A Mist in the Pines: Jesse's Quest (The McCann Family Saga Book 2)

by Jeanie Freeman-Harper

  You are long in your grave Tahsha...can it yet be your spirit following me still?

  The unborn child fluttered and turned in her womb.

  Even in the heat of mid-day, Annie felt a chill, and an overpowering need to be with Jesse. So she flicked the reins to hasten the horses on their way. It wasn't as if the old she-wolf had not been long dead. Yet she had night dreams of the massive animal standing on the bluff overlooking the meadow where she and Katie had often played. Granny Minna said the dream was a clear message that the spirit of the wolf existed as a protective “animal guide” in the manner of the ancient Caddoan culture.

  It was Granny's belief that Tahsha's spirit hovered and flitted from place to place, still protecting Annie as she had since she was first born. It seemed more obsession than protection to Annie, who blocked the thought of it, as clouds crossed the brilliant summer sun. The sight of her husband waving to her at the forest's edge lifted her spirits.

  “What a surprise!” Jesse raised his voice above the grate of the saws and the boom of falling timber, as he guided her down from the buckboard. “Hope the jaunt was not too jarring for you. These old roads are as rough as wash boards.”

  “Now don’t fret over me Jess...not yet any way. I am strong as a mule and...”

  “...and just as stubborn?” He laughed and kissed the tip of her nose. “Here, let me get than basket for you. What have we here.....ah....my favorite meal. Stay and join me. We can find a quiet place up by the Big Muddy.”

  So they two spent the better part of a rare and sunny afternoon on the banks of the river, where once hundreds of logs a day meandered through a murky pathway toward the mill. But at the end of the last century, the tram lines began to haul the logs from the forest; and the river became peaceful once more. It was there by water's edge they spread a blanket for their picnic, and Jesse caught Annie up on the progress of the mill and the personal anecdotes about the workers.

  They shared their growing excitement at the prospect of Katie returning from the womens college for the rest of the summer. Jesse had determined that, despite the opinion of the times, a woman needed a higher education; and so their daughter was given every opportunity their considerable wealth could afford.

  Then the subject changed to the ailing Conner woman. Jesse had sent Granny Minna ahead to be sure she had no fever or contagion, before allowing Annie to visit her. Granny would not touch the woman, she being superstitious of certain people she called kikahs, yet she did determine there was no fever nor contagion that could harm Annie and the unborn child. She warned Jesse not to allow Annie to actually touch the woman ; but the Germanic side of him dismissed the Caddoan superstition as sheer nonsense.

  “How did you hear of Mrs. Conner's illness?” asked Annie.

  “From the youngest and last of her brood...Calvin. He was in town yesterday...throwing rocks through windows. A troubled boy that one.” Jesse 's brow furrowed as he stared up at the gathering clouds and became silent.

  “And you wish there was something you could do for him, because you see yourself in him... when you were that age.”

  “You know how my mind works...so much better than I know what goes on in that mysterious head of yours.”

  “Didn’t you know?” Annie responded, rising from the the blanket and brushing herself off. “Expectant mothers have special powers.”

  “I know one who definitely does.” He encircled her in his arms, and she stood on tiptoes to brush her cheek against his. They stood in the warmth of the summer sunlight clinging to each other, and for a moment time stood still.

  Feeling more in control and relaxed, Annie decided to visit Myra Conner, even against her better judgment. Never had she gone to help the Conners that the situation had not turned sour. Yet she steeled herself to do what must be done. And so onward she rode along Boggy Slough Road until reaching Shanty Town late afternoon.

  She found the pale and petulant Myra Conner languishing on her bed and whining like a restless child: “I got no appetite and no energy...somethin's bad wrong. I'm not long for this old world. Good thing I only have one youngun left at home now.”

  Annie remained silent and set about mixing sassafras tea and muscadine wine and held it to Myra's lips as she had done for the woman's children most of their lives. Myra raised up on boney elbows and looked into Annie’s eyes:

  “I got something growing inside me, Miss Annie...Looky here.” She took Annie's hand and pressed it against her bloated abdomen, and Annie controlled a sudden and unexpected desire to recoil, as if whatever was there was foul and unearthly.

  After a moment, Annie withdrew her hand. “ You need to see a doctor and let him recommend a surgeon. You may have to go to a large city... Houston or Dallas perhaps. There are things that can be done now days. I cant make a diagnosis but...”

  “...but you’ve seen this before.”

  Annie nodded and closed her bag. “You have some type of tumor. I doubt the tonic will cure what ails you... but you will rest better until you can get this growth out.”

  “What will become of Calvin?”

  “Why you will see him grown, of course. Let's get this taken care of. We can find funds for you and send you somewhere...”

  “Will you look after my boy ? Will you take him into your home? That temperance social worker do-gooder Beulah Birdwell came out here as high and mighty as Lady Astor, threatening to have the State of Texas take my boy away....saying he was downtown throwing rocks at folks...saying I'm a negligent mother.” Then Myra Conner grasped Annie's arms in a claw-like grip: “ Take Calvin. You and Mr. McCann take Calvin... before someone else does.”

  “What's to say you are going to die... and even so...the boy has a father.”

  “A no-count father he is. And I'm not much of a mother. I had the boy late...just as I see you are having yours...late... when a women ain’t meant to! The babies don't come out sound...and even if they do...the mother won't live to see them full grown !”

  Annie's pulse quickened: “Myra, I wont hear any more of this. Do you hear me? I'll send Doc around and let him advise you. Let this be the end of it for now.”

  “Just promise me you and Mr. McCann will take Calvin in.”

  Annie shook her head in despair. “We'll think of that another day. I feel all at once woozy. Think I'll head back to town. Take care of yourself, Myra.”

  Still the woman would not let her go without an ominous warning: “You can't be too careful...considering your condition....and your age. You don't want to lose that baby. Be especially careful on the way home.”

  Annie bolted from the Conner home with nerves as tightly strung as a fiddle.

  Home. I must get home.

  On the way back, the rain began, first misty and then torrential, as Annie struggled along a slippery road with her heart in her throat. The trip of five miles seemed more like fifty, as the wagon wheels strained against the deepening mud, and rain soaked through her summer clothing.

  Once home, she dried the horses in the barn and put down fresh hay before running inside and slamming the door behind her. She leaned against the door gasping for air. Something had followed her in: an unnatural blue tinged fog that settled within the house. It felt as if something was stealing her energy and the very breath from her lungs.

  Move, keep moving, she told herself.

  Heart pounding, she ran through her big empty house, throwing open every window, upstairs and down, yanking open the heavy, suffocating drapes, welcoming the wind and rain inside to cleanse her house of something evil that had followed her home.

  Once I let it in ….once it is inside...nothing will ever be the same.

  The rain began to soak the sills and the floor beneath the windows, but Annie neither noticed nor cared. She became as limp as a rag—dropping into a chair and placing her hands over her face.

  You have never been afraid nor irrational in your life. Don't start now. Think of the baby.

  That's when she heard it: tap, tap tap Something wa
s trying to get in. Annie ran through every room upstairs and downstairs. She fumbled through the chest of drawers until her trembling fingers sought and found Jesse's pistol.

  Tap, tap, tap. The sound was coming from downstairs. She checked the gun's chamber to be sure it was loaded and then tiptoed along the staircase, holding her breath as the front door sprung open wide. Annie raised the pistol.

  “Annie...Annie girl ! It's your Granny. What has come over you ?”

  There in the doorway, with comforting arms outstretched, stood a wide-eyed Granny Minna. Annie lowered the gun to her side and crept down the stairs. Her grandmother held her tightly and gently removed the pistol from her hand.

  “There, there now. Granny's here, and Jesse is on his way. You look like you've seen a ghost. What in or out of this world has possessed my strong, sensible girl?”

  III: The Shaman

  “She just needs a little rest and her Granny's watchful eye,” Buck advised Jesse. “Take Annie over to Minna's for awhile...away from overseeing that big ol' house. She'll be fine by the time you get back from your trip and Katie comes home.”

  After the episode with Annie, Doc Pritchett had diagnosed her erratic behavior as a “nervous condition”; Buck, with his antiquated ways, called it “the female vapors”. Either way, whatever had taken hold of his wife, Jesse could not seem to do anything to make it better. He was troubled.

  Jesse wondered why everything happened at once. There had been trouble at one of their saw mills called Pine Crest, where both turpentine and timber were produced. Jesse had received a telegram stating that there was a meeting planned for that evening to settle discontent with the workers. The weight of running the mills sat upon Jesse's shoulders like a boulder, yet it was his weight to bear. So he took Buck's advice and brought Annie to her grandmother's house, where he knew she would be safe and comfortable while he was one hundred miles south of Morgans Bluff.

  Annie felt at home in the house with the thatched roof where Granny Minna had lived for many years—on land deeded to her by Morgan. Minna lived in seclusion, looking down upon a town that had never entirely accepted her, because she was Caddoan and had given birth to Jerod, son of Reese Morgan, the founder of the timber empire. It had been the local scandal of the century.

  The house had been there on that hill thirty-eight years ago, when their granddaughter, five year old Annie Morgan had been brought to live there. It was the only childhood home Annie could remember, and her Granny the only guardian she knew; her mother had died giving birth to her.

  Granny once asked Annie about her early memories :“Do you remember Tahsha the she wolf who cared for you in the wilderness? Do you remember the loggers finding you?” Minna had asked her more than once. But Annie had apparently blocked those early days from her mind. Although she had lived with the knowledge of the animal taking her at birth, she seemingly had no memory of her early childhood.

  Jesse believed those repressed memories were suddenly breaking through, causing Annie's confusion; but Granny believed there were unseen and dark forces that had no connection with the long deceased lone wolf who , in life, protected Annie and those she loved—including Jesse. Granny was determined to chase the real culprits back to Hades; toward that end she lit candles around Annie’s bed and prayed fervently to Caddi-Ayo, god of the Caddo tribe of ancient Mound Builders: Spare my granddaughter that she may deliver my second great-grandchild. And allow me to live to see it.

  To strengthen her battle plans, Minna sent for her son : Annie's father Jerod Morgan . He arrived from the renegade Native Village, bringing with him the great Shaman, down from the Caddo Nation of Oklahoma. Only that old but powerful spiritual man practiced the ancient rituals; hesitantly, while Annie slept in her childhood bed, he began the rite of purification under the full summer moon.

  “There is a presence here that will not leave,” whispered the Shaman in Jerod's ear. “One is of the spiritual realm, and one is in the earthly realm. One is protective, and one is without heart or soul. The evil may be stronger than the good. Take your daughter away from this place!”

  Jerod shook his head. “I cannot. Her husband is a great and good man...but he does not believe in our spiritual ways. He calls it superstition. Jesse McCann believes in the healing powers of men of science and his God, Jehovah. Who's to say our deity and theirs are not one and the same? He with his great wealth believes in cures he can buy... like most of his people. Only you can rid Annie of this spirit that holds her captive. Carry on before we lose the moon.”

  The ancient cleansing ceremony began with the Shaman's igniting a mountainous pile of pine cones that quickly blazed into flames. The holy man raised his voice to the night sky in an attempt to purify the air of malevolent spirits. The brilliance of his fire lit the darkening sky ; the people in the valley below looked up and were amazed. All the while, the Shaman's chant echoed across the rolling hills, until the sound was lost in the thickness of the pines; and there a misty blue haze rose to billow and spread, creeping through the woodlands like a living thing that not even the fire could destroy.

  “An animal spiritual guide hears us,” whispered the Shaman.

  Annie's saviors turned to see her standing in her nightgown at the backdoor, face in part deep shadows and part bright glow from the light of the fire. “Leave me !” she shouted, staring vacantly beyond them, as one who slept with eyes wide-open. “You will not take this child from me!”

  “Nothing here comes to take your child but to protect it. But you must remember, and you must believe,” the Shaman whispered. “Do not fight what you can not see.”

  At that moment, far into the region known as “The Big Thicket”, Jesse and Buck drove on through the night; and much to both mens surprise, Jesse began praying, haltingly, awkwardly: Lord help me...help me end the turmoil at the mill here...and return me home as fast as you can. Watch over Annie and our unborn baby...and bring Katie safely home...and Lord ...look kindly on the Conner boy. Direct his steps. But...most of all... bring Annie to her right mind...Amen.

  Only God knew what turbulence lay ahead at Pine Crest Mill and what was, at that very moment, creeping like a lost soul through the timberland.

  IV: Unrest at Pine Crest Mill

  Pine Crest Mill was awash with a mix of workers of all backgrounds and ages: some decent but desperate family men, some petty criminals and hardened ex-convicts. One thing they had in common: all were struggling to survive in the isolated turpentine camp. The operation was far removed form the primary logging operation, and so deep in the woods, that sunlight was often lost in the shadows of towering trees and thickets.

  Jesse and Buck arrived early evening. As they pulled up to camp, they saw both anger and resignation in the faces of the men who had waited for hours to lay their troubles at his feet. Until that day, Jesse had relied on the foreman to deal with the labor; but word had been sent that he himself was “The Man” .

  Yet now the men turned their backs and did not acknowledge them but shuffled into the company dining hall with jaws set and mouths grim. It was their one chance to demand that Jesse address their miserable working conditions; and Jesse opened his mind to listen and respond the best way he could.

  Before the meeting began, he asked Buck to go into town and have his supper while he heard the turpworkers complaints.

  Buck wagged his shaggy head in refusal. “No sir! Them there's some rough looking fellas, Jess. I might ought'a stick around and lend support...in case you need a real man for back up.”

  Jesse raised an eyebrow at the one legged eighty year old and suppressed a smile. Yet seeing the new spirited spark in the old logger's eyes, he begrudgingly agreed, and replied, tongue in cheek:

  “Have it your way, but I do think you would be better off being my get -away driver...should I need a quick escape.” Jesse was unafraid and confident. “I have survived the assaults of worse than these poor people...besides we have security men and a foreman. ”

  “You know, sometimes, you’
re still a greenhorn, Jess. You got some things to learn...and I sure don’t see either security or a foreman any where.” Buck clucked his tongue and hobbled toward the meeting . “Listen here Jess,” he added, in afterthought, “Those 'poor people', as you call 'em, can turn into a vicious crowd if things don’t go their way. Don't say I didn't warn you.”

  Inside, the men had taken their places on wooden folding chairs at long dining tables etched and scarred by decades of obscene graffiti. As they took their places, the men began rolling cigarettes with stained and weathered hands and swigging chugs of “shine” from a shared mason jar. These were the rough and tumble turpentine makers : the men who scored the pine trunks and siphoned the resulting drip of pine resin. Others there were the distillers who used stills to boil the sap into turpentine. Many were disfigured, with arms and hands burned by molten resin sloshed from unwieldy kettles. The work was gummy, messy, hot and tedious. The turpentine fumes eventually compromised the workers' lungs. These were the men who did the hated jobs that even the hearty loggers refused to do. These were the desperadoes.

  Jesse and Buck came to the front of the building and sat facing the men and waiting for the buzz to settle. Neither could believe their eyes when there on the front row sat none other than Leroy Conner from Shanty Town. He was a long way from home and looking frazzled. His sharp, angular face had grown skull -like, and his shock of once dark hair was startlingly white against sunburned, dirt caked skin.

  When Jesse asked him what he was doing in the area and why he was at the “turp camp”, he replied in his usual backwoods twang: “They had me locked up in Morgans Bluff for being loaded to the gills and mixin' it up in the street... but a few months ago, the mill men drove wagons 'round to jails all over Texas, loaded some of us up...brought us up here to work.”

  “Calvin told us you had been locked up,” said Jesse. “ I doubt the boy knows where you are now...nor Myra for that matter. I don't know if you're aware of it, but your wife is not well, and your family has fallen on hard times.”