Then there were the loony stories spread by local people living in the woods around the foot of Bruin’s Mountain. They told anyone who would listen how wild and dangerous the families on the mountain were. These locals hunted for their living and should know best what kind of people lived on the mountain.
They told all kinds of weird stories about bears and wolves and panthers who could talk and understand English. They said the families on the mountain made a pact with the Devil and devoured hapless wayfarers who fell into their clutches. They said you took your life into your hands walking on the mountain on moonlit nights.
Morton Campbell, the most notorious hunter in the county, along with his sons Bain and Edward, told the most hair-raising stories of all. They claimed they saw bears disappear right out of their own gun sights. They claimed people attacked them to defend bears, and Morton came up with some ridiculous yarn about a friend of his who got killed by a little girl in the forest south of Dunlap Homestead.
He set everyone's hair on end with his description of how this girl ripped his friend’s throat out with her bare teeth, and when Morton ran away in terror, the girl dragged his friend’s body into the woods. The body was never found, and Morton warned everyone to keep away from Bruins’ Peak. He said it was haunted by demons from Hell, but that didn’t stop him and his sons from hunting there and selling bear hides and claws through the local tourist outlet.
Morton died ten years ago, and when Harmony questioned his son Bain, no one could identify the girl in question. As far as anybody knew, the Dunlap family didn’t have any daughters. Harmony could only conclude Morton made the story up, possibly to cover up something illegal he had done, like trespassing on Dunlap land. The Dunlaps probably shot his friend for poaching their sheep.
Harmony’s coworkers shared a good laugh when the Service assigned Harmony to investigate the families living on the mountain. Big old Bertha from HR wanted Harmony to wear a special crucifix around her neck when she drove up on the mountain. It had a diagonal bar across the top, and a priest in Venice had blessed it to ward off the Evil Eye.
Molly Shannon, the other investigative social worker at the desk next to Harmony’s, said she knew plenty of people on Bruins’ Peak and they were the nicest folks you could ever hope to meet. “Once you get up there, you’ll find out there’s nothing to these accusations.”
“Then why do so many people complain about them?” Harmony asked. “What do they stand to gain by it?”
“Oh, they stand to gain by it, all right. They want access to the mountain, and they can’t get that with the mountain people there. The families on the mountain control the best hunting land in these parts. They have rich pasture land and fish in the streams. The locals would love to get their itchy fingers on all that, but they can’t. Bruins’ Peak is private property. They can only pick around the fringes and take what they find or trespass and risk a rear end full of buckshot.”
Harmony laughed at that. Molly had a point. The locals who lodged these complaints certainly never won any prizes for exemplary care of their own children. Their children showed up to the local dental clinic with missing teeth and weeping sores on their arms and legs. They found their way to the urgent care clinic with unexplained injuries, and they all got free breakfast and lunch at the school every day to make up for what they didn't get at home.
None of the children on Bruins’ Mountain had any of that. None of them ever turned up in town at all except, at the grocery or hardware stores, in the company of adults. The grocery manager and Ollie the hardware store owner said the children from Bruins’ Peak always behaved themselves, never stole or made a mess, and always answered politely when anyone spoke to them, which was a lot more than you could say about the local kids. No one ever noticed any missing teeth or broken arms or black eyes on them then.
Harmony tossed the file on the seat and grabbed her handbag. She had pen and paper in there, along with her cell phone. She couldn’t exactly show up on their front doorstep with a file three inches thick and expect the Kerrs to open up to her about their private lives.
She swung out of her car and slung her handbag over her shoulder. “Here goes nothing,” she thought, bracing herself for the unknown. She marched up to the front porch. That’s when she realized the house was no log cabin. Giant logs made up its walls and porch frame, but no log cabin scraped the treetops like this one. The building resembled a hunting lodge, or maybe an old-fashioned hotel.
The house stood four stories high, with dormer windows glinting in the sun. Crisp white lace curtains framed each window, and some fluttered open in the morning breeze. The sun shone on the pine needles overhead and infused the whole Homestead with a comforting scent.
A log barn and shed stood off to one side, with a stout fence surrounding the yard. A few cows with calves lumbered around an enclosure by the barn, and a saddled horse leaned on one leg next to the fence.
Harmony swept the whole scene with an appraising eye: not one scrap of trash littered the ground; not one rusting corpse of a car decorated the shed yard or blighted the landscape; not one speck of moss dotted the shingle roof; and from the front gate, Harmony could see the windows shone spotlessly and clearly in the sun. Whoever these people were, they kept their place nice, a lot nicer than any place she visited in town. She couldn’t imagine any kids starving in the basement of this house.
As she watched, the shed door slid open and two men came out. A baseball cap covered the taller one’s short brown hair. His shoulders stood out rounded and muscular under his tight white T-shirt. Rugged sideburns chiseled down his face to set off high, distinct cheekbones. He wore black leather pants and black work boots.
Harmony couldn’t see his smaller friend behind his broad back, but she caught sight of a gleaming blue pick-up truck inside the shed. Brand new mud tires studded its mag wheels, and its chrome winked in the shadows before the two men slid the door closed. These people had money, make no mistake about that.
She knocked on the front door. Right away, with no delay, a little girl in a bright red pinafore answered it. She smiled up at Harmony like she’d known her all her life. No missing teeth here. Harmony hadn’t seen a set of choppers like that in years. “Hi. Are your parents home?”
The girl stood back to hold the door open. “No, but Gran and Gramps are home.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was your grandparents’ home.”
The girl shrugged. “It’s everybody’s home. You might as well come in. I’ll get Gran for you.”
The girl disappeared inside. A moment later, Harmony heard a child’s voice yelling, “Gran! There’s a lady at the door.”
A sturdy, hearty older lady with long grey hair braided down her back appeared at the door. She checked Harmony over from head to foot with flashing blue eyes. “What can I do for you?”
Harmony handed over her business card. “I’m Harmony McGillis. I’m a social worker with the local Child Protection Unit. I’m investigating some complaints made by some local neighbors of yours about the children living on the mountain.”
The woman frowned at the card. “Social Services, huh? Well, that’s nothing we haven’t dealt with before. You might as well come inside. There are about ten kids around here right now, and about twenty more living on our territory all over this flank of the Mountain. You can see for yourself there’s nothing to concern you.”
Harmony followed the woman inside. “I’m certain the accusations and complaints don’t mean a thing. I read your file, and I can see you’ve been cleared five times before. I just have to come out and double-check. That’s all.”
The woman turned her back on Harmony and left her alone in a giant living room. Huge bare logs showed on all the walls, and elk and moose heads stared out from above the couches and chairs. Sunlight shone through the windows on spotless white doilies covering the tables, and a Navajo-patterned rug lay in the hall.
The woman worked in the big open kitchen across the room. She paid no fur
ther attention to Harmony until three children, including the girl who answered the door, rushed in and collided with Harmony. “What’s going on in town? When is the carnival coming back to the Fair Grounds? I want to be in the Halloween parade. I’m gonna be a witch. What are you going to be, Jonas?”
A blonde-haired boy answered the girl who opened the door. “You’re a witch every year, April. Why don’t you go as something else for a change?”
“I’m always a witch. I like pretending to be a witch. Then I can cast spells and make people do what I want them to do. I could make Mama buy me candy when we go to town instead of an apple.” The girl turned on Harmony. “What are you going to be for Halloween?”
“Well, I hadn’t really thought about that. Halloween isn’t for another three months.”
“Who cares? We have to start planning now to get our costumes ready.”
Harmony kept her voice casual. “I didn’t know you all went to the Halloween parade. I thought that was only for kids at the school.”
“We always go. We wouldn’t miss it for anything. It’s almost as much fun as the carnival and the Fair. Everybody goes.”
The boy skipped into the kitchen and started prancing around the woman. He flapped his arms in circles and his shouts rang off the ceiling beams. “Gran! Gran! You have to help me with my costume. I’m going as Herbie the Love Bug and I need to make a car out of chicken wire.”
The woman spoke over her shoulder. “A car made out of chicken wire! That sounds like a job for your Dad or your uncle Jax, not for me.”
“It has to hang from my shoulders.” The boy measured his body with his arms to show what he meant. “I’m gonna make it open at the bottom so I can run along the ground like the Flintstones.”
All the kids started yelling at once. Another three kids ran in, and the din rocked the house to its foundations. The woman dried her hands on a towel and turned all the way around to raise her voice over the ruckus. “All you kids get out of this house. Jonas, your first stop is the barn. You can find all the chicken wire you want there, and your dad and uncle Jax are down at the watermill. You won’t get any help with that project here, so take it outside.”
All the kids trooped outside, and peaceful quiet fell over the house. Harmony still stood in the same place in the entrance. The woman tossed her chin at Harmony. “Seen enough?” She turned back to the kitchen.p
Harmony moved over next to her. “I can see they’re happy and healthy. I haven’t seen that much energy since the last Roller Derby.”
The woman shot Harmony a suppressed grin. “I don’t want to know who made the complaints against us this time, but if you look a little closer, you’ll see they want to drive us out so they can get their hands on our land.”
“That’s what my friend Molly says.”
The woman cocked her head. “Molly? Molly Shannon?”
“That’s right. She investigated you last time.”
“I remember her. She was real nice, and she made good friends with my daughter Alannis. They still keep in touch. As far as I know, she made friends with a few others around the place—Aurora Cunningham, for example.”
“I remember Molly telling me about her. They go to the movies together sometimes, but Molly says Aurora doesn’t come around much anymore. Molly thinks she’s getting married soon.”
“She is? That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
“Don’t repeat that. It’s just what Molly suspects since she doesn’t spend as much time as she used to with Aurora. She might not be getting married at all. I can think of a dozen reasons to explain it.”
“I can think of a dozen reasons to explain it, too, but only one makes sense. Her parents gave her a talking to about having an outsider for a friend, so she doesn’t see Molly anymore.”
“Why wouldn’t her parents want her having an outsider for a friend? What’s wrong with Molly?”
“There’s nothing wrong with Molly. She’s just not a Bruin, that’s all.”
“Bruin?”
“She’s not from Bruins’ Peak. That’s what I mean.”
“Oh. I understand.” But she didn’t, really.
Chapter 2
Harmony had to find a way to break the terrible silence that followed. “Listen, Mrs.….I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”
“Celia. Celia Kerr.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Kerr, I just don’t understand….”
“Call me Celia. If you’re going to investigate us, you better find out all our names.”
“Thank you, Celia. It just seems to me this kind of barrier between you and the residents of Iron Bark can only cause strife between you and your neighbors. If they knew you didn’t want your children mixing with the townsfolk that would only make them more suspicious that you have something to hide.”
Before Celia could answer, the two young men Harmony saw outside the shed marched through the front door. Celia pointed at the smaller one. “Take your muddy boots off at the door, Barton. How many times do I have to tell you not to track your dirt into my clean house?”
“I'm sorry, Mama." The shorter man kicked his boots off by the door, and his friend copied him. The two resembled each other enough to be brothers.
At the same moment, an old man tromped down the stairs into the living room. He cast a casual glance at Celia and Harmony in the kitchen and took a leather chair by the window. He wore his white hair pulled back in a ponytail behind his head and a bolo tie threaded through the collar of his white button-down shirt. White whisker stubble dotted his cheeks and chin. He wore faded blue jeans and scuffed cowboy boots, but in spite of his age, he still stood solid and imposing when he entered the room.
As if in answer to his presence, April, Jonas, and three other children barged into the house from outside. Jonas talked non-stop about his chicken wire car frame, and April babbled about her broomstick. All five children arrayed themselves around the living room coffee table.
They spread paper, color markers, crayons, scraps of fabric and scissors all over the table and talked in a continuous roar about everything they were doing. They bumped into the old man’s knees in between turning around to consult him on their projects.
Harmony inched in their direction and found what she hoped would be an inconspicuous place for her on the couch near the old man. He smiled up at her while he kept up his conversation with the children. At least someone in this house didn’t consider her an enemy.
Jonas flapped a piece of cardboard in the old man’s face. “Help me make the dashboard for my car, Gramps. How do I make the speedometer?”
When she could get a word in edgewise, Harmony asked the old man, “So you’re the grandfather? These are beautiful children. April said this is everybody’s house. Do their parents live with you, too?”
The old man beamed at her. “April and Jonas live with their parents in their own house down the valley. Their father, Hollan, is my oldest son. Most folks around here settle in their family homes, but it doesn’t always work out that way. Hollan married Claire MacAllister, and she wanted to live near her own tribe, so he built a house closer to the boundary between their territory and ours. The kids just come around here for a change of scenery when they feel like it.”
“Tribe? Territory? That sounds serious.”
“That’s just the way we think about it here. It makes it easier to keep track of everything. When you have more than one family in each tribe, you can’t exactly call the whole extended family a family. It makes it easier to talk about the Kerr tribe, the MacAllister tribe, the Farrell tribe, and so on.”
“I had no idea you had such a developed sense of community with the other families on the mountain.”
“Oh, sure: it’s developed, all right. It gets downright political sometimes.”
Harmony took out her notebook. “If you don’t mind talking about it, I’d like to document your family tree. Would that be all right with you?”
He smiled up into her face. “Sure: whatever you want to
know.”
She drew a quick sketch. “I know your wife is Celia. What is your name?”
“I’m Laird Kerr. I’m Alpha of this tribe.”
Harmony’s head shot up. “Alpha?”
“That just means I’m in charge here. I’m the strongest. I make the decisions.”
She bent over her notebook. “I see, and your oldest son is Hollan, married to Claire MacAllister. Do you have any other children?”
“Sure. After Hollan comes Jax, then Alice, Sasha, Barton, Hyatt; Alannis is the youngest.”
Harmony scribbled as fast as she could. “And which of those live with you?”
“All but Hollan and Jax; they’re both married with their own Homesteads, but they stay inside our territory. Oh, and Alice. She married Gavin Mackenzie, so she moved over to their Homestead.”
“Wow. That’s an amazing network of interrelated families.”
Jonas interrupted by leaping to his feet. He tore across the room to where the two young men leaned against the kitchen counter. He waved his cardboard in Barton’s face. “Barton! Barton! Look at my dashboard.”
Barton grinned down at him. “Pretty good, buddy.”
Jonas came back to the coffee table and set to work on what he intended to be the gear shift. Barton pulled a bottle of something to drink out of the fridge and went upstairs. The other man observed the scene from the counter with his arms crossed over his burly chest. He listened to Laird and Harmony’s conversation and made no attempt to hide it.
Every now and then, Harmony glanced up to find his eyes burning into her from across the room. What could be so fascinating about a simple conversation? Maybe her status as an outsider made her a novelty.
She could see quite well that he was a fine specimen of backwoods manhood. He stood taller than anyone in the room, and his eyes took in every detail at a glance. Black dirt crusted his fingernails, but no one could mistake him for a dullard. The curious light of deep contemplation smoldered in his face. Something Harmony couldn’t explain made her glance up at him every few minutes, just to make sure he was still looking at her – which he was.
Bruins' Peak Bears Box Set (Volume I) Page 18
