Sammy Keyes and the Curse of Moustache Mary Read online

  “Well…? Who?”

  She inhales deeply, hesitates, then says, “His own brother.”

  Our eyes bug out. “His brother!”

  “Like I said, he was too hot-headed to be accurate.”

  I shake my head and ask, “Well, who was he trying to shoot?”

  Lucinda stands there a moment with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. Then she eyes us and says, “Me.”

  Suddenly the smaller post falls, pulling its section of fencing inward. “You?”

  She gives us a closed smile as Penny steps through the break in the fence and snorts at us from the other side. “Me,” she says, then turns her attention to the fence again. “I'm going to have to tell my nephew about this.” She gives us a mischievous little grin and says, “But let's follow Penny, shall we? It'll be a shortcut to the main house, and I can show you Mary's cabin.”

  We stood at the fence for a minute, watching her shuffle toward a grove of oak trees. And I knew I couldn't just let her disappear without finding out what in the world had happened with Johnny James Murdock and his brother, and one look at Holly told me that she couldn't, either.

  So we step through the fence and put the sections together as best we can, fastening them with the strap of leather.

  Then we're off, chasing after a little old woman, her black-bowed pig, and one Wild West story.

  FIVE

  Penny seemed to know just where she was going. And when she turned to check for us, her curly tail flipped clear around, practically wagging her whole rear end. We caught up to Lucinda and asked, “So…?”

  She looks us over. “So?”

  “So why would Johnny James want to kill you?”

  Lucinda sighs. “Understand that between the Huntleys and the Murdocks there was a line drawn. We'd been taught early on not to cross it, and I never gave much thought to it. That's just the way it was.

  “Then one year some folks in town decided to get together and put on a dance. It was a huge affair. People from clear up and down the state went, and of course I did, too.

  “And it just so happens that the boy I danced the night away with was Johnny James' brother, Manny Murdock.”

  “Didn't you know it was him?”

  Lucinda laughed and shook her head. “I hadn't seen him since his pa came to the schoolhouse one day all worked up about something and collected Manny and Johnny James. After that they worked full-time for him. Manny was about nine, I was seven, and Johnny James was quite a bit older, maybe twelve.”

  “How old were you at the dance?”

  “Seventeen years, two days.”

  “Well, didn't someone introduce you?”

  “No, we met at the pie table. He was after the last piece of rhubarb cobbler, and so was I. We decided to cut it in two, and after that he asked me to dance. He was a marvelous dancer, and so funny! I found myself laughing like I'd never laughed before, and by the time we went outside for some fresh air, we were both completely smitten.”

  “And that's when he told you his name?”

  “As fate would have it, a friend of his brother's came over and said, ‘Evenin’, Manny. Is Johnny James here tonight?'”

  Holly put a hand in front of her mouth. “What did you do?”

  “I was speechless. And after the other fella left, Manny turns to me and says, ‘What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost.’ I just stared at him and whispered, ‘You're Manny Murdock?’ He makes some apology about not having introduced himself properly, then asks me for my name.

  “So I told him. And we both stood there for a moment with our mouths gaping open, and then we started laughing. Just howling. He made some joke about my not having a moustache, and I said something about him not stealing my piece of rhubarb cobbler, and we just couldn't stop making jokes. None of the stories I'd heard about the Murdock clan seemed to matter—all I could see was Manny.”

  “What did your parents say when they found out?”

  “Oh, Pa was mighty upset and did his best to talk me out of him, and I in turn told him Manny shouldn't be condemned for the sins of his ancestors. But Manny's family was like a nest of hornets. They tried everything. They lectured him, they threatened him, they dragged him down to the cemetery and made him apologize to every ancestor that ever died. They told him I'd be a curse on his life, just as Mary had been a curse on Lewis and John. And when shoveling all that guilt around didn't work, they'd lock him up in his room for days, hoping he'd come to his senses. And when he didn't, they'd turn around and give him extra duties to make up for the time he'd lost not coming to his senses. Finally, Johnny James figured there was only one solution: Get rid of me.”

  “So he came gunning for you?”

  “That's right. He was brave with liquor and came right onto this property. Right over there. Just this side of that rock.”

  We look to where she's pointing, and what we see is a rock about the size of a refrigerator that's got yellow-and-brown moss growing on it and is sunk at an angle into the ground. And all around it is brown grass and oak leaves—not exactly a spot I would have pictured for a showdown.

  “Manny and I were out for a stroll. It was a lovely evening, and he had just given me his pocket watch. I was admiring it, asking him if he was sure he wanted me to have something his pa had given him, when suddenly he jumped forward and shouted, ‘Johnny, no!’ The next thing I knew, there was Johnny James aiming at me from behind the rock, and Manny was flying in front of me with his arms spread wide. He caught the bullet, right in his heart.”

  The three of us stand there for a minute, silent, looking at Showdown Rock. Finally, Lucinda lets out a sigh and says, “As much as I lost that day, Johnny James lost more. I can see that now from his letter. He's carried the burden of his actions all these years.” She gives Penny a quick ruffle behind the ears, then smiles at us and points down the path. “Mary's house is this way if you want to see it.”

  On the left there's Showdown Rock and a group of oak trees that are looking pretty bent and decrepit—like the wind could puff them right over if it was in the mood to. But on the right are rows and rows of reddish brown plants strung up on wires. Lucinda says, “This is our vineyard. The plants look like scarecrows this time of year, but in the spring it's a lovely sight. Green as far as the eye can see. The fall harvest was down again, but I'm sure Kevin will find a solution to that.”

  I ask her, “Kevin?”

  “My nephew. He manages the vineyard. A harder-working man has never lived.”

  We walk along until we come to a little building on the edge of the vineyard that looks like a cross between a guard shack and an outhouse. Lucinda mutters something and starts hiking toward it, but suddenly the door swings open and a guy in dirty blue jeans and muddy work boots steps out. And he would've looked filthy from head to toe if it hadn't been for his head. It was squeaky clean. He had shiny straight hair the color of honey and bright brown eyes, and there wasn't a whisker on his face. And around his neck was a puka shell necklace with a one-inch tusk like a shark tooth hanging from the middle. He looked like one of those pictures where they take different people and piece them together. You know, Surfer Sam's head on the body of Freddy Farmer.

  Anyway, when the door swings open, he jumps back a little and so does Lucinda. Lucinda says, “Dallas! You startled me.”

  “Afternoon, Miss Lucinda,” he says, then leans down and gives Penny a friendly pat on the side. “What brings you clear out here?”

  “I was on my way to show these girls the cabin when I noticed the toolshed door wasn't shut tight.”

  Dallas reaches into the shed, pulls a chain to switch off the light, then closes the door and snaps the padlock. “Going to lock me in, were you?” He grins and says, “That'd be a nice way to start the New Year—locked inside a toolshed.”

  Lucinda blushes. “I wouldn't have done that. But why are you here today? I thought Kevin gave you the day off.”

  “He did, but I had a few things to finish up, and
then…well, you know how it is—there's always work to do.”

  She gave him a stern look. “Exactly. Which is why you need to take time off when it's offered.”

  “Just trying to turn our luck around. Besides, working a little extra is the least I can do after the way you and Kevin took a chance on me.” He chuckles and says, “I can't exactly afford to lose this job, and if next season's anything like the last one, that's probably what'll happen.”

  “Nonsense. You'll have a job as long as you want it, and since you have no control over the weather, fretting about next season's crop isn't going to do you an iota of good.”

  He eyes us and says, “So who are your friends?”

  “These young ladies helped me home from the Mur-docks'. This is Samantha, and this is Holly.”

  He sticks out his hand. “Dallas Coleman.”

  “Dallas is our foreman. He oversees the crew, and I don't know what we'd do without him.”

  Dallas laughs. “This time of year I'm the foreman and the crew.” He points in the direction we'd been heading. “So, these girls know the history?”

  “Most of it.”

  I look to where Dallas is pointing and do a double take. I mean, the whole time we'd been standing around I hadn't noticed that less than thirty feet away, under the arm of an ancient oak, was what had to be Moustache Mary's cabin.

  As we got closer, I couldn't help thinking that the Big Bad Wolf wouldn't have had to huff and puff very much to blow this cabin over. The sideboards were weathered and warped so badly that sunshine streaked through them like they were branches of a tree, and what roof slats were left were so mounded with oak-leaf mulch that the roof looked like a gopher racetrack.

  Holly and I circled around it, and when we got to the door, Lucinda said, “Come on in, take a look.”

  We stood near the doorway, but when Lucinda insisted, “Come in, come in, it's not going to bite,” Holly and I stepped inside while Dallas kept Penny company outside.

  I've always thought that living at Grams' was tight. Confining. I mean, if there weren't walls in the way to stop you, you could hose the whole apartment down with the kitchen-sink sprayer. But as I stood there in Mary's cabin, Grams' apartment was starting to seem roomy. For one thing, there were no walls to hose down—there wasn't even a kitchen sink. For another, the roof was really low; I could almost reach up and touch it.

  On one side of the room was a stone fireplace with its chimney poking straight through the roof. On the other side were a few grape crates tossed around, a flat-edge shovel, and a rusted old hoe. And in between was nothing but a dirt floor covered in mulch.

  As I walked around inside, two things struck me: One, it smelled vaguely weird. Not like dirt or old wood or mulch, more like sweaty gym socks. And two, despite the condition of the planks, I could see traces of blue paint on the walls. I asked Lucinda, “Huntley isn't a Dutch name, is it?”

  She says, “No…what makes you ask?”

  “It looks like the walls…and the ceiling used to be blue.”

  “That they were. It helped with the bugs.”

  “The bugs?”

  Lucinda nodded. “That's right. Bugs don't like blue. They won't light.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded again. “They didn't have the luxury of screening then.”

  Holly says, “I guess this is what Mr. Holgartner means when he talks about one-room cabins in history.” She points to the arched fireplace. “This was for cooking?”

  “And heat. They used to prepare meals here, eat at a small table right about there, and sleep across the room. Of course, the roof kept out the rain, and the walls were intact.”

  I'm shaking my head. “But still…”

  Lucinda grins. “Not exactly the lap of luxury.” We're all silent for a moment; then Lucinda says, “Shh! Shh…did you hear?”

  Holly and I stand stock-still, listening. We both look at her like, Hear what?

  She holds up a finger. “There! Did you hear her?”

  Since Lucinda had said, “Did you hear her?”I knew right away that there was only one person she could mean: Mary. And she was looking so intense, with one crooked finger in the air and her blue eyes so wide open, that I held my breath and listened, too. Hard.

  And what did I hear? Not a thing. Just the wind rustling the oaks outside.

  Lucinda let out a deep sigh; then her face seemed to wash with a peaceful, faraway smile. “This is why I can't let Kevin tear the place down. I've told him her spirit's still here, but he doesn't feel it like I do. Dallas has heard her voice, but Kevin…I think he's afraid to. He seems to block her out.”

  We listen for another minute before Lucinda says, “Let's go see her, shall we?” and shuffles out the door.

  Holly and I back our way outside and practically trip over Penny, who's rooting around at the base of the cabin. Dallas grabs her by the collar, and I whisper to him, “Have you really heard Moustache Mary's voice?”

  He looks real serious and nods. “More than once. She has a very strong presence here. And you might want to leave off the Moustache…” He looks around cautiously, like someone might be listening. “Around here, anyway.”

  We join Lucinda, who's standing a few feet from a stone grave marker, which reads MARY ROSE HUNTLEY, BELOVED MOTHER. “My father had her moved to the Stowell Cemetery to be with Ezekiel and the rest of the family, but I believe her soul didn't go with her remains. I believe she's still right here.”

  Holly asks, “Why's there still a headstone here?”

  “Father got a new one. Fancier. I prefer the original myself. I had no say in the move, mind you, but I've always disagreed with it. Once you're laid to rest, you should be allowed to rest, not dug up and moved across town.”

  Dallas says, “You're right about that, Miss Lucinda. I sure wouldn't want someone moving me around.”

  “Precisely.”

  Penny shakes free from Dallas and heads back to the cabin. Lucinda says, “She'll be fine, Dallas,” but he follows her anyway.

  Lucinda studies the tombstone a minute, then turns to us and whispers, “I've seen her. I'm sure of it.” She points across the vineyard to a faded yellow clapboard house in the distance. “From my window. Kevin thinks my eyesight's going”—she frowns—“or my mind, but I know what I know, and I know what I've seen.”

  Holly whispers, “What did it look like?”

  Lucinda turns her blue eyes up to study Holly, and when she's sure she's not making fun of her, she looks back at the tombstone and says, “Not a ghost like you see on television—more a glow in the air. I've never gotten very close; she's always vanished before I could get down here, but it's definitely not my imagination.”

  Well, I wasn't about to stand around Moustache Mary's old grave and ask a bunch of questions about ghosts. I mean, ghosts rank right up there with werewolves and vampires—if they do exist, I'm going to get as far away from them as I can, as fast as I can, and for once I'm not going to ask one single solitary question.

  So we're standing next to Lucinda, looking at the tombstone, and I'm thinking it's time to get out of there, when I hear a twig snap, right behind us. I whip around and so does Holly, but Lucinda doesn't even blink. She keeps her eyes on the ground and says, “Hello, Kevin.”

  Kevin's big. Tall and big. And for a guy who didn't actually cross the plains in a wagon train, he's sure looking like he did. He's got on a pair of baggy blue jeans, tied up with a length of thick rope, some cowboy boots and a cowboy hat, a flannel shirt, and a tattered scarf around his neck. And everything he's wearing looks sun-bleached and dusty. Even he looks worn out—like he's walked for days across the desert without sleeping.

  Lucinda smiles at him and says, “Kevin, I'd like you to meet my new friends, Holly and Samantha—they walked me home from the Murdocks' today. Girls, this is my nephew, Kevin Huntley.”

  He barely looks at us. “You actually went there?”

  “It wasn't so bad. I feel better for having cleaned that sl
ate.”

  He shakes his head. “They must've thought you were crazy.”

  “I don't much care what they thought. As far as I'm concerned, it's over.”

  Kevin scowls, then notices Dallas holding Penny by the collar. He looks confused for a second, then says, “Didn't I give you the day off ?”

  Dallas nods. “I wanted to catch up on a few things.”

  “It'll keep. You should go enjoy the day.” He tips his hat without even looking at us and says, “Nice to meet you,” then heads off through the vineyard.

  Lucinda sighs as she watches him go. “I'm suddenly weary.”

  Dallas coaxes Penny along until she's beside Lucinda. “You want me to walk you up to the house?”

  “That'd be nice. Girls, you should come this way, too. It's shorter for you to go back to the road out the front drive.”

  So Dallas and Penny walk beside Lucinda while we follow, a few steps behind. And when we get to the Huntleys' house, it's easy to see that it's plenty big—it's got two stories with lots of windows and a big, shady porch— but it looks as worn and tired as Kevin. The yellow paint is faded and peeling, and the roof seems to sag under the weight of the sky.

  When Lucinda steps onto the porch, Dallas rubs the tusk on his necklace and says, “You know, I should probably stick around and help Kevin. He shouldn't give me the day off if he's not going to take it himself.”

  Lucinda scolds, “No. Just because he's forgotten how to enjoy life doesn't mean you should. Go!”

  Dallas laughs, then gives her a playful salute and hops off the porch with a “Yes, ma'am!” He turns to us. “Which way are you guys headed?”

  Holly says, “Down to Meadow Lane.”

  “Let me give you a ride on my motorcycle. We'll all fit, and we ought to let Lucinda get some rest, okay?”

  We shrug and say, “Sure,” then wave good-bye to Lucinda. But as we're walking away, I glance over my shoulder, and there she is, looking small and frail on her broad, sagging porch. And I get this chill and an eerie vision of the house collapsing all around her—swallowing her up.