by Ali Parker
For some reason, I suddenly remembered what Mason had said the previous night, about a murder that was supposed to have happened at the farm back in the ‘50s. I couldn’t remember exactly when Nana and Grampa had moved here, but there was a chance she might remember something about the event, whether she’d been living here or not. Even if it had happened before their arrival, surely someone would have told them about it.
I didn’t know why I was suddenly so curious about it, but decided it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Besides, I wanted to steer the conversation away from things I knew she would mess up, like the day of the week or things that I’d done with her in the past.
“I heard a rumor about this place,” I began slowly. “The farm, I mean.” Was it just me, or did Nana’s eyes look suddenly sharper? “I just wondered if you knew anything about a murder that happened here.”
Nana sighed, “Oh Margaret, I know all the rumors about that murder,” she said. “But I also know what really happened.”
“Could you tell me about it?” I asked.
“Why would you ever want to know such a gruesome tale?” Nana asked. “You’re better off not knowing. Even a horror novelist wouldn’t write a tale as terrible as what happened here.”
“Was it really that bad?” I asked.
“Oh, it was dreadful. Absolutely dreadful.” When Nana saw that I wasn’t going to give it up, she finally sighed and started to tell me the story. “It started when we hired the two Carlisle boys to work for us,” she said. “Now, Jackie Carlisle was the darling of the family. Clever and sporting, just oozing charm. The girls were all over him, and you would have thought that the boys might be jealous of him. But he had too much charisma for that, so they all loved him too.”
She took a sip of her coffee, staring thoughtfully into the dark depths of her cup. “Henry Carlisle was nothing like his brother. He was artistic and withdrawn, though better with the animals.” She paused and blinked, for a moment coming back into the present day. “Once upon a time, this place used to be a ranch as well as a farm, like some of the other places in this area these days. We had horses, hogs, some chickens. Henry was wonderful with all of them.”
She was silent for a long moment, lost in her thoughts, and I worried she might not remember anything about the murder after all. But when I prompted her, she gave a little jolt and got back to her story. “I suppose Jackie didn’t like all the attention that Henry was getting for his way with the horses. Blacksmiths were coming from all around Oklahoma to get the miracle horse-whisperer to look at their best stallions, when they were sick or when they were trying to sell them. And Henry was making good money at it.
“Neither of them really needed to come to work for us, but they were nice boys and we were desperate for help back then, just trying to get the land cleared so we could do our first big sowing. We had big plans—pumpkins, squash, cabbage, beans, a little bit of everything. We were trying to be self-sufficient, back before that was normal!” she laughed a little, and I joined in.
But her face quickly sobered again. “Sometimes, I wonder if we did the right thing in hiring those two boys. There was so much between them that we didn’t know, and when we forced them to work together, it was like all that resentment bubbled up to the surface.”
“And the murder?” I asked quietly.
“They were out drinking one night with Marvin, Leroy, and some of the other men of the town.” My stomach did a flip when I realized the Marvin she mentioned was my Grandpa. Nana went on, “Leroy said something about having someone come to check on one of his cattle, and Marvin told him he’d send Henry around in the morning, if that was okay, because Henry was great with cattle as well as horses. Jackie chimed in with some rude things about Henry having certain relations with the animals which was why he got along so well with them.”
Needing to move, I poured us both more coffee.
“It only escalated from there. Next thing anyone knew, the two of them were challenging the other to a shooting contest, winner leaves town. But Henry didn’t want to leave town, and he knew that his brother Jackie was the better shot. So instead of shooting at one of the targets, he shot his brother instead.”
I put my hand over my mouth, unable to believe it. “And that happened here?” I finally managed.
“Right out in the cornfields,” Nana confirmed and shook her head. “Like I said, it’s a horrible story. Nothing heroic or educational in any of it. Henry went away to jail for a very long time, that poor boy. He was just so angry, so jealous. You can’t really blame him for any of it.”
I wasn’t sure I agreed, but I didn’t want to argue with her about it. My mind was still reeling at the story. “Why haven’t I ever heard about this before?” I asked. “I hadn’t even heard the rumors about it until last night.”
Nana shrugged her thin, stooped shoulders. “It’s not the sort of thing that comes up in polite conversation, is it?” she asked, laughing a little.
I tried to reconcile this story, the murder, with the memories I had of the farm. I had played in those cornfields as a kid. Hide and seek, just like Mason had mentioned the night before. I remembered telling my parents, one year, that the pumpkin patch was magical and I was going to live there for the rest of my life.
Did that ‘magic’ have anything to do with ghosts? I didn’t think so, but then again, who knew?
Not that I really believed in ghosts.
Nana got up from the table to wander off. “Wait,” I said, “Grampa and Jeff should be down soon for breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry, Jane,” Nana’s voice drifted back as she went into the other room.
I sighed and shook my head. As long as she stayed in the house, she didn’t seem to be in danger. It was more just worrisome. And sad. I couldn’t believe she remembered things like the murder on the farm, while forgetting seemingly more important things like the name of her granddaughter.
Not for the first time, I wished that my other two brothers were there to help. Seth and Michael should be here, pulling their own weight. But they were older, with families of their own, and they both had given me detailed lists of their other priorities and responsibilities. They couldn’t be here chasing after Nana and trying to save the farm.
The only reason I’d been able to convince Jeff, my younger brother, to come out here was because he was taking a break from college this fall and had nothing better to do. I’d convinced him that he’d be able to take some great rural shots and maybe advance his budding photography career. He loved shooting in black-and-white, after all, and weren’t desolate fields and dilapidated barns the perfect subject?
He’d come along, grudgingly. And although he’d proven to be a big help around the place, I still wondered if I’d done the right thing in dragging him out here, when he clearly didn’t want to be here. He clearly didn’t have the same sense of nostalgia that I did, with memories of a place that hadn’t flourished in years. He didn’t have the same feelings towards our family either. He hardly remembered Nana and Grampa in their better days; he’d been too young. For him, the notion of family was spoiled by our parents’ divorce and by the teasing he took from our older brothers as a child.
Above all that, I had to wonder whether I’d been foolish in coming here myself. I was definitely in over my head on all counts. Trying to save the farm, and everything with Nana. I didn’t know what I was doing there on either count. I was tempted to just give up and leave, but I knew doing something so selfish would haunt me for the rest of my life.
Besides, now when I thought about leaving, I couldn’t help thinking about Mason. I didn’t really want to leave him, not yet. Even if we weren’t in a relationship, there was something to be said for being friends.
I imagined he would make a great friend, actually. He seemed so real compared to most of the people I knew back in North Carolina. So open, so raw. You only had to watch his face to know what he was thinking and feeling. I liked that in a guy. I could imagine telling him things about myself that I had never to
ld anyone else and confiding in him about the struggles of fixing the farm and my family.
Something told me he’d understand all of that, even if he hadn’t personally gone through the exact same situations.
I wanted to know his stories, too. I wanted to get to know him better. And now that I knew that he was interested in me, I couldn’t help thinking of the things I wanted him to do.
Still, I knew that I needed to focus on my work. Hopefully, I could fix everything with my grandparents and the farm before it was really too much. I didn’t have time to start a relationship now, and what’s more, I knew that it would be doomed in the end. I had to go back home. I had responsibilities there.
If only staying were an option.
Chapter 9
Mason
The sun was just peeking above the horizon when I woke up, but I swore and leapt out of bed, already running late. I looked at my phone and saw that my alarm had gone off, but I hadn’t heard it. Ted was going to have a fit, even if they weren’t already out in the field.
I rushed through my morning routine, throwing on clothes and running my fingers quickly through my messy hair. Then, I ran downstairs.
Everyone was still in the kitchen, a perfect image of domesticity. Ted and Lauralee, my parents, and my younger brother Luke. I quickly slipped into my seat next to Luke and picked up my fork, taking a big bite of eggs as though that might cover up my tardiness.
“How many times do we have to talk about this, Mason?” Ted sighed, sounding aggravated.
“I’ll be ready when you are,” I told him, around a mouthful of food.
“Mason, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Mama chided.
I swallowed, “Then tell Ted to save the lecture,” I suggested. “I’m here in time for breakfast, aren’t I?”
“But you’re not on time for breakfast,” Ted retorted. “This has been happening for months now. You’re coming in at all hours, if you come in at all. And then you get a late start in the morning, even though you know we need to get out there and get things done. It’s about respecting the rest of us. If you don’t get your work done, there’s more that the rest of us have to do to cover for you. That’s not fair.”
“Oh screw off,” I muttered. “Has there ever been a day when I didn’t get my work done? I haven’t even ever missed breakfast.”
It was true that I’d been out late a lot lately, and that I’d stayed over at various houses in a way that I never had before. But as long as I was getting my work done, I didn’t think it was anyone’s place to judge me. And besides, Ted wasn’t the one who should be lecturing me. Sure, he was in charge now that David had gone off to Nashville. He was the one who ran the books and figured out what needed to be done around the farm. He was the one organizing the expansion. But he was my brother first, and even though he was a couple of years older than me, he had no right to talk to me the way he had been lately.
Someone should call him out on that, but I didn’t want to start a full-blown argument right there at the breakfast table, and especially not in front of Mama. She had enough on her plate at the moment with recovering from cancer and a stint in the hospital. The last thing I needed was to cause her undue stress.
But apparently Ted didn’t see things that way, because he was still going on about all the things I’d done wrong lately.
“And don’t try to tell me that your late nights haven’t been affecting your work,” he said, disgust dripping from his tone. “We’ve all noticed you’ve been slacking. Taking the easier way out. And you’ve been distracted. Some of the things you’ve written in the ledger books lately just don’t make any sense.”
“Look,” I finally interrupted. “I’ll grant you that I’ve been out a lot lately. But last night, I just couldn’t help it.” He didn’t even know where I’d been, and hadn’t even bothered to ask. That was what really pissed me off.
“Oh, you couldn’t help it, could you?” Ted asked derisively, even though I saw the way Lauralee placed a calming hand on his arm. He shook her off. “You just had to get laid. It was a Saturday night and you’re a guy with needs. Of course.”
“That’s not what I was doing,” I said, heatedly, throwing my napkin down on the table. “For your information, Steven drove his tractor off the road last night and got dumped in the ditch, while the tractor destroyed half the Brock family’s corn crop. I was helping them out.”
“The Brock family hasn’t planted anything in their fields in ages,” Daddy said, in surprise. “Has Adam Brock come back to town?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, shaking my head. “But his daughter, Abigail, is here. And her brother, Jeff.”
“And let me guess, you got involved because you were trying to get in bed with Abigail, but then her family needed her,” Ted said, rolling his eyes.
That was a little close to the truth, to be honest, but at the time that I’d offered her help, I’d thought that Abigail was married.
“I wasn’t even really drinking,” I said, like that could save me. “Kinsey’s got this new idea, a crazy one. Theme nights. Last night was some tropical theme, but then the beer special was pumpkin beer. It was nasty. I hardly drank anything.”
Daddy laughed. “Crazy, old Kinsey and his big ideas,” he said, shaking his head. The two of them had always been good friends.
Suddenly, I wondered something. “Were you and Adam Brock friends?”
“We knew them pretty well,” Daddy answered. “Nice folks. Had some troubles towards the end of their time here. I heard a rumor that they got divorced, so it would have made sense to see Adam back here. But I guess that would probably have brought back too many memories.”
“Adam never really wanted to live here anyway,” Mama said. She turned towards me. “Margaret, his wife, used to come to our sewing group during the summers when they were here. I haven’t seen her in years now, though.” She frowned, “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen the older generation of the Brocks in a while either. I do hope they’re all right, but I suppose the church must look in on them every so often. Having their grandchildren around will surely help, too.”
She said that last bit pointedly, and I had to stifle a groan. She had been hinting for years now that she was ready for grandchildren of her own. We tried to remind her that she hadn’t had any of us until she was in her thirties, but that didn’t stop her. Poor Lauralee and Ted; with David and Sarah away in Nashville and Luke and I not even in serious relationships yet, they must really be feeling the pressure.
Sure enough, Ted rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say anything.
“I heard rumors that there had been a murder out on the Brock farm,” Luke interjected. “Do you guys know anything about that?”
“Sure do,” Daddy said. “It was right after the Brocks bought the place. Must’ve been back in the ‘50s or so. Can’t remember the year. Anyway, there really was a murder there. Two farmhands. Brothers. A real tragedy, it was in the papers for miles around.”
“So, do you think it’s haunted?” I asked. “Abi said she thought that might be why none of their hands will stick around for very long.”
Daddy rolled his eyes. “I don’t believe in ghosts,” he said, flatly. “I’d bet the bigger reason they’re having a hard time keeping hands around these days is due to the fact that the farm is in such disrepair. All you have to do is drive past it to know it would take a lot of work to bring that place back to life. There’s easier work around, that’s for sure.”
“If you wanted an easy life, you shouldn’t have gone into farming,” Ted said sternly, and I wondered if he was about to start lecturing me again.
Luke interrupted him before he had the chance, thankfully. “Maybe we should all head over there one night,” he suggested. “You know, park out in the cornfields and wait to see if any ghosts show up.” He frowned thoughtfully. “If they’re having trouble with the farm, I guess it’s just too bad they can’t charge for that. But there isn’t enough to do here in our little corner
of the world for that to be the next great attraction.”
I frowned, struck by the thought. Was there some way that Abi and the Brock family could use the haunting rumors to their advantage? Some way they could capitalize on that? If there was a way, I didn’t have time to think of it before the conversation rolled onwards.
“Or, they could put in the hard work and long hours like the rest of us do and turn a profit that way,” Ted said. “Speaking of which, we should go over the chores for the day. The harvest is almost on us, after all.” He gave me a pointed look, like he thought I’d forgotten.
“I made it to breakfast,” I protested weakly. But he was already steamrolling on.
“Lauralee will be in the office for most of the day,” Ted began, pulling a list out of his pocket. I was actually surprised that he’d been as stressed as he had since taking over from David. Ted had always been the organized planner. He looked over at Lauralee and gave her a quick smile. “Before you do that, if you could stop through the chicken coop and feed them.”
“Sure thing,” Lauralee said.
“Luke, you’re on the horses this morning. You’ll need to mix up that new feed. All the bags are in the storeroom ready to go, and Bryce said he’d make sure everything was labelled so you’d know exactly what to do. Turn them out into the pasture so that Mason can get to work mucking out the stables. I want them really scrubbed down, too; we’re going to have some guys in later in the week to look at some of them, and I want everything as clean as can be. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I muttered, unable to keep the resentment out of my voice. How many years had I been mucking out stables now? It was a dirty task and not one that I particularly liked, but I knew what I was doing, and I didn’t cut corners. No matter what Ted seemed to think of my performance lately.
“And Luke, when you’re watering the horse trough, make sure you top off the duck pond as well,” Ted continued. “Daddy and I will handle the cattle, and get them turned out. Mason, once you’re done with the horses, if you could muck out the cattle stables as well. Then—“
