Becky noticed that the child had no problem saying the word, “baby.” She didn’t know what that meant, except that it was distinct and separate from “be-be,” the name she gave to her doll.
Following a nice lunch and leisurely chat together, the three left the Pizza Company and Lizzie gave Becky a tour of the town and immediate surrounding area. She pointed out the ski runs on Red Lodge Mountain, to the west of their home. “Best kept secret,” she told Becky.
Becky agreed. She’d skied there a couple of times when she lived in Billings; only a couple hours or so drive to the northeast. She wasn’t a great skier, maybe intermediate skill level, but she sure loved the exhilaration of sliding down the mountain. It had great runs; nice and wide with plenty of room for a novice skier.
Her ex, Ron, was an excellent skier, and had taken her there during the first two years of their marriage. They stopped going after a drunk ski bum started hitting on her at the lodge. Ron had decked the guy and hurt him pretty good before the lodge cops pulled him away. That night at the motel was the first time that Ron verbally abused her and slapped her around, making it out to be her fault. It would not be the last time.
Back at Lizzie’s home, Summer was sleepy, so she went upstairs to take a nap. The ladies sat at the table and began to discuss her. In most respects, Lizzie described a perfectly normal child.
“She just has these outbursts occasionally. Usually when you don’t expect them, something will just set her off,” Lizzie told Becky.
“You said that you put Summer in a daycare facility for about a year when you were working. How did that go? Did she ever have problems there?” Becky asked.
Lizzie told her, “It was not a problem more than you’d normally expect with a four-year-old. The staff said she had a couple of fits, but they didn’t make any big deal out of them.”
Becky picked up on this. “Lizzie, would you mind if I go there and talk with some of the teachers and staff? I just want them to go into more details for me. Maybe there’s something there to know.”
Lizzie was all for that. “Anything that might help my daughter is okay with me. Tell them to call me if they need my permission to talk with you.”
With that, Becky left and drove to Honeybee Daycare on the edge of town. They did have to call Lizzie for permission to discuss Summer. After that, Becky first spoke with the facility director, Shonda. The director said that Summer had been a little sweetheart while with them and she wasn’t aware of any issues at all with her. She suggested that Becky discuss her with one of the regular teachers, though. They would have more firsthand experience with the child.
Teacher, Gayle Strum, said that she taught during the year Summer was with them. She described Summer as a very dear little girl who was a pleasure to work with. There were just a couple of minor disputes with the other children.
“Would you describe those disputes for me, please, Gayle?” Becky asked.
“Oh, you know how children can be with one another,” she answered. “One time another little girl tried to take her drawing and Summer became very irate about it; she started yelling for me to get it back for her.”
“Did you know why they both behaved like they did?” asked Becky.
“Suzanne, the other child, wanted to tear up Summer’s drawing because she said it wasn’t the Smokey Bear they were supposed to be drawing. Summer became very possessive of her work and pulled Suzanne’s hair trying to get it back.”
Becky pondered this, then asked, “did you see Summer’s drawing?”
Gayle nodded with a smile. “Oh yes, Suzanne was right about it not being the assigned task. It was just a couple of circles, one inside the other one. Nothing more. However, I got the drawing returned to Summer so she could work on it more, but she never tried to do more with it.”
“Okay, thanks. What about the other incident?”
Gayle said that one of the little boys had grabbed Summer from behind one class period. He had grabbed her around the neck but didn’t mean anything by that. The little guy was just trying to get Summer’s attention. “However,” Gayle added, “Summer came unglued and began to scream. I had to rush over and calm her down, even though the boy let go of her the minute she yelled. It took me about a minute to quiet her down. Lizzie quit her job just a week or so after that and pulled Summer from the class.”
Becky was making mental notes of this for later. “Were there any other unusual or notable events involving Summer?”
“Well,” Gayle said, “I don’t know that this is anything noteworthy, but Summer seemed to have a phobia against one of the male teachers who was working here at that time. He only filled in for me a few times, but Summer seemed to dislike him and be afraid of him every time. She wouldn’t go near him and if he got too close, she’d start crying and whimpering.”
“Was there any reason that you know of for Summer to dislike him?” Becky asked.
“No reason at all that we could tell,” Gayle responded. “This lad was a local kid, in his mid-twenties. He’d only been out of college a couple of months. Another staff member knew his parents really well.”
Becky continued to inquire into this young man, Jeremy Hinderman. She found out that he had graduated three years ago from the University of Wyoming in Laramie with a degree in Early Childhood Education. From his application, there were no warning flags that would make his employment questionable. Gayle said he was a tall and slender guy, about 6 foot 2 inches. He had sandy blonde hair. Becky took her notes, said her thanks and good-byes, and drove back to Lizzie’s home. She’d decided to take Lizzie up on her offer of their guest cottage.
Lizzie convinced her to have supper with them. Once Guy got home, they all shared a bottle of wine, visited with Summer about her artistic interests, and then sat down to the meal. Becky found out more about Guy as they ate.
At six feet tall and 185 pounds, dark-haired Guy was imposing and intimidating, although a somewhat good-looking man in his early forties. He was from Eugene, Oregon, and graduated from Oregon State University with a degree in Airport Management. Shortly after landing a job at the Red Lodge Regional Airport as a deputy manager, he met and eventually married Lizzie. She had moved there a year earlier from Bozeman to work as an assistant manager at the ski lodge. On the one hand, Guy was impressive, and yet Becky still felt something was amiss with this man.
With head spinning from three glasses of wine, and feeling a slight unsteadiness in her feet, Becky said her thanks and good night. She wasn’t used to ever having more than a drink or maybe two, and rarely drank more than once or twice a week. She was known among her friends as a cheap date, a title she wasn’t exactly sure was complimentary.
She was almost back to the little cabin, a couple hundred feet from Lizzie’s house, when a slick spot in the path sent her right leg forward in far too much haste. Nothing else could catch up to it, and she fell on her right side into the snow piled at the side of the walk. She wasn’t hurt and rolled onto her back and quietly laughed as she looked up at the star-filled night sky. She found it almost enjoyable, and lay there for several minutes, trying to identify some of the constellations.
Other than Orion, the big and little dippers, and the North Star, all other orbs were spinning a bit too much for identification. The rising moon was starting to wash out the dimmer stars. She rolled over, got up, and cautiously made her way on to the cottage. Can’t drink that much wine again, she thought to herself. Did they mean to get her drunk? Guy had made sure that her wine glass was never less than half full. Or was “cheap date” just at it again?
Inside the cozy and warm little one-bedroom cabin, Becky kicked off her boots and laid down on the bed. Flipping the blanket over her, she vowed to get up soon and get ready for bed. She felt that she should call Bert and see how their travels were going. Tomorrow she felt the need to try to talk with Guy’s parents. They did a lot of babysitting of Summer. Perhaps they could shed some more light on their granddaughter’s strange behavior. Maybe on their
son as well, she thought. She really did intend to call Bert, but sleep came before her good intentions.
Chapter Five: Nebraska City
Down in southwestern Nebraska, at a small town of Oshkosh, Bert stood in the cow pasture just across the road to the south of their little Shady Rest Motel. While Missy rummaged around nearby, relieving herself in several different places to mark her new territory, Bert surveyed the dark sky. He had always loved to identify the stars and constellations every chance he had. As an Army officer, he had to be skilled at using the stars for night navigation. After about ten minutes of this, he was sure that Missy was set for the night. He scanned the sky one more time for aircraft, since they were not far from the county airport. Not seeing any airplanes or vehicles moving, they crossed highway 26 back to the motel. Back to where Norah waited patiently for them.
While he fed Missy and watched her bed down for the night, Bert discussed the continued drive the next day with Norah. They would stay on US Highway 26, also known as the Western Trails Scenic and Historic Byway, through the town of Lewellen. A short drive after Lewellen, he wanted to pause to let Missy out at Ash Hollow State Historical Park, a historically significant rest stop. This place was near the Platte River and Clear Creek and was a favorite watering spot for both Native American Indians and pioneers traveling the Overland and Oregon Trails. It was also the site of an early battle in the Indian Wars. Considered a victory in September 1855 by the soldiers of the US Army under the command of General William Harney, it also carried the black eye of a massacre.
With a numerically superior force, more than twice that of the Lakota Sioux, led by Chief Little Thunder, 86 Indians and 27 soldiers were killed. Half of the Sioux killed and captured were women and children. This engagement was called the Battle of Ash Hollow or the Battle of Blue Water Creek. However, it was also referred to as the Harney Massacre. Bert loved history and he also admired the Native American culture. He knew before he got there that the natural beauty of this popular state park would be tempered by the knowledge and the pain in his heart of this tragedy.
After the brief and emotional stop at Ash Hollow, they would continue past Lake McConaughy, a massive man-made lake formed by one of the largest earthen dams in the nation across the Platte River. At the cow town of Ogallala, they would begin their speedier crossing of Nebraska on Interstate 80. With luck and a 6:00 AM start, they should be in Nebraska City around mid-afternoon. Now, however, they needed to bed down for the night.
Norah had been listening to Bert’s discussion of Ash Hollow. When he started to say good night to her, he realized the intense sadness in her eyes. He knew that he had passed his emotional connection to Native Americans on to her and she was sensing and feeling his saddened heart. Her sense of humanity and her loving spirit were among the many things he adored about Norah. She was not only a beautiful woman and spirit, but she retained the heart and soul of a saint. It was one of the major reasons why he could not bring himself to let go of her. In life as well as in death, her genuine goodness made him a better person and he knew it.
“Good night, my dear Norah,” he said. “I’m sorry I upset you with my sense of tragic history.”
“It’s okay, Honey,” she answered. “I’ve always known your heart, and this is only a reminder of what I love about you. You’re a good and caring man, Bert. Don’t ever change, my Captain Kirk.”
As he turned off the light, the lump in his throat and the tears in his eyes made it impossible for him to say anything more right then. This was one of those times when he ached to wrap his arms around her and just hold her tightly. Until sleep came, it would be one of those nights when he would dread the day, somewhere in the future, when she would go into the light.
***
Bert, Norah, and Missy had just gotten onto Interstate 80 at Ogallala, when Becky called. It had warmed up to a balmy 20 degrees this Saturday morning in southern Nebraska, but she said it was still only about five above zero in Red Lodge. For January 6th in Montana, they all knew that was typical. After a discussion of the weather and their travels toward Nebraska City, Bert talked briefly about their earlier stop at Ash Hollow and the mix of emotions that elicited. He knew from Becky’s tone that she was in tune with his feelings. He asked how her case was developing.
She brought him up to date on the recent scarf episode and her questions about the daycare worker and the girl’s father. Bert agreed with her assessment about the scarf. He relayed a feeling that Norah was getting. She had the sensation of difficulty breathing and feeling overpowered and panicking. She felt this was coming from the little girl and transmitted through Becky. As Becky talked with Bert, she wondered why she wasn’t hearing Norah in the background. A poor connection, apparently.
“So, this daycare worker is suspect, you think. How are you planning on checking him out? Bert asked.
“He’s related to one of the daycare staffers. I thought I’d talk with her first and see what she can offer,” replied Becky.
Bert listened to Norah’s advice before answering Becky. “Good idea. Norah also suggested that you see what you can find out from his school, UW I think you said. His college days might be more revealing than his time at home. If there’s a discreet way you can get Summer around him, her reaction could be telling, too.”
Becky’s voice came back over the phone, “Oh yeah, good ole college days. The things that go on in college can be both revealing and damning. Glad nobody was following me around taking notes during my years at Montana State.” She laughed.
“Hmm, guess we’ll have to check out your storied past at MSU.” Bert laughed back.
She was chuckling as she answered, “Well, it would probably be a bit boring. The biggest story of my college years was discovering that I can’t hold liquor. I somehow got the reputation of being a cheap date. Still haunts me. Can’t even handle three glasses of wine.”
Bert looked at Norah and saw that she was laughing at that. Then he got back to business. “And you’re going to get with Guy’s parents and see what they can bring to light about Summer?”
Becky replied, “Yeah, they babysit her a lot so could have some insight into her other behaviors. I’ll have to be low key when it comes to their son. They may not want to tell me too much about him, especially if it’s negative.”
“Like the daycare kid, the father’s college days at Oregon State could be telling,” Bert said.
“Oh yeah, that’s a great idea, Bert. I’ll see what I can find out from those days.” Becky was excited by that suggestion.
Bert checked his phone. “Hey, Becky, I think we’re about to outrun the cellular reception at this point on I-80. Better be signing off. Keep up the good work up there. We think you’re doing great.”
Oh, one more thing if we can get it in. “Norah’s asking if they go to church. Summer’s family. She’s getting a feeling of being inside a church,” Bert said. “She says it’s like she’s near the altar and looking out at the congregation. Says it’s a strange feeling.”
“I’ll have to find that out,” Becky responded. “Hasn’t come up in conversation yet. If they do, I’ll see about going with them tomorrow.”
With that, they ended the call. Bert, Norah, and Missy continued east on Interstate 80. They passed North Platte, which was another place laying claim to Buffalo Bill Cody’s life and times. Besides the museum, there was the interesting tour of the Buffalo Bill Ranch State Historical Park, when one had the time to go there. This morning, they didn’t have time even to stop at the Fort Cody Trading Post. Bert wanted to stay on track for meeting Robert by 3:00 PM.
He decided to stop at Kearney for a quick lunch and to give Missy a run. He pulled into the parking area of the Great Platte River Road Archway Monument, a magnificent structure which spanned the entire interstate. He’d been inside the museum before and wished that they had time to do it this morning. Sadly, they didn’t have time, and he didn’t want to rush the trip. The museum was a historical celebration of Kearney’s connec
tion to the westward expansion in the nation’s early days.
Kearney was at the confluence of the Oregon, Mormon, and California trails, and was a key stop along the Pony Express mail route. The Lincoln Highway was built to join Kearney to the state capitol. As the railroads pushed their way westward, the growing city became a major hub for connecting east to west. Among the many attractions is the Museum of Nebraska Art, which houses the state’s official collections and spans nearly two centuries of history.
Bert walked Missy around the outdoor display area for about fifteen minutes, while drinking one of his smoothie fruit drinks. This one had a heavy dose of lemon, peel and all, and really made him pucker at times. He hoped it made him healthier, because it could be a little hard to get down sometimes.
Missy didn’t seem to particularly care about Bert’s smoothie issues, as she was hot on the trail of some vermin near one of the small frozen ponds. She bounced around from spot to spot, alternately burying her nose in the snow and then standing perfectly still to listen for the tiny sounds from under the crusty stuff. Bert smiled as he watched her very slowly cocking her head from side to side, changing the angle of her ears ever so slightly to get a better listen. It didn’t surprise him when she jumped straight up and came down with her head driven into the foot-deep drift. It did surprise him a little when she came up with a mouse and ate it in one gulp. It made him wonder just how sublimated all those wild genes really were.
Into the Light Page 6