Moving closer to where Winnie stood, Jesse could see that where the road stopped, water flowed through a gap in the levee to form an estuary. There, in the still water of the trapped lagoon, trees jutted from the swamp-like shoreline, creating an eerily gothic scene.
“What is this?” Jesse turned slowly, absorbing a 360 degree view of a landscape that seemed almost alien in the pale light of an overcast morning. Nothing but water and the gray wilderness of early spring met her gaze. Beautiful in its starkness, she felt the tugs of peace and disquiet at war inside her.
Winnie grinned as she shifted her weight and adjusted the fishing pole she held slung across her shoulder like a rifle. “It’s different, isn’t it? This levee is where a railroad used to run next to the river.” There was pride in her voice as she pointed toward the main body of water. “And that’s where they dammed the river to make a lake.”
Dimly recalling her Oklahoma history from high school, Jesse nodded. “After the dustbowl. They dammed rivers to create lakes up in this northeast corner.”
“I’m surprised you remember. I think that class was about the same time you and Mikey decided you were in love. And I didn’t think the two of you were paying much attention to anything else.”
Jesse laughed, glad that she had finally gotten past the sharp pain of Michael Windsor’s memory. And grateful to have a friend who had grown up with her. “What would I do without you, Winnie?”
“Well, you probably wouldn’t be out here, that’s for sure. You ready to go fishing?”
Hitching the pole higher on her shoulder, Winnie swung around, back toward where they were parked. Jesse took an instinctive sidestep. Closing her eyes, she jerked her head to avoid the hook swinging from the end of the fishing pole.
When she opened her eyes again, Jesse found herself looking down the steep grade to a huge tree, standing several feet out in the water. Tantalizing and unreachable, it was like no tree she had ever seen, and her breath caught in her throat.
Up and up it loomed, seeming like something prehistoric. Thorns, at least a foot in length, jutted in clusters along the surface of the ancient trunk. From each thorn, other smaller thorns grew at an angle, some easily four or five inches long. At intervals along each tree limb more thorns sprouted, and each of them had their own small barbs growing along its length.
“There’s another washed out trestle down this other way,” Winnie said, proceeding back the way they had come. Her voice carried over her shoulder as she went. “It’s got a nice, gentle slope down to the shoreline, and it’s dry all the way to the water, so most folks fish from there.”
“Winnie,” Jesse called, unable to pull her gaze from the tree that held her spellbound somewhere between horror and amazement. “What, in God’s name, is that?”
“What?” Winnie stopped and swung back around. Her voice sounded torn between curiosity and impatience.
“That.” Jesse pointed down the slope to the standing water of the lagoon and the tree that looked like it was hosting its own alien life form.
“The thorn tree?” Winnie squinted, looking around to see what else Jesse could be pointing to.
“Is that its name? Because that’s very appropriate.”
“That’s all I’ve ever heard it called.” Winnie’s attitude was definitely edging toward impatience.
“So, there are more like that?” Jesse went back to staring at what was apparently not just a creepy freak of nature.
“Well, maybe not exactly like that. That one’s pretty big, but they like to grow where there’s water so there are probably more around here somewhere.”
Beginning to sense that she was having too girly a reaction for her companion’s comfort, Jesse tore her gaze away again to look sideways toward Winnie. “Am I overreacting? Or am I the only one who finds that thing really spooky?”
“Well, you sure wouldn’t want to run into it in the dark,” Winnie agreed cautiously. Her eyes narrowed as if judging the degree of Jesse’s hysteria. Then she flashed a big, encouraging grin. “You ready to do some fishing?”
With one last glance at the deadliest looking tree she’d ever seen, whether anyone else agreed with her or not, Jesse turned and hurried to catch up with Winnie, who was once again moving in the other direction. Together, they walked back along the narrow dirt levee where a railway once ran, past Winnie’s pickup with the picnic basket Jesse had brought for their lunch tucked inside. In silence they continued down the single-lane path, rutted with tire tracks and overhung with sycamores, willows and the cottonwoods that normally populated waterways.
Looking around her at the reassuringly unremarkable landscape, Jesse spied one small thorn tree peeking out from heavy undergrowth, its thorns only a few inches long and looking no more dangerous than your average blackberry bramble. Overhead, the sun bled out from the edges of low-hanging clouds that were growing darker by the minute. The trees and the narrowing path gave way to a gully. From there it was an easy descent through rocks, gravel and grass clumps down to a shoreline edged with random logs and small boulders perfect for perching.
Another gradual slope up the other side continued on to where the abandoned rail bed picked up again, but Winnie set down her pole and the small basket containing whatever supplies fisherwomen needed next to a driftwood seat at the water’s edge. She adjusted her hat with a contented sigh and gazed off across the lake like someone approaching Nirvana.
Not intending to fish herself, Jesse glanced at the sky again and wished she wasn’t feeling so restless. Unease from the isolated location and the lethal-looking tree still seemed to hang over her.
“Did you happen to check the weather this morning?” she asked, endeavoring to sound casual. “I forgot to.”
“Didn’t think of it.” Winnie shifted her gaze upward. “Don’t remember those clouds being there earlier, though.”
“They weren’t. But it’s springtime in Oklahoma, so what it looked like thirty minutes ago doesn’t much matter.” Jesse offered a smile to go with her fake jauntiness. It was her best effort at chasing away the nerves that were seriously starting to nag at her.
“Long as I’m not fishing from a boat, I don’t usually worry about it too much,” Winnie said with a shrug. “If it can’t drown me or electrocute me, then I just try to make sure I can outrun it.”
Grateful for her friend’s practical optimism, Jesse allowed herself one last look at the lowering clouds. “Well, let’s hope we don’t have to outrun anything today, because we’re a long way from anywhere out here.”
Then she forced the worried frown from her brow and turned her thoughts to other things, such as why she was there in the first place, since this was definitely not her comfort zone. Finding a stump to perch on, she took a less-than-comfortable seat and asked, “So, what was it you brought me out here to talk about?”
Chapter Three
Winnie heaved a sigh. “Let me get my line in the water, and then we can talk. Or rather, I can talk and you can listen. I really appreciate you coming out here with me. That damned ex-husband of mine is about to drive me crazy.”
Her question answered, Jesse nodded. She’d never actually met Winnie’s ex, but she’d certainly heard about him. “So what’s Roy Lee done now?”
“Money. Always and forever, money.” Bending at the waist, Winnie rummaged through her tackle box, her crisp voice carrying clearly. “I thought it would get better once the divorce was final, but apparently not.”
“So, it’s final now?”
Winnie jerked her head in a nod. Standing, she squinted at the hook she was baiting while she talked. “About a month ago. And not a minute too soon.”
“Pretty messy, huh?” Jesse asked in sympathy, happy to provide an ear for her friend, along with maybe a helpful suggestion or two. She’d been through two divorces herself, but they were long ago and far away, and her two ex-husbands were now two of her best friends. Most people, she realized, weren’t that lucky.
“Messy marriage, messy divorce
,” Winnie agreed. “And I feel guilty to boot. I’m the one who wanted it. He fought against it tooth and nail. Poor Roy Lee’s had a girlfriend for a year now and been trying to get me to come back to him the whole time.”
With a shake of her head, Winnie cast her line in a smooth, expert arc into the current of the lake that flowed slowly toward the mouth of the dam located far to the south.
Jesse looked at the simple, straightforward woman who seldom bothered with makeup, whose graying brown hair was permed into short, tight curls, and whose sturdy body closely resembled a fireplug and wondered at the passion she obviously still inspired in her former husband.
“So, other than nuisance, guilt, and having to fight him away from your pocketbook, what’s the problem? Because I know you didn’t ask me out here to talk about any of that.”
“Well…” Winnie heaved another sigh and stared off across the water, to where the opposite bank was only a river’s width away at that point.
Jesse waited, wondering what could be weighing so heavily on her sensible, down-to-earth friend, who could normally be relied upon not to have the kind of lively imagination that Jesse herself was too often plagued with.
After a long minute, Winnie began, “Well, I was digging up a new vegetable bed the other day, and I, uh…” Obviously hesitant, she took another deep breath and let it out in a huff. “I, uh, dug up a bone. Kind of long, like maybe a leg or an arm bone.”
“Uh…” Jesse felt like an echo, but it was the only response that came out. The rest of her brain was furiously working to calm down the images racing through her head. “Like an animal bone?” she asked finally, hoping to goodness the answer would be a simple “yes.”
“Not sure,” Winnie answered, still sounding hesitant.
“Well, there’s only animal and human, Winnifryd, and it can’t be human.” Unable to sit still, Jesse pushed herself up from the stump she was perched on. Pacing across the uneven, slanting embankment, she pressed her hand to her forehead as if that would somehow steady her reeling thoughts.
This was not at all the kind of talk she had thought they were going to have. Something like “I think I’ve made a mistake and don’t really want the divorce,” or, “I’m afraid I may have to put my dad into a nursing home,” or, something really wild like, “I think I’m gay,” was what she had expected. Well, not exactly that last one, but something normal… not, “I found a bone in my yard, and I’m afraid it may be human.”
“Did you call anyone?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound as panicky as she felt. “Like, maybe, the police?”
“Do you think I should?” Winnie’s voice was forlorn. Her pole dangled limply from her hand, its line streaming out into the lake, seemingly forgotten.
“Well, I don’t know.” Trying to tone down the sarcasm, Jesse took a deep breath to calm herself. “Is there a possibility that your house is built on an old Indian burial mound?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then, yes, I think you should call someone. I happen to have Sheriff Tyler’s phone number on me. We can call him from here.”
“Oh, God, I don’t want to do that.” Winnie sounded almost as jittery as Jesse felt.
“It could be an animal, Winnie. In fact, it probably is.”
“A deer would have long bones,” the other woman said, gratefully taking up the suggestion.
“Yes, it would,” Jesse agreed. “But someone needs to check it out.”
“Wow, look at that.” Suddenly distracted, Winnie’s voice sounded more normal as she pointed to the opposite shore, only a short distance across the lake. There, a dust devil the size of a person kicked up a swirl of dirt too thick to see through. “That’s a big one.”
Jesse’s gaze followed her companion’s pointing finger and she felt herself tense. Dust devils were common, but they were usually a foot or two high at the most. “Whoa. I’m glad that’s over there and not here.”
Growing increasingly uncomfortable with the entire morning, she glanced instinctively over her shoulder toward the sky behind her and, there, she saw a cloud, dark and solid, dropping all the way to the horizon. Any talk of bones forgotten for the moment, she did her best not to sound as spooked as she felt. “That’s not a wall cloud, is it?”
“Where?” Winnie’s head snapped around and she scanned the sky behind them, quickly finding the cloud in question. “Oh, wow, maybe we should go to the truck and see if we can get a weather forecast on the radio, just to be safe.”
Jesse turned eagerly toward the pickup, liking Winnie’s suggestion and not feeling nearly so paranoid now that Winnie also seemed concerned. Maybe they could just head back into town once they were at the truck. So far this morning, between the isolated location, the creepy tree, and the increasingly ominous weather, the leisurely picnic Jesse had planned was losing its appeal quickly. And they seemed to have had their little talk already.
Halfway up the embankment toward the rail bed, Jesse gasped and dropped down to one knee as a second dust devil, larger than the one across the lake, popped up on the road just ahead, blocking their path to the truck. Sucking up loose dirt and growing in size as she watched, the swirling dust cloud danced from one edge of the roadway to the other. Gravel circled at its base, skittering out to the sides, kicking up pebbles as it twirled.
Rising and falling, moving closer then retreating, the mini whirlwind suddenly collapsed. Disappearing without warning, it left only a scattering of dirt and a trail of scoured earth to mark its passing. Then, as quickly as it was gone, another formed. Slightly smaller and no less frightening, it appeared almost directly in front of the pickup that was their only escape.
“Okay,” Jesse said, still crouching on one knee in the shelter of the embankment, “maybe we should just wait here until all this stops.”
“Oh… my… God!” Winnie’s voice was slow, each word falling individually before ending with a crescendo that only accented the eerie calm of her next sentence. “Maybe we ought to just ease on over toward that big rock there.” She pointed toward a substantial boulder jutting from the embankment halfway between the roadway and the trees bordering the lake. It provided the most shelter of anything between them and the truck.
Looking from where Winnie pointed to where her gaze was still riveted to the sky, Jesse saw the small funnel that looked like a finger pointing down from the cloud. It hovered there, halfway to the ground before slowly lengthening all the way, then just as slowly drawing back up toward the cloud that spawned it. Halfway up, it stopped again, suspended at the treetops.
Like watching a snake make its way out of the grass and waiting to see if it would come toward you or away from you, Jesse watched the tornado being born overhead and reminded herself that she was supposed to flatten herself against the side of the nearest ditch and was not to, under any circumstances, get into a vehicle and try to outrun a tornado, even one that had not yet touched down.
“Even if we had checked the weather,” Winnie said with resignation, “I don’t think they could have predicted this.”
“I’m just glad I’m with someone who’s not panicking,” Jesse answered, ushering herself to a quiet, Zen corner of her mind. “Chances are it’ll blow right on over without doing anything.”
“Does it look to you like it’s getting lower again?” Winnie whispered. “And closer?”
“The rock!” Jesse shouted as the funnel suddenly plunged toward the ground, then bounced back up, hovering threateningly low before it picked up speed and hurtled straight toward them. “Get to the rock!”
Chapter Four
Jesse flattened herself on the lumpy ground and wrapped her arms around the boulder, only to discover that arms don’t wrap well around broad, flat rocks buried halfway into the ground. Within seconds, Winnie’s solid body scrambled into position, her arms jockeying with Jesse’s for something to hold onto.
“Well, hell, this isn’t going to work,” Winnie grumbled, slithering lower and farther to the side on the boulder,
which put her more or less halfway on top of Jesse.
“I guess a tree would be okay as long as it didn’t get uprooted,” Jesse suggested. She twisted around to look at the band of trees clustered at the shoreline. Behind a tall cottonwood too big to embrace, she saw a creek willow that looked slim enough for her arms to grasp and limber enough to bend with the wind and not break. “There’s a good looking willow back there,” she said. “They have a hellacious root system, so I don’t think it would get blown over.”
“Is there just one?”
Jesse looked again briefly. “I think I see a cedar that’s the right size.”
“Naw.” Practical Winnie shook her head and burrowed farther down on the rock. “They’re too prickly.”
“I don’t think you’re going to care too mu… Ow!” Something that felt like a small stone hit Jesse’s head just above her ear. “What the…” Before she could finish the sentence, another handful of gravel pelted her across the shoulders and bounced off the jeans that offered slightly more protection for her lower half.
Within seconds, small white pellets were pinging all around them. One ricocheted off the boulder and caught Jesse on her cheekbone. “Ow!” Faster than she could react, more began to pound her on the head.
“Hail!” Winnie yelled over the clatter of the dime-sized barrage. “Head for the trees!”
A sarcastic response got no farther than half born before Jesse was up and running, her arms crossed over her head, her gaze riveted at her feet. Her legs pumped as she plunged into the undergrowth, steering a course for the general direction of the willow she had picked, though she had to wonder if the denser growth of the cedar might not be better protection from the hail.
Winnie grabbed her arm and pulled Jesse behind her, deep into a grove of young willows as Jesse realized the hail had stopped already, gone as quickly as it had started.
Murder Most Thorny (Myrtle Grove Garden Club Mystery Book 2) Page 2
