House on Diablo Road: Resurrection Day (The McCann Family Saga Book 3) (19 page)

“
Who then?”

“
From what I’ve learned, there were only two women who had any connection with the house. One was Lucinda, and also Buck’s wife, Charlotte. The women were cousins and both died tragically. You were in the house for awhile before we married. You act as if you knew nothing about this. You had to know, but you didn't tell me.”

“
You sound as if you have no faith in me. There was nothing happening before now. I know of nothing in that house
—
other than a few mice and perhaps a raccoon bumping around in the attic. Don't you believe me?”

Katie said nothing.

At the end of their walk, they came to the ancient dogwood, whose winter bare branches were gnarled and withered. An owl stared down at them with great golden eyes, as it rested on the largest branch. Katie could not take her eyes from it. For a moment it was as if it had cast upon her a spell. She saw the old blood stains beneath the branch, set permanently within the grain of the wood, as a testament to the tree's violent history.

Here? Did something happen here, Old Owl?

“There's something bizarre about this tree, don't you think?”

“I don’t
think
any more than I have to. I prefer to
feel
my way through life.”

He removed his long coat to lay it across the cold ground and pulled her down with him. He wrapped her in his arms as strong and sheltering as the tree above them.

“Katie, whatever happens, nothing can hurt the two of us...as long as we
trust
and rely on each other.”

“
Then you think a Bonney and a McCann can coexist happily?” She asked the question, knowing his answer.

“Oh yes,
but I think we have to
really
work at it.” He grinned and pulled her close enough that she could feel a heartbeat in rhythm with her own, and soon she could not distinguish his from hers.

Suddenly, she, and only she, heard an almost inaudible growl accompanied by a rustling sound, as fog began to creep from the meadow to the tops of the pines.

“Sometimes I feel like an animal is watching me,” she whispered. “Please Nate, let's leave. I think it's time for us to pack our bags...just for a little while. I'm going back home for now. Please understand.”

Gone was the blissful smile on Nathan's face, and a darkness settled in his eyes.

Jesse felt a fresh urgency to retrieve what he believed were his uncle’s remains. The intensity of the search increased after his sons’ revelation. If the search was to end at Blue Hole, Snake Eye Higgins’ job would then include recovery from a deep watery grave. The endeavor had become more simple, and at the same time, more complex.

After that horrendous night on Diablo Road, Jesse was hoping, against his own good sense, that Granny Minna was right about the restless spirit, and it would find peace and walk those halls no more. Although logical by nature, he could not discount the mystical. If his efforts to bring resolution failed, and the phenomenon continued, Nathan would have no choice but to sell the house and land. The old plantation would belong to neither family—Bonneys nor McCanns.

So it came to be that Higgins, Thomas Monet, and Jesse met in Sheriff Bridges’ office on a cold and windy day, as seemed fitting to the task ahead.

“
I have men I can assign to retrieval,” Sheriff Bridges said. “But they haven't the lung capacity. Do you think Calvin could go back in, Mr. McCann?”

“
I ‘m not sure I want him to,” Jesse replied.

“
What if he bundles up in long johns under his clothes. What if we attach a good strong line, so he can give it a yank when he runs out of air? He can make as many trips down as he needs to secure the bones in netting. We won’t have a problem pulling him up. He’s lighter than any of my deputies, and we can keep a fire going on the bank to warm him.”

“Maybe If he
wants
to go back in, but I need to be the one who holds the line. That responsibility is mine.”

Sheriff Bridges nodded.

“
Now that we have that settled, there’s someone still alive who knows the truth,” Snake Eye said. “That person is Louis Monet, and we know where he is, thanks to Buck. We need to talk to him again. Let’s bring the shotgun up too and check the bones for damage. That would mean the man was either shot before hanging, or shot afterward when they botched the job. I knew of a case like that once.”

Jesse cringed. “You would think Night Riders would get it right. They had plenty of experience with lynching during the Civil War.”

Higgins response came swiftly. “Why are you so all-fired sure it was
them
?”

The plan unfolded with a trip out to Blue Hole. The men were grim and doggedly determined. Cal, on the other hand, was excited to be a part of the drama. In clothing, for protection against the cold water, he took in several progressively larger gulps of air to expand his lungs. A deputy tied the netting around his waist, secured the rope under his arms and lowered him into the water. Jesse took the rope from the deputy’s hands, and Higgins manned the second line for whatever was retrieved.

After several dives to secure everything, the task was completed, and that long awaited resurrection had come! As the net full of bones cleared the surface of the water, a sudden whirlwind spiraled up out of the depths, at the same moment Cal came up with the shotgun. All the boy could think of was the woman’s warning about the “whirly dervish” pulling you down to the deadly depths without release. He felt as if something had taken hold of him and was intent on pulling him back under. He kicked hard.

“
Get me on out of here!
” he sputtered. Jesse pulled, and Thomas came to his aid, bringing a frantic Cal to the surface. Once he was on the bank by the fire, he changed into dry clothes, and Jesse wrapped him head to toe in blankets.

In a distance, under a tree, they laid down a pristine, intact skeleton dressed in a nightshirt, tangled in cord to which bricks were attached. Jesse was surprised by the emotion he felt about someone, though related, he had never met. He gave Cal a clap on the back and sent him to the sheriff's truck, with regret that he had allowed him to be a part of the recovery.

Thomas Monet sat on the ground and covered his eyes, in an attempt to tune out the mental images that flooded his gift of second sight. At times such as that, the ability was a terrible burden. Remembering that Thomas was indeed of his own blood, Jesse went to sit with him. “It's almost over now, and I for one am glad of it. Be glad with me.”

Sheriff Bridges did a quick inspection. “The entire back of the skull is missing. This man may have been strung up on a tree, but that's not what killed him. Higgins, you were right. Somebody used that shotgun on him.”

Snake Eye peered through the gaping hole to view the teeth, as all soft tissue had long since gone. “The fillings in these teeth look like old amalgam—silver mixed with mercury. That means this person had dental work done in the mid eighteen hundreds. Gives you an idea of his age and the era. It fits.”

“
How did you know about
that
?” Sheriff Bridges asked.

“
I’m a bounty hunter, man. Sometimes I bring ‘em in to the law, and sometimes I bring ‘em in to the undertakers and coroners. I learn a lot that way.”

Thomas was absentmindedly twisting the Masonic ring on his finger. “In my mind, I see the
eye
,” he said.

“
What eye?” Jesse asked.

“
The Masonic Eye symbol. I see a tattoo in my mind. I see the tattoo artist who follows the Confederate camps. I see him placing the tattoo on Cyrus McCann's arm. This man whose bones we have uncovered, was a Freemason. This ring I wear was his. Here lies my father, just as I see him in my vision.”

Sheriff Bridges knew how the man died, but he didn’t know who did it or why. “If Cyrus was a member of that brotherhood, I’ll guarantee you he wasn’t executed by the Night Riders. No one in East Texas messes with a Mason.”

Jesse listened quietly and thought carefully. Could he have been wrong? He turned the shotgun about and inspected the stock. So now the mystery had shifted. The answer lay with the weapon he held in his hands. “I can read the initials
L.M.”

All four men stared at each other.

“
No!” Thomas shouted. “I know what you are thinking. It can not be
him
.”

Snake Eye was now on the scent like a seasoned hound dog. He was fixing to make the big time. “
Jesse, let Calvin ride back with the sheriff. He’s leaving for town as soon as
they load up the remains. Lets you and me and Thomas take a little hike through the thicket out yonder. Anybody got a machete?”

From the steps of her dilapidated porch, Phoebe Monet pulled a shabby shawl tightly around her shoulders and listened intently. The sounds had stopped. She had heard the commotion coming from the other side of the thicket: the clatter of trucks and male voices raised in excitement or dismay. With her keen backwoods sense of distance and direction, she knew it had come from Blue Hole.

They’ve come. Just like I knew they would. The world has come to pull us back in.

She shouted through the screen door for Louis, who was in his usual spot at the bedroom window, staring at dust motes floating in streams of sunlight. His gnarled hands clutched the arms of the chair, and his eyes were wide and unblinking.

“
They’ve gone to the bottom of the hole, old man,” Phoebe continued. “Do you hear me? They went in that confounded hole today.”

Just like every day for decades, Phoebe pretended they two were actually holding a conversation. “I knew they wouldn’t leave it alone, especially after Thomas came up from New Orleans. My son sees too much in his head. He’s cursed by a whopping dose of Creole mojo...thanks to your family’s influence. He'll not let it rest, and neither will Jesse McCann.”

She was startled to see Louis now standing at the screen door, hands hanging limply at his sides and staring in the direction of Blue Hole. In his eyes was a spark of comprehension which smoldered briefly, then fell into the ashes of a burned out mind. Even so, he pulled a chair to the door, shaking as much from anticipation, as from the wind that whipped through his threadbare clothing. He knew they had found his long buried secret. One thought entered his mind:
Retribution has come.

He had dreaded the day for the major span of a human life, but he always knew wrong comes full circle. The thought of that moonlit night in 1864 had driven him to the brink of madness and had forced him into a life of seclusion in the wilderness. There he had survived, in another man’s shack, in the middle of nowhere. If it had only been he to think of, he would have been relieved to have it end then and there.

An hour after the noise stopped, there came the slashing sound of a machete and the cracking of downed brush. At last, Phoebe spotted them. “Look there, coming on through. There’s that big man Snake Eye, ahuffin’ and apuffin’, and he’s got Jesse and Thomas with him. Lord have mercy. My son is on
their
side.”

Louis came out to stand on the porch for the first time in years. This one time, he would not let his woman stand alone. He saw the men. They seemed done in and rattled after their trek through the thicket. When they reached the porch, Snake Eye and Thomas slid down to the steps. Jesse stood apart and peered at the Monets with eyes as cold as a deep creek in the dead of winter.