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

by Blythe Baker

  “Well, Billy did say he was strangled. And she’s been playing the organ since she was about ten – strong hands, I’d imagine. Who knows? Maybe she snapped?” Suzy said.

  We finished our lunch, and I went down to the historical society to give Sadie my size for the costume.

  I could see Betty was in the back, fussing with something on the wall as I talked with Sadie. She finished getting my information, and I asked, “Can I pop back and let Mrs. Blackwood know how this morning went?”

  I mustered up the cutest, most harmless expression I could.

  “Um…” Sadie seemed to hesitate and then looked back to me. “You know what? Go on.” She shrugged.

  “Hi, Mrs. Blackwood,” I said as I walked up to her. “Everything alright?”

  “Blast!” she said as she set a large picture frame on the floor against the wall. “Hm? Oh, Emma! Yes, it’s fine.”

  I looked at the frame she had set down and saw it was a large photo of Preacher Jacob in his cavalry uniform with a small memorial plaque on the bottom of the frame. “Oh, is that a memorial? That’s nice!” I said.

  “It’s too big! It’s just ridiculous. I mean, where am I supposed to put this thing?” she said in an annoyed tone. My eyes grew big in surprise at her tone, and she must’ve caught the expression on my face. “I mean, there’s just not a good place to put it,” she backpedaled, “I mean to do it justice, of course.” She narrowed her eyes and cast a glance in my direction.

  “Of course,” I agreed, not really sure how to react to her apparent callousness toward the man that everyone else in town loved. “I was just coming by to tell you about this morning…at the fort?”

  “Oh, yes. Did Richard take good care of you?” she asked.

  “Yes, he was great. He showed me around and told me all the stories about the fort. I was just stopping by to give Ms. Sadie my size for the costume,” I said, smiling.

  Sadie walked up. “Betty, I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she said. “Drew Mabry’s here to see you.”

  “Oh, yes, yes. Send him to my office,” Betty replied. “Emma, I’ll see you soon.”

  She walked off into her office, and Drew Mabry followed her.

  I stopped back at the front counter to say goodbye to Sadie. “Boy, she seems like she’s having a bad day, huh?” I said.

  “She’s been real worked up lately,” Sadie said. “I mean before, you know, everything with Preacher Jacob, I thought she was getting a little nervous about the election.”

  “The election? Like for society president?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes, there was talk that Preacher Jacob was going to be voted in, and Betty would be o-u-t!” She raised an eyebrow and gave a knowing nod.

  “Really? So, she was pretty angry about that?” I asked.

  “She was, but I don’t know what her problem is now. She’s just so cranky all the time,” she said. “I mean, they argued about how to allocate funding for the fort, but with Preacher Jacob gone, now she can sway the other members to vote her way. Still, she just seems so, I don’t know, on edge.” Sadie crossed her arms and tapped her chin with her forefinger, then shrugged.

  “Hmpf. Well, maybe she’s just worried until they find the killer. I think it’s got everyone a little nervous,” I said. “Anyway, I’d better go. I’ll see you later.”

  I wanted to get back to the house to see if there was anything Grandma and Grandpa needed help with, and to eat dinner with them.

  I passed Billy’s clinic on the way back to Suzy’s, where I had parked. I thought about stopping by, but I wasn’t sure I was quite ready to tell him about the stick-message from the morning, so I decided I’d talk to him later.

  Chapter 15

  I changed when I got back to the farm and helped Grandpa patch a couple of places on the fence around the pig pen.

  Grandma made meatloaf for dinner, my favorite, and we all sat down and ate together. It reminded me of when I was a little girl. Grandpa had been right, she didn’t seem to remember a thing about having been on the roof the night before, or even seem tired.

  I helped her clean up from dinner, and decided I needed to do something fun to take my mind off of all the talk about Preacher Jacob, not to mention the stress of having seen him, or evidence of him, just about every day since I’d arrived.

  “Whadya say, Snowball? Wanna go for a little walk?” I asked my sidekick.

  She bleated in response, which I took as a yes.

  I went up to the attic and rifled through my suitcase until I found the pocket flashlight I kept for emergencies.

  Snowball and I took off to the right of the house, and around the back of the house Billy had grown up in next door. The path down to the pond was overgrown, so I was sure no one had been to the pond in a while. Snowball followed behind me, jumping over branches, and stopping on occasion to munch on a sprig of foliage here or there. It was a clear night, without any clouds, so the moon shone down enough for me to see where I was going once I got to the clearing.

  Reconnect with a simpler time, Dr. Jenson’s words echoed in my head as I approached the pond. Then I thought about what Billy had said, that I should get better, in time. It really did feel good to tell someone the whole story. I knew he wouldn’t tell a soul. All for one, after all.

  I could hear the croaking as I got to the edge of the water. I slid off my shoes and tucked my socks into them, leaving them at the edge of the path, and tiptoed over to the muddy water’s edge. I heard croaking immediately to my left, so I turned on the little flashlight, and secured it between my teeth, then turned to spot a giant bullfrog in the tall grass at the edge of the mud.

  I lunged, and missed, the fat frog leaping out of my grasp at the last minute.

  “Sugar!” I exclaimed.

  I heard another one nearby and turned to my right, just getting it by one foot.

  Yeah! I giggled. Maybe I’ve still got it! I thought.

  He was a good size, and if I was a frog-eating kind of girl, he would be big enough to take home.

  “Off you go,” I said quietly, letting him go.

  I stepped around the edge of the pond and heard another. Turning, I had it spotted in the small circle of light emanating from my little flashlight. I moved slowly, and deliberately. Finally, I leaped forward, and as I did, I heard a loud hoo, which sounded like it was right behind my head. The frog hopped just beyond my grasp, and as it hit a log poking up out of the pond, a large owl swooped down and snatched it up.

  I hit a slick rock as I stepped to the side away from the frog, and my foot slipped. I lost my footing and went straight down into the pond.

  “Sugar!” I exclaimed, louder this time.

  My entire front half was in the silty pond water, only my hair, the back of my shoulders, and my backside were spared. I carefully stood up and decided I had better wade in a bit and at least try to rinse off some of the mud.

  I could be soaked, or I could be soaked and muddy – not much difference, I thought.

  After I rinsed off, I walked back to where I had left my shoes. I picked the shoes up, and the sock was in one shoe, but not the other. I turned the flashlight on and looked around the area where my shoes had been. Still, no sock.

  “What the heck?” I muttered as I continued to scan for my missing sock.

  I heard a rustling sound, and as I looked around, I saw Snowball standing near me. Dangling from her mouth was my missing sock.

  “Snowball! No!”

  I leaned forward to take it away from her and grabbed the end. She dug her feet into the mud and set her jaw, holding on tight. After a moment, I gave up, and slipped my shoes on without the socks and headed back up to the house.

  About halfway up the path, I veered off and took a shortcut I remembered that would take me to the field on our farm that overlooked the valley. When I got to the field clearing, I looked up, appreciating the stars in the night sky.

  You don’t see stars like this in New York, I thought.

  I sat on the hillside wi
th my feet outstretched, leaning back on my palms. Snowball plopped down beside me and rested her head on my leg. I scratched the top of her head, enjoying the peace and quiet.

  A little while later, I got up and walked back to the house. I took my, by then, mostly-dry shoes off on the back porch, and quietly rinsed off in the laundry room. I went up to the attic and checked my phone before I lay down. I had one missed call and text, both from Billy.

  BILLY: Just wanted 2 say hi. Glad we talked yesterday. Halee keeps looking 4 u by the firepit. I think u r stealing my dog. LOL Goodnight

  ME: C u 2moro? Tell my new puppy friend goodnight.

  BILLY: Goodnight Emma

  As I lay back, feeling a little more relaxed, a smile crept across my face. I was starting to feel like coming home to recuperate was the right decision.

  I spent the day tending the garden with Grandma. She had a large patch of strawberries, which were my favorite thing from the garden, and birds kept picking off the fruit before they could ripen. She decided to build a sort of hutch around the patch with panels she could open from the top while she worked the patch, but that would be a deterrent for birds and deer.

  I grabbed a few tools from the equipment shed and used a wheelbarrow to bring several stakes and some chicken wire. I used a small sledgehammer to drive each piece of stake into the ground, and we attached the chicken wire with a staple gun. We constructed frames from some slat board I found in the back of the barn to make the top, hinging it with wire at the back of each piece. It wasn’t the prettiest bit of fencing on the farm, but it would definitely do the trick.

  After the garden, we tended the pig sty and cleaned up the chicken coop. As we walked around the large habitat, I couldn’t help but giggle as Grandma talked to the chickens and called them all by name. Where she got the idea to name them all after first ladies, I had no idea, but what really impressed me was how she could tell them all apart, even the ones with the same coloring.

  “Okay, Emma, time to see to the goats,” Grandma said after we had finished installing what I liked to refer to as the strawberry protection system.

  She put the garden sheers in the pocket of her apron, and we loaded up the other supplies into the wheelbarrow, which I returned to the shed. Snowball, who had been watching the garden construction with interest, followed me to the shed, and over to the gated enclosure where Grandma had rounded up the rest of the goats. Snowball plopped down outside the fence before I opened the gates.

  “Snowball too – grab her up, honey,” Grandma said.

  I picked up Snowball, carrying her like a baby, and she bleated her displeasure. Once inside the fence, I set her down and walked over to Grandma. There was a large oak barrel at the edge of the enclosure near the barn. She lifted one of the goats and set it up on top of the barrel, then grabbed the shears from her pocket.

  “What…what are you doing?” I asked, terrified of the response.

  “Gotta trim their hooves, dear. They walk on soft ground, and their hooves won’t sharpen themselves. If we don’t keep ‘em trimmed, they could roll. Goats could go lame,” she said.

  “Oh, I see,” I said, tentatively. I looked around for Snowball, who was crouched behind the other goats, hiding.

  Grandma tucked an arm around the goat’s backside and lifted its foot. With her free hand, she took the sheers and clipped off the excess hoof on one side and then the other. The goat didn’t seem to be hurt by the process, but that didn’t stop him from squirming. She repeated the process on the remaining three hooves, then patted the goat on the backside, and he leaped from the top of the barrel.

  “Your turn, dear,” she said turning to me and handing me the shears.

  “Okay,” I said.

  I turned and picked up one of the smaller nanny goats and followed the process Grandma had. Overall, the little goat seemed no worse for wear, and I felt more confident. The next goat I worked on was less cooperative, and she kicked me hard in the ribs trying to get away. We did the rest of the flock, including Snowball, despite her attempts to hide.

  I had texted Billy I’d stop by to see him and had to pick up my costume at the historical society, so I got cleaned up after chores and went to town. I stopped by the historical society, and by the time I made it to the clinic, Billy was locking up.

  “Hey, Emma. I was startin’ to think you wouldn’t make it,” he said walking out to reception to meet me.

  “Sorry, I had a goat issue,” I replied, rubbing my ribs.

  “You want me to take a look?” he asked.

  “Oh, no, no – I couldn’t! I’m sure it’s fine,” I said, wincing a little. The thought of being examined by my friend made me a nervous wreck. “I’ve had broken ribs before, after all, and it didn’t feel like this.”

  “The accident?” he asked.

  I nodded my head.

  “Well, different breaks can have different symptoms and feel different. Come on back, it’ll only take a second,” he said. “It’s low, so you don’t even get to wear the fancy paper gown.” He winked.

  “Well, it does kinda hurt,” I replied.

  He waved me back into one of the exam rooms, and I hopped up on the little table.

  Billy washed his hands, and I carefully lifted my shirt on the side just enough to expose the bottom rib, holding the fabric close around me to avoid any embarrassing wardrobe malfunctions. He looked at the bruise then, using two fingers, pressed gingerly on the bruise and the area around it.

  “Tell me where it’s tender,” he said. He pressed in concentric circles, ending in the center of the bruise.

  “Yowch!” I exclaimed.

  He pressed a bit harder and rubbed his fingers along the rib.

  “There’s no sign of a break,” he said, washing his hands again. “When you have a contusion over the bone, it’s going to be more sensitive. You should be fine in a few days.”

  He took a prescription pad out of the drawer and jotted something on it.

  “Here you go,” he said, handing me a prescription slip.

  I looked at the paper.

  “Billy, this says cheeseburger and french fries,” I said.

  “Yep, and a milkshake, if you promise to follow doctor’s orders and be careful with that side for a couple of days.” He winked. “I thought we might pick up dinner and have it outside at my place. It’s a nice night, and Halee would love to see you.” He gave me that charming smile he always flashed when he was trying to get his way.

  “You know what? That actually sounds pretty good,” I replied. “Tell you what – go take care of the pup, and I’ll grab the burgers and be at your place in a few. You won’t have to bring me back to my truck.”

  He agreed, and I went over to the diner to pick up burgers, fries, and shakes.

  When I got to Billy’s, he had changed out of his khakis and button-down into jeans and a t-shirt.

  “Come on in, Emma,” he said when he answered the door.

  We went to the backyard, and rather than sitting around the fire pit, we sat at the patio table and chairs up on the deck. I had barely put my purse down when Halee came and put her paws up on my leg for me to pick her up. I kneeled down to pat her on the head, telling her I’d pick her up after we ate dinner.

  “Anything interesting happen at the clinic today?” I asked as we tucked into our burgers.

  “Not anything you’d want me to talk about over dinner,” he grinned. “Small town medicine is mundane and often, pretty gross.”

  “Thanks for not sharing, I think!” I giggled. “Speaking of small-town medicine…I know you can’t tell me about somebody else’s medical situation, but…well, I’m a little worried about my Grandma,” I said.

  “What’s wrong? Do we need to get her in to see me?” he asked.

  “Well, that’s just it. I don’t know – she might’ve been in to see you already.” I scanned his face for any sign of affirmation.

  “Well, you’re right, I can’t talk details, but if you’re worried about her, maybe is
there something I should be on the lookout for?” he asked, an expression of earnest concern on his face.

  “It’s just…the other night…well, Grandpa said it was nothing.” I shrugged.

  “Emma.” He gave me that official doctor expression of his. It was very dad-like and off-putting. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “The other night, something woke me up. I went outside and found Grandpa retrieving Grandma from the roof. She was up there…well, singing.” I looked at him sheepishly.

  “Singing?” He chuckled. “Maybe she was looking for better acoustics?”

  “Come on, this is serious! She’s seventy – she could’ve gotten hurt.” I shook my head at him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, flipping back into medical mode. “You’re right of course. Was she confused, or did she seem in distress?”

  “Not really. Grandpa says this sometimes happens for about four nights, then she’s right back to normal.”

  “You know, Emma, people cope with stress in lots of ways. This may not have started until the past few years, but this could be her body’s strange way of helping her cope. She did lose your dad, after all. I mean, they were your parents, I don’t mean to diminish that,” he said almost apologetically. “But at the same time, that was her son. People don’t expect to bury a child. She’s been a strong woman our whole lives. Maybe this is just her outlet. People find amazing ways to cope with stress and trauma,” he said.

  Yeah, like seeing imaginary messages composed of twigs, I thought.

  I changed the subject. “Hey, did I tell you I went bull frogging the other night?”

  “Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “And, how did you do?”

  “I’m not fast,” I replied. “I might have ended up wearing some mud, and not in the glamorous spa experience kind of way.”

  We both laughed.

  We chatted over dinner about this and that and moved over to the lounge chairs around the fire pit after we ate. As soon as I reclined back in the chair, Halee hopped up beside me and snuggled into my lap. I scratched behind her ears, and she wriggled her backside, wagging her little tail.