The Devil's Cradle

by Sylvia Nobel

  Audrey collapsed into her chair. “I don’t understand any of this.”

  I was hanging on every word and aching to hear more, but the look of bewilderment on Audrey’s face concerned me. She looked positively shell-shocked. “Well, listen, you guys,” I cut in, “we sure appreciate everything, but Miss Morgan’s had a pretty rough day. Could someone give us a lift to the doctor’s place?”

  There were quite a few enthusiastic volunteers, including my biggest fan from the bar who was practically drooling at the chance, but thankfully Whitey shouted them all down and offered his services. After enlisting the aid of a friend to watch things until his return, he escorted us outside.

  His eyes were brimming over with curiosity as he helped us into his jeep, but the look of distress on Audrey’s face seemed to discourage him from probing further.

  During the entire trip back down the rutted road to retrieve our luggage, she sat behind us in total silence, looking vague. I wondered if it was just her withdrawn nature, or a symptom of her epilepsy that enabled her to lose herself completely in another world. She was awake, but seemingly not quite with us.

  The ride was rough and uncomfortable, but it sure beat walking. Arriving at the blackened tree, Whitey whistled in surprise. “Whew! You’re damn lucky it didn’t fall on you.”

  “Actually, we came pretty close to getting flattened with a sizable boulder further back,” I informed him, pointing to the top of the hill.

  He shook his head solemnly. “I’m not surprised. The Boneyard got washed out pretty bad back in June. I thought that gate was shut tight and locked.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to mention why we’d taken that route, but he’d already slid to the ground and was busy dragging a broken limb aside. I left Audrey sitting in the back and followed him to my car. Unlocking the trunk, I asked, “Why is it called Boneyard Pass?”

  “Happened about a hundred years ago,” he said with a grunt, pulling out the first suitcase. “Couple of fellas were hauling a freight wagon full of supplies when something spooked the mule team and the whole shebang tumbled over the edge.”

  “That’s horrible. Did anyone survive?”

  “Nope. All dead. Including the mules. They buried the men where they lay, but left them poor critters out there rotting in the sun till there was nothing left but a pile of bones.”

  Considering how close we’d come to repeating history this afternoon, I was almost sorry I’d asked.

  When we’d completed our task and Whitey re-started the engine, I took a last look around. My poor little car looked awfully forlorn stranded there alone in the dark valley.

  “I’ll get hold of a few of the boys in the morning and we’ll get her out for you,” he volunteered, apparently noticing my concern.

  Bucking and rocking back up the hill, I listened to Whitey chat amiably about himself. He’d worked the coal mines of West Virginia as a young man and migrated west to work for the Morgan Mining Company in the early fifties. He’d been employed first as a lowly mucker before moving up the ranks to operate a jackleg drill. That’s where he’d been working a header in a drift when he’d gotten slabbed when a rock crashed down on him from the back injuring his leg so badly he’d been relegated to an office job.

  “Whoa, hold on,” I interjected with a laugh, noting the mischievous gleam in his eyes. “You may as well be speaking in a foreign language. You’re going to have to interpret this mining terminology for me.”

  With the patience of a schoolteacher, he explained that mucking meant hauling out waste rock and that he’d been injured when a loose boulder fell from the ceiling of the tunnel while he’d been drilling the rock face. “Pushing papers don’t get your adrenaline running like working down in the hole,” he said, downshifting the jeep as the grade grew steeper, “but it was mighty damn good of old Jeb to keep me on.”

  “And who’s old Jeb.”

  “Jeb Morgan was Grady’s pa. He was still running the show even though he was well into his nineties.” He blew out a nostalgic sigh. “And a more hootin’, hollerin’ place you never did see. Yes, siree, if the mine hadn’t closed...let’s see, it’s been almost four years ago, I’d still be working there instead of selling suds to the handful of poor souls still hanging on here by their fingernails.”

  “Why did it close?” I inquired, holding tight to the handle above my door, trying to keep my teeth from clacking together as we bounded to the top of the hill.

  He gave me a calculating glance. “That depends on who you talk to.”

  I raised a brow. “Meaning what?”

  “Some say it was a simple combination of bad management plus the price of copper being in the toilet. Others swear it was because them damned bureaucrats from the EPA started breathing down our necks.”

  “What prompted that?”

  He huffed out an impatient breath. “I’ll tell you what it was. A bunch of them noisy environmentalists, blathering about pollution and kicking up a fuss about endangered birds and such, come storming into town demanding restrictions on this and regulations on that. Why it would have cost so darn much to appease them that Grady would’ve had to hock what there was left just to keep the mine open. After a couple a years of wrangling, he told ‘em all to go to hell and shut her down.”

  “And that killed off the town,” I mused softly.

  “Just about. Businesses started to close right and left so pretty soon most of the younger folks with kids moved away. The schools closed up, most all the churches, and we only got one place left to even buy food. Hell, since the drug store packed it in last year, you have to drive clear over to Bisbee to get a damn prescription filled.”

  I shook my head in sympathy. “What a shame. Guess you’re lucky you’ve still got a doctor here.”

  “That’s for sure. But the doc’s getting a bit long in the tooth. I wouldn’t be surprised if he pulls in his shingle and retires pretty soon. Yep,” he went on, his voice turning wistful, “we all thought things were as bad as they were gonna get when little by little, them hippie types started moving in for keeps. I mean to tell you, there’s been a heap of scrapping amongst them and the regular town folk this past year so...” he paused, thumbing behind us, “I guess the future of what’s going to happen to this place is gonna depend on this little lady.”

  Audrey hadn’t said word one since we’d left the saloon, so I turned around to judge her reaction to Whitey’s statement. She was staring dully out the window as if none of it mattered. I had a feeling it did, but she was too overwhelmed with everything to bother with any response. I decided then that it might be best to wait and hear Dr. Orcutt’s version. I was well aware of how facts could get skewered in the rumor mills of small towns.

  My second approach to Morgan’s Folly wasn’t quite so depressing now that a few lights gleamed from within the homes bordering the narrow winding streets and winked down at us from the steep hillsides.

  Succumbing to the weariness invading my bones, I rested my head against the window frame and let the rain-washed air blow in on my face. With the storm clouds now retreating beyond the distant mountains, brilliant patches of stars appeared to reclaim the night sky.

  “Here we are,” Whitey announced, pulling up in front of a two-story house flanked by towering cypress trees. The shadowy outlines of tall chimneys were back-lit in eerie amber light from one lone street lamp perched on the road above. “You gals want me to bring the bags inside?”

  “No, no, we can manage from here,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief as I pushed the door open and slid to the ground. “You’ve done enough. Thanks so much for all your help.” About all I could think of at that moment was food, a hot bath, and sleep.

  He left our luggage on the walkway leading up to the porch and favored me with a broad grin. “See you, Irish.”

  I returned a smile. “Same to you.” It was nice to know our common ancestry had established an immediate bond between us and because of his unique position as bartender and ‘head honcho of go
ssip central’, no doubt his knowledge of this little town and its inhabitants would prove exceedingly valuable. The amiable expression on his face clouded slightly when he looked at Audrey. “Good luck to you, young lady. You’re gonna need it.” With that, he turned, climbed into the jeep and waved a friendly farewell.

  Audrey watched wistfully as he roared out of sight. “I wish he was my cousin instead of Haston.”

  “Me too,” I said absently, noting with dismay that except for the dull yellow glow of the porch light, the house was dark. It was only a little after ten, but it could have been midnight. Other than the faint yelping of coyotes somewhere in the distance and the steady hum of crickets, there was absolute dead silence.

  “You’re sure he’s expecting us.”

  “I told his nurse last night we’d be coming. Why?”

  I motioned toward the house. “It doesn’t look like anyone is awake.”

  As she stood gawking, impatience bubbled up inside me. It had been an extraordinarily long day, I was dog-tired and I’d about had it. “Well, it looks as though she neglected to tell him,” I grumbled, leaning down to pick up my bags, “but I guess that will be his problem.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  I started up the steps. “Go to bed.”

  “Wait,” she squealed, running after me. “Maybe we’d better go to a motel.”

  I stopped and turned. “Did you see anything even remotely resembling a motel?”

  “No.”

  “Precisely.”

  Marching across the porch, I dropped the bags unceremoniously at my feet and parked a finger on the bell. It was inexcusable, but I felt a fiendish glee listening to it reverberate throughout the house. I knew myself well enough to know that fatigue was eroding my already short temper.

  No sooner had I lifted my finger than a downstairs light flashed on. There were footsteps, the lock snapped, the door cracked open, and a wary female voice demanded, “Yes?”

  “Mrs. Orcutt?” I inquired.

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Kendall O’Dell and this is Audrey Morgan. I believe you’re expecting us and I apologize for being so late. We were unavoidably delayed.” It would have been nice to add, ‘because of your husband’s rotten advice,’ but I restrained myself.

  My little speech was followed by one of the longest silences in history, and the wonderfully long hot bath I’d been envisioning began to fade away. What was the matter with her? “Mrs. Orcutt?”

  “Ah, yes. Please come in.” She swung the door open and stood aside, tightening the belt on her flowered robe as we dragged our luggage into the entry hall. When she snapped on a brighter overhead light, I could see her more clearly.

  And she could see us more clearly too.

  Brushing a wisp of graying brown hair from her gaunt face, her guarded expression switched first to disbelief, then to distaste as she surveyed our disheveled appearance. No doubt we looked like two female mud wrestlers, and I got the impression that she wished she’d hosed us down before inviting us into her home.

  “Sorry about the mess,” I said, trying to keep my mud-caked shoes on the braided throw rug and off the spotless white tile floor that led around the corner into a large kitchen. “My car got stuck on the road and we had to walk into town. Mr. Flanigan was kind enough to drive us here.”

  She frowned. “How do you know Whitey?”

  “Well, we don’t really. We just sort of stumbled onto the Muleskinner and....”

  “We’re very sorry we woke you,” Audrey chimed in, sounding like a guilty child. “We tried to phone, but the lines are out.”

  It was then the woman’s gaze fastened fully on Audrey and there was subtle change behind her deep-set eyes. “So,” she said at length, “you’re Rita’s girl.”

  Audrey looked gratified. I’m sure after having suffered the mortification of being labeled an imposter the woman’s words of affirmation must have sounded reassuring. “Did you know her?”

  “Of course,” she replied. “Your mother was my husband’s nurse.”

  Audrey’s mouth sagged open. “His nurse?”

  “She never told you she worked for him?”

  In an almost inaudible voice, she answered, “She never told me she was a nurse.”

  A profusion of emotions flitted across Mrs. Orcutt’s stoic face before she responded. “Well, it appears that I’m not the only one who’s been kept in the dark all these years.” Her remark was meant to sound breezy but her words were punctuated with unmistakable resentment.

  Both women’s disclosures were astonishing and I was eager to hear more, but also relieved when she added, “Miles won’t be able to talk with you until tomorrow since he’s already gone to bed.” Her dismissive tone discouraged further conversation as she turned on her heel and swept into the kitchen.

  Following her request that we leave our shoes on the rug, she asked if we were hungry and then directed us upstairs to the guestroom. Because we had to share a bathroom I wasn’t able to linger in the tub as long as I would have liked. But it was just as well since I was anxious to get to the tray of sandwiches she’d prepared and left on the dresser before retiring a second time.

  While Audrey showered, I alternately ate and jotted down everything I considered pertinent to the story. Even though the events of this unbelievably long day had already uncovered some remarkable findings, it appeared that the key to this puzzle lay with Dr. Orcutt.

  And as much as I yearned to be a part of it, simple propriety dictated that I not interject myself in what promised to be a revealing, and most likely, emotional encounter. I’d have to be content with whatever Audrey chose to share with me afterwards.

  I shoved my notebook aside when she emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. Wrapped demurely in a pink ankle-length nightshirt, she looked more child-like than ever sitting cross-legged on the opposite bed pensively munching a sandwich.

  “You gonna be okay?” I asked, watching her sober expression.

  “I guess. I mean, it was good to get the mud off but I’m...I’m so confused about everything. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know how to feel. I keep telling myself this is all just a bad dream and I’m going to wake up and everything will be like it was before.”

  “You’ve had a lot to absorb in one day.”

  “Tell me about it. Let’s see,” she said, laying the sandwich down and counting her fingers. “I have a different name, a different age, I own a worthless tumbledown town in the middle of nowhere, I have a cousin who hates me and, oh yes,” she added in a trembling voice, “his wife hates me too. And I can tell Mrs. Orcutt hates me...” Tears glistening in her eyes, she pressed her fingertips to her lips. “I don’t know if I can stand to hear anymore.”

  Feeling rather helpless, I rose and sat next to her, slipping my arm around her shoulders for the second time that day. Her heart-rending sobs were so pitiful I was moved to the brink of tears myself.

  It was unfortunate. She seemed to be one of the true innocents of the world doomed to shoulder an incredibly heavy burden created by the actions of others. And she appeared to possess a scant supply of stamina. I wondered again about my own motives. Perhaps digging up the past was not the best course of action for Audrey Morgan.

  When her weeping began to subside, I rose, pressed a wad of tissues into her hand, and then moved to the window. For a few minutes, I stood staring glumly at the stars glimmering above the dark outline of hills before turning back to her.

  “Thank you, Kendall,” she hiccuped, blowing her nose. “You’ve been so kind to me...” Pausing, she blinked back fresh tears and I feared she was going to break down again. “You’re just as nice as your brother said you’d be.”

  I folded my arms and leaned back against the windowsill. “Listen, Audrey, I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve got my heart set on doing this story, but if you want to forget this whole thing, it’s fine by me.”

  She dabbed her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.
”

  I moved to my bed and pulled back the covers. “Why don’t you sleep on it, things always look different in the morning.”

  She nodded and lay down with her face to the wall. I shut the light out and listened to the whir of the window air conditioner and finally to Audrey’s soft snoring. Exhaustion pressed me to the mattress like a lead blanket, but I was so keyed up my eyelids refused to stay closed as the day’s events careened around inside my head. A lot of things were bothering me. Especially the fact that Dr. Orcutt would deliberately direct us down a hazardous road like Boneyard Pass. I tensed again, remembering the giant boulder tumbling into the road. That had been way too close for comfort. Envisioning the section of rusted pipe in the road triggered another thought. What happened to the white pick-up truck that had been ahead of us? Had the driver continued on the road to Bisbee or turned onto the shortcut? And if that were so, where had the truck gone?

  I turned over and plumped the pillow. From just the little I’d learned so far, Tally’s suspicion that Grady Morgan’s death might be something other than accidental was not all that farfetched. There appeared to be several warring factions at work, but try as I might I couldn’t understand why Grady Morgan had opposed re-opening the mine. Wouldn’t that have made good economic sense for him as well as everyone else?

  I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to clear my mind. There was no point in driving myself nuts with questions when I had so few details. Some of the answers would most likely come tomorrow and so far everything boomeranged back to Dr. Orcutt.

  Why was he so closely tied to the Morgan family? Why had he been the only living soul in town who knew that Rita and her daughter weren’t really dead? Learning that Audrey’s mother had been his nurse at least established a connection between them, but why had they maintained contact for eighteen years? He’d carried out Rita’s final wish to contact Audrey about her inheritance, but he’d apparently done so reluctantly. Why? Passages from the letter written by Audrey’s mother swam before my eyes. What were the other promises he’d sworn to keep?