by Blythe Baker
“What?” I asked, unable to believe what I was hearing. “Someone in our family got kicked in the head, and started seeing ghosts, and I’m just now hearing about this?”
“Your great-grandpa too, dear,” Grandma said, retrieving a book from the cabinet under the television. She pulled out a photo of Grandpa with his sister, brother, and parents when they were young. “Yes, yes. Old Hooper was trying to put some water in his radiator on the side of the road, so he said. Anyway, got burned with the steam. He jumped back, tripped, and fell right on a rock the size of his head. After that, he seemed like he was talkin’ to himself sometimes. Your great-grandmother Esther said he talked about seein’ all sorts of specters and apparitions from time to time after that.”
“Wow. Well, if I’d known about all that, I might’ve told you sooner,” I said.
“No matter,” Grandpa said. “I’m glad you told us anyway.” He smiled, then winced suddenly.
“Grandpa, are you okay?” I asked, worriedly.
“He’s fine!” Grandma said dismissively, returning the photo album to its proper place. “He pulled his shoulder picking up a bale of hay like he knows he ought not to do.” She gave him a glare. “I think he was tryin’ to impress someone,” she said, looking at me.
“Grandpa! I wish I had known! You know I would’ve helped,” I replied.
“Well, we Hoopers are a stubborn lot. None of us likes to admit when we need help, seems like.” He smiled at me, and I blushed, realizing what he meant.
I hugged and kissed them both before I went down to town to talk with Suzy. She had help in the shop, so we spent the afternoon at her place catching up. After I finished regaling her with tales of my daring do, she held up her coffee cup to me.
“To my adventurous bestie, Emma! The very best musketeer!” I clinked my mug against hers, and we both laughed. “So, you going to stick around for a while?” she asked. “I could use another bridesmaid. She smiled.
“Honestly, I don’t know how long I’ll stay. If I’m not here, though, I promise to come back for the wedding. I’d love nothing more than to celebrate with you!” I hugged her tight. “You really are like a sister to me, Suzy. I’m so sorry I got so out of touch when I moved away.” My eyes filled with a little moisture.
“Aw, honey, I understand. I do. Small town life’s not for everybody. Moving off is all you ever talked about. I couldn’t be surprised.” She looked down at her coffee, then back up at me again. “Although, I would’ve thought a cute doctor would be enough to make you stick around.” She winked.
“Oh, Suzy! Still trying to get your way. You’re so bossy!” We both laughed.
Later that evening, I had dinner with my grandparents, and after dinner, Snowball and I walked down to the hillside along the pasture. The night was clear and still. Beautiful purples and oranges painted the sunset, and slowly gave way to the deep blue of night.
I sat back on my palms, my feet crossed out in front of me, looking at the lights of Hillbilly Hollow twinkling in the evening sky below. I looked down toward the fort and saw the faint impression of a shape at the edge of my field of vision. I turned slightly to focus and realized it was the same apparition I had seen before. Preacher Jacob.
“Thank you for what you did,” I said, unsure if he could hear or even understand me. “I mean, with the cannonball at the fort.”
I had been thinking about how that pedestal holding the cannonball mysteriously tipped forward at the perfect moment, so that the ball had knocked Teller out before he could kill me. Combined with the eerie chill I had sometimes felt while in that room, I was now convinced Preacher Jacob had been lingering in the place, and had been there at the right moment to answer my cries for help.
I continued talking to the specter. “They’re putting the sword in a museum. And Teller confessed. So did Sadie. She was in on it with him. They were going to sell the sword and run off together to Costa Rica.” I gave a knowing smile in his direction.
The shape came to a halt not far from me, but this time, Snowball didn’t bleat or seem afraid. I patted her head.
Preacher Jacob’s ghost stood upright and gave me a salute.
“Glad I could help,” I said quietly.
With that, he turned and walked down toward the fort, disappearing into the ether after just a few steps.
I knew it would be the last I saw of Preacher Jacob. He could finally rest in peace. As I looked back at the sky, I thought of my parents. I wondered why I couldn’t have seen them. I missed them so much. I was so little when they were killed. Would they even know me know? A single tear trickled down my cheek, then I smiled, thinking about how much they had loved me. I kissed the pads of my index and middle finger, flipping them toward the sky.
“I love you, Mom and Dad,” I said.
Just then, two quick bursts of warm air blew across my face. They know me, I thought. They miss me too.
I lay back on the grass, and couldn’t help but wonder if the visions would disappear with Preacher Jacob. In one way, I hoped they would. Some true peace and quiet could be a very good thing. In another way, though, I was glad I had been able to see what I did. Without my – what was it? A gift? Well, without my abilities, I wouldn’t have been able to help Tucker catch Preacher Jacob’s murderer, and a killer would’ve gone free.
I tucked my hands behind my head and took a deep breath of the summer air. Snowball ambled over and laid her head on my belly like a pillow. The lightning bugs flew overhead, their beacons mingling with the twinkling of the stars.
Whatever was going to come my way, I believed I would be okay. If someone else needed me, whether they were alive or not, I’d help them if I could. And in the meantime, it just felt good to be home at last.
Continue following the ghostly mysteries and eccentric characters of Hillbilly Hollow in Book 2,
“The Ghastly Ghost of Hillbilly Hollow”
Excerpt
THE GHASTLY GHOST OF HILLBILLY HOLLOW
There was always something special about summertime in Hillbilly Hollow. Lightning bugs danced in the glow of early evening, the smell of honeysuckle wafted through open windows, and the flowers were in full bloom. As I drove into town, I had the windows down in the old truck, and my sunglasses on. The sights and smells of a country summer filled my senses as the radio blared an old rock song and I sang along at the top of my lungs.
I’d been back in Hillbilly Hollow for several weeks, and was getting back into the rhythm of farm life, and enjoying being part of the community. There were still so many things I missed about New York, but I had forgotten how much fun I’d had growing up in a small town. The local ice cream shop had better ice cream than I’d ever had anywhere else. Main Street was always festooned with lights and garlands at Christmastime, and everyone always rallied around the local sports teams to support the local kids. There were so many things I had taken for granted when I was young, before wanderlust pulled me away to the bright lights of the big city.
When I got to Main Street, signs were hanging from the lampposts announcing the upcoming Hillbilly Hollow Flower Festival.
Grandpa had asked me to pick up chicken feed and some building supplies while I ran errands in town. I didn’t mind running to town for this or that, or to see my friends. The distance between our farm and town had seemed like it took forever when I first got home. Now, I went to town almost every day. After all, a girl can only spend so much time on the farm with her grandparents before she starts to go a bit stir crazy.
The streets were a little busier than usual, with tourists starting to trickle in for the start of the Flower Festival. The local hotel, The Hollow Inn, was over a hundred years old, and a stagecoach stop had stood on that site before it. There was still a little restaurant on the first floor of the hotel which served breakfast and lunch. During the summer when there were lots of tourists in town for festivals and for Old Fort Days, the hotel was always full. Further out, an entrepreneurial family from St. Louis, the Shaffers, had bought the ol
d Stephenson farm and converted it to a bed and breakfast, putting six little cottages on the property in addition to the huge, old farmhouse. The property had been featured in the Missouri tourist guide the year before and had gotten more popular since, often booking up solid in the summer.
The local feed and supply store, Farm King, was at the far end of Main Street, past the church and the walk-in clinic. Before I got that far, though, I decided I deserved to treat myself to a strawberry slush on such a beautiful summer day, so I stopped at Chapman’s, the largest and newest gas station and convenience store Hillbilly Hollow had to offer.
Donna Selby was the daytime cashier at Chapman’s. Her cousin Sherrie was in my class in school but Donna was a good five or six years younger, so I didn’t know her as well growing up. I walked back to the slush machine and helped myself to a medium strawberry-flavored drink. Walking back up front, I took too eager a sip from the oversized straw and got brain freeze. Billy had taught me the trick of sticking my thumb against the roof of my mouth to warm up my palate. He was always full of obscure little tidbits of information like that. Being friends with the town doctor definitely had its perks.
As I got to the counter, there were a few people hanging around talking to Donna. I recognized Jasper Jenkins. His wife Ethel was one of Grandma’s quilting circle friends. Lyndon Lowery was there too. He was one of the most successful farmers and land owners in town. Ted Baxter leaned on the counter across from Donna as well. He had been in our class, and Suzy told me that they had dated for a while before she reconnected with Brian, her now-fiancé. He was a nice-looking guy with blondish-brown hair and bright green eyes. Brian was more put-together, though, and his good looks were more polished. The more time I spent with Brian and Suzy together, the happier I was for her. He was a genuinely good guy, and really seemed to be in love with Suzy.
“Hello, Mr. Lowery, Mr. Jenkins. Hi, Ted. Everything alright?” I asked as I set my slush cup on the counter and put down a five-dollar bill.
“Hi, Emma,” Ted said. “I guess you haven’t heard, then?”
“Heard what?” I asked.
“This place was robbed last night,” Mr. Lowery said in a hushed voice. “At gunpoint no less!”
“Oh, sugar! Is everyone okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, Caleb was working. Said a masked guy came right in, covered head to toe in black clothes, had a gun and a note that said ‘empty the register’. He put the money in a sack and then ran out. Got away before Caleb could call the sheriff,” Donna said, shaking her head. “Darn scary if you ask me.”
“Probably one of these strangers in town,” Mr. Jenkins said. “You know, all these tourists in from all over…no telling who’s coming and going, not to mention why they’re lurking around!”
“Wow, that’s awful. Well, I’m glad Caleb’s okay,” I said, taking my change from Donna. “You be safe, won’t you?” I gave her a concerned smile. “See you all later.”
I got in my truck and headed over to the Posh Closet to see Suzy.
“Morning, Suz,” I said as I walked in the door.
“Hi, Emma!” she cheerfully called from the rack of clothes she was working on.
“Bathroom,” I said, putting my slush on the counter as I walked to the back.
A few minutes later, I returned.
“So did you hear,” I started to ask Suzy, who was, by then, sitting behind the counter on a little stool.
“Yes! Crazy, isn’t it? You don’t think about an armed robbery someplace like this, but I guess no place is safe anymore.” She shrugged.
I picked up my drink to take a sip and it was noticeably lighter than it had been when I set it down. “Did you drink my slush?” I asked her.
“Not all of it.” She smirked. “Come on, Emma! You didn’t bring me one,” she rolled her eyes. “You left me no choice.”
“Whatever was I thinking?” I said dramatically. “I will try to do better in the future!” We both laughed. “So, are you taking any extra precautions due to the robbery?”
“I don’t know…I’m not sure I’d know what I could do differently,” she replied.
“Maybe you should ask Tucker for some tips,” I suggested.
Suzy rolled her eyes. “Or one of his deputies. Bless Tucker’s heart. I’m not sure he’d be much help. When they were handing out looks and muscles, he must’ve gotten in the muscles line twice, and forgot he was supposed to get in the line for brains as well.” We both giggled.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll be alright anyway. After all, you close up by five or six most days.” I looked at my watch. “Oh, look at the time. I’ve got a lot left to do – I’d better run.”
I gave Suzy a hug around the neck.
“Text me later. Oh!” Suzy said, “Want to go to dinner later? We’ll get Billy to come, too.”
“Sounds good! See ya!” I waved as I walked out the door and hopped into my truck. As I put on my seatbelt, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Billy.
BILLY: Heard there was holdup at Chapman's. U coming 2 town?
I decided to hop out of my truck and walk over to the clinic instead of replying. It was only a few doors down from Suzy’s shop.
Lena, the receptionist, was several years younger than us. She was married to Danny Baxter, who had taken over as preacher of the local church after Preacher Jacob was murdered.
“Hi, Lena.” I smiled at the pretty redhead when I walked in. There was no one in the waiting room. “Is Bil- I mean, Dr. Will in today?” I giggled. I knew he went by Dr. Will Stone, trying to craft a more grown-up image for himself now that he was a successful doctor, but he’d only ever be Billy to Suzy and me.
Lena laughed. “Yes, Emma. He’s here. Nobody’s in the office – you want to head back?”
“Thanks!” I walked around the desk and to the little office he kept in the back corner.
“Yes, I am coming to town, as a matter of fact,” I said, leaning against his door. “Do you suspect me of secretly being the Armed Bandit of Hillbilly Hollow?” I asked, dramatically.
“Hi, Emma,” he said, a megawatt smile flashing from his tanned face. “I wouldn’t put it past you, ya know. I’ve seen what you’re capable of, after all, and am convinced nothing scares you.”
“Well, almost nothing,” I said, plopping down in the chair opposite his desk, and looking around at the walls of his office. They were covered with thank you cards, photos, and drawings, presumably from grateful patients. “Why’d you ask if I’d be in town today?”
“I just wanted to be sure you knew about the robbery – knew to keep your eyes peeled, that’s all.” He shrugged.
“Are you worried about me?” I grinned. “I should be worried about you. I mean, don’t you keep some pretty high-dose baby aspirin around here?”
“Ha! Yes, if someone wants to make a killing on tongue depressors and antibacterial cream, I’m definitely in danger of being a target! We don’t keep much in the way of serious medicine, and what we do have is under lock and key. It’s a pretty good system. That’s the great thing about the clinic, though – mostly insurance and credit cards – very little cash business.”
“While I’m thinking about it, Suzy asked me to come down for dinner later. She wanted to know if you’d come too,” I said.
“Yeah! That would be great!” He furrowed his brow, and cleared his throat. “I mean, that sounds cool. Whatever.”
“Okay, I’d better roll. Lots to do today. Talk to you later?” I said.
“Sounds good. Be safe out there, Emma,” he said in that stern, doctor-ly voice he sometimes used. I found it both extremely sweet and unbelievably dorky at the same time.
“Don’t worry, I will!” I said, plucking a sucker from the jar on his desk as I left.
As I walked out to my truck, I pulled the wrapper from the sucker and stuffed the plastic into my pocket. I put the red disc against my tongue. Mm. Strawberry!
I heard a loud noise and my attention was pulled to the street. There were two motorcycl
es rolling up Main Street toward the diner. The motorcycles didn’t look new – in fact, one of them looked pretty beaten up. The riders each wore a leather vest over their t-shirt and jeans, and each sported a very expensive-looking helmet. The look was a bit outdated, I thought, not to mention that it was far too hot for leather by the time the Flower Festival rolled around.
I wondered if the two bikers might be taking the scenic route from Springfield to St. Louis along old Route 66, and just stopping in town for a bite to eat. We sometimes got tourists who got off the old tourist route and came through to check out the town. It was good for business, I knew, and with so many friends and neighbors who had businesses of their own, I tried to be supportive.
I stopped at Farm King and picked up the feed for the chickens, and also picked up a couple pairs of work pants for myself. I had already ruined one pair of good jeans with barbed wire and manure, and I was determined not to lose any more of my wardrobe to farm life. Even if I was going to stick around a while, there was no point in doing farm chores in jeans that cost a hundred-fifty bucks a pair.
I also stopped at the hardware store and picked up some building materials that they had put back for Grandpa. Grandma wanted to box in the vegetable garden so the deer and rabbits didn’t keep getting her vegetables. She canned fruit and vegetables, and made pickles according to the season. She put a lot of the canned goods up for us to eat, but also donated some to various fundraisers throughout the year. Her sweet pickle recipe was so good, I hesitated to eat sweet pickles made by anyone else.
The guy behind the register was younger than me, and I didn’t know him well. He called for someone from the back to help me get the supplies into the truck. Before long, I was loaded up and ready to check another errand off my list.
