Cades Cove 01 - Cades Cove: A Novel of Terror (28 page)

“
Yeah, I did,” he confirmed. “I’ll be staying at the Comfort Inn for the next two nights at least.”

“
Grandpa’s people used to own a farm out that way,” Ruth told him. “They raised hogs and had roughly two hundred and forty acres of corn and tobacco. When it fell on hard times during the early 1960’s they packed up and moved everything to the other farm they kept near Ringgold. They couldn’t sell the first farm on account of Grandpa’s asking price, until long after he died. It sold for quite a penny in 1982, and is now part of some fancy gaming strip up there from what I understand. The bulk of that money remains in a trust fund.”

“
I had no idea,” said David, surprised by the news his family actually once owned a second farm near Gatlinburg. He wondered if his aunt had any access to the trust fund, noting that her living arrangements seemed unpretentious as ever. During his last visit to Chattanooga eight years ago, he learned the other farm in Ringgold sold for a modest amount split up between several heirs including Ruth. It left her just enough to pay off the final mortgage on her house and purchase a brand new Ford Taurus, still parked in her driveway.

“
The money’s there in case Medicare fails to take care of me like our current administration has promised.” She chuckled, adjusting her back support cushion. “But I don’t ever intend to touch it. When my time on planet earth’s up in the next ten to fifteen years, you can be sure a nice nest egg awaits you and the kids. The proceeds from the sale belonged solely to Grandpa’s direct heirs, which aside from me include just ya’ll since everyone else is gone. After I leave, the money’s yours to do with as you please.”

He didn’t know what to say, other than he really needed to revisit the reasons for his animosity toward her. After all, deep inside he always loved her. The bitterness that kept him from acting on his true feelings would surely bring a day of immense regret.

She seemed to sense this revelation made him feel awkward.

“
Can I at least get you some tea to drink?” She stood up before he answered, grimacing, and moved toward the kitchen. “Better yet, I’ve got a pineapple upside-down cake I made just yesterday. Half the time I end up throwing most of what I cook away, since it’s too much trouble to put up leftovers, and Max has to watch his weight. Don’t we Maxie?”

The dog had followed her into the kitchen and David could hear the soft jingle from his collar, picturing Max smiling and wagging his tail as if next in line for some dessert.

“
Did you make it the old fashioned way, with an iron skillet?” he called to her from the living room.

“
Now, how else would a true southern gal bake an upside-down cake, David?” she scolded playfully, peering around the corner of the kitchen.

“
Sorry, Auntie,” he said. “You don’t see much true southern cooking in Denver.”

She laughed from the kitchen and soon returned with a big slice of cake along with a steaming hot cup of orange pekoe tea. For the next hour they talked about everything from the kids and how they did in school to the football fortunes of the Volunteers and Golden Buffalos, as well as those of the Titans and Broncos. Since Ruth had interacted with Norm on several occasions over the past nineteen years, he worried she might ask about him. Luckily she didn’t. When time for him to leave, he walked with her to the front door, telling her he’d like to meet her for lunch at the airport before he flew back to Denver, tentatively set for Wednesday afternoon.

He stepped outside into the night’s coolness and Max growled.

“
Oh, stop it now!” Ruth chastised her companion, and then looked back at David with an amused look on her face. “He never even growls at the mail carriers anymore, but he growled twice tonight, once right before you got here and again as you’re leaving. I’d say Max is trying to warn you to be careful, because he’s not worried about taking good care of his momma, don’t you know!”

They hugged and told each other goodbye, and he headed down the steps to his car. By the time he reached the driver’s side, his aunt had already shut the door and closed her curtains. The air around the car felt much colder than it had when he first arrived. He climbed in quickly and started up the LaSabre’s engine. He didn’t need another reminder to get going.

***

He arrived in Pigeon Forge just after 2 a.m. Pleased by the Comfort Inn’s accommodations, the night manager gave him a corporate upgrade. After getting settled in his room he called Miriam one last time to let her know he arrived safely at the hotel. They had already discussed his visit with Ruth once he left Chattanooga, and it pleased her that Ruth liked the pictures.

She made him promise to call her in the afternoon after he returned “Allie Mae’s Treasures” to its rightful place. Still unsure if that simply meant handing the bag over to the park headquarters or actually taking it to the ravine, it became the last thing he thought about while pulling the bedcovers up to his neck. Soon after, he fell asleep.

Chapter Twenty-seven

David slept soundly and didn’t awaken on Monday morning until almost eleven. Since his agenda for the day consisted of just one thing, he took his time getting ready, allowing the luxury of a nice long shower. The bruises on his forehead and shoulder were healing, and the yellow halos had greatly faded. It amazed him that Miriam never learned of the handprint bruises. The subject never came up in their conversations and she hadn’t seen him without a shirt since the previous Monday night. It provided a cold reminder of how their revived physical passion hit a dead end once the spirit’s wrath invaded their lives full force.

His leisurely pace cost him breakfast, unless he wanted to drive around Pigeon Forge or Gatlinburg looking for one of the restaurants that specialized in breakfast fare throughout the day. He ate lunch at a local coffee shop near the hotel. Afterward, he got directions on how to find 107 Park Headquarters Road in Gatlinburg from the hotel’s desk staff.

Cloudy with a steady drizzle for much of the morning, the sun reappeared by the time David pulled his car onto the main drive, US Highway 441, toward Gatlinburg. When he reached the Great Smoky Mountains National Park office, he parked in a spot near the door. About to step out of the LeSabre, he hesitated. Something told him this wasn’t the right place to drop the bag off, which made him think of the admonishment from Norm’s ghost.

He decided to drive into the national park and soon reached Cades Cove. The debate now became whether he should go to the ravine or to the visitor’s center next to the Cable Mill. The ravine…or the visitors’ center. On and on it went until he found himself parked in front of the grist mill’s outbuildings. He got out of the car with the bag gripped securely in his hand, like a slippery fish he didn’t dare lose hold of, and made his way over to the visitors’ center. He waited patiently for an attendant helping another tourist to finish, so he could then embarrass himself with his absurd story.

No matter how he phrased it in his mind, it sounded ridiculous.

‘
H
i, my name’s David Hobbs and I’ve come all the way from Colorado to give back this little bag here covered in bloody fingerprints and pizza stains. Yeah, I know there’s a broken tooth in it, too, but I can assure you the blood that’s on the tooth and the bag isn’t from the same person. I believe the bag is a hundred years old…No, not the bloodstains, just the bag. The bloodstains are from my best friend who was murdered by the spirit to whom the bag belong
s.’

While fidgeting, a ranger walked up and offered his assistance. At first David hesitated, fearing a worse reaction than what he expected from the other park employee. Already too late, the ranger noticed the bag held tight in his hand.

“
You look like someone who holds a secret he can barely keep quiet about,” said the ranger.

David could only stare in response, both at the audacity and accuracy of the ranger’s words. He recognized the older man from a tour he and Miriam had taken when they first came to the park just nine days ago. His salt n’ pepper hair worn in long braids, along with his strong facial features, revealed the ranger’s Native American heritage even before David confirmed this from the name on his badge, ‘John Running Deer’. His warm brown eyes twinkled with keen interest as he awaited David’s response.

“
I’m looking to return this,” he said, holding his hand out and loosening his fierce grip so the ranger could see the bag clearly.

He picked it up out of David’s hand and examined the name and stains on it. He turned the bag over in his hands and almost opened it, but shook it instead while he listened to its contents jingle.

“
The bag somehow got mixed up with our stuff when my wife and I visited here a couple of weekends ago,” explained David. “Once we found out about it, we wanted to bring it back here at the first opportunity to do so.”

“
Are you from Littleton, Colorado?” the ranger asked him, lifting his eyes from the bag.

“
As a matter of fact I am,” he confirmed, feeling un-comfortable from the scrutinizing gaze of John Running Deer. It seemed like he could see through him, and David feared the man might be more formidable to hide the truth from than even Miriam.

“
What’s your name?”

“
David. David Hobbs.”

“
Nice to meet you, David Hobbs,” said the ranger, extending his hand for David to shake. “John Running Deer.”

“
It’s a pleasure, Mr. Running Deer,” said David, impressed by his powerful grip. Ruggedly handsome, the ranger stood only an inch shorter than he.

“
Please…feel free to address me as either John or Mr. Ranger,” he told him, revealing his generous smile. “Follow me.”

David followed him, moving inside the gift shop and past other tourists who paused to watch them weave through the circular post card and novelty displays on the way to a long counter located in the very back. John stepped around the counter and opened a drawer beneath it, producing the mailer David had sent last Thursday to Gatlinburg.

“
This was forwarded to us by our main office in Gatlinburg on Saturday, since it contained a letter dealing with several items being returned to the cove,” he said, showing the empty mailer to David. “The letter mentioned the little bag you’ve brought with you today. Did you forget to put it inside the envelope?”

He handed the mailer to David, who examined it along with Miriam’s letter inside. No signs of any tears or damage to the mailer, other than when the park service employee who first handled it on Friday officially opened it. John stated the main office’s receptionist commented in her note to the Cades Cove visitors’ center that the package arrived sealed and unopened when originally delivered by the USPS delivery person Friday morning. It contained two arrowheads and one pyrite piece.

Avoiding any details about how the bag ended up missing from the padded envelope, David shrugged his shoulders and handed the empty package back to John.

“
In your wife’s letter she states the items in question were picked up while you were visiting the old ravine which used to serve as Cades Cove’s ‘Lovers’ Lane’. How’d you learn about that place?”

“
My boss back in Denver, Ned Badgett, told me about it before we came here,” said David. “I thought it would be a great place to visit for our fifteenth anniversary.”

“
Well, congratulations on making it to your fifteenth anniversary—you do mean you’ve been married to your wife that long, correct?”

He confirmed this with a nod.

“
That’s interesting…. The Badgett clan was one of the last to leave from the major migration back in 1934, when Congress first created the Great Smoky Mountains National Park,” said John. “Not many folks visit that particular ravine anymore, although my people once revered it above all other places in the cove. I doubt someone just recently lost this out there, don’t you?”

John eyed him in such a way that David feared the man had stolen a peek into his most hidden thoughts.

“
I’ve been debating whether to simply return the bag here or if I should return it to the ravine,” said David, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one else listened in. “I set up a picnic blanket with my wife beneath one of the larger oaks near the top of the ravine, and that particular oak has the name ‘Allie’ carved inside a heart engraved on the tree’s trunk.”

John nodded thoughtfully and then returned his attention to the bag, picking it up and shaking it again.

“
It might not make a difference either way,” he said. “If you’d like, I can take it back there today or tomorrow, along with a few other odds and ends that were sent to us since last week.”

“
So, something like this has happened before?”

Startled to learn of other items, David wondered if the same kind of events precipitated similar notes and objects sent to the park service in haste.

“‘
Afraid so,” he confirmed, opening up another drawer a few feet away from the one that had contained the mailer. “It happens all of the time. I’d say we get anywhere from fifty to a hundred items back each year taken from various areas throughout the park. But the largest concentration comes from Cades Cove. At least that’s where we get items with the longer letters.” His eyes twinkled as he said this, like he found the whole business amusing.

“
What kind of things do you normally get back?”