by J. L. Salter
“I’ve been poking around in her head for two months now, and I don’t have a clue.” Kelly studied the huddle of faces.
“Will you open it already?” Ginny had hobbled over to the table.
Kelly took another deep breath. “Here goes.” The leather flaps were stiff and the petrified curl made it difficult to open. With the first flap over, Mitch placed three fingers on top of it. When the second flap opened, Ellie did the same from her position across the round table. On the middle panel of the tri-fold pouch was something covered in tissue paper. This, too, had a distinct curl, fixed for at least eighty-eight years. “Belva died in 1919, so if this is hers, it’s been buried in the sinkhole at least since then, maybe longer.”
The suspense was killing everybody, so Wade broke it. “Guess my treasure theory’s out the winder.”
Out of the blue, Diane appeared at the front door and, seeing everybody gathered around the table, walked right in. “What did I miss?”
Kelly folded back the tissue carefully. “Looks like a picture.”
“Picture of what?” Straining to see, Ellie was nearly on top of the table.
“Uh, photo of a person.” Kelly picked it up and removed more layers of thin tissue. “A portrait!” Her eyes clouded as she held up the ancient studio photograph of a young soldier in grey. It was his dress uniform, with braid on the chest, but no hat in evidence. Around his waist was a belt holding a holster on his right hip, with the pistol butt facing the front. A leather sash held a fine saber over his left hip.
“Must have been a lefty.” Mitch squeezed in closer.
“Nope, he was a righty. The cav’lry figured their saber was more valuable than their pistol.” Wade knew blades. “This feller would’ve drawn his saber from the left side with his right hand.”
“Corporal.” Pop cleared his throat and pointed to two large stripes on the soldier’s sleeve.
On the front, across the bottom right corner, was embossed in gold the name of a photographic studio in Nashville. Kelly turned over the stiff, curled card. Inked in long-hand on the back was a date, Dec. 1862.
“I think these are called carte de vistas.” Diane lifted it gently. “I’ve seen some from the 1860s and 1870s. They followed tintypes and were pretty popular for about forty years or so, in America and Europe both. ‘Til ordinary people started buying cameras.”
Kelly couldn’t take her eyes off the face of the young cavalry trooper. His eyes seemed earnest and slightly sad. It may have been a portrait he took right after being promoted to corporal. If so, no hint of immodesty showed in his face… just resolve and dignified pride.
“That was still pretty early in the war. At the end of sixty-two, South still thought they had a chance.” Pop knew his history.
“What’s the other piece of paper?” Ellie had seen photos of soldiers in many wars.
Finally Kelly focused on the second item. It was folded twice… in half, then half again. It also had a distinct curl. Before she opened it she spotted an ink notation on the back, Decoration Day 1919. “Wonder what it means?”
Pop’s thumb pointed to the writing. “Decoration Day’s what ya call Memorial Day now. End of May. Decorate the graves of dead soldiers.”
“Belva was already dead by May of 1919.” Kelly eyed Pop. “She died in early April that year, didn’t she?”
He nodded, then shrugged.
“What’s on the paper?” Perhaps Mitch thought the evidence was being processed too slowly.
Kelly unfolded it, smoothed the crease, and then undid the other part, smoothing it as well. “A marriage certificate!”
“A what?” Diane scurried around the table to get closer.
“It’s a marriage certificate for Kentucky. Parts are filled in, but it’s not signed by any officials. Belva Marie Butler. But no name for the groom, and no dates.”
“She didn’t know when they’d get married.” Diane picked up the certificate. “Just that they would.”
Mitch strained to see it. “You mean her and the corporal here?”
Kelly nodded. “I think she had doubts whether the wedding would, or could happen.” She didn’t look up.
“So who’s the soldier?” Ginny pointed.
“Has to be the wounded Reb.” Kelly spoke softly. “Not the one who died, but her wounded Reb. The one Belva tended, fed, and loved. The wounded Reb she hid.”
“The Reb she took several whippings for.” Mitch nodded sadly. “H. Hanks or Hank H.”
“The Confederate who Belva slept with.” Kelly only whispered.
Mitch and Kelly already realized — from the diary pages — Belva had been intimate with the corporal and gotten pregnant, but this was the first hint they’d actually planned to marry.
“Wonder why he never came back for her…” Kelly’s voice caught in her throat.
Diane began softly humming the chorus from When this Cruel War is Over. Then she began crying, followed by Kelly and Ellie. In the contagion of such a moment, even Ginny began sobbing.
The men dispersed, lest the tear factor overcome them as well. Mitch and Pop selected the porch, though Wade remained inside, fiddling with an old pair of crutches.
Their tears subsiding, Diane helped Kelly put away the leather pouch and oilskin for further study later.
Wade held the crutches next to Ginny, then realized he’d have to modify them so they could be adjusted short enough. “Drilling two more holes should do it.” He turned and put his meaty hand on Kelly’s shoulder. “I’m glad you got to hold Aunt Belva’s secret.”
Kelly stared at Wade like she’d never seen him before and clasped his hand as it rested on her shoulder. “Thanks for finding it.”
With that, Wade spun on his heel, collected the other men on the porch, and all ambled out to the golf cart. Then Wade tore off down the driveway to pick up the woods trail which started on the other side of the cemetery.
Kelly wondered why Mitch had left his vehicle at Wade’s place.
Without speaking, Pop left in Ellie’s truck to hurry home and change clothes for church.
Ginny hobbled back to the recliner. Gato settled back down after all the extra humans departed. Again Kelly studied the face of the corporal, then placed the stiff, curled photo on top of the partly filled in marriage license.
Standing in the doorway, Diane motioned for Kelly to come outside and pointed over to the southernmost end of the porch. “I need to tell you something Joe mentioned yesterday.” Diane checked over Kelly’s shoulder to be sure Ginny was not within earshot.
It caused Kelly to look back reflexively. “Huh?”
“Joe said he saw Ginny take something off that shoe.”
“What do you mean?”
“While Ginny was facing away from you and Roger and Wade, she hurriedly un-taped something from inside the toe of the red shoe. Joe said it looked like electrical tape.”
“Is he sure about this?”
“He was looking right at her. Only he was up and she was down. She didn’t even think to check whether anybody was above her. When Joe helped Wade carry her to the cart, he felt something inside her shirt. Joe said it was like a small metal box, maybe about the size of an old box of plastic bandages. And something was inside it besides bandages.”
“Maybe Ginny brought it with her for some reason.”
“I’m telling you Joe saw her un-tape something from inside her dug-up shoe, then he felt a metal box inside her shirt. Old Belva wasn’t the only person hiding secrets in sinkholes.”
Kelly opened her mouth but couldn’t think what to say.
“Listen, Kelly. Ginny tried to pretend she fell off the third rung of the ladder into the sinkhole. But everybody saw it clear as day — she jumped off the ladder. She was in a serious hurry to get to her ugly shoe. If she’d lie about that, what else is she lying about?”
“Yeah, I wonder.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Monday, May 28
Kelly knew the Monday of Memorial Day weekend meant
lots of extra traffic in town, and the stores which were open were packed with people buying supplies for extravagant meals or family cookouts. Only thing they weren’t buying — in that county anyway — was liquor, since Pulaski was still dry, despite continued threats of a new referendum to reverse its status.
She hadn’t seen Mitch the entire exhausting day, because he’d been in an adjacent county with several interviews. It was after nine o’clock, and the warm afternoon had turned to a pleasantly coolish evening. Kelly had kept both doors locked almost constantly for the past full week, but that night she opened front and back windows about a foot, so a pleasant breeze moved through the main part of the cabin.
Ginny was half way back on the recliner with her swollen, discolored ankle propped up on the footrest. Perra lay on the loveseat next to Kelly. Gato was evidently napping in one of his many rotational hiding places — even in such a small cabin, Kelly sometimes had to search to find him.
Thinking she heard a noise outside, Kelly peered through the glass of the back door. She didn’t see anything but kept scanning as she spoke. “Ginny, Joe said he saw you get something from the sinkhole Saturday. Now, I’ve put my neck out and haven’t pestered you with a lot of questions, but something’s going on besides what you’ve told me. I need to know what I’m connected to as long as you’re here.” Kelly turned to face her.
Ginny looked pained but it seemed different than that from her ankle injury. It appeared more like anguish, as though she’d remembered something, or someone, horrible. “Miss Kelly, I haven’t done anything illegal, I swear to you. No, I haven’t told you everything, but what I’ve kept back is just something that’s kinda my insurance…”
“Insurance? What are you talking about? What have you kept back?” Kelly quivered with anger. While she resisted the urge to slap the delinquent, she also remembered Mitch having pleaded for her to evict the uninvited guest. “I thought you were hiding from somebody who wanted to find you just because you ran away. Now you’re telling me — or you’re not telling me, really — they’re also hunting you down because you have something that belongs to them!”
Shaking her head, Ginny started crying. “It’s not like that. I mean, it’s not that simple. I knew I wasn’t safe unless I kept something that frightened them…”
A loud bang on the front door scared all souls in the cabin. Perra barked loudly, Ginny shrieked, and Kelly jumped straight in the air. Gato wasn’t visible but no doubt was equally alarmed.
Kelly composed herself enough to call out, “Who is it?” When she moved toward the front door she spotted a young man. With the porch light off, she could barely see as he held out one hand, palm up, and asked if she’d help him.
“What do you need?” She wished she hadn’t moved the shotgun she usually kept near the front door, even though it was correct to hide it from Ginny.
“I’m lost and trying to find my cousin,” he said through the door. “I know he lives off Craggy Road somewhere, but I don’t remember his address. Just wanna check your phone book.” Perra continued to bark and growl.
Kelly was not one to refuse help to a person lost in the dark hills and curves of north Somerset, but her security status was on high alert. “I can’t let you in, but I’ll look up the address. What’s your cousin’s name?”
Too long of a pause. If the man really had a cousin in that vicinity, he’d be able to state the name quickly.
Kelly scanned the room for some kind of nearby defensive weapon and then peered out the window to see what else was on her porch.
He smashed a glass pane of the front door and Kelly shrieked. He was already reaching inside to flip the dead bolt when Kelly hurried to the door to try and block it. But her body weight was no match for his and an accomplice, who suddenly burst out of the shadows. The force of both easily knocked her sprawling to the floor. Perra challenged with more barking.
The men crashed in and hurriedly slammed the door. Each was armed; large .38 caliber revolvers aimed directly at Kelly and Ginny.
“Check the other rooms.” The first creep was in charge. “See if they’ve got any guns.” He visually scanned the spaces he could see from where he stood, just inside the doorway. He hardly paused to take a deep breath before he addressed the frightened, sobbing girl in the recliner. “So-ooo, Ginny. Long time.”
His voice sent chills down Kelly’s back as she struggled to get up from the floor.
“You. Sit!” He motioned with his revolver to the short couch. “Keep that dog quiet!”
The second thug returned from checking the rest of the cabin. “No sign of anything.” Number Two looked younger and shorter than the bossy one. He had dark hair, short on top, and long in back.
Number One had long, stringy blond hair with purple highlights. He was taller, thinner, and seemed older. “Cheech, keep her occupied.” He motioned to Kelly. “I wanna chat with our old pal Ginny.” Blondie obviously spotted Kelly looking through the broken glass of her front door, because he snarled, “Yeah, we’ve got another buddy outside too. But you really don’t wanna meet him.” His smile made one of the scariest faces Kelly had ever seen, except in movies about psychos. “Turns out my pal outside is kin to one of your old boyfriends.”
Kelly struggled to remember anybody she’d ever dated who could possibly even know somebody like one of these thugs, much less be related, but she drew a blank.
Obviously eager to interrogate Ginny, Blondie was enjoying Kelly’s discomfort at the moment. “Yeah, he was real pleased to find out the witch in this cabin was one and the same that poked a shotgun in Cousin J.D.’s face one night.”
Kelly’s insides turned icy. She remembered that psycho only too well and wished she had Pop’s shotgun back in her hands right then.
“And I gotta say, you’ve got a lot nicer body than J.D. let on. Lot nicer! Well, that gives you something to think about while I have a talk with this little slut here. And I guess I’ll go ahead and tell you my surprise — my buddy outside has already called Cousin J.D. and invited him to our little party.” He took another glance around. “Yeah, we’ll have us a nice party in here. You can get reacquainted with J.D. And when he’s finished with you, we’ll have to share you with his cousin. That’s only fair, don’t you think?”
Kelly trembled and realized she had to get control of her terror. Whatever was going to happen, it wouldn’t help anything for her to be paralyzed by fear. Kelly hugged Perra to try to quiet her growling.
Blondie turned back to Ginny, grabbed one of the chairs from the table, and slammed it next to the recliner. “Look here, Cheech, poor little Ginny’s gone and hurt her foot.” He poked her ankle roughly with his revolver.
She shrieked.
Kelly instinctively started up from the couch, but Cheech waved his gun in her face, and she plopped back down.
Perra barked again and Blondie yelled, “I warned you to shut that dog up!”
Kelly tried to calm the agitated pup.
“Now, we’re gonna find out what we need whether you tell us sooner or later.” The menace in his voice was like electrical current surging through uninsulated wire. “So, where’d ya put it?”
Ginny’s eyes were wider than Kelly thought possible, but she didn’t speak. Blondie placed his hand on her ankle and squeezed it.
“No-oo!” Ginny screamed, sobbing and wailing.
Seeming to enjoy it, Blondie squeezed again… harder.
“Oh-hh no-oo!”
Perra had not stopped growling, but now she resumed barking. Blondie turned his attention from Ginny long enough to whack Perra on the head with his pistol. The dog yelped and Kelly clutched her closely. “Take this mutt to the toilet and lock it in!”
Cheech obeyed, grabbing her roughly from Kelly’s arms. Perra tried to bite his hands and wrists, but Cheech squeezed her neck hard and kept her head facing away.
“Listen.” Kelly tried to keep her voice steady. “I don’t know what you want from Ginny, but nobody needs to get hurt over this. Giv
e me a minute, let me talk with her. We don’t want any more trouble.”
“Trouble? You don’t even know about trouble. We started out needin’ to get back what this little slut stole, and then we figured to teach her a good lesson to boot. But now we’ve lucked into findin’ the witch that threatened to kill my buddy’s cousin. So, we got us a whole new situation now.”
Cheech returned from the bathroom.
Kelly’s terror was in her throat as well as everywhere else in her body, but she tried to conceal the quaking of her voice. “I don’t know what’s so, uh, important about whatever Ginny took, but I promise you’ll get it back. Leave her alone for a minute. Let me talk to her. This doesn’t have to get crazy.”
“Crazy?” She’d chosen the wrong word. “You think I’m crazy? Wait till you watch us go crazy with her on that table.” His stringy blonde hair whapped against his face as he motioned with his thin head. “And then we get crazy with you, maybe over the back of the couch.”
Perra scratched at the bathroom door and barked even more than before. Kelly looked frantically around the room for a weapon. If only she hadn’t moved the shotgun! She knew Blondie was not making idle threats. She figured him for a certified psycho who obviously would enjoy raping Ginny and forcing Kelly to watch. Then doing the same to her. Kelly quaked and couldn’t control it.
“You look like you’re shivering. You want my friend here to hold you real close, so you’ll warm up a bit?” Blondie laughed crudely and wickedly.
Cheech moved toward her. “Warm up… yeah.”
“Later!” Blondie’s order got immediately compliance from the subservient thug.
Tears welled in Kelly’s eyes, but she continued to look for a weapon. The only thing she could handle would be the small table by the door where she kept her keys in a purple stoneware bowl. If she could get to it, she could whack one of them. Of course the other one would shoot her dead before she got the second lick in. No good. Something else.
Gato, who’d evidently been in the bedroom, entered cautiously from the short hall. His eyes were wide, his ears low, and the bushy tail twitched as he walked. When he spotted the two intruders and their guns, Gato halted and arched his back. He hissed, the big sharp teeth improbably prominent.
