a bricks tied to it...and a rusty old shotgun with initials on the stock. I couldn’t make out the letters.”
“I never saw a real live skeleton, Cal. Why would somebody throw a body down there?”
“A few reasons and none of them good. Happened a long time ago, by the looks of it.”
“Why didn’t you bring it up with you?”
“And do what with it, Dopey? Take it to Daddy and have him ask us what we were doing out here where we’re not supposed to be? Besides, I needed both my arms to swim out of there. Forget it. Everything that happened this afternoon needs to be our secret forever. Scout’s honor?”
“Scout’s honor.”
And so it was that the two boys entered into a code of silence, never realizing the seriousness of that pact.
Cal scrambled into his shirt and shoes and began to wring the water from his pants. Once again they started back on the path, each feeling a rush of relief that was quickly replaced by worry over what lay in store for them. Cal was in a sour mood and was hardly aware of Tobi’s struggle to keep up with him.
Finally, they heard the fiddles in the distance, and closer still, they heard Katie's frantic voice calling them: “Boys, where are you? Please answer.”
And then a baritone calling their names immediately after.
“She’s with him,” Cal said.
“Who’s him?”
“Nathan Bonney. He’s her beau. Look! There they are up ahead. See...through the trees and looking this way. I’ll bet they were in the orchard getting lovey-dovish, you know? Never mind.”
“We’re here, Katie. We’re coming!” Tobi answered.
They were tired but safe; yet there behind them on the trail, was a low lying fog, and the enormous paw prints of a lone wolf.
8: Confrontation
The next day, Jesse still showed no reaction to the betrothal that had been the highlight of the celebration. He did know there was nothing like opposition to intensify a romance. For that reason, he was waiting to comment on his daughter’s engagement—until he knew more about the man’s family and acquaintances. His feeling was that Katie would reject whatever he had to say and follow her heart, regardless.
More pressing was the matter of the boys’ escapade on Founders’ Day. On that matter, he demanded to know where they had been and why they were there. Calvin shrugged, Tobi hung his head, and they both stuck to the non-answer: they had been lost and didn't know exactly where they had been—nor why Cal’s pants were damp when they were found. Jesse grounded them, until they would tell the truth. He expected fireworks from Cal, but was surprised by the teen’s silent, if sullen, acceptance. Tobi sniffled and opened his mouth to tell but caught a glare from Cal and thought better of it.
There was also the other matter involving Tobi and the caretaker on Diablo Road. Jesse took off mid afternoon, leaving Buck in charge at the mill, after refusing the old fellow’s request to accompany him. Buck pouted, as he always did when Jesse made him stay behind, grumbling that he was just a “no-count, one-legged old fart” in Jesse’s eyes. Jesse grinned and nodded.
Three miles out from the saw mill, Jesse drove past Boggy Slough and Irish Shanty Town and through the forest. He turned onto a weed-choked path that wound its way through hardwoods and undergrowth, until, at the end of Diablo Road, he saw the house where Buck had found Tobi: a rambling structure nestled in a hollow, around whose perimeter grew majestic pines. He parked the Model T and went up the front door where a bloodshot eye peered through a peephole: “Who're you, and what do you want?”
“I’m Jesse McCann. Are you Elias Crow?”
“I am.”
“I need to talk to you about a matter involving my son Tobias.”
“Say what you got to say.”
“First, open the door, so we can talk face to face.”
The door swung open, and there stood a sullen gnome of a man. “You asked for face to face, McCann? Does this make it easier to talk now?”
Jesse inhaled sharply as he stared at one empty eye socket and a gargoyle face with a long pinched nose unsuited for the oversized, rubbery lips.
“What you look like has no bearing on anything,” Jesse replied. “I don’t judge you because of your appearance, but by your actions, and on that, I have something to say. I won’t have my eight year old son and his elderly godfather terrorized. I can discipline my own family if I know there’s a problem...but don’t threaten little boys and old men just to make yourself feel more of a man.”
Crow stepped onto the veranda and squared off: “Now aren’t you the high and mighty one? Listen here, McCann, I’ll do as I please on this land. Mr. Jonathan Bonney hired me before he left this world, and he instructed me to keep trespassers out in any way I see fit. Now when Nathan takes this house for his own, I’ll work for him if he so chooses. I will then take my orders from him. The McCanns just can’t get over it, can they?This property hasn’t been in your family since your traitorous uncle got what was coming to him.”
Jesse’s hands clenched involuntarily as he moved two steps closer. “I’ll ask you to hold your tongue. Whatever Cyrus was or was not, idle gossip has gone on for fifty- seven years, and it’s high time for it to stop. The man’s dead. He can’t rise up in his defense, now can he?”
Crow raised his shaggy eyebrows and grinned. “You never know. Spirits can travel great distances. If I was you, I’d hightail it outta here before sunset.”
Jesse stood there sizing the man up, trying to see behind the ghoulish exterior, wanting to understand what made him tick, to see if there was anything that signified “human being”. He saw nothing but a steadfast stare from that solitary dark eye, from which no spark of compassion shone. He decided he had said what needed saying. One thing was left to do. He went down the steps and turned toward the back of the house.
“Where, exactly, do you think you’re going?” Crow screeched at his retreating back.
“One place I have every right to go—the McCann family graveyard. So leave me in peace.”
Some one hundred yards behind the house, stood the ground that held family mem
bers and those connected to them: two acres surrounded by a picket fence that still held a trace of Civil War era whitewash. Tall weeds choked out the San Augustine grass, except for tiny green patches clinging stubbornly to life. Dead leaves and pine straw cluttered the tops of the graves. The oldest headstones, fashioned from cement, were mildewed and cracked, some leaning and some broken and fallen.
Jesse was ashamed of the state of the cemetery his uncle had so thoughtfully founded. He set about to do what he could by pulling weeds, brushing away debris with his hands, and setting the stones straight. He worked for a good hour and stood back to survey his handiwork, moving from one headstone to the next. Many names among the fifty or so he recognized. Some he should have but didn’t. Lying in eternal rest or unrest, as the case might be, were his father Clinton and some of his brothers—uncles Jesse had never met. Missing was Cyrus, whose whereabouts were still unknown.
Then he came to the headstone of Susanna Foster McCann Bonney, and next to her, glaringly out of place, like an interloper upon sacred ground, was the grave of Jonathan Bonney, a man who had despised Cyrus to the end of his days. Rather than choosing burial on other land at his home place, Jonathan had given explicit instructions to be buried there.
Under a stand of pines stood a headstone very different from the rest. It had been fashioned into an angel with sweet cherubic features and sheltering wings outstretched. On the solid block beneath were inscribed the words Charlotte Hennessy and Infant Son. Jesse felt a sadness wash over him, for Buck, and for all the women lost in childbirth and all the infants gone with them. Had things gone differently, Annie and Tobias would have been lost to him as well.
As he stood before the stone angel, the last rays of the sun sank below the rolling hills to spread long fingers of gold to caress the angel’s face, giving cold stone the illusion of warm, living flesh. And then he heard the sound of a woman crying. It that lasted only for a few moments, and looking about, he saw no one.
House on Diablo Road: Resurrection Day (The McCann Family Saga Book 3) Page 6