The Waking Bell

by Jackie Weger

  He leaned forward and spoke to me in a gentle voice. “What do you think happened?”

  I was at my worst in a conversation. Most times, my opinion wasn’t needed, but there was something in his eyes that conveyed his concern for Alfie and touched my heart. Moreover, his briskness toward Goldie had vanished.

  “I believe Alfie is lost,” I replied. “Dickie had discovered a cave he thought would make a good clubhouse for his friends. Alfie was the only one he’d shown it to.”

  Matt nodded in understanding. “Boys being boys, they probably expected to see the cave last night.”

  “Knowing Dickie, he bragged about it and promised to show them. When he wasn’t able to, it would be my assumption that they expected Alfie to lead them because he had been there with Dickie. Not realizing how far away it was in the dark, they turned back and somehow Alfie got separated. That is what I hope…that we can find him at the cave or somewhere near.”

  Matt stood in his stirrups and searched the woods surrounding us. The woods were dense. I knew he was thinking that someone could get lost in there and never be found.

  He sat back in the saddle. “How much farther?”

  “Not much.” I pointed west. “We aren’t far from the creek. You can see the cave from there.”

  Two Oaks marked the spot where two large live oaks stood on either side of the creek. As a child, I had always thought it looked like an entrance into an enchanted forest. It was a popular place for coon hunting.

  Coon hunting tournaments had been held there more than once. About half a mile away was a clearing where spectators could gather. The mountain road ended up there.

  Reining back, I readied to start back on the trail. I hesitated. “Thank you…”

  “Matt,” he said. “Please call me Matt.”

  He was being polite, but it pleased me. “Thank you, Matt, for coming with me.”

  “We all want to find the boy,” he said. “Besides, Goldie gave me one of her looks.”

  The words jolted me and, in a strange way, stung, not because I didn’t know the whispers behind my back, but oddly enough because he believed them. I was certain he prided himself a decent man who couldn’t let a simple-minded girl wander around the woods with an inexperienced trekker after a vanished young boy.

  Then again, the reason could have merely been he was afraid of Goldie.

  I was stricken by shame as I once more endured the frequent agony of my youth. Why his opinion of me mattered, I was at a loss to answer.

  Swallowing back the anguish of my foolish pride, I said, “You should not have put yourself out. Despite what you might think, I am not a simpleton.”

  A silence fell between us. I began again to search the trail for any sign of Alfie while my mule trod back into the woods. Stealing a glance at Matt, I noticed his face clouded with a wounded look. I had landed a blow I had not intended.

  His eyes met mine. For a long moment, I could not look away.

  “I cannot claim to know you well,” he said in a solemn voice. “But you seem the sort to enjoy the simple things in life, like smelling a rose in bloom, watching the sunrise, or running through a puddle after a rain shower, but that does not make you a simpleton. It makes you a person capable of happiness.”

  The subtle change in his tone was undeniable. I caught a glimpse of a man he did not convey to the world. An irrefutable sadness.

  A sudden need to comfort him emerged within me. I gave him a small smile. “I suppose I will have to confess I do love running barefoot through a good puddle.”

  He laughed. His face transformed back to the normal confident, self-assured man I had known from a distance.

  Nothing more was said as we traveled onward toward the cave. Along the way, there were obvious signs that someone or something had moved along the trail we followed. There were broken back twigs on bushes and a few footprints, but it was impossible for either of us to know when they were made since both Dickie and I had traveled here recently, and there hadn’t been any rain.

  With the sun high in the sky, the trail broke open where the creek twisted around two large live oaks. We had made it to our intent, Two Oaks.

  Since it was August, one could walk on the old roots across to the other side. Kicking Lucy’s side, the mule trudged through the shallow water.

  I took a deep breath. There were several indistinguishable footprints on the creek bank. One glance over my shoulder told me Matt thought the same as I. They weren’t animal, but human.

  Immediately, my thoughts raced. Had there been a struggle here? I looked up the incline, directly at the cave entrance. There was no movement.

  In silence, I eased off Lucy and watched Matt do the same. He removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. His eyes narrowed and face tensed as he looked up beyond Two Oaks.

  A faint noise disturbed the hush. Matt pointed at a man walking down the rough terrain of the mountain side. “Does anyone live up there?”

  A long silence preceded my answer. “Rudy Tipton.”

  A sudden realization swept through me that I had whispered the name as if the trees had ears, but with reason. The sight of Rudy Tipton sent a shiver down my spine. He was a sin-eater.

  According to legend, a sin-eater’s identity was a well-guarded secret with the gift handed down from father to son, but most around here suspected Rudy was one despite the fact the old ways were dying out.

  The disturbing ritual of sin-eating had been frowned upon by the good reverends that had made their way here and spread the gospel over a hundred years ago, proclaiming no man could absolve another’s sin. Devil’s work, they asserted. Most around here now wouldn’t own up to needing one.

  Yet, I had known grown men that had gone miles out of their way so as not to go near the man’s cabin. If the need arose, they called on the sin-eater. If sin-eating was an evil, it was a convenient one.

  On occasion, Rudy had come down to Goldie’s. Not wanting to call attention to his visit, he would only knock on the back door and never, ever enter.

  Goldie was the one that paid for his services when needed. He went where Goldie directed him. It was the reason I knew who he was. Goldie told me she did what she had to protect her people, though I doubted she would have flaunted the fact in front of Brother Mise. Believing in the practice wasn’t a Christian thing to do, but to Goldie and a lot of the others in the mountains, their faith lent to not taking a chance with their souls.

  “People got to have their peace of mind,” Goldie declared defensively. “Ain’t for me to question.”

  Long before I could make out his face, I recognized it was Rudy Tipton. He was a tall, lanky man who always wore a long black coat with a hood over his head. He moved awkwardly, as if his bones themselves had been worn with use like the dull hone on a rusted ax.

  My attention stayed fixed on the mysterious man. Matt gripped the handle of his rifle. I wanted to say there was no need. Goldie said Rudy had a gentle soul.

  Rudy lost his balance and slid down a couple of steps. He regained his stability and stood before me. I had no fear for my physical being but felt myself shiver when he lifted his hood. He stared at us with dark lifeless eyes set in deep pits. He had a bent beak of a nose and long yellow teeth. Despite the heat of the day, he wore old corduroys and a plaid shirt under his hooded jacket.

  “You folks looking for the missing boy?”

  Matt nodded. “You know anything about it?”

  “No.” Rudy shook his head. “Was woken this morning and asked about it. Figured I would look myself.”

  The news didn’t shock me. I was certain it had been Otis. Goldie probably told him to check with Rudy. In the past, Rudy would know things that no one should know.

  “Did you get one of your feelings?” I asked.

  Immediately, Matt glanced at me. I refused to look at him, certain he thought I was as crazy as the rumors whispered behind my back.

  Rudy frowned but gave me no answer. Instead, he walked across the creek. “Lo
oks like there was a fight.”

  “Can’t really tell.” Matt trailed the man, letting go of the reins of his hinny. “Could be just a couple of boys playing around in the water.”

  Slowly, Rudy shook his head. I watched as the two ambled through the water, searching the ground for any kind of sign. Without a word, I scrambled up the small incline to the cave’s entrance. Forgetting any fear of an animal making the cave its home, I was determined to look into the cavern.

  The opening was small, but large enough for me to stoop and step inside. It opened up to allow me to stand comfortably, but it was dark and dank, the air stale. Moreover, I couldn’t see a thing deep inside. The only light came from the entrance.

  Behind me, I heard movement. Matt had followed me. He took out a military flashlight and flicked it on. He combed the inside of the cave with the light. I saw nothing.

  “Alfie!” I called. “Alfie Walker.”

  There was no answer to my desperate cry. I hated this feeling of helplessness. Exhausted, sadness consumed me. I had hoped and prayed Alfie would have come running out of the cave.

  “Should we go farther?” I asked.

  Matt shrugged. “Don’t think he’s been in here. There are only a couple of footprints, and they don’t go any farther than this entrance, but I’ll go. You stay here. I’ll see if I can find anything.”

  Feeling as if I couldn’t breathe, I made my way back outside. Behind me, I heard Matt call for Alfie. I inhaled deeply. Looking down, I saw a flash of light. Odd, I thought.

  The reflection that caught my eye came from the creek bank. Like a moth drawn to a flame, I found myself making my way back to the creek bed.

  Rudy paid me no mind as I reached down into the mud and pulled out an ornament of some sort. I moved over and rinsed it off in the creek’s water. Dirt was still embedded in the crevices, but I saw it was a golden brooch in the shape of a peacock. The rose gold tail feathers were set with what I assumed was diamonds; the crown, baguette-cut diamonds. To me, the brooch was undoubtably beautiful and expensive.

  “Did you find something?”

  Engrossed with my find, Matt’s voice startled me. He gently touched my hand, holding it.

  I looked up to find his eyes fixed on me. For a long moment, I said nothing, but then the moment was lost.

  A long howl broke the stillness around us, rising to a hysterical pitch. It sounded like his dog was on a hot trail.

  Matt’s attention turned to the sound. He whistled. Immediately, I heard the sounds of an animal rushing through the forest. Cooter bounded out of the bushes and ran to his master.

  Bending down, Matt took an object out of the hound’s mouth. “Holy shit.”

  It was a child’s shoe.

  Chapter 4

  There had been little sleep the previous night for me. The house was filled with neighbors and friends trying to make sense of the disappearance. Yet, it wasn’t their presence that kept me from a peaceful slumber. My mind raced with visions of Alfie in the forest. I had no comfort in the thoughts.

  After the discovery, we’d rode back down the mountain on the mules. I followed the sheriff back up in Goldie’s truck like she instructed me and parked in the opening by Two Oaks. Looking around, it sure looked like a car had been there. The long grass was run over by what looked like car or truck tracks, and there was an area that had been trounced on that led right up to the edge of the woods.

  Sheriff Brawner agreed that it looked like someone had been there recently but doubted it meant anything. “Hunters come up here all the time.” In his next breath, he scoffed at my discovery. He said it was nothing more than a trinket. “Girl, it ain’t nothing more than glass. Ain’t nobody around here got none of that fancy jewelry. Not to mention, anyone could have dropped it, here or up the creek.”

  I thought that highly unlikely. Matt hadn’t dismissed it so easily either.

  Matt countered, “Can’t ignore the shoe.”

  “Look, Matt,” Sheriff Brawner said. “We can’t come to any conclusions.”

  “Maybe we need to,” Matt pressed. “There is a huge difference between a child getting lost in the woods and an abduction. We have other children to worry about.”

  “There is no definitive way to tell,” Sheriff Brawner said. “And I’m certainly not going to rile up Daryl Walker without stronger evidence.”

  “At least expand the search area,” Matt pressed.

  The sheriff shrugged him off. “To where, Matt?” Sheriff Brawner waved his arms out toward the massive forest. “I ain’t saying that someone couldn’t have abducted the kid, but if someone did, he or she is long gone. Where exactly would you like me to start?”

  It had been a fair question, but Matt grimaced. He wasn’t happy. I was certain that he felt as I did—an overwhelming sense of hopelessness and sadness.

  “Look, Matt,” Sheriff Brawner said. “I got everyone out here looking.”

  My thoughts differed with the sheriff. If it had been a townie kid, they would have called in the surrounding counties. Not that the people on the mountain would have wanted that. They had no trust of outsiders, especially lawmen.

  Goldie stated more than once that we could take care of our own. But this time, perhaps we did need help.

  When I got back down to the tent, Goldie pulled me aside and asked me what I saw. She never dismissed me like most. She nodded as I talked and took what I said to heart.

  “Don’t sound like a four-legged animal done this,” Goldie stated soundly.

  Goldie’s jaw set firm, her face tightened. She was determined to get to the bottom of what had happened out there on the mountain. She was as stubborn as a mule when she got riled up.

  If someone had done something to Alfie, God help him because God would be the only one who could help if Daryl Walker got hold of him.

  With the morning sun up, I rode my bike over to Ginny Rose’s like I had done for the last five years. Mr. Reeves called last night to make certain I returned to work today. He must have called while no one was in the house because Millie Jane rang back later in the evening with the message.

  Millie Jane was one of the local phone operators. She must have been one of the most informed ladies in the county. I suspected she listened in on most of everyone’s conversations because every time I saw her in town, I saw her whispering to someone.

  She wasn’t the only one that liked to listen to other folk’s business.

  Goldie had her ear to the phone every time she picked it up and someone else was using it. Goldie took a lot of pride in having a phone in her house. No one else on the mountain had one, and she had spent a great deal of money to ensure that we had that connection to town. We were the last one on the party line that we shared with seven other people.

  Once I had been home while Goldie was listening. I knew she was doing it because she had one hand over the receiver and shushed me with the other. The next thing I heard was Goldie telling Tammy Rowland to go take care of her screaming baby. Goldie hung up, muttering under her breath. “Phones are going to be the death of civilization. People rather be gossiping than taking care of their own children. Ain’t right.”

  When we got the message from Mr. Reeves, Goldie told me it would be fine for me to go back to work. “Nothing more for you to do here.”

  I doubted that. Otis would need nursing. He came home with a cast all the way up his leg. He would be a bear to take care of, but I reckoned there would be more than enough people around that he would be looked after. Moreover, despite the pain I was certain he was in, he wouldn’t want to miss out on what was happening.

  As I biked along the roadside, sweat already ran down my back. It was going to be a hot one. Despite the heat, I usually enjoyed my journey into town. In bad weather, I would drive Goldie’s old truck. I had drove since I got tall enough to change gears.

  The seven-mile ride was surrounded by scenic beauty no matter the season with the mountains and the creek that wound along and through Oak Flatt. I followed i
t into town.

  The water ran over the shiny rocks, mesmerizing me as a slight breeze off the creek felt cool against my skin. I took a deep breath, soaking in the fresh mountain air. This morning, though, the tranquility was nothing more than a façade.

  I tried to use it to block the gnawing feeling that had gripped me since Helen Walker announced she couldn’t find her son, but without success. I fought back the overwhelming suspicion that the sad reality would be that Alfie wasn’t alive.

  Certainly, one shoe was not convincing proof of his demise. Yet, something told me Alfie no longer breathed. Maybe it was the look in Matt’s eyes when he saw the shoe, or perhaps it was Helen’s reaction on the sight of it.

  The poor mother broke down, inconsolably weeping. She looked so lost. Her only comfort came when Goldie asserted that Helen could stay at the campsite until Alfie was found.

  Helen clung to the belief that Alfie still lived. I feared the worst.

  I rounded the bend and rode into Oak Flatt. Strange that I should take solace in the site of the old town, but I did. Most would call it a sleepy little town.

  Time moved slowly here. It was the only world I had ever known. The farthest I had gone was Knoxville with Goldie to pick out a new ceramic oven, a yellow one because she liked the color.

  Main street was quiet this time of the morning. On the outskirts sat our sole gas station with one pump and a garage. A hundred yards beyond it began the roll of town businesses on both sides of the street lined with utility poles, which carried both the electric and phone lines.

  The largest red brick building, John Morgan’s General Store. It was two stories and sold most anything anyone needed from groceries to lumber. Our drug store had a booth inside it. Anyone that wanted a prescription would have it dropped off, and it would go over to Maryville to be filled.

  Across from the general store was Bob’s Barbershop and Dee’s Café. On down the street, we had our own post office. Farther along was Blue Bell restaurant. At the end was First Tennessee Heritage Bank with Mr. Boyd Reeves as president.