A Mist in the Pines: Jesse's Quest (The McCann Family Saga Book 2) Read online

  Conner hung his head. “Ain't nothin' I can do from here.”

  “Tell me something, Leroy. Did you let the foreman know I had fired you from Morgans Mill?”

  “Now why in the Devil's name would I do that, McCann? You happened to be a hundred miles away in Morgans Bluff, and there was little chance of that secret raisin' its ugly head. These folks pretty much run things on their own down here. We're so isolated deep in these woods, even the law comes out here.”

  By then a low and restless babble rose through the crowded and stiflingly hot room. It was time. Jesse gave them their say, and the complaints seemed unending: they claimed they were rarely fed much more than a cup of beans with a little bacon twice a day, they had lice in their mattresses, and the company stores charged them such exorbitant prices that they were hopelessly in debt.

  Added to that they claimed they had been forced to work from sun up to sun down, and many became sick from exhaustion and malnutrition. In essence, they were slaves to the company. Jesse was ashamed that he had trusted other men, without supervision, to take care of business. This had been the result ; and just as troubling, the foreman was no where in sight when he needed him the most. Jesse stood and began to address the crowd in a thoughtful and even tone:

  “I will take your complaints seriously and stay long enough to inspect the camp and see that these issues are resolved . I'm ordering all of you to lay off the shine and home brew and the fighting. I'll be in town at the Pine Crest Hotel until things are in order...but for now...good night. It's been along day for all of us.”

  The crowd dispersed, and Jesse and Buck walked out to the Tin Lizzy. There, waiting in the shadows, was a mountain of a man, about fifty, swarthy and tattooed, with long graying braids that hung down to the middle of his broad back. Something about him seemed vaguely familiar and more so as they moved closer.

  Buck looked as if he had been slapped: “Lord be with us...if it ain’t Domingo returned from the grave...after nigh on twenty-five years! Say fella... we heard you got knifed in a New Orleans alley and died from your wounds.”

  “You shouldn't believe idle gossip,” replied Domingo. “It was I who came out of that alley alive. I have done my hard time for killing the man ...maybe because I started the fight. Any way, they released me from Angola a few months ago after bringing me here to work . I want you to know I'm a changed man. I saw the light in prison and got baptized.” Then Domingo turned his attention to Jesse; “ McCann, the men want to vote me in as foreman, and I would like a shot at the job.”

  “Humph” sputtered Buck . “Two rats in the same hole...a little rat and a big rat...Conner and Domingo.. leadin' their big ol' gang of blind mice.”

  Jesse stared at Domingo before finally finding his voice: “The men want to vote you in? Where is my regular foreman? Where are the mill guards, by the way?”

  “Somebody runned 'em off, Boss Man!” shouted Conner who , in passing, inserted himself into the conversation.

  “Someone ran them off?” Jesse shouted back and threw up his hands at the incredible turn of events that could have come from a ten cent paper back written by a hack locked in a dungeon alone: insane, unbelievable, improbable.

  Domingo broke through Jesse's thoughts: “McCann, we need to talk seriously about the foreman job.”

  “Talk? You want to talk seriously to me? After our history, after all these years...you come to me with hat in hand?” Jesse glared up into the coal black eyes of the man who had caused trouble without end twenty five years ago,

  “Just hear me out. These men need to be supervised by someone exactly like me. I don’t know of anyone else who could handle these men...and I need the extra pay.”

  “Oh do you? Let me guess. You ran out of poker victims in New Orleans. Didn't you know...you can only dupe so many card sharks for so long ? After a while, nobody wants to play the game with you. They get smart.”

  Buck looked at Jesse as if he had lost his mind: “Even if they be from Louzi-ann?” he asked, eyes wide in amazement.

  Jesse ignored Buck's remark, thought for a moment, and then spoke evenly, deliberately, to the unmovable hulk before him:

  “You do have foreman experience, and no, I don’t suppose anyone but you can handle this bunch. You served your time, but you also committed crimes for which you were never indicted and convicted. I can never forget how you jumped to my step-mother's dirty work...threatening me my very first morning in town...when I was a stupid twenty year old and unarmed...just to prevent me from finding my own father . And then there was the burning of Shanty Town near to the ground, because Lorena wanted to run folks off their land ...for the sake of the railroad. The final straw … you triggered the avalanche of logs in the Big Muddy that day. You nearly killed me.”

  “Just trying to shake things up. That's all. I needed money and Lorena wanted to shut people up. Being Reese Morgan's daughter, she had plenty of money to throw around...but she will never be set free from the asylum...and like I said...as for me...I saw the light behind the walls of Angola. I am a changed man.”

  “Oh Glory be,” mumbled Buck. “All criminals get religion behind bars...until they get paroled.”

  “Nevertheless,” said Jesse, as much to himself as to the anyone . “I will give it thought. There is much to be done here in this God forsaken place, and I am going to need a lot of help.”

  All he could think of was Annie, waiting and wondering, needing him there with her. And his sweet Katie would be home in just a few days, and he would not be there to greet her when she stepped off the train. In the back of Jesse's mind was the nagging realization that his return to Morgans Bluff— to all that he loved and cherished—would take longer than he had ever anticipated.

  V: A Mysterious Death

  That night, trouble was barreling down on Jesse McCann like that old log avalanche on the Big Muddy. Bad trouble. He knew, because his sleep was filled with a new version of the old reoccurring dream—one that had returned after many peaceful years: Jesse is in total darkness. Someone or some thing approaches. He senses evil and reaches out his hands to shield himself; yet the faceless form vanishes into a misty fog that hangs over everything, obscuring the compass of the waning moon , until he loses his bearing. Jesse knows not where he is and which way to turn. He is lost in a slow creeping haze, and Mama Kate calls out from the great beyond: “Jess, be careful, son!' Ride beyond the mist...but do not fear it. Something beyond it can be your savior”

  He awakened to a sweat- soaked night shirt and clammy hands. With much effort, he shook the feeling of doom from his mind and dressed for the long day ahead, arriving at the hotel dining hall long after his friend. Buck was already there sipping his second cup of coffee—his long white hair unruly and matted, his wooden leg sticking out at an awkward angle. The old man's breakfast was hearty as befitting a one time logger: bacon and eggs, biscuits and gravy and a small pitcher of sorghum syrup.

  Jesse ate his breakfast mechanically, tasting nothing. He could only think of the men at the turp camp and wonder what they had eaten upon rising before daylight. Did they have enough to sustain them for the long day of making turpentine? To say it troubled him was an understatement. As much as he wanted to go home, he knew there were people taking good care of Annie. On the other hand, the men at the Pine Crest camp had no one but he himself to think of their welfare. He would get word to Annie that his stay would be extended and that he would be home as quickly as possible. He would write a letter that very day.

  “I see that faraway look in your eyes,” said Buck. “Annie girl on your mind?”

  “In part. She's on my mind every waking moment...but I know she's strong and will get better. She's in a safe and comfortable place with Granny waiting on her hand and foot, spoiling her beyond my ability to do so.”

  “A woman needs a bit 'o spoilin' “ said Buck between mouthfuls. “Of course, we forget sometimes that Minna is as old as I am... but she'll do right by Annie. She's a good and steady old woman...even with
her hoky-poky ways.”

  “Ah yes, there's that. I asked her not to mix in any of her pagan rites, but unless she found a medicine man somewhere, we have little to worry about. There aren’t any of her tribe left in East Texas... outside of Jerod.”

  Buck thought for a moment and then drizzled sorghum syrup on a his biscuit—relishing the sight of the dark amber liquid oozing over the fresh melting butter. Unlike most mere mortals, nothing spoiled Buck Hennessy's appetite, and he was accustomed to talking and eating at the same time:

  “That old gal will find a shaman if there's one anywhere in the country...and she'll stop at nothing to bring him to Morgans Bluff. You never really got it...those Caddo ways have been passed down for hundreds of years. Why sometimes they even take the afflicted out to Cherokee County to the old burial mounds down on the El Camino Real ...just to commune with the spirits of their Caddoan ancestors...blood calling to blood I recon.”

  Jesse inhaled sharply at the thought of it: “Nevertheless, there's nothing I can do from here...not until I find someone to run Pine Crest. Then I can leave as soon as the complaints are satisfied. First, I need to make a decision about Domingo...whether I give him the foreman job or...”

  “...or run him out'a town on a rail?

  “Something like that,”Jesse replied.

  “Listen Jess, Domingo's never been nothin' but disaster lookin' for a place to light, and part of his problem was his saddlin' up with Lorena. How your pa could stay married to that witch is a mystery...although Morgan money may have been the glue that kept him stuck ...that and a passel of kids. Yessir, Old man Morgan found out he married her without divorcing your ma you know? He even knew Clint had paid off that detective your ma sent lookin' for him before you were born. You were a threat to both of 'em...a part of a hidden past. Clinton McCann did make a half way decent preacher though...'til the whole town found out his real name and what he was. Preacher Man was a devilishly handsome rascal... with enough charm to talk a dog off a meat wagon. That right there was the biggest part of your pa's problem. He couldn't help himself. He wanted to marry Lorena...and your ma didn't believe in divorce...and didn’t know he was even alive. That's the way he kept it. A bigamist has to hide his entire past. Last I heard, your pa had served his time and is out on parole. He lives off in the woods and is scarce as hens' teeth. Ashamed no doubt.”

  Buck's rambling was interrupted by the hotel desk clerk who rushed to their table proffering a telegraph in his shaking hand:

  “Mr. McCann? I think, sir, you best finish up your breakfast and ride out to the turp camp. I've been sent word that a worker has been murdered.”

  Jesse and Buck stared at the boy speechlessly. Jesse rose from his chair, threw down enough money to pay for the meals and placed a firm grip on Buck's shoulder to keep him seated. Still Buck heaved mightily and tried to maneuver his wooden leg to stand erect like the rebel soldier he once was.

  “Not this time, Old Warrior,” said Jesse. “Stay here.” And then he turned to the clerk, who by now was so pale, his freckles stood out like dots on a domino: “Direct me to the sheriff's office, so he can ride out with me.”

  The boy swallowed hard enough for his bow tie to bobble. “Well sir, I can....but it's locked up tighter 'n a drum. The sheriff... if he can be called that...disappeared a few months back and we ain’t seen hide nor hair since...but I got a shot gun under the counter. Take it with you Mr. McCann!”

  “No. That won't be necessary.”

  “Jess , don’t be a fool!” sputtered Buck. “Bring him the shot gun, boy!”

  At that, Jesse raised his voice: “No! These men need me to take care of some things for them and see that they get paid. I'm the last person they want to harm. We don't even know if it really is a murder... or just a fight gone too far.”

  “If you ain’t back by mid afternoon,” growled Buck, “ I'm bringing some men out there with me. Take the Lizzy and get on with it.”

  Jesse immediately drove into the pineland, through the logging camp where trees were felled and carried out by tram —then on to the turpentine camp where men were gathering pine sap in buckets attached to scoured trunks. The men looked to the road and waved as he drove past, as if nothing extraordinary had just occurred. In fact, the camp itself was as eerily quiet as a burial vault; all workers seemed preoccupied with the work of making turpentine. Unnaturally so. Something's off-kilter, Jesse thought. Yet he asked no questions and continued to drive the entire breadth of the camp, observing all.

  Finally he stopped and stepped down at the distillery . There among the stills were copper and oaken kettles bubbling with the pine resin.

  Behind the stills, a solemn Domingo sat next to an unmoving lump covered by a white sheet. “I've been expecting you,” he said. Before Jesse could utter a word, the big man lifted the sheet for Jesse to see what lay beneath. Jesse's pulse quickened as he stared down at the badly burned remains of Leroy Conner.

  VI: A Secret Ceremony

  One hundred miles north from where Jesse inspected the Leroy's lifeless body, Annie's family sought the final resort to break what Granny Minna called “the spell”. North to the El Camino Real, that rugged path carved by the pioneers of Tejas, ceremonial fires burned in the mid day sun. The radiant heat formed a dreamlike mirage across the ancient burial mounds of the once mighty Caddoan chieftains. The Shaman began to speak in an ancient language that only those passed to the other world had uttered, and he called upon Caddi-Ayo and the animal spirit guides to intervene. If anyone had that right, it was he.

  The grass upon the sacred mound was summer green save one spot up top where nothing grew, nor had ever grown in anyone's memory—worn bare by white settlers who secretly prayed there. They prayed for the wisdom of a mystical tribe they had driven from their own land. They prayed for forgiveness. It was a sacrilege for all but the true–bloods to commune there. Yet the European conquerors arrogantly ignored the sanctity of the tribe they called “Mound Builders.” They paid dearly for it in plagues and disease.

  Deep inside the mounds lay the remains of mighty chieftains who ruled hundreds of years ago; some believed those powerful men once enjoyed protection and divine gifts from the Great Spirit. But that day, only Minna and the Shaman, the full true-bloods, claimed their inherent rights. All they did that day they did for Annie. So the ceremony began. The Shaman climbed to the top of a burial mound and raised his arms to the sky.

  Annie 's eyes were bright with fear.

  “Rest your troubled mind, Shiwa” said Jerod. “Jesse and Katie will be home any day now. You will be whole and pure for them.”

  As if fighting the effects of a trance, Annie scanned the scene around her. Seeing nothing familiar, she fought to free herself from the arms of her father and grandmother—as if they, rather than some unnamed force, were the captors of her mind.

  “Why is my husband not with me? Has he forgotten me?”

  “No, Shiwa, Jesse would never forsake you ...not in a thousand years. Don't you remember? He and Mr. Hennessy have gone to take care of your business...to make things right again...to help your workers. Whatever he does, he does for you. The men at Pine Crest are in turmoil, and only he can make it right. He is a man, and a man takes care of business for his woman...or else he is no man at all. When he finishes his obligation, he will return, bringing twice the love in his heart.”

  After hours of fasting, the Shaman was spent and feeble; so he gave his last chant at dusk as the sun spread its last rays over the sacred scene below. The mounds were all that remained of a primitive and noble nation. They had been defeated by intruders, and their dwindling and weakened tribe was driven five hundred miles north to the dry and windy plains of southwest Oklahoma.

  The Shaman dropped to his knees and gave his last request:

  “Caddi-Ayo, hear this my final plea. Here in our homeland. long ago, you guided our people and made them prosperous. The corn grew high... and our streams and rivers were filled with fish... and our fathers worshiped you ope
nly and freely... for it was once their land alone. Great Spirit ...look down on this your child and make her whole. Renew the power of your protection to this place. Send the animal guides to protect your daughter who loves all creatures.”

  Then, as evening set in, a blue misty haze floated down and settled over the sacred grounds. Far away, a lone wolf's lonely call was carried on the wind—first at a great distance, then closer. “Tahsha!” whispered Granny. “I feel Tahsha's presence, Annie. She is here in spirit as she was in life... from the day of your birth .She has heard the Shaman.”

  That primitive sound echoed throughout the hills and lingered wherever the mist settled. Could it be she who responded to the need of Annie and her baby, through the Shaman's mystical power?

  Annie's sudden scream pierced the air, and a thousand black crows cawed and took flight, wings beating the air to form a great wind that vanquished the deadly mist to the bottom of the forest floor. Peace had returned to the piney woods, and Annie was carried home to sleep for days on end with Granny at her bedside.

  Days later, Jerod waited at the Morgan Bluff train station for Katie. As the East Texas Special pulled into the depot, he watched the passengers unload, one by one, until at last he spotted his granddaughter looking anxiously about, wondering no doubt who had come to fetch her. Jerod thought Kathryn Hannah McCann had changed dramatically since going away to school. She was so grown up with her wild blond curls pinned up into a pile, her kid leather gloves, the brooch at her throat and the little hat with the veil that accentuated the gray eyes that reminded him always of Annie.

  “Grandpapa!” Katie called out upon spotting Jerod. “Have you come to take me home?” Then she ran to him and planted a kiss on his cheek, and he held her out at arms length to admire her. She beamed, basking in the knowledge that she made her grandfather proud. Jerod grabbed her train case, and they two strolled, arm in arm, toward the wagon.