Bitterroot Crossing (19 page)

    Dad and I released a collective breath when the car left the mountain path and reached Main Street. We’d made it down without incident, and the strange fog seemed to be disappearing as if the ghostly tempers had cooled. The whole night had been weird, and now it had ended like a stinging slap in the face.

    “I was thinking I might travel over to Sweet Grass tomorrow. I heard there was a construction crew looking for a foreman.” Dad looked at me. “What do you think? Do I have a chance?”

    “I think you should go for it, Dad. It can’t hurt to try. You have solid job experience in construction.”

    He grinned to himself and it was like I was looking at the old dad I’d known before. I’d hoped he was still in there somewhere. Putting the citizens of Bitterroot in their places and obliterating a ghost with flame retardant seemed to have revived some of his self-confidence.

    “But, Dad,” I said.

    “Yeah, Nick?”

    “Lose the friggin’ robe.”

    “What? You don’t think it will work in my favor on an interview?”

    “Not even if you were trying out for an underwear commercial.”

    He laughed. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the sound of it.

    The town was deserted like a true ghost town. Of course, there could be no truer ghost town than Bitterroot Crossing.   

    “I imagine the town will be closed up tomorrow. People aren’t going to leave their homes for a while. Our town spirits gave us quite the show tonight. They’ve never done anything like it before,” Dad said. “Least not in my life time.”

    I looked at the town hall as we drove past. Some of the metal chairs littered the sidewalk. It looked like a tornado had blown through it. “They are definitely getting far less entertaining and far more aggressive.”

    “Might be we’ll all have to leave town if we can’t figure out how to get rid of them.” Dad turned the corner and red flashing lights greeted us. “Wonder where Sheriff Fielding is going?”

    “Some sheriff. Sure didn’t see him tonight at the meeting when the trouble started,” I said.

    “Not his territory. He and the mayor have been enemies since high school. Sheriff Fielding rarely gets involved with the mayor’s business. Besides, he has no more control over the gang than the rest of us.” He glanced over at me. “Although you sure showed them a thing or two tonight.”

    “You did too.”

    He returned his eyes to the road. “Yep. Maybe we’ll start our own Crush Gang.”

    I peered through the windshield. “Sheriff Fielding turned on our street.” Dad sped up.

    The flashing lights were now in front of our house. Dad and I leapt out of the car.

    “Fielding, what’s up?” Dad called.

    As we reached the front door stoop I could see someone else standing next to Sheriff Fielding. It was my boss, Mr. Mitchell. His face was pale.

    The Sheriff nodded in greeting. “Evening Frank, evening Nick. We’ve got a problem. Nick, do you have any idea where Baxter might be?”

    My heart jumped into my throat. “Baxter?”

    Mr. Mitchell grabbed my arm with cold shaky fingers. “They’ve got my boy, Nick. They’ve got Baxter.”

Chapter 26

    Nana had been right. My sleep was filled with nonstop bad dreams. I kept reliving my fall from Steamer’s cold fingers, and each time, I jumped up in my bed, waking myself with a start. The horrific scenes of Axel wandering about with his pieces in disarray had crept into my nightmares too. When I was not tossing about in restless sleep, I was lying awake staring at the ceiling, listening to Jasper snore, and wondering if Nick would ever talk to me again.

    The clock in the hallway struck midnight when I pulled myself from my warm covers and tiptoed to the kitchen to get Anna some milk. It would take more than my footsteps to wake Nana. She had gone to bed fully exhausted and sore from being thrown to the floor. It was rare for her to go into town and this had not been an ordinary visit. I still had a hard time believing that any of it had happened.

    I heated some milk in a pot and decided to put some extra in for a cup of cocoa. Outside a gray drizzle and only the faintest moonlight had covered the mountainside, but it was a real drizzle from real clouds. I couldn’t figure out why it was so easy to tell the difference but real drizzle seemed like natural wetness, nourishment for the trees and grass. Ghostly darkness and moisture left behind a lingering sadness and an ache that could travel through your whole body. It was completely unnatural and I hated it when I saw it. And the fog that had penetrated every corner of Bitterroot Crossing just hours before had been the most horrid yet.

    I stirred my cocoa and sipped it as I stared out at the pale, dreary night. The ghostly fog was gone but it had left behind a grim atmosphere. Even looking out now over the pasture where Mandy usually stood, I felt heavy-hearted with a despair that seemed to have penetrated my soul.

    A movement outside caught my eye. Zedekiah was leaning against the fence with the brim of his black hat pulled low over his brow. I could not see his face but it was easy to see by his stance that his mood was somber. I debated with myself whether or not to go out to him. There seemed to be many unanswered questions. Nana would definitely throw a fit but curiosity won out. I threw on my jeans and grabbed my coat. Then I remembered the locket hanging around my neck. I swung it around to my back and pushed it under my coat.

    Zedekiah was standing in the same place and position when I came out to the yard. The brim of his hat lifted and he looked at me for a long time. “I thought I’d lost you for sure,” his words were as chilling as the first word he’d spoken to me on the trail when he thought I was Rebecca.

    I held my hands out to my sides and glanced down at myself. “All here, and in one piece, thanks to Nick.”

    He nodded. “That’s my great-great-grandson, you know.” There was an edge of pride in his voice.

    “I know. And he’s just as cocky and hard-headed as his great-great-grandfather.”

    His cigarette lit suddenly. He brought it to his mouth and took a long draw. “I couldn’t get inside. There was no one left outside the building. I knew they were up to something those bast--” He moved closer to me.

    The air surrounding him was warmer than usual. There was no acrid odor either, just the faint smell of tobacco. He was impossibly handsome with his thick black hair and dark blue eyes. His hand reached forward and took hold of mine. It was not as icy cold as usual.

    “Zedekiah, what happened up here earlier? Axel was in a terrible state. It looked as if he’d--”

    “--been ripped in half?” Suddenly the temperature of his fingers dropped back to their usual icy state. He let go of my hand. “I did it.” He went back to the fence and continued his smoke. After a long moment of silence he spoke again. “He and Butcher were trying to keep me away from the town hall. I had no idea what was going on at first, then Axel, who always had the loosest tongue this side of the Mississippi, let it slip. They intended on hurting you badly.”

    I pulled my coat tighter around me. “But why me?”

    “Because I care for you. They’ll do anything to anger me.”

    “Your own gang?”

    He laughed but it was not a humorous laugh. “They are not my gang. They turned on me before they were sent to the scaffolds. Told Bridger they’d give him all the evidence he needed to hang me if they could avoid the noose. Bunch of fools. Bridger accepted their offer but sent them to their deaths anyway. Somewhere along the way, they’d convinced themselves that I was the reason they were hung and never given a proper burial.”

    “So all this time, the loyal Crush Gang has been at war with their leader?’

    “Yep. But now they seem determined to drive the citizens out of this place.”

    “But how can we stop them?”

    “We?” He stood in front of me suddenly. “Not you, Jessie. You keep your distance from them. In fact, I want you to stay inside your grandma’s house until things have calmed down.”

    “Oh really? And who are you to give me orders?”

    “Do you want to relive last night? There might be a time when neither Nick nor I are near enough to help you. Stay inside.”

    “I will, but I can take care of myself just fine. I don’t need you, and I certainly don’t need Nick. Besides, he hates me.”

    He smiled. “That’s a mighty strange dose of hate then. That kid’s been taking all kinds of beatings from the gang, and I know most of it has to do with you.”

    The back door flew open. “Jessie, get inside here now,” Nana yelled. “Haven’t you ghosts caused enough trouble already?”

    Zedekiah tipped the brim of his hat at her.

    I ran to the steps then stopped and twisted back around. “Wait, Zedekiah. You never said how to get rid of the gang? What can we do to stop them?”

    “Graves. We need a proper burial.”

Chapter 27

    I yanked on my coat and my hat to keep my head warm. Mom grabbed my arm as I pulled the flashlights out from under the kitchen sink. “Please don’t go, Nick. Let the sheriff and the other men look for Baxter.” She bit her bottom lip with worry as she made sure my coat was zipped. She knew nothing was going to stop me from helping the search team.

    Dad and a few brave others including Mr. Mitchell, Berta, and the town’s two police dogs were standing around the squad car looking at a map. Berta eyes were puffy, and for once, I felt bad for her. I gave her a hug.

    “Now, Mitchell, you said you last saw Baxter as people were fleeing the town hall meeting.”

    “He was standing near the car,” Mr. Mitchell sobbed into a handkerchief, wiped his nose then continued. “One minute he was there, then I turned to talk to a neighbor. When I turned back, he was gone. Like he just disappeared.” His shoulders shook in silent sobs and Berta put her arm around her father.   

    “We’ll find him, Mitchell. Don’t you worry,” Sheriff Fielding said with very little conviction in his voice. He laid the map on the hood of his car and divided the town into different sections. He assigned Dad and me to the westernmost end of town.

    “There’s nothing there but a label factory and the city dump,” I said. “What about the mountain?”

    “What about it?” Fielding asked. “We’ll get up there after we do a thorough search of the town.”

    “Nick, we were just on the mountain. We didn’t see any sign of Baxter,” Dad said.

    “We weren’t looking for any signs. There was some really creepy stuff happening up there, remember?”

    “Look, Nick,” the sheriff sounded impatient, “I’m the professional, so we’ll stick to my plan. Besides, they never stay on the mountain. They always come to town to cause trouble.” He looked around at the small bunch of apprehensive volunteers. “Search the area I have assigned you.” He pulled out his phone. “Everyone put in my number.” We all complied. Dad had not charged his phone in months but mine was ready. “Do not approach the ghosts by yourself. Call me and I will alert the others. Again, do not approach them by yourself.” 

    I was feeling way past anxious. We were losing valuable time with the sheriff’s baloney.
I raced to the backyard and grabbed my bike. The headlight was broken but I knew my way well enough without it.

    “Nick, you’re not riding that in the dark,” Dad said.