by Sue Clifton
“I can’t imagine anything worse than having your daughter stolen.” Harri spoke her sister’s thoughts aloud.
“And most of Belle’s girls were Chinese; probably easier to control since they did not speak English and were too far from family to be rescued. But Yu was luckier than most of the girls. Once Absalom saw Yu, he fell madly in love and told Belle to name her price for Yu’s freedom. When Belle refused, Absalom offered her half interest in Duluth Mining Company. Belle took the offer. It’s a classic love story.” Cayce knew she’d captivated her sister with the tale, since Harri never took her eyes off her.
“So what happened to the child? Did he or she die a tragic death?”
“I know what you’re thinking, but this is different than Chloe at Spanish Oaks.” Cayce took a quick glance toward Harri. “However, this is where the love story becomes a tragedy. While Absalom was away on a business trip, Yu went into early labor. Belle took care of Yu in Absalom’s absence, but the baby died before Yu was well enough, or conscious enough, to see her. The birth was just too hard for the petite Yu.” Cayce paused for a few seconds and glanced at the landscape surrounding them, wondering how such a beautiful place could be the setting for so much heartache and cruelty. She took another sip from her water bottle and then continued.
“Belle sat by Yu’s bedside for days thinking Yu, too, would have to be buried before Absalom returned to Bar None. Yu survived the birth, but was so distraught over losing Tamara, the name Absalom had chosen for a baby girl, she never spoke again. When Absalom returned, he cared for Yu, refusing to leave her side. Belle had to run the mining operation in Absalom’s absence. Unable to tolerate her loss, Yu refused food and water and literally starved to death out of grief a few weeks later.”
“How awful for Absalom, first his child and then his wife.” Harri changed her position, leaning against the door again with her left knee up on the seat. “What happened next?”
“After Absalom buried his beautiful wife, he drowned his sorrows in whiskey and continued to neglect his mining business. Belle kept control and ran the company for both of them. To Absalom’s regret, he managed to live a long sorrowful life and never remarried. Madam Belle took care of him until she died in 1928. I’m not sure what ‘took care of him’ meant. Absalom lived a few years longer than Belle, and he, too, is buried in the cemetery at Bar None. The tale was Belle had always had her eye on Absalom from the first day he rode into town in 1875.”
“So what about Absalom? Is he also walking the cemetery mourning for Yu and the child?”
“No, not that anyone has been able to identify, but there are shadows, and Belle has appeared. Oh, yes, and there’s one more real character seen around town. Her name is Peg, not short for Peggy, but a nickname due to her having a peg leg. She supposedly got drunk one night at the saloon after winning big at poker…an unusual pastime for a woman…woman being a stretch since Peg wore only men’s clothes and kept her hair bobbed off. She is said to be a scary character, with deep scars covering one side of her face and both hands. Peg, whose real name was Annie, passed out by the railroad track on her way back to her cabin. Story goes when she fell, one of her legs lay across the track. I figure you can guess what happened next.”
“Ouch! That must have hurt.” Harri shuddered and made a face.
“Probably no worse than when the saloon keeper lost the toss and had to saw her mangled leg off. There was no doctor in the town at the time. Supposedly, Annie guzzled whiskey until she passed out again. The saying goes ‘she went to sleep Annie and woke up Peg.’ ”
Harri laughed at the inference. “I can hardly wait for this. What does Peg do?”
“There’s no mistaking Peg Leg Annie. She’s mostly seen in the saloon, usually at the one poker table not stolen because it, like Peg, was missing a leg. She is pretty much always seen sitting, but the place she frequents most is the entrance to the old boarded-up mineshaft. There are signs all around it reading, ‘Danger! No trespassing!’ Up until she lost her leg, Peg was the only female miner in Bar None, and no man dared cross her. Since she couldn’t go down in the mine like she once did, she sold whiskey.”
“Sold whiskey? You’ve got to be kidding! Did she make it herself?”
“Probably so. It was obviously a lucrative business. She’d sit in her rocker with her rifle across her lap and her whiskey bottles lined up in front of her. Needless to say, she was never robbed. Her cabin is the only one still standing, partially anyway, close to the remains of the old railroad tracks. Supposedly when the phantom train blows its whistle, Peg can be heard cursing it and is seen as a wispy, dark mist with fist shaking at the train.”
“I wonder how much farther to Bar None?” Harri reached under the seat for the atlas.
“Oh, probably five or six hours yet. We haven’t been in Idaho very long. We have to drive the last fifteen miles on gravel. Right now, we need to find a gas station. Hawk’s tummy is growling.”
Cayce pulled off at the next exit and stopped at a small café-gas station combination. Harri went inside while Cayce filled up the truck. When Cayce came out of the restroom a few minutes later, Harri was paying for two big cups of coffee to go. Before leaving the cash register, Harri pointed out a poster taped to the back of it and a stack of leaflets with the same picture and information on the end of the counter. The picture showed a young couple on a motorcycle.
MISSING! REWARD OFFERED!
Johnny Stinson and Billie Townsley
Last seen in Butte, Montana on May 18. If you have any information on the whereabouts of these young people, please call 406-327-9002 or any law enforcement agency.
“Look at this. What a nice-looking young couple.” Harri handed one of the leaflets to Cayce, who absorbed every detail.
She was reminded of a Hollywood poster that always caught her eye in her favorite hair salon where Susan, her hairstylist, worked a magical disappearing act on her client’s gray streaks.
In the Hollywood picture, James Dean sat astride a motorcycle with Marilyn Monroe cuddled to his back, a seductive look plastered on her flawless face. The similarities between the two males were amazing. Johnny and James both had thick, longer hair combed straight back, outlining serious, posed faces. Both were dressed in jeans, distressed leather jackets, and cowboy boots, and were obviously proud of their biker chicks. But there the similarity ended. Billie was not cuddled to Johnny like Marilyn was to James Dean. Billie looked young, full of life, athletic and fit, and very sure of herself, possibly even a little aloof as she stood smiling, leaned against Johnny’s bike.
“May we take one of these?” Harri held up the leaflet. “We have a good bit of traveling ahead of us. You never know. We might just spot them.”
“Please do. The sheriff’s office brings a new stack by every week.” The girl came from behind the cash register where she could talk to Harri and Cayce better.
“This is getting pretty scary. We don’t have much crime around here, but in the last ten months, three girls have disappeared. My parents hate that I work here by myself during the day. Sometimes, my dad comes and just sits with me like a guardian angel.”
“I don’t blame your parents,” Cayce remarked as she looked at the poster Harri was holding. “I have a daughter, Piper, and I’d be frantic if something like this happened to her.” Cayce took the poster and read it silently. “It says they’ve been missing for over a month now. That’s a long time. I hope they’re just runaways and no harm has come to them.”
“Unfortunately, that’s probably not the case. The deputy that brought this stack in said they found the motorcycle the other day. It had been pushed off into a stream near a public outhouse in a national forest in our state. They found some old blood outside the outhouse, but I haven’t heard if the DNA matched either of the two on the poster. Law enforcement is looking in both Montana and Idaho.” The girl reached behind the counter and pulled out a newspaper. “Here, you can have this. There’s a big article in it about the disappearance. I’
m done reading it anyway.”
****
Cayce drank her coffee and drove in silence, waiting for Harri to finish reading the article. Coincidences just were not in the scheme of things where the sisters were concerned. Cayce remembered the philosophy of their father, a philosophy that always proved true: “Keep an open mind and an open path, and the Way will find you.”
The Way had found them time after time, and Cayce wondered whether this gas station and this poster had found them, rather than the other way around. She hoped Johnny and Billie would not show themselves to her. Cayce’s visions were with those who were no longer alive, but she had to come in contact with some personal item or be in a place where they had been in order to connect. Harri, on the other hand, could often sense the emotions felt by those in question, and needed only to be in close proximity with an item or place familiar to the person.
“Are you ready for this information? I’m having one of those feelings, and I know you are, too.” Harri folded the paper and laid it on her lap.
“I’m ready. I just hope we’re not too late to help. Give me the details.”
“The two were from southeastern Montana, from Hardin. They had been gone for three days, on a motorcycle trip across Montana with no particular destination in mind. The parents of the girl, Billie, tried to talk her out of making the trip. There was some family disagreement over her being with Johnny, who is twenty-two. Billie is only eighteen, a recent high school graduate. The two never contacted their parents by phone, but Billie texted her mother periodically. The last text she received was from Butte, the same place they were last seen buying gas at an Exxon station. The picture on the poster was texted to Billie’s mother from the station.”
“Too bad Billie never called her parents. Texting is so impersonal. I’m always glad to hear from Piper, but I’ve told her to please call more than text. So far, she hasn’t let me down. Now that she’s in Europe, communication is even more important. I’ll be glad when she’s back in the States.” Cayce tightened her hands on the steering wheel. “I know studying art in Europe is a dream come true for her, but I’m so ready to see her. The last time I talked to her, she sounded like something was bothering her, like she had something she needed to tell me. When I asked her if anything was wrong, she said no, but I couldn’t shake the feeling.”
“Piper will be fine. She’s from good stock.” Harri gave a reassuring smile before unfolding the newspaper to read more of the article and then began speaking again without looking up. “Maybe Piper’s met someone. Maybe she’ll show up on the arm of Jacques Pierre with a big ol’ diamond on her left hand.”
“She wouldn’t tell me if she had. Piper is so independent, but it would be just like her to show up with a fiancé, or maybe even a husband. She’s thirty years old, so I guess she’s old enough to make her own decisions. As long as Cody keeps paying for her to study abroad, or whatever idea she comes up with, I’m sure that’s what she’ll do.”
“You were lucky you married Cody, even if you two did divorce. I’ve never seen a daddy dote on his daughter like Cody does Piper.”
“I agree. Our sharing Piper has kept Cody and me friends. I’ll always value his opinion where Piper is concerned.” Cayce thought back to the loving farewell Cody had given Piper the day she left for Europe and knew he had called Piper almost every day since she’d been gone.
Harri went back to reading the news article. “Here’s the bad part. Two days ago, a hiker came across the motorcycle in the stream near the outhouse at Meteor Lake National Park. Sheriff’s office deputies combed the area and found old blood near the back of the outhouse. DNA results are not back from the lab yet, but the sheriff’s office is treating this as a criminal investigation.”
“The girl in the gas station mentioned two other disappearances. Does it say anything about those?”
“Yes. One was a nineteen-year-old girl named Lisa Perkins, from Billings, who disappeared six months ago, and the other was twenty-five-year-old Denise Mansfield, from northern Utah. Denise disappeared about ten months ago. It looks like she was the first reported missing. Denise was pregnant and unmarried. Her parents became alarmed when they were unable to reach her by cell phone and she never showed up at the cousin’s house where she was going. They had argued because Denise wanted an abortion, something against their faith, but Denise told them she was going to have an abortion with or without their support.”
“What about Billie and Lisa? Does it say if they were pregnant or not? Did they have boyfriends not endeared to parents?”
“It doesn’t say. Do you have a hunch? Surely, you’re not getting vibes already, Cayce.” Harri folded the paper and put it on the seat.
“No, no vibes. I’m just trying to see if there are any patterns. Look on the map and see where they found the motorcycle.” Cayce grabbed the atlas from under the seat and handed it to Harri.
Harri flipped pages until she found Idaho. Cayce glanced over and saw her running her finger along the page.
“Here it is.” Harri poked the page. “It’ll take us longer to get to Bar None if you want to go by this location. You’re not thinking of finding this outhouse, are you?”
Cayce heard disapproval in her sister’s voice, but said nothing, keeping her eyes focused on the road.
“Of course you are. Why am I bothering to ask?”
Cayce peeked over as Harri redirected her gaze to the atlas. “Let’s see. We’ll have to turn at Idaho Falls. We probably won’t make it to Bar None tonight. Is that a problem?”
An hour later, the old red truck turned off the interstate, heading to Meteor Lake.
Cayce drove along the two-lane highway with her hands gripping the steering wheel. As they began seeing signs directing them to Meteor Lake, she became more tense. They passed two gravel roads that led to the park, and at each one, Cayce stopped and rolled down her window as if getting a sense of each road. At the third road, she repeated her actions, but this time turned and drove slowly.
A few miles down the road, they turned again, onto an even bumpier road. Harri would have hit the top of the truck if it hadn’t been for her seatbelt.
“About that outhouse!” Harri crossed her legs, but got no reply from Cayce, who seemed intent on driving the narrow road.
Then they saw it. Yellow crime-scene tape surrounded the outhouse and the parking lot, most of it sagging or lying on the ground.
Chapter Two
Cayce parked in front of the yellow tape and got out. Looking around and seeing no one, she ducked under the tape and walked toward the outhouse. Harri held back a few seconds before moving.
“Isn’t this illegal?” Harri ducked under the tape and followed. Cayce stopped in front of the outhouse and turned her head in every direction, trying to alert her senses.
“Are you getting anything, Harri? Any feelings of fear or anything?” Cayce scanned the area but saw and sensed nothing at this point.
“No, and that is really strange. Surely, if they were abducted here, I’d get some emotional sense.” Harri stopped every few steps, as if trying to get her Gift to work.
Cayce walked to the rear of the structure.
“Here’s the bloodstain.” They both approached the back wall. “Anything now, Harri?” Cayce turned and saw Harri holding her head.
“Pain, a lot of pain. One of the worst headaches ever.”
Harri walked away from the site as Cayce moved closer. She stood inches from the blood and stared at it, deciding whether or not she wanted to touch it. Finally turning away from it, she walked several yards to the back and looked down the steep embankment.
“Here’s more yellow tape at the bottom, down by the stream. I guess this is where they found the motorcycle.” Cayce headed back toward the outhouse. “Do you think you can drive the truck, Harri? You know, just in case I’m weak after what I’m about to do.”
“Straight shift, huh! How much do you like your transmission?” Harri began making shifting motions with her hand. �
�Reverse, first, second, third. Is there a fourth gear?”
“Never mind. We’ll just sit here until I can drive, if need be. That transmission cost a fortune to restore.” Cayce walked to the bloodstain and put her fingers to it.
Instantly, mist enveloped her. A handsome young man leaned against the wall looking as if he had not a care in the world. Hearing something behind him, he turned just in time to see a hand holding what looked like a tool used to change a tire come down on him. The young man dropped to his knees, blood spurting from his head on impact before beginning its trail of death through his thick hair, down his neck, and saturating his collar before leaping onto the shiny leather jacket and running down. A hand reached down from inside a heavy navy sleeve, and the attacker knelt beside the victim and placed two fingers to the young man’s throat.
Cayce’s eyes followed the navy sleeve upward to the face barely visible from within the jacket’s hood covering the side profile of the attacker’s face. Hints of red-and-black plaid peeked from the neck of the hooded jacket only partially zipped and from its sleeve closest to Cayce.
As the mist moved back in, Cayce heard a girl’s voice calling, “Johnny, I’m ready.” The scene faded, leaving Cayce straining to get more details and to see the girl moving into the scene. Neither the mist nor the vision cooperated further.
Returning to the present, Cayce found herself sitting at a picnic table between the outhouse and the end of the parking lot. A bottle of water was opened and placed in front of her.
“Here. Drink this! This is not a good sign. What did you see?” Harri stared at her sister from across the picnic table.
Cayce took a long drink of water and then poured some on her hand to wash away the effect of the dried blood she had touched. “I think the boy is dead. Someone hit him over the head with a tire tool. I heard the girl calling him and telling him she was ready to go. She didn’t sound alarmed, so she didn’t know what had happened to him.”