Sammy Keyes and the Curse of Moustache Mary (5 page)

“She caught him?” Holly asked.

“Red-handed.”

“And she
shot
him?”

“As promised.”

Holly and I look at each other and say, “Wow,” and Holly adds, “Welcome to the Wild West!”

Lucinda nods. “Things were different then, and sometimes, I think, more honest. But for Mary, that's when the real trouble began. You see, Lewis was traveling with his brother, John, and John had with him his wife, Theodosia, and their boy, James. And since James was near grown and as spiteful as his father, Mary lived in fear that she and Ezekiel were more likely to die by the hand of a Murdock than that of an Indian.”

“But Mary and Ezekiel did make it over, right?” Holly asked.

“Oh, to be sure. But as fate would have it, they staked out a parcel here, and the Murdocks staked out one— well, you saw it—right up the hill.”

Holly said, “But why so close to each other?”

“The Murdocks didn't intend to stay. That was common knowledge. John just wanted to avenge his brother's death—or at least make sure Mary did not prosper—and then move on.”

“So what happened?”

“Cholera happened.”

“Cholera?”

“People used to die of it all the time. It's a nasty business. Your intestines turn on you. Retch you inside out. It did John Murdock in.”

I thought a minute and said, “So that left Theodosia and James neighbors with Mary and Ezekiel. Two widows and their sons.”

She smiled at me. “Just so. But the similarities in their situations didn't bring the women to an understanding. Theodosia fueled in James the notion that Mary was a curse, and Ezekiel grew up believing that somehow, somewhere, a Murdock was going to get him. Probably in the back.”

“And?”

“And as it turns out, the Murdocks prospered, and so did the Huntleys. And the feud might have died out entirely if a certain descendant by the name of Johnny James Murdock hadn't been so easy with a trigger.”

Holly asks, “So who's Johnny James?”

I hitch a thumb back up the hill. “The old guy in the coffin.”

Lucinda gives me a little scowl, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she points out the wire fencing that starts
at a ravine and runs from post to post along the road. “This marks Huntley property. It's been over sixty years since a Murdock's crossed the line, and until I received that letter a few days ago, I thought I'd go to my grave without ever setting foot on Murdock soil again.”

“So what happened?” I ask. “How was Johnny James easy with a trigger?”

All of a sudden Lucinda stops. “Well, look at this,” she says, pointing to a gap in the bottom of the fence. “This isn't the proper way to mend a fence.”

At the gap, there's a four-by-four post, cemented solid into the ground. But the section that meets it is damaged, and isn't long enough to be nailed in place. Instead, it's tacked around a smaller post, which has been connected to the top of the four-by-four with a leather strap.

Lucinda goes up to the fence, and while she's trying to work the two sections closer together, she says, “Johnny James was easy with a trigger in that he'd shoot at people without thinking things through.”

“People? As in more than one?”

Lucinda keeps tugging on the fence. “Oh, sure. Not that he'd hit what he was gunning for. He was too hot headed to be accurate.”

“But he did hit someone?”

“In the end? Oh, yes.”

“Well…? Who?”

She inhales deeply, hesitates, then says, “His own brother.”

Our eyes bug out. “His brother!”

“Like I said, he was too hot-headed to be accurate.”

I shake my head and ask, “Well, who was he
trying
to shoot?”

Lucinda stands there a moment with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. Then she eyes us and says, “Me.”

Suddenly the smaller post falls, pulling its section of fencing inward.
“You?”

She gives us a closed smile as Penny steps through the break in the fence and snorts at us from the other side. “Me,” she says, then turns her attention to the fence again. “I'm going to have to tell my nephew about this.” She gives us a mischievous little grin and says, “But let's follow Penny, shall we? It'll be a shortcut to the main house, and I can show you Mary's cabin.”

We stood at the fence for a minute, watching her shuffle toward a grove of oak trees. And I knew I couldn't just let her disappear without finding out what in the world had happened with Johnny James Murdock and his brother, and one look at Holly told me that she couldn't, either.

So we step through the fence and put the sections together as best we can, fastening them with the strap of leather.

Then we're off, chasing after a little old woman, her black-bowed pig, and one Wild West story.

FIVE

Penny seemed to know just where she was going. And when she turned to check for us, her curly tail flipped clear around, practically wagging her whole rear end. We caught up to Lucinda and asked, “So…?”

She looks us over. “So?”

“So why would Johnny James want to kill you?”

Lucinda sighs. “Understand that between the Huntleys and the Murdocks there was a line drawn. We'd been taught early on not to cross it, and I never gave much thought to it. That's just the way it was.

“Then one year some folks in town decided to get together and put on a dance. It was a huge affair. People from clear up and down the state went, and of course I did, too.

“And it just so happens that the boy I danced the night away with was Johnny James' brother, Manny Murdock.”

“Didn't you know it was him?”

Lucinda laughed and shook her head. “I hadn't seen him since his pa came to the schoolhouse one day all worked up about something and collected Manny and Johnny James. After that they worked full-time for him. Manny was about nine, I was seven, and Johnny James was quite a bit older, maybe twelve.”

“How old were you at the dance?”

“Seventeen years, two days.”

“Well, didn't someone introduce you?”

“No, we met at the pie table. He was after the last piece of rhubarb cobbler, and so was I. We decided to cut it in two, and after that he asked me to dance. He was a marvelous dancer, and so funny! I found myself laughing like I'd never laughed before, and by the time we went outside for some fresh air, we were both completely smitten.”

“And that's when he told you his name?”

“As fate would have it, a friend of his brother's came over and said, ‘Evenin’, Manny. Is Johnny James here tonight?'”

Holly put a hand in front of her mouth. “What did you
do?
”

“I was speechless. And after the other fella left, Manny turns to me and says, ‘What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost.’ I just stared at him and whispered, ‘You're Manny Murdock?’ He makes some apology about not having introduced himself properly, then asks me for my name.

“So I told him. And we both stood there for a moment with our mouths gaping open, and then we started laughing. Just howling. He made some joke about my not having a moustache, and I said something about him not stealing my piece of rhubarb cobbler, and we just couldn't stop making jokes. None of the stories I'd heard about the Murdock clan seemed to matter—all I could see was Manny.”

“What did your parents say when they found out?”

“Oh, Pa was mighty upset and did his best to talk me out of him, and I in turn told him Manny shouldn't be condemned for the sins of his ancestors. But Manny's family was like a nest of hornets. They tried everything. They lectured him, they threatened him, they dragged him down to the cemetery and made him apologize to every ancestor that ever died. They told him I'd be a curse on his life, just as Mary had been a curse on Lewis and John. And when shoveling all that guilt around didn't work, they'd lock him up in his room for days, hoping he'd come to his senses. And when he didn't, they'd turn around and give him extra duties to make up for the time he'd lost
not
coming to his senses. Finally, Johnny James figured there was only one solution: Get rid of me.”

“So he came gunning for you?”

“That's right. He was brave with liquor and came right onto this property. Right over there. Just this side of that rock.”

We look to where she's pointing, and what we see is a rock about the size of a refrigerator that's got yellow-and-brown moss growing on it and is sunk at an angle into the ground. And all around it is brown grass and oak leaves—not exactly a spot I would have pictured for a showdown.

“Manny and I were out for a stroll. It was a lovely evening, and he had just given me his pocket watch. I was admiring it, asking him if he was sure he wanted me to have something his pa had given him, when suddenly he jumped forward and shouted, ‘Johnny, no!’ The next thing I knew, there was Johnny James aiming at me from
behind the rock, and Manny was flying in front of me with his arms spread wide. He caught the bullet, right in his heart.”

The three of us stand there for a minute, silent, looking at Showdown Rock. Finally, Lucinda lets out a sigh and says, “As much as I lost that day, Johnny James lost more. I can see that now from his letter. He's carried the burden of his actions all these years.” She gives Penny a quick ruffle behind the ears, then smiles at us and points down the path. “Mary's house is this way if you want to see it.”

On the left there's Showdown Rock and a group of oak trees that are looking pretty bent and decrepit—like the wind could puff them right over if it was in the mood to. But on the right are rows and rows of reddish brown plants strung up on wires. Lucinda says, “This is our vineyard. The plants look like scarecrows this time of year, but in the spring it's a lovely sight. Green as far as the eye can see. The fall harvest was down again, but I'm sure Kevin will find a solution to that.”

I ask her, “Kevin?”

“My nephew. He manages the vineyard. A harder-working man has never lived.”

We walk along until we come to a little building on the edge of the vineyard that looks like a cross between a guard shack and an outhouse. Lucinda mutters something and starts hiking toward it, but suddenly the door swings open and a guy in dirty blue jeans and muddy work boots steps out. And he would've looked filthy from head to toe if it hadn't been for his
head
. It was squeaky clean. He had shiny straight hair the color of honey and bright brown
eyes, and there wasn't a whisker on his face. And around his neck was a puka shell necklace with a one-inch tusk like a shark tooth hanging from the middle. He looked like one of those pictures where they take different people and piece them together. You know, Surfer Sam's head on the body of Freddy Farmer.

Anyway, when the door swings open, he jumps back a little and so does Lucinda. Lucinda says, “Dallas! You startled me.”

“Afternoon, Miss Lucinda,” he says, then leans down and gives Penny a friendly pat on the side. “What brings you clear out here?”

“I was on my way to show these girls the cabin when I noticed the toolshed door wasn't shut tight.”

Dallas reaches into the shed, pulls a chain to switch off the light, then closes the door and snaps the padlock. “Going to lock me in, were you?” He grins and says, “That'd be a nice way to start the New Year—locked inside a toolshed.”

Lucinda blushes. “I wouldn't have done that. But why
are
you here today? I thought Kevin gave you the day off.”

“He did, but I had a few things to finish up, and then…well, you know how it is—there's always work to do.”

She gave him a stern look. “Exactly. Which is why you need to take time off when it's offered.”

“Just trying to turn our luck around. Besides, working a little extra is the least I can do after the way you and Kevin took a chance on me.” He chuckles and says, “I
can't exactly afford to
lose
this job, and if next season's anything like the last one, that's probably what'll happen.”

“Nonsense. You'll have a job as long as you want it, and since you have no control over the weather, fretting about next season's crop isn't going to do you an iota of good.”

He eyes us and says, “So who are your friends?”

“These young ladies helped me home from the Mur-docks'. This is Samantha, and this is Holly.”

He sticks out his hand. “Dallas Coleman.”

“Dallas is our foreman. He oversees the crew, and I don't know what we'd do without him.”

Dallas laughs. “This time of year I'm the foreman
and
the crew.” He points in the direction we'd been heading. “So, these girls know the history?”

“Most of it.”

I look to where Dallas is pointing and do a double take. I mean, the whole time we'd been standing around I hadn't noticed that less than thirty feet away, under the arm of an ancient oak, was what had to be Moustache Mary's cabin.

As we got closer, I couldn't help thinking that the Big Bad Wolf wouldn't have had to huff and puff very much to blow
this
cabin over. The sideboards were weathered and warped so badly that sunshine streaked through them like they were branches of a tree, and what roof slats were left were so mounded with oak-leaf mulch that the roof looked like a gopher racetrack.