Horribly Haunted in Hillbilly Hollow (Ozark Ghost Hunter Mysteries Book 1)

by Blythe Baker

  With Snowball trotting along behind me, something brushed the front of my shin and I let out a yelp. I stumbled back, soon realizing that there were chickens in the house. As my eyes adjusted, I saw it wasn’t just one, but three, hanging out in the living room as if they lived there. I needed the bathroom even worse now, so I didn’t stop to shoo them. Instead, I headed out through the backyard.

  I used the outhouse and as I headed back toward the house, looked to my right toward the pasture fence. I turned, heading toward the gate where I had been the night before. When I’d almost reached it, Snowball stopped, bleating loudly, and lay down.

  “What’s your problem?” I whispered. “Come on girl.” I put my hands on my knees and called her. “Come on, Snowball.”

  She made a little snorting sound and stayed put.

  Emma, you’re calling a goat like it’s a puppy, I realized. Get yourself together!

  I continued on without my companion, and as I passed the pasture gate, I was certain I could see a figure in the distance where I had seen something before.

  A chill rippled through me. Still, I walked a little further down the fence line.

  Misfiring synapses, I reminded myself. Electrical impulses and that’s all.

  I walked a bit closer, and could clearly see the figure of a tall man in the same dark jacket and wide-brimmed hat that I had seen before. I could see the resemblance now to Preacher Jacob.

  My heart beat so hard I was certain anyone standing nearby could hear it. I took a few tentative steps toward the figure.

  It moved nearer, then turned away, looked over its shoulder at me, and waved an ethereal arm, beckoning me to follow.

  I took another tentative step, then stopped.

  This is ridiculous. Ghosts aren’t real, and if they were, why would the ghost of a man I barely remember having met want me to follow him?

  I gripped the fencepost where I was standing.

  The figure continued moving away from me, then turned back, as if it realized I was no longer following. The phantom seemed to point urgently toward the valley below.

  No. NO! This is not real, I reminded myself. I can’t be seeing ghosts.

  I turned and half-jogged back toward the house. As I passed Snowball, she jumped up and followed me, apparently relieved I had come to my senses.

  I returned to the attic and fired up my laptop and hotspot. I revisited the historical society’s website and looked again at the photos from recent events. The image of Preacher Jacob certainly looked like the figure I saw in the field.

  I stood and walked over to the round window at the pasture end of the attic. I cautiously peered outside. There was no figure standing near the pasture fence or anywhere else that I could see. I wondered if maybe the talk with Billy about Jacob’s murder was simply invading my subconscious.

  But, you didn’t know about any of that when you saw the same figure last night, Emma.

  Snowball ambled over to me and put her head on my knee for me to scratch it.

  “Are you sure you’re a goat and not a weird looking dog?” I asked.

  She raised her head for me to scratch her chin and her ears went slack.

  “Okay, little weirdo. If you’re going to hang around me all the time, you’re definitely getting a bath today. You smell like livestock.” I giggled and had to put a hand over my mouth to suppress a full-blown laugh.

  Wide awake, I decided to putter around in the attic. If I was going to be here for a while, I might as well make it cozy.

  I pulled the New York poster from the box and laid it on the cot. I found a box that had an ancient roll of masking tape inside, and put it with the poster. I moved a few boxes and found a folding chair and a little table. I dusted these off and put them up near the window. In another box I found my old desk lamp, which I retrieved and set on the floor near the cot.

  The last treasure I retrieved was the torn rag rug that Suzy and I made my junior year of high school. We used old t-shirts, a couple of Grandpa’s worn-out work shirts, and random pieces of fabric stolen from Grandma’s sewing basket. In truth, I was sure she knew we had taken them. We had spent hours sitting in my attic room, talking, laughing, and looping fabric through the holes of the rug pad I had picked up at the general store for three dollars. It was still in good condition and didn’t appear to have much moth damage, but was definitely filthy. I set it by the door so I could take it downstairs and wash it later.

  Returning to the poster, I made little loops from the masking tape and put it up on the wall across from the cot. All I had wanted when I graduated from college was to run off to the city. I would stare at the posters I’d collected and dream of the glamorous life I’d have someday.

  But the tiny apartment I had shared with a roommate in the Flatiron district was certainly not glamorous by any stretch of the imagination. I had a cool walk-out balcony big enough for a narrow bench and a couple of potted plants, though, and it was a short walk to my job at the advertising agency. If I planned to stay here in the Hollow for long, I’d have to start getting some freelance work done, or sublet that place.

  I walked over to the window again, and looked out at the farm and the pinpoints of light in the valley below. The sky was becoming lighter, a faint cast of purple starting to glow on the horizon. I took a deep breath and smelled the dew-covered grass.

  I heard a noise from the rooms below and looked at my phone. Five-thirty.

  I threw some jeans on with my t-shirt, and decided to go down and help Grandma and Grandpa with the morning chores.

  Chapter 8

  I walked into the kitchen and put on the coffee, nice and strong, just the way they liked it.

  “Good morning,” I said in a sing-song voice as they came into the kitchen.

  “Well, look who’s up early,” Grandma said, patting me on the shoulder.

  “Yeah, something woke me up, so I thought I might help you guys out,” I replied.

  “Pull that bacon out of the fridge, Emma. I’ll go get the eggs,” Grandma said as Grandpa poured a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table. He took a sip.

  “Pretty good,” he said. That was practically gushing coming from a man of few words.

  I put the iron skillet on the large burner and turned on the fire. I pulled the bacon from the waxed paper and laid the strips out, close but not touching, in the pan. I pulled the long-handled wire screen from the hook about the stove and put it on top of the pan so the bacon didn’t splatter, and popped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster.

  Grandma came in from outside and deposited the basket of eggs on the counter.

  “You might have more eggs on the couch. There were about three chickens in here early this morning when I went to the outhouse,” I said, smiling.

  “Oh, that would be Martha, Abigail, and Dolly,” she said, smiling back. “They get nervous sometimes, and wander in.

  “You’re naming the chickens now?” I asked, cracking an egg into another skillet.

  “Just the laying hens, not the fryers. That would be ridiculous,” she replied, laughing.

  “Ought to be glad she’s just namin’ ‘em,” Grandpa muttered, taking another sip of coffee.

  “Here, let me take that,” Grandma said, ushering me away from the stove.

  I looked at my grandparents. They were definitely not the frail, dependent old people I had convinced myself I’d find when I got here. I had to tell them the truth – at least part of it.

  “Listen, I’d-I’d like to tell you guys something,” I started, sitting at the little kitchen table beside Grandpa so I could look at them both.

  “Yup, we’re listenin’ I reckon,” Grandpa said.

  Grandma turned to look at me, occasionally turning back to the stove to check on the eggs.

  “I didn’t tell you the whole truth about why I came back.”

  “Knew that. So, what is it, then?” Grandpa replied, taking another sip of coffee.

  “I was in an accident. It was a couple of months
ago,” I started to explain.

  “Emma! You didn’t tell us? Are you alright, dear?” Grandma asked.

  “Yes, I’m – well, I’m mostly okay. I was crossing the street and got hit by a taxi on the cross-walk. I broke a couple of ribs, but had a really bad blow to the head.”

  I looked at them both. Grandma’s face was full of worry. Grandpa was trying to remain stoic, but I saw the concern in his eyes.

  “I had what’s called a closed traumatic brain injury. Basically my brain bounced around in my skull. I’m fine, it’s just that…well, it sort of messes with my vision sometimes.”

  Not entirely a lie, if you considered my vision including ghosts that didn’t exist to be messing with.

  “My doctor said I needed to get some rest. Maybe get out of the city for a while, so I thought I’d come back home for a bit. I really thought it would give me a chance to help you guys while I get out of the hectic pace of New York.” I looked down at my coffee cup. “But, it looks like I was wrong. You…you don’t really need my help at all.”

  “Oh, Emma! How could you have not told us about this? I’m very disappointed. Very disappointed indeed!” Grandma wrung her hands, then stepped over to give me a one-armed hug.

  “Eggs, Dorothy,” Grandpa said, and she rushed back to the stove to remove the fried eggs from the pan. “Hmph. So, you’re gonna be alright though?” he asked.

  “Yes, Grandpa, I will. I just need to take it easy for a bit. Have a little less stress,” I replied.

  “Stress! What a citified idea! Well, if it’s restin’ your mind you’re after, I can put you to work for the day. Nothing clears the head like an honest day’s work.” He sipped his coffee again. “That is, if you think you can handle it.” He cast his eyes subtly in my direction.

  “I may not be farm strong anymore, but I’ll try to keep up if you’ll let me.”

  I felt a little better as Grandma set the plates down and we ate breakfast.

  After we ate, I followed Grandpa outside and toward the pig pen. We spent the morning slopping the hogs, taking the tractor out to move hay for the cattle, and mending the back fence.

  By early afternoon, I was exhausted, but feeling good about pulling my weight, at least a little.

  “Grandpa, I was thinking I might get a mattress and put it up there in the attic if that’s okay with you. That cot isn’t very comfortable.” I broached the concept carefully, not wanting to wear out my welcome.

  “Might want to head up to McClain’s down near Springfield. They’re an honest firm,” he said to my surprise.

  “Oh? Oh! That’s a great idea. Thanks, Grandpa.”

  I pulled out my phone and found they were open until seven in the evening. I could make the hour drive and be there with plenty of time to shop.

  “I think I’ll clean up and head that way now,” I said. “Unless you need me for some other chores?”

  “Nope. Go on ahead. I can finish up,” he replied.

  I grabbed my clothes from the basket where Grandma had put them after pulling them from the clothesline, and got cleaned up. As I was getting myself together to leave, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Suzy.

  SUZY: U haven’t called

  ME: Sorry! Was doing chores

  SUZY: U R back home huh? LOL

  ME: Guess so! Heading to Springfield for a new bed

  SUZY: My help is here 2day. Come pick me up on way

  I was excited to have my friend’s company on the hour-long drive. I swung by her shop and picked her up.

  She insisted on driving her Cadillac SUV instead of the old farm truck, and I didn’t argue, offering to buy both the coffee and gas on the way.

  We chatted on the drive down, gossiping more about people in town and the kids we went to school with and what had happened to them after graduation. I told Suzy all about New York and how it wasn’t half as exciting as either of us thought it would be when we used to daydream about it as kids.

  “So, Emma, you’re buying furniture for your old room, now? Does that mean you’re staying?” she asked, as we wandered around McClain’s and I tried to determine if my thirty-year-old body would get enough support from a twin mattress.

  “Um, well, for a little while anyway. Besides, if I come back to visit, I’d rather have a decent bed to sleep on. Oh – did I tell you I found the rug we made? I rinsed it out and hung it up on the line to dry. It’s so cute – I’d almost forgotten about it!”

  I decided on the pillow-top twin I’d been debating on, and waved the salesman over.

  “You sticking around doesn’t have anything to do with a certain cute doctor, by chance?” Suzy asked coyly.

  “Suzy! What are we, seventeen? No way. We’re just friends, just like always. But I have to say, I am kind of curious to find out what happened. With Preacher Jacob, I mean. I just can’t believe one of our little town’s residents is a murderer.”

  I checked Suzy’s expression.

  “Well, Brian and I ran into Tucker in the diner this morning and he asked if we’d seen anything,” she said, running a finger along a sofa table. “Brian told him he heard Preacher Jacob arguing with Mayor Teller at his shop a couple of weeks ago. He was in there picking up a chandelier for his mom.”

  “Really? I wonder what that was about,” I replied.

  “He didn’t know, but Mayor Teller seemed mad. That vein was sticking out in the side of his fat neck, apparently. You know how he gets.” She snickered a little.

  “Come on,” I said as we lead the salesman out to the SUV with the little mattress. “I need to stop at a department store and pick up a few more things before we head back.”

  Chapter 9

  After the drive back to Hillbilly Hollow, Suzy and I transferred the mattress from her SUV into the bed of the farm truck, putting my other purchases on top of it, and securing the whole thing with a couple of bungee cords I found in the glove box.

  Back at the farm, I brought in the bags, planning to ask Grandpa to help me carry the mattress up. I opened the door to the attic, and Snowball preceded me inside. As I walked in to drop my bags on the cot, in its place I found a wooden bed frame. It was an x-configuration with a simple headboard and slats across it for support.

  I dropped the bags and ran downstairs to look for Grandpa, finding him in the kitchen. “You made me a bed?” I asked, stunned and appreciative.

  “Well, can’t have you sleepin’ on a mattress on the floor like a hobo. It’s unseemly. You did get a mattress?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Thanks, Grandpa.” I threw my arms around his neck.

  “Come on, let’s get it set up. Sky looks like it might rain in a bit.”

  We put the mattress on the frame and I was impressed that it fit perfectly. I had bought two sets of sheets, one I used without washing, out of desperation, and the second I put in the laundry room to deal with the following day.

  I lay back onto the new mattress with its brand new sheets and pillows. It felt like Heaven in comparison to the cot I’d been sleeping on for days.

  I’d swept the attic and gotten most of the dust out, and plugged in the little lamp, after clipping it to a ceiling beam. At the department store, I had picked up a metal clothing rack on wheels with a couple of shelves for shoes, which I put together after we finished the bed. I had also bought some field boots for wearing outside, and a few more clothes to wear for working around the farm.

  “What do you think, Snowball?” I asked.

  “Maaah!” she replied.

  I started to get ready for an early night, tired from a day of chores and running around, when my phone buzzed. The text was from Billy.

  BILLY: Good seeing u yesterday. Fishin 2moro at Ford’s X. Wanna come?

  ME: What time?

  BILLY: Pick u up at 6?

  ME: Sounds fun. C u then

  I hadn’t been to Ford’s Cross since I couldn’t remember when – high school, probably. We used to go there to fish and swim in the summertime. I was also excited to spend
some more time with Billy. If I was honest, being back home and him not living right next door anymore felt a bit strange.

  I decided I had better check my email and see if there were any clients I needed to respond to. I spent a little time online searching for internet providers in the area, and wondered if I could talk Grandpa into letting me get satellite service instead of using my slow hotspot.

  I heard a rumble outside and walked over to the window in time to see lightning in the distance. I stuck my hand through the round opening and felt the first few drops of rain. It was cool and refreshing against my skin in contrast to the summer heat, and I was thankful that the temperature outside seemed to have dropped because of it.

  I went downstairs for a snack and a glass of tea. My phone buzzed again. Suzy, this time.

  SUZY: Had fun 2day. 4got how much i missed u

  ME: Me 2. 3 musketeers back 2gether

  SUZY: All 4 1 and 1 4 all! Also I had brilliant idea. If u r sticking around a bit u should join historical society. Get you off farm and out a bit.

  It occurred to me that Suzy might be a genius. The historical society would let me get to know everyone in town again. It might even give me the chance to put some of these nagging thoughts about Preacher Jacob to rest. If I could do that, maybe he would get out of my head, and out of my sight.

  ME: Good idea. U r genius

  SUZY: I know. Sleep tight!

  I had the best night of sleep I’d had since I’d been home. The new mattress did the trick, and I didn’t wake up until the sun was high enough to beam through the attic window.

  I put on my jeans and t-shirt, along with my new muck boots, and headed downstairs. The smell of sausage and coffee hit me as soon as I reached the sitting room.

  “Smells great, Grandma!” I said, as I grabbed a mug and filled it with dark, caffeine-infused, liquid Heaven.

  “Sleep well?” she asked, pulling a piece of sausage from the pan and setting it on a plate for me, with a biscuit and some fried potatoes.