The Red House 2: The Curse is Broken

by Mary May

  “Only one other person was behind the saloon that night. The person who said he saw Cletus shoot Bruce…was Robert.”

  I groan as my headache explodes into a throbbing pain right behind my eyeballs. How did I know that’s who she was going to say? I finally look up to find Eli staring at me with a grave expression before he asks Martha if she thought Robert was capable of murdering his own twin brother.

  “He had just gotten away with one murder…What’s one more?”

  We are all silent for several minutes, each lost in our own thoughts, before Jesse finally speaks up. “Ok, we know the reason he murdered me, but why Bruce?” Once more we all look to Martha.

  “I don’t know. I do remember Bruce confronting Robert out in our yard several days before he was killed. When I asked Robert what it was about, he blew it off, saying that it was nothing.” Once more Eli’s brilliant mind seizes on something.

  “Why do you suppose you remember that, Martha? Did you find something about the confrontation odd?”

  She taps her finger against her rosebud mouth as she thinks on Eli’s question. Finally, she nods. “Yes, a couple of things actually. First, Bruce rarely got angry. I could count on one hand the times I had even seen him slightly irritated, but that day was the first time I had ever seen him truly angry. He even pushed Robert.”

  “What was the second thing?” I ask.

  “The fact that Robert didn’t retaliate. He is not one to allow someone to get the last word in or get away with physically touching him. But he did that day. After Bruce shoved Robert, he walked away, and that was the last time I saw him alive.”

  “I think I agree with you about Cletus being an unlikely suspect. But he was easy to set up. The question now is why did Robert shoot Bruce? What could he possibly have done to anger him to that degree?” I suddenly look at Jesse when something pops in my mind.

  “Maybe it wasn’t what Bruce did, but what he knew?” I have everyone’s attention now so I hope my theory doesn’t sound crazy.

  “What do you mean?” Martha asks.

  I get up, walking back and forth as I try to get my thoughts in order so I can explain them. “Ok, we all agree that Bruce is smarter than he lets on, and we all know that he isn’t above snooping if he gets curious about something or someone. I haven’t known him very long at all, but I get the impression that he is pretty laid back, so it would have to be something pretty terrible to get him mad enough to confront Robert.” I pause as the final piece of the puzzle clicks into place. “What could be more terrible than finding out your very own twin brother murdered an innocent young man?”

  CHAPTER 10

  The room is silent while everyone ponders what I have just said. The more I think about it, the more sense it makes. Eli smiles up at me from the chair he is sitting in.

  “Shelby, I think you very well may be on to something. Knowing you will most likely hang is pretty strong motivation to kill someone. Even your own brother. Martha, you knew him better than anyone here. Do you think Robert would kill to keep from facing a noose?”

  “Without a doubt,” she answers without hesitation.

  I sigh deeply as I sink back down on the bed. Eli reaches over, taking my hand in silent support. “What are you thinking now?” he asks.

  Shaking my head, I look at everyone, wondering why they haven’t thought of what just hit me like a ton of bricks. “Don’t you see? Now we have three lives to save instead of just one!” A wave of longing to return to my simple childhood washes over me. I want nothing more at that moment than to be six years old again, watching cartoons and eating cookies. Letting Scooby and the gang solve all the mysteries. This is getting entirely out of hand, in my opinion!

  Eli pats my hand. “Shelby, I understand why you think we suddenly have two more lives to be responsible for, but you’re wrong. By preventing Jesse’s, we will in turn prevent the other two. I am assuming that Cletus was executed for Bruce’s murder?” He looks at Martha for the answer.

  “Yes. It was a pretty big deal because no one believed that he did it, but no one was willing to go against the high and mighty Robert Mitchell either.”

  “So, now the question is, should we bring Bruce in on our situation? Martha, that’s why we were asking about him to start with. Shelby said he was going through her things and found our belongings from the future, so he already knows something is up. Do you think we could trust him if we told him everything? I really think we are going to need his help.” Martha shares a long look with Jesse, who nods his head.

  “I think he would help you and keep it quiet. How much are you going to tell him and how do we convince him that what you’re saying is the truth?” Now it was mine and Eli’s turn to share a long look; then we look at Jesse and Martha with a smile.

  An hour later we are all gathered in the barn. “Okay, I will get Bruce to come out to the barn here with me. Then we will tell him everything and let him see our secret weapons.” I start to walk away toward the house when Eli asks me how I am going to convince Bruce to come out to the barn.

  “I don’t know. I will think of something. Maybe I will use my feminine wiles on him.”

  An explosion of laughter has me turning around.

  “What? I have wiles! I have wiles aplenty!” They continue laughing, so I stomp off. I am so lost in thought on whether or not I truly have feminine wiles and just what exactly a wile is, that I nearly run over Mrs. Mitchell coming outside with an empty laundry basket.

  “Oh, there you are! I was just looking for you. I’m done with the wash pot now so you might as well do yours whilst it’s hot.” She hands me the basket then waves her hand for me to go inside then upstairs. As I climb the stairs, I keep an eye out for Bruce, but he isn’t anywhere to be seen and I can’t seem to shake his mother. She has glued herself to me, talking about how she went through some considerable effort to keep the washing pot water good and hot for me and that she would help me scrub my clothes if I needed her to, even though she just washed her entire family’s. I soon realize that I’m not getting out of this chore, so I gather up my dirty dresses and head for the washing pot.

  Two hours and several burned fingers later, Eli walks around the house with an annoyed look on his face. “What are you doing? We have been waiting on you forever! I decided maybe you were taking a nap.”

  Brushing my bangs off my sweaty forehead, I give him my death glare. “Napping? Does this look like napping to you?” I snap.

  He looks at the pile of steaming blankets in the basket waiting to be hung up. “Why are you doing laundry?”

  I stab the thick stirring pole back down into the boiling water, hoisting up another heavy, soaking wet, steaming blanket then flinging it onto the ever-growing pile in the basket. “Why am I doing laundry? Let me tell you. It’s a funny story…really. I’m totally laughing on the inside!” I’m not sure what it is that clues Eli in that he is in mortal danger, but he takes the pole, sitting me down on a wide stump that is nearby.

  “Ok, I’m sorry. Tell me what happened.”

  Briefly I fill him in on my run-in with Mrs. Mitchell. “So, I couldn’t figure a way out of it and being that I only had a few pieces, I didn’t think it would take me long.” Pointing to the pile of blankets, he asked how I ended up washing those. I wave my hand and slap my knee like I have seen old timers do when something tickled their fancy. “Well, now, you see, that’s the funny part! I had all of my clothes washed and hung out in about thirty minutes when Mrs. Mitchell comes back out with an armload of blankets and asks if I will be a dear and throw those in the pot since it is still hot. When I start to toss them all in at once, she stops me and says, ‘Oh, no! One at a time! Why they just won’t ever come clean otherwise!’ Then she walks away. See, isn’t it hysterical?”

  Getting up, Eli takes the heavy basket and walks over to the clothes line. “Extremely hysterical. Let me help you hang these out.” Within a few minutes we have all the blankets hung on the line.

  “I swear, if we ev
er get back home, I will never whine about doing laundry again! Mr. Maytag has just become my new hero.”

  Eli chuckles as we head back to the barn. “I think there will be a lot of things that we will have a new appreciation for when we get home.”

  “Just where would home be exactly?”

  We both whirl around at the sound of Bruce’s voice. We find him leaning against a thick pine tree completely hidden from view. If he hadn’t spoken, we would have walked right past him unaware of his presence. I look to Eli to see what his reply is going to be to Bruce’s question. But he just stands there.

  “I realize that we are pretty simple down here, but just how many ways can there be to wash clothes?” Again I look to Eli, but he isn’t saying anything. I’m sure we both have that deer caught in the headlight look, but one of us needs to say something! I open my mouth to do exactly that when Eli places his hand on my arm.

  “We are actually needing to speak to you about that, Bruce.” Eli looks around to see if anyone else is in earshot. The last thing we need is Robert or their mom hearing this conversation. The look that I have seen briefly was once more crossing Bruce’s face, and like before it was quickly gone, replaced by his carefree, easy smile.

  “Were you now?”

  “Yes, would you mind coming into the barn with us? We need to speak with you in private.” Bruce looks from Eli to me and I try to smile reassuringly, but I’m not sure I pull it off. I guess he decided we aren’t out to maim him in some way because he nods then starts walking to the barn. I have no idea just how to start this conversation. I don’t know which is going to be harder to believe -- the fact that we are from the future or the fact that his own brother is going to shoot him dead or the fact that his friend Cletus will be framed and hung for it! My headache is never going to go away at this rate…

  We enter into the barn, waiting a moment to allow our eyes to adjust to the dim interior. Being that I have no intention of starting this conversation, I hang back. Bruce surprises me by speaking first.

  “I can’t wait to hear your version of the story. Miss Cher’s was right entertaining.” Crossing his arms, he leans against the stall door, chewing on a piece of straw. Eli gives him a narrowed-eyed look.

  “I’m sure it was, Mr. Mitchell. Shelby is a terrible liar.” The fact that Eli uses my real name doesn’t escape Bruce’s notice.

  “Shelby is it? I didn’t think you looked like a Cher. Let me guess -- you’re not a Sonny either?”

  “No, sir. My name is Eli. Now that we have come clean with a few facts, why don’t you?”

  “Now what facts would you be needing? I’m not the one posing as someone else.” He gives Eli a measuring look as he continues to chew on the piece of straw.

  “I think we both know that you live your life and make your living by posing as someone else. Why don’t you knock off the slow-witted good ol’ boy routine?”

  I gape at Eli! Holy Moses, did the words tactful or respectful have any meaning to him? All I can do at that point is wait for the fallout and I don’t have to wait long.

  Bruce loses his slouch against the wall as he straightens up to his full height. His face grows hard as his eyes turn cold. “Boy, I suggest you learn some manners and learn them real quick-like. People around here don’t much like youngins with a sassy mouth.”

  Eli holds his ground as he stares Bruce down. “I figure I’m grown enough to spot a wolf playing the lamb and I’m calling you on it.” I can see the older man trying to decide just how much Eli really knows. Finally, he shakes his head and gives us a slight smile.

  “I guess that is about the best way of saying what I do. Wolf playing the lamb. It suits me just fine. Now what is it that you want from me?” I finally decide it is my turn to add to the drama.

  “Mr. Mitchell, we don’t want anything from you. Well, ok, that’s not true. We do need something from you, but we also want to help you or at least try to help you.” A pained expression crosses Bruce’s face.

  “Is she always this hard to follow?”

  Shaking his head, Eli responds. “You have no idea.”

  I shoot both of them a hard look before I continue. “Hey, I’m doing the best I can under the circumstances, so cut me some slack already.” Eli looks somewhat apologetic while Bruce just looks interested.

  “What we are about to tell will sound impossible. You will most likely think we are crazy or making it up and we understand. I wouldn’t believe it either if I wasn’t currently living it.” Eli pauses to see if Bruce will have a comment but he doesn’t, so he continues. “I’m sure you’re curious about the clothing that you found hidden in Shelby’s room?”

  “You mean it didn’t come from France?” Bruce winks at me and I know that he never bought my story for a second.

  “No, it didn’t come from France. It came from this country, just not this time.” Once more he waits to let that sink in. A slightly puzzled look crosses Bruce’s face.

  “Not this time? What do you mean by that?”

  “The clothing is from the future. It’s what we were wearing when we got thrown back to this time.” I watch Bruce carefully. He seems to think over what Eli has told him. Then he grins.

  “I have been told some tall tales in my time, even told a few of my own, but I do believe this takes the cake! I hate to break this to you, but you are a worse liar than the young lady! Now the clothes were pretty odd looking, I will give you that, but you will need something a mite more convincing if you expect me to believe your story.” I don’t have anything to try to make our story more believable. But Eli simply reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, which he tosses to Bruce.

  “Here, see if there is anything in there that might help you.”

  Bruce catches the wallet, turning it over in his hands as he looks it over. The first thing he notices is the Velcro strip as he opens it. Next he pulls out the cash. It appears as if Eli has about sixty-four dollars. Two twenties, a ten, two fives, and four ones. Bruce doesn’t say anything; he just examines the money carefully. One denomination at a time. He then pulls out Eli’s driver’s license. The small plastic square screams future in my eyes. After all I am pretty sure color photography that good is still a long ways off, not to mention the fact that it is made of plastic and has the dates on it. Bruce looks at the picture then up at Eli. But he still doesn’t say anything. Next he pulls out a debit card that also has Eli’s picture on it, running his fingers over the raised numbers. He puts all the items back into the wallet then hands it to Eli.

  “Ok. I’m listening.”

  “Do you believe us?” I ask.

  Bruce sighs as he takes off his cowboy hat, running his fingers through his dark blonde hair. “Well, I don’t know just yet. But I’m interested enough to hear the rest of your story.” So, over the course of the next hour, we take turns explaining how we came to be standing in his barn. Then we explain about the events that are about to unfold, including Jesse’s death and Robert’s part in it. That brings a scowl to Bruce’s face.

  “You talking about Jesse Barrows? Why would he set him up? What could he hope to gain by the death of a boy still livin’ with his ma and pa?”

  “He gained a bride, that’s what!” The sound of Jesse’s voice had all of us turning to look up at the rafters where he was doing his Casper trick, by being semitransparent. Bruce takes a few steps back as his face loses most of its color.

  He looks to us and we just smile at him. “Hey, I understand what you’re feeling. I passed smooth out the first time I saw him.”

  “This can’t be! It’s not real!” Bruce exclaims. Jesse flashes from his perch on the rafters to stand next to Bruce.

  “I promise you I’m real and the sooner you accept that the sooner we can try to keep me from ending up like this to start with.”

  It takes about thirty minutes and a good head dunking in the horse trough to bring Bruce back around to where he is coherent enough to be useful. Now he is sitting on a bucket looking at us li
ke we are all aliens, which I suppose in a way we are. “I’m sorry, Jesse. I know that my brother is a mean son of a gun, but I never would have thought he would have resorted to straight out murder! And you say he did all of that to get Martha? I had no idea that he even had feelings for that little gal.”

  “I’m afraid it gets worse. It’s not just Jesse’s life we are trying to save.”

  Bruce looks at me as if he is afraid to ask who. “It’s your friend Cletus. He gets hung for murder.” If possible, his face goes even whiter. “No. That can’t be right. Cletus would never hurt a living soul. He can’t even stand to butcher his own cows and pigs. I have to go over and do it! Who is he supposed to kill?” We all three answer at once. “You.”

  Once again we have to wait for Bruce to snap back from the latest piece of terrible news. Once he has gained his composure, once more we explain what supposedly happens behind the saloon. Poor Bruce looks astonished.

  “You mean to tell me that people actually believe that story? Everyone knows that I play with Cletus nearly every Saturday night and he always loses. I just can’t see how anyone who actually knows him would think him guilty. Did he confess or something?”

  “There was a witness,” Jesse replies.

  “Who?” Bruce asks.

  “Your brother,” Eli answers.

  Bruce sits there for several minutes thinking over everything we have told him. Granted, we laid a lot of information on him and none of it is good. I start to say something just to break the silence, but Eli shakes his head at me so I keep my mouth shut and we all wait. Finally, Bruce looks over to Jesse who is standing quietly next to the pile of empty feed sacks. “I guess we have something in common, Barrows.” We all wait to see how he is going to finish that sentence.

  “What’s that?” Jesse asks.

  “We were both murdered by my brother,” he states. The fact that he comes to that conclusion on his own in such a short amount of time verifies what we have already suspected. He has such a devastated look on his face that I genuinely feel bad for him. It must be terrible to find out just what a monster your twin brother truly is. I walk over, kneeling down in front of him.