by Jackie Weger
There was no denying he was a striking man, even with the trace of stubble on his face. Yet, beneath his smile was an arrogance. He looked down at Goldie with his high-bridge nose and highbrow attitude. I knew that look.
I had endured it quite often at Ginny Rose’s. It was one that bore the feel of betterment over another.
Most would forgive the man. He had proved himself a hero in these parts with his actions. He had fought the hated Nazis and provided stable work for most in the area with Pritchard’s Pride but, at the moment, he irritated me.
“What Sheriff Brawner is saying, Mrs. Claudill,” Matt began, “is that you are highly respected in these parts. Perhaps someone might not have been comfortable going to Sheriff Brawner. Since nothing has been reported amiss about last evening, the thinking is that the boys may have gotten into some trouble like they do at that age. We need to do everything we can to find this young boy as quickly as possible. If anyone saw something or knows anything that might help, it’s important for us to know.”
I caught my breath. Was he accusing Dickie of causing Alfie’s disappearance? He was wrong. Wrong…and not only about Dickie, but Goldie wasn’t having it herself.
“If ya asking if Dickie had anything to do with it, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree,” Goldie stated flatly. “He was sitting with his pa.”
“We’re not accusing anyone,” Matt continued. “The boys are saying they were skimming rocks along the creek bank. When they were done, Alfie was gone. None of the boys say they saw or heard anything. Just trying to figure out if the boys were playing at some place they weren’t supposed to. If Alfie tagged along, might explain why he got lost.”
His reasoning was sound. I had seen Dickie’s friends treat Alfie awful. The poor kid had borne the brunt of their cruel jokes and taunts most of his life. I had never seen Dickie join in the activity, but he had never stopped it either.
My heart calmed, but I also knew that Goldie had talked with the boys herself. Marty Pickon had confessed to Goldie that they had told Alfie to go back to the tent and get them some teacakes. He never returned.
In the dark, the boy could have easily been turned around. I realized that Alfie getting lost was a distinct possibility. I said a silent prayer.
As a child, I remembered one other similar incident. The Miller boy drowned when I was eleven. Even though we had been the same age, I didn’t know him well, only by sight. He had gone swimming in the creek and got caught up in the current after spring thaw.
His death brought with it the sadness of finality. Yet, Alfie’s disappearance was different. Worse. No one knew what had happened to him.
“Miss Reeves, are you okay?”
Breaking out of my trance, I stared ahead to see Brother Clayton, his beautiful face turned up, offering me a small smile. He took my hand in a gentle manner.
Eyeing him suspiciously, I withdrew my hand and shook my head. Did he think me mad?
“No,” I said sharply. “I was only thinking. There was something off last night. Ida Jean and I saw Mrs. Pritchard arrive late…and disheveled.”
Sheriff Brawner shook his head and Matt Pritchard frowned. Immediately, I regretted my words. I had endured those looks before and realized my observation would be ignored.
Instead, Matt let out a long breath. “Moria and Dodie had a flat tire. Dodie tried to change it but couldn’t. Moria ended up walking over two miles…”
Sheriff Brawner gestured with his hand for Matt to stop. “No need to explain. Mrs. Pritchard has absolutely nothing to do with the boy. How could you think such a thing?”
My breathing hastened, and I felt my face warm by the jab. I wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and let me fall into an abyss.
“Hell spells. You men don’t have a lick of sense,” Goldie uttered under her breath, paying no mind to Brother Clayton’s presence. “Cady here is saying that maybe Mrs. Pritchard saw or heard something everyone else might not have. She must have walked up by the woods.”
“Of course,” Matt replied, nodding. “To be fair, I didn’t think of that, but I’m certain that if Moria had seen anything she would have said something…unless.” His speech slowed as if he were thinking. “She didn’t believe it was relevant.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to ask.” Goldie looked across at me and smirked as if he was the idiot. She never had much patience for those who treated me as if I were daft. She considered me hers and didn’t take kindly to insults.
Annoyed, a blood vessel popped under the skin on her temple. Goldie was angry again, angry as an old banty hen. Her expression froze and her lips compressed irritably. Sheriff Brawner walked out of the tent with Matt Pritchard, but not before Goldie raked each man with a wrathful gaze.
Goldie took Helen’s well-worn hand in hers when the men were out of sight. “Now, now, dear,” she began. “We’ll find your boy. Everyone is out there…”
Before Goldie had got her words out, an old man walked up into the tent and nodded toward me with a toothless smile. I immediately recognized Goldie’s hired hand, Lenny Crowe.
I had known him as long as I could remember. The man never took off a raggedy CSA hat that was the only thing left of his father’s.
With his shirt untucked loosely over the waist of his faded jeans, he rubbed his wrinkled chin. “Ain’t good, Miss Goldie.” He shook his head. “Mister Otis came back up with the young’un and put him to bed. Ain’t found a sign of nothing. He went out to saddle up the mules to go up to Two Oaks where the boys played in the cave last month. Old Red got Mister Otis good when he mounted Lucy. Kicked in the thigh. Don’t know if it’s broken, but it swelled up like a watermelon, and he can’t walk.
“I’m going in town for Doc Taylor. Mister Otis told me to bring the mules down here. It’s best to check up there with the light, ’specially since Dickie says that’s where the boys wanted to go last night. He said that Cady Blue knows the way.”
I felt all eyes turn on me. My face flamed, I’m certain most thought was because of the attention, but I felt anger that Dickie waited until now to confess the truth and that none of the other boys came forward with the information.
“Reckon it will have to be you, Cady Blue,” Goldie stated as a foregone conclusion. She had no doubt I was capable of the venture since I had made it last month when Dickie hadn’t returned home.
My brother’s disappearance was not like Alfie’s. He left after a fight with Goldie about buying him an electric train. When Goldie refused, he told her fifteen times he was running away. She paid him no mind. Then he did, but being Dickie, he left her a note telling where he had gone.
Dickie had left early morning. Goldie sent me to get him when I got back from Ginny Rose’s around four in the afternoon. He was more than willing to come home with me, but it was dark by the time we got back.
“You packed up for the ride?” I asked Lenny. It was a good hour and a half up the mountain, much shorter if we drove, but driving wasn’t an option. We needed to follow the trail Alfie might have taken.
I had learned to ride at an early age, but mules were a different sort with their distinct personalities. Ornery creatures, one never knew how a mule might react to certain situations. It depended on the mule’s particular nature. I had seen more than one freeze up after being startled and refuse to move an inch. Though, the hinnies were better suited for the terrain. Their endurance and surefootedness would be useful moving along the steep rocky hillside.
Goldie was renowned for raising the best mules for the mountains. She also had a knack with training the animals.
“Yessum. They’re ready.”
Wasting no time, I nodded and started out of the tent.
“Hold on,” Goldie called. “I’m not in any shape to go gallivanting up the mountain side but can’t have ya going up there by yourself. No place for ya to be alone right now.”
A protest lay on my lips when Brother Clayton stepped forward. I had clear forgotten he was standing there.
“I�
��ll go with you,” he offered. “Mrs. Claudill is quite right. It’s no place for a pretty girl to go alone.”
I felt my face flush. It wasn’t the first time someone had called me pretty. Ginny Rose had told me many times. She said I had my daddy’s blue eyes and thick dark hair. But no man had said those words to me.
Goldie looked at him with one of her dubious stares. “Beg your pardon, Brother, but ain’t no place for a green ’un. Cady Blue here knows these woods. You don’t.”
Brother Clayton flashed Goldie a brilliant smile. “Don’t you go worrying about me. I have God with me. He will guide me.”
“Well, that’s right fine, but God himself would get lost if he didn’t know the way. Won’t do the boy any good if we have to send the dogs to find ya,” Goldie retorted. “You’ll only slow Cady down.”
“Have faith, Mrs. Claudill,” he said with confidence. “Have faith.”
Brother Clayton extended his arm to me. “Let’s get going, Miss Reeves.”
I admired his confidence, but doubts stirred in me about his ability. He was a city boy. Goldie was right. Where I was going was no place for someone with inexperience. Yet, there was something about him I liked.
He bore no arrogance about him, nor did he look down his nose at me for not being dressed in my church finery. This was no time to worry about my appearance. I had changed into work pants tied with a rope and an oversized tan shirt that was tucked in neatly.
We had only taken a step outside the tent when we saw a commotion. In the middle of an assembly of men, I caught sight of Daryl Walker, Alfie’s father.
Daryl was a mean bastard, widely known as the meanest around. I had no use for him. More than once, Goldie had been called to his house to find poor Helen battered and bruised. I had seen the damage he inflicted on his wife: a broken arm, black eyes, and miscarriages caused by kicking Helen in the stomach in a drunken rage.
Goldie had little control of the large brawny man with a scruffy beard as she did over much of the mountain. He and his brothers sold most of the moonshine in the county. No one else dared. Daryl was a dangerous man magnified by the fact he didn’t have a lick of sense.
The previous evening, I’d overheard Otis telling Goldie that when he went over to tell Daryl about Alfie’s disappearance, the man had been in a drunken sleep. He rolled over and told Otis to leave him alone.
With the morning light, I supposed reason had returned to Daryl. His son was missing. His indifference replaced with anger. Someone was going to face his wrath whether it be Alfie for getting lost or, heaven forbid, an animal that found Alfie prey, or worse yet, a person who had done any harm to his boy.
Never mind the fact that he had only just appeared on the scene, Daryl seemed to be taking over the search. He waved his hand toward the creek. He looked over his shoulder and pointed at the mules.
“Take them,” he ordered. “We can cover more ground.”
My instinct was to protect what was mine from that man. Goldie had already given our two horses and three other mules to help with the search. All anyone had to do was ask to borrow them. Yet despite being Alfie’s father, I didn’t trust Daryl Walker.
In my eyes, Daryl hadn’t been a good father, nor a caring one. Alfie had never met the expectations of his father, but he was a good, sweet boy. I had heard Daryl call him soft and smack him around when Alfie wasn’t quick enough to do what Daryl commanded. Dickie had been his only friend because the other boys were scared of his dad, with good reason.
My heart went out to Alfie. Otis had directed me to go to Two Oaks, and I was determined to go. The thought of Alfie getting turned around going up the mountain made more sense than along the creek bed. The boys played down there all the time and knew the area well. At the very least, the cave needed to be checked out.
Daryl Walker walked in front of his men toward me. I hurried my steps to the mule’s side. I wasn’t about to let them bully me.
“Miss Reeves, I beg you caution,” Brother Clayton said in a soft, low voice. His concern for me evident in his tone. He saw in me my determination to stand against a man whose anger could easily be misplaced.
I ignored the good pastor and began untying the reins of the mules. A sudden doubt crept in me when I turned to find Daryl and two of his men blocking my way.
Stone-faced, Daryl stared at me with icy eyes. “Thank ya much, Cady Blue. I’ll take ’em.”
Shaking my head, I took a deep breath. He reached out to take the reins from my hands. I jerked them back. I could conjure no other word but, “No.”
“Leave her alone, Daryl Walker.”
By the sound of Goldie’s voice, she meant business. As I suspected, she had no desire for the man to be around the mules.
“She’s gonna look for your boy up at Two Oaks.” Goldie’s brevity was as cold as her voice.
Daryl chewed on his wad of tobacco and then spit on the ground. “The boy’s scared of his own shadow. Ain’t no way he would go that way. Too high.”
Goldie gave me a look. I mounted Lucy. Poor Brother Clayton was caught between Daryl and one of Daryl’s men.
“Gonna let some dewy-eyed boy ride with the girl?” Daryl scoffed. “No telling what she could meet up with out there…especially such a pretty thing…Sam, go with her.”
In the distance, sounds of dogs hitting a trail was distorted by the rising pitch of pure panic. The bells began faintly…then faded when I saw Matt Pritchard walk up to Old Red.
He pushed back his hat from his forehead. “Heard you’re going up to Two Oaks. If you need someone to accompany you, I’ll go with my dog, Cooter. He’s got a good nose on him. If there’s a scent to pick up, he’ll catch it.”
Daryl snorted. “We don’t need or want any of your help, especially that lawman behind ya. We can look after our own.”
Completely ignoring Daryl, Matt whistled. A young blue-tick hound ran to his side. He reached down, patted the dog’s head, and in one quick motion, mounted the mule.
Daryl stood in our way. Matt grimaced as if the man had gnawed on his last nerve. He looked over his shoulder at Sheriff Brawner and released a long sigh.
“Your boy’s out there,” Matt said finally. “The longer we stand here, the longer it will be until we find him.”
I held my breath until Daryl stepped to the side. Goldie nodded for me to go ahead as Brother Clayton stood beside her in silence. I kneed Lucy and headed into the woods, not caring if anyone was beside me or not.
Chapter 3
Most days, I found comfort in the sights and sounds of the forest: the birds singing in the early morning light to the crickets chirping at dusk. Today trekking up the mountain side, there were no sounds. No katydid songs. No croaking frogs. The sun streamed through the thick tree leaves in eerie silence.
The thought of Alfie being lost in these woods made me shiver. The poor child. I could only imagine his fear. Otis said it was a possibility that a bear had been drawn to the aroma of food and attacked the boy, but as of yet, there had been no sign of a struggle or bloody trail. No one heard screams. It was as if sound had turned back on itself and devoured its own innards until there was no sound to detect.
Slow but sure, Lucy trod over the rough terrain while I studied the shape of the trees and every boulder that jutted into the path for any sign of Alfie. Prayed for a sign of any kind.
The thick forest foliage lent cover from the hot August sun, but there was little escape from the heat. I felt sweat drip off my brow.
I pulled Lucy’s reins back when I came to an open ridge. For a long moment, I stared out at the beauty of the mountains. Sunrays streamed from the sky to illuminate a breathtaking view of the rolling hills with a layer of translucent clouds floating above.
Behind me, I caught sight of Matt as I reached for my canteen. He had followed from a distance. Taking a sip, I watched him move to my side and take out his own canteen. Before he took a drink, he whistled for his blue-tick hound. Soon after, the dog came out of the woods.
&n
bsp; We had not exchanged a single word. My mind had been concentrating on Alfie. To be honest, I truly didn’t know what to say.
The man realized my distress and stepped into rescue me, but I didn’t need to be rescued. I could look after myself. Goldie had taught me that.
I wasn’t some helpless woman like men wanted. At least that’s what I heard Dodie tell Ginny Rose. Her exact words were women have to feign stupidity to catch a man’s attention.
Those things I didn’t know much about. I had never caught a man’s attention. Otis had seen to that.
When I was thirteen, Bud Mosley chased me into a barn as I walked home from Ginny Rose’s. He cornered me against the barn door so I couldn’t escape. He mauled at me and squeezed my breasts. I don’t remember much about it except I fought back, scratching and kicking.
Bud slapped me hard enough to knock me out. Goldie said that was when Otis found me. He beat Bud Mosley to within an inch of his life. No one had dared to bother with me since.
Moreover, I felt uncomfortable in Matt Pritchard’s presence. We came from different worlds.
His family owned more than Pritchard’s Pride. They owned half the land in the county, the feed store, the mill, and the squat masonry building that now housed the library. The library used to be the abattoir where wild game that Pritchard hunters killed was skinned, gutted, and packed for shipping to Virginia. Around here, if a man hadn’t gone off to war, if he didn’t farm, raise hogs or make liquor, he worked for Pritchard’s Pride chicken packing plant.
It was known that the Pritchards had been the reason a tar-coated road and a railroad spur was built. The railroad went right up to the plant. The Pritchards were the ones that made sure the four-room schoolhouse and library had coal throughout the harsh winters.
“Do you know the boy?”
His question startled me. Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed him looking at me.
“Yes,” I answered.
There was a pause. I felt his eyes on me, puzzled and reflective. He was pondering the situation.
