by Aiden James
Mama still cries and Papa won’t rest,
‘Til we find out what happened to their lost daughter, Allie Mae.
Some say she done run off and married her beau.
They went to the city a long time ago.
Mama and Papa never thought this was true.
To leave the valley she so loved, Allie’d never do.
Oh, where’d ya go, darlin’ Allie Mae?
Why can’t we find ya in the valley ya so loved?”
A breeze moved through the treetops near the cabin as Allie Esther moved through the second chorus of the song, drawing John and David’s attention. They glanced at the front yard until she began the third verse.
“Rumors and hushed secrets said Allie’d been killed.
By her lover, Zachariah, or his brother named Will.
Though no one ever found her, no bones were unearthed.
We’re sure she never left, ‘cause the valley’s been cursed.”
They looked at each other as soon as they heard the line about Zachariah and his brother. Meanwhile, the wind picked up, sending gusts across the front yard. Yellow, orange, and pink leaves from a large maple fell to the ground in rapid swirls. Allie Esther and her grandson also noticed, but continued through the third chorus and soon began the ode’s final verse.
“It was nineteen and sixteen when we lost Allie Mae.
‘Til the day they died, ma and pa would wait
Down through the years we’ve heard whispers at night.
Is it the wind, or Allie’s ghost stoppin’ by?”
Allie Esther’s foot stopped tapping as she finished the last line, closing her eyes while her grandson continued to play the rest of the song. When finished, he joined David and John in waiting for her to awaken. Nearly five minutes passed, and the wind blew dried leaves and other debris onto the porch steps. Vernon reached over and patted her arm. Immediately she stirred, frantic as she looked around her. She began to cry.
“Granny, what’s wrong?” he asked, alarmed.
Her only response was to shake her head while she hurried to return the items still spread out on her lap to the stained little bag that once belonged to her aunt. All five items back inside, she pulled the leather strap to close it. With shaking hands, she motioned for David to take it back, reluctant to do so until John prodded him with a sharp elbow to his side.
“I can’t accept it from ya!” she shouted. Tears streamed down her face, and her gray eyes seemed surreally red within the magnification of her thick lenses. She motioned for Vernon to help her stand up in her walker. “Allie Mae’s here—she just spoke to me!”
“Her spirit?” asked John, rising to assist her grandson, who meanly waved him off.
“Yes, she’s come to prevent me from takin’ ownership of yer bag,” she said, weeping. “I’ve got no quarrel with either of ya’ll. But she does. She warned me not to get involved unless I want her anger rainin’ down like a spring hail storm on me and my grandsons!”
“I don’t understand,” said David. “Why wouldn’t she want her prized possessions in the hands of those who loved her enough to create a song dedicated to her memory?”
“Well, she doesn’t, mister!”
After glancing at his grandmother, to which she nodded, Vernon pushed both David and John toward the porch steps.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, and moved to the screened door after returning her mother’s bag of treasures to the mahogany box still sitting on the table.
“Please—!” cried David, hoping to still convince her to take the cursed object from him, but he couldn’t even begin before being shoved down the steps by her menacing grandson, who grabbed his shotgun from the corner of the porch next to the door. John didn’t let him say anything else, pulling him over to the cruiser and forcing him inside the vehicle while he ran over to the driver’s side and got in.
The dogs suddenly appeared as a furious pack that raced toward the cruiser from behind the cabin. It seemed unlikely the elderly woman released them from their pen. Since Vernon hadn’t left their presence and now trotted down the porch steps armed with his shotgun, it meant someone else set the dogs free to make sure the two visitors didn’t entertain any thoughts of lingering.
Facing a shotgun-wielding lunatic flanked on either side by rabid canines, John handed the pictures to David and backed the cruiser down Bear Ridge Lane. Soon only dim outlines were visible at the end of the road, and dusk absorbed the fading daylight. Safe enough to turn the cruiser around, John sped toward the main highway that would take them back to Gatlinburg.
“Did your friend in Knoxville ever find out anything about the Hobson brothers?” David asked, leafing through the pages inside the manila folder once they passed the Cheshire Landings development again.
“There wasn’t much,” said John. “Diane confirmed two clans of Hobson’s resided in Cades Cove from May 1898 until January 1919, and both were originally from Kentucky. The name of Zachariah Hobson was confirmed, but he disappeared from the area along with several other Hobson’s by 1917. No other records from the state’s archives show his name after that. She didn’t find a record of a Will, William, or Billy Ray Hobson. I’m sure you’re wondering if maybe their descendants would be interested in taking ownership of the bag.”
“Yeah. Pretty desperate, I guess,” said David, his mood glum. “I better call Miriam. I honestly don’t know what to do next, other than take the damned thing back to the ravine first thing tomorrow and get the hell out of here. Maybe I’ll get lucky and she won’t follow me home this time.”
“Maybe,” echoed John, glancing briefly at David and then returning his attention to the road. 5:03 p.m. according to the dashboard’s clock, the surrounding hillsides and woods grew darker. “I have one last idea that might help, if you’re interested in hearing what it is.”
“I’m game for anything at this point.” He sighed.
“Maybe we should fight Allie Mae’s magic with Cherokee medicine,” John suggested. “It’s too far to travel to meet the last surviving Shamans of my people, but I have someone in mind who knows enough of the ancient ways and can use them effectively. I believe this person can heal the spirit’s anger.”
David nodded in the dimness to show his interest.
“It’s Evelyn, my granddaughter,” said John. “Ever since she was young, she’s been uniquely gifted. She learned from my father and also studied under a Sioux Shaman in North Dakota one summer a few years back, willing to teach a woman since most Indian males have turned their backs on the old ways.” He sounded sorrowful as he mentioned this last part.
“‘You think she’d be willing to help? I can make it worth her while financially if she were to try.”
“I’m sure you would,” said John. “But, a home cooked meal from her dad should suffice!” He chuckled, and the sadness from a moment ago lifted.
“Well, when were you thinking of doing this? I mean, does she live around here?”
“Tomorrow afternoon,” said John. “I don’t normally work on Fridays, even during the busy season. She’s been after me to spend time with her and my other granddaughter, Hanna, for the past month.” He looked over and smiled, letting him know he truly wanted to do this.
“That should work fine, provided Allie Mae doesn’t kill me first,” said David, returning his smile with a wan smirk.
John told David he’d give him directions to his cabin, near Cades Cove and not far from the park station. Evelyn lived in Johnson City, less than an hour away. He planned to call her tonight, and then confirm the time with David.
Feeling slight hope, David called Miriam from his cell phone when John pulled the cruiser onto the main thoroughfare heading into the park. After telling her how the afternoon went, he told her about John’s latest idea. Omitting what happened last night and this morning, he told her the Whitestone’s ancient amenities brought about the change to the EconoLodge.
Jillian picked up the second phone in Janice’s townhouse.
“Daddy?”
“Hi sweetie!” Surprised to hear his daughter’s voice, it immediately warmed his heart.
“Mom says you won’t be back until Sunday,” she said, sounding bummed out. “Why can’t you come home tomorrow? The fall play is in the afternoon, and I wish you’d be there!”
“Jill, I would if I could,” said David, hating the disappointment in her voice. “But, the problem we had in the house last week—remember that?”
“Yeah, I do.” Now she sounded nervous, like she didn’t want to relive the memory.
“Well, Daddy needs to take care of a few things here in Tennessee first, to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He said this with fatherly confidence to sell it. “I should be home on Sunday.”
“I understand,” she said, sighing deeply. “So, will you take us to the Halloween party at the Benson’s Sunday night?” A glimmer of hope lifted her tone.
“If all goes well here, yeah, I’ll be happy to do that, sweetie!”
He forgot all about the annual Trick or Treat party the Benson’s held for the neighborhood kids the weekend before Halloween. Tyler wasn’t so keen about it, but Jillian and Christopher had marked the kitchen calendar once October 1st arrived.
“I’ll see you Sunday, Daddy. But if you get everything taken care of by tomorrow morning, the play is at two-fifteen at the school auditorium!”
He chuckled as she hung up the phone, and then realized the line remained active.
“Miriam, are you still there?”
“Yeah, I am,” she said, chuckling. “What a pistol, huh?”
“Yes she is.”
“So, John will contact his granddaughter tonight and you’ll meet with her tomorrow?” she asked, confirming their earlier talk.
“That’s the plan.”
“If it doesn’t work, will you please just do what we agreed on and take the bag back to the ravine and hop on the next plane home?” She sounded worried again.
“Yes, I promise this is the last thing I’ll try.”
John smiled while listening to him tell her how much he loved and missed her.
“You’re a lucky man, David Hobbs,” he said, after the call ended. “You have a family who cherishes you, which is the greatest treasure there is. I can tell how much you cherish them too.”
“I really do,” said David, worried. He feared never seeing his wife and kids again, and regretted more than ever his decision to bring the bag to Littleton, Colorado in the first place.
“We’ll find a way to free you from Allie Mae’s spirit,” John told him, patting him on the knee. “One way or another, we will find a way.”
***
When they reached the park station, John drew David a map to his cabin and confirmed his home phone number. David promised to call him once he got settled, later that evening. In addition to the photos, he also gave John the trash bags from his trunk, since he asked again to examine their contents. Then David returned to Gatlinburg, treating himself to dinner at a quiet Italian restaurant near the hotel.
Almost eight-thirty when he arrived at his room on the third floor, unlike the previous four nights, this time he left the little bag outside in the LaSabre’s glove box. He unpacked the new clothes he purchased that morning and got ready for bed. When he called John to let him know his new number, John told him that Evelyn happily agreed to meet with them the following afternoon at two o’clock at his cabin. With this good news, David called Miriam, and following a chat with her that lasted the better part of an hour he retired shortly after ten o’clock, leaving the television and every light on in his room. Keeping his tired eyes open became an impossible task, and before the night’s news broadcast ended he fell fast asleep.
Chapter Thirty-two
It rained all morning on Friday. He slept through most of it after visiting the hotel’s continental breakfast in the lobby around seven. He also purchased two boxes of large bandages for his neck from the gift shop. Though the wounds stopped bleeding hours earlier, the four red streaks drew a number of curious looks from both the hotel staff and other guests either checking out or eating breakfast nearby. He didn’t linger, grabbing a few Danish rolls and a large glass of orange juice before returning to his room.
The events of last night after he fell asleep were blurred in his tired mind. Some images clear, like his shock when he abruptly awoke at 12:20 a.m. and looked in the dresser mirror. Four tiny crimson rivers poured down his neck and onto his T-shirt.
What the hell?
David asked himself that question over and over, especially once he determined the wounds were real. A squadron of deep scratches pulsed in anger along the right side of his neck.
Unlike his previous nocturnal experience at the Whitestone, wiping the blood off with a wet wash cloth did little good. Grimacing from the sting, he marveled as the wounds quickly filled with blood again. After an hour of losing blood, enough to make him consider calling the front desk for directions to the nearest hospital, the flow ebbed. By then two o’clock, he knew he couldn’t go back to sleep…at least not yet.
Another dream... David recalled bits and pieces. In some ways it reminded him of the one he had Monday morning, where his heart overflowed with rage, and a powerful urge to get even…. But this time, he attacked someone.
What did she look like? Think, David—damn it, think!!
The images blurred, he hurt more than one person. A woman and a man…the guy tried to interfere.
Interfere with what, for Christ’s sake?
Reddish strands of hair filled his vision….he sat on top of her, and that’s when the other man tried to pull him off. David punched him and then he hurt the female. She retaliated by raking her hand across his neck.
The girl did this to me?? How in the hel—
He had just returned to his bed to sit down, and noticed his wristwatch sat next to the alarm clock. Like the previous times it disappeared from his wrist, Allie Mae’s little bag rested neatly inside the watch’s circumference.
Allie Mae did this?? Why???
The questions stayed with him long after the dawn’s light peered through his room’s curtains, and started up again after he returned to his room with his breakfast. Did what happen in the middle of the night relate somehow to her death?
And if that’s the case, is this the beginning of her planned revenge, to butcher me with her bare hands??
Waiting for a satisfactory answer that never came, he showered and dressed around noon, and then used the remaining bandages to cover the wounds. With the bag in his coat pocket he grabbed his briefcase and left the room. By then the rain had tapered off to a light mist. Grabbing a burger and coke to tie him over until his dinner with John, he drove toward the park.
John’s directions instructed him to take several detours not easily discernable once the rain picked up again. After a few wrong turns and a near collision with a van hydroplaning across the park’s two-lane highway, David finally arrived at his log cabin just after one o’clock. An older two-story A-frame, a large picture window dominated the second floor.
“I’m a little early,” said David, as he greeted John on his front porch. John’s smile faded when he saw the bandages on David’s neck.
“What happened to you?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure.” He followed John inside. “I guess what seemed like a dream was in fact reality.”
The cabin was much larger than it appeared from outside, with a spacious loft on the second floor in front of the window. An immense rock fireplace dominated the living room, where a crackling fire burned brightly. Cozy, furnished with leather chairs and a couch, all four walls were decorated with a variety of Native American artifacts. The open living room sat next to a kitchen area that featured a grill enclosed by smaller stones similar to those used to create the fireplace. The rich aromas of grilled beef and baked cinnamon filled the air.
A beautiful young woman with lovely dark hair and large brown eyes sliced vegetables on a large cutting bl
ock that sat next to the oven. She looked up from her task when John led David into the living room, and he recognized her from the photograph on his desk in the Cades Cove visitors’ center.
“David, I’d like you to meet Evelyn Sherman, my granddaughter, known also as ‘Two Doves Rising’,” John announced proudly.
She rinsed her hands and wiped them on the apron she wore, and stepped over to where they stood. Tall and shapely, she was dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt that almost matched the outfit her grandfather wore.
“It’s nice to meet you, David,” she said, extending her hand to him. “Grandpa’s told me all about what you’ve been through lately.”
“I’m glad you were able to come today.” He squeezed her hand gently before releasing it. “Hopefully, we can find a way to finally put an end to this whole thing.”
“That’s my intent,” she assured him, and then walked back into the kitchen. She returned to her task of cutting vegetables while her grandfather moved over to inspect her work. Evelyn shot him a look to leave her alone, and he let out an impish chuckle while peering at three large rib-eye steaks cooking on the grill.
“It may take more than just this afternoon’s session to complete everything,” she advised David, looking up from the cutting block after John left her alone.
He nodded in response, hoping it wasn’t the case and that everything did get done today. He offered to help out in the kitchen, but she and John told him to instead make himself comfortable by the fire. He moved over to one of the chairs closest to the fireplace. The strong scent of hickory prevailed over the other aromas, and he watched the flames dance around several large logs on the hearth.
“I’ll take your coat,” said John, once satisfied with the progress in the kitchen. He disappeared with David’s coat down a hallway to the right of the fireplace, where the bedrooms were located. When he returned, he carried a small first-aid kit. “Let’s take a look at your neck.”
