Haunted Island (2 page)

Chris nodded, uncomfortable because Amos was still staring at him. “Yes,” he said, and immediately had the strange feeling that he should have answered no. But before Chris could change his mind Amos Corley had begun the story.

“When I was a boy—about the same age as you, Chris—I worked for Joshua Hanover,” Amos said. “And I was there on that horrible day when the earth quaked so violently that the river changed its course, creating the island, and Joshua screamed that he would never rest until he was avenged.” Amos paused, then continued the story:

Joshua Hanover was tall and thin. His arms dangled as though they were too long for his body, and his hair stuck out from under his hat like wisps of pale straw. Behind his back, some people laughed and called him a scarecrow.

He was mean enough to scare away anyone, not just crows. With his mouth turned down and a perpetual scowl on his face, he barely spoke to the townspeople when he had to go into town for supplies. A few times he had shouted at some children who were walking on the road past his farm, warning them not to trespass. None of them would have wanted to, even before his warnings. Everyone was glad enough to keep a safe distance from Joshua Hanover.

He was called a miser and a penny pincher by anyone who had business dealings with him. Joshua had been one of the first settlers in this part of the territory, claiming much of the valuable land near the river. As the town developed and grew, the river land was needed. He sold some of it, setting a fair price, as he said, and refusing to bargain. He was as suspicious of banks as he was of his neighbors, so he refused to set foot in the bank. It was rumored that Joshua kept his money in a large canvas sack that was guarded well by his dog, Shadow.

Joshua and Shadow were well suited to each other. Shadow was a large black dog with gleaming eyes and sharp teeth, and just as mean as his master.

But Joshua and Shadow weren’t the only ones who lived on the Hanover farm. I came to live there, too. When my parents died I left our farm and walked north into Missouri territory, a boy of thirteen, without family or home. I worked at odd jobs along the way, and I’d stay in a place as long as I was needed and fed and had a warm place to sleep.

Since I was unfamiliar with this place I hadn’t heard about Joshua Hanover. I saw the farmhouse from the road, and it looked like a comfortable, tidy place. It faced the road, but was close by the river.

“On the island,” Amy interrupted. “There was no island yet,” Amos said.

“I’ll get to that later.”

“Don’t interrupt,” Chris said to Amy. Amos continued.

Near the house I could see a short wooden pier and an open rowboat tied to a piling. Beyond the house and barn the wide pasture swept up the hill. The sides and crest of the hill were covered with a thick piney woods. There was no smoke coming from the chimney of the house and no smell of dinner cooking, even though it was close to noon. Maybe the people here could use an extra hand, I thought, so I walked up the narrow road that led to the house.

I had one hand raised in the air, ready to knock at the front door, when I heard a deep growl behind me. I turned quickly to see a terrifying black dog with his mouth pulled open to show sharp fangs. The dog stood motionless, poised to spring.

“Help!” I tried to call, but the word came out a whisper. The dog seemed to move closer, and this time I was so scared that I hollered loudly, “Help!”

“Stay, Shadow!” The voice was sharp and unfriendly, but I was glad to see a tall man come around the corner of the house. The man stopped next to the dog, and I was surprised to see that the man and the dog had the same angry glint in their eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” the man growled at me.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I said. “I didn’t mean any harm. I’m traveling through, and I’m looking for work and a place to stay.”

“What kind of work do you do?”

“Anything,” I told him. “I can do any kind of outdoor work, and I even do chores inside the house, if the lady of the house needs a helping hand.”

“Hmmm,” the man said. He looked hard at me. “So you can clean. Can you cook, too?”

“Pretty good.” Matter of fact, I was stretching the truth. When Ma was sick I had learned how to make boiled beef brisket that wasn’t too tough, and beaten biscuits that weren’t too flat; and I could slice a slab of bacon thin enough so that it would fry up crisp—if I watched it closely and was careful not to burn it. My cooking was nothing to brag on, but you wouldn’t die if you ate it.

The man waited a few minutes, then suddenly said, “I’m Joshua Hanover. I could use some help in the house, so you can sleep in the barn and stay as long as I think you’re worth your keep.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll be a big help to your wife,” I answered.

“Haven’t got a wife,” Joshua snapped. “Now go inside and see what you can do about getting something on the table for the noon meal.”

The dog hadn’t moved. His teeth were still bared. I didn’t move, either. “What about the dog, sir? I don’t think he likes me.”

“Shadow? ’Course he doesn’t like you,” Joshua said. “Shadow doesn’t like anybody, but he’ll leave you alone if you leave him alone.” He muttered a few words to the dog, who relaxed and slowly sat. He looked more like a normal dog now, but he still kept his sharp eyes on me.

It didn’t take long to find out that there was a lot more work to be done than I’d thought. The outside of the house and the land around it were well kept, but the inside of the house needed to be swept and scrubbed and painted. I worked hard, and soon the rooms were a lot cleaner. Joshua didn’t have much laid by in the way of food, but the second day I was in that house I went down in the cellar to see what I could find. Just as I had thought, there was a bin, and in the bin were stored some carrots and potatoes. I took some upstairs with me and fixed them for dinner. I wasn’t too good at cooking vegetables, so they were kind of mushy from being overcooked, but at least they made more of a meal than just meat and bread.

I was real proud of the platter of boiled beef and the large bowl of potato and carrot chunks I put in front of Joshua Hanover. But when he came to the kitchen table and saw the meal, he suddenly gripped the edge of the table and shouted, “Where did you get those vegetables?”

“In the cellar, Mr. Hanover,” I said, wondering what was the matter. They didn’t look that bad.

Joshua was so angry that it frightened me. “You’re never to go down in the cellar! Never again! Do you understand me?” he yelled.

“But since that’s where you keep the vegetables—”

Joshua interrupted me. “You tell me when you need carrots and potatoes, and I’ll bring them up to you. Have you got that straight?”

“Yes, sir,” I whispered.

We ate the meal in silence, while I wondered what Joshua kept in the cellar. Obviously, it was something he didn’t want me to see. I was curious, but not curious enough to want to find out—not when every time I thought about sneaking down into the cellar to take a look around I could remember the furious gleam in Joshua Hanover’s eyes.

I was well worth my keep. I kept to the chores, only once in a great while taking a few minutes to walk along the riverbank and peer into the small limestone caves that dotted the hill. There were times when I wished for a friend to explore with, but I had been born to a life of work, not play, and I accepted it.

Joshua never complimented me for the work I did, except for one day when he looked around the room as though it was the first time he’d seen it and said, “I like having the house tidied up.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

But Joshua scowled again and added, “Things could be better, though. Can’t say much that’s good about your cooking.”

I had been at the Hanover farm for about three months when one Tuesday morning Joshua set up the tub, heated buckets of water on the wood stove, and sent me out to do chores in the barn.

I stared at the tub. “You’re going to take a bath?” I asked. “But it’s Tuesday, Mr. Hanover, not Saturday.”

“Never you mind,” Joshua said. “I’ve got a reason.”

After a while he called me to come back to the house. By this time Joshua was shaved and dressed in clean clothes. “We’re going to town,” he told me. “You and Shadow can ride in the back of the wagon.”

I didn’t like being that close to Shadow, but I didn’t have a choice. I hugged my side of the wagon, hanging on tightly as it bounced in and over the ruts in the road. I was relieved that Shadow sat staring out the other side of the wagon, ignoring me.

We drove past the block of stores in the small town, and some of the people on the street stared to see Joshua Hanover dressed up and riding into town. A few people followed the wagon, and I knew they were as curious as I was about what Joshua was up to.

Joshua tied the horse’s reins to the rack in front of Owens’s dry goods store, then stepped up onto the wooden sidewalk. I was unsure of what was going to happen, so I stayed where I was, even though the heat of the midday sun made sweat run down my back.

“Do you want me to carry anything from the store?” I asked him.

“Don’t need anything,” he said. He pulled out a large, round pocket watch and looked at it. “I’m waiting for the stage to get here.”

In a short while we could hear the sound of horses’ hooves and the rattle of the stagecoach as it approached the town. By this time others had come to wait, too, many of them curious people who liked to watch the stagecoach arrive and depart, since it didn’t come more than a couple of times a month. Today Joshua seemed to be more interesting to the people than the stagecoach, so there was a little group standing at one side, watching him as the coach bounced and clattered around the bend in the road, and the driver pulled his sweaty horses to a stop.

Joshua moved forward and waited. As the dust settled around the coach wheels, the driver jumped from his platform and opened the stagecoach door. Everyone watched eagerly to see who would step down from the coach.

“W
HO WAS IT?” AMY
asked.

“Give Mr. Corley a chance,” Chris said, “and he’ll tell us.”

Mr. Corley nodded and continued his story.

A young woman stepped off the stagecoach, carrying a small satchel and taking the driver’s hand to keep her balance. She wasn’t pretty. Her clothes were plain and looked too big for her, and her brown hair was pulled tightly into a knot at the back of her neck. Her only jewelry was a thin, twisted gold chain that she wore around her neck. Her eyes were wide and a little bit scared as she peered out from under the brim of a black straw hat.

Joshua took a step forward. His perpetual scowl seemed even deeper. “Are you Amelia Jones?” he asked.

Her chin quivered, as though she was going to cry, but she raised her chin, took a deep breath, and said, “Yes. I’m Amelia Jones. I’m here to marry Joshua Hanover.”

Some of the folks in the crowd murmured and gasped at that, but Joshua paid no mind to them and spoke up.

“I’m Joshua Hanover,” he said. “My wagon’s over there. Just follow me.”

He started to turn, but Amelia held out her satchel to him. He blinked at it for a minute, as though he was wondering what to do with it, then took it from her and carried it to the wagon. Amelia followed.

Shadow growled low in his throat, but Joshua told him to be quiet. “That’s my dog, Shadow,” he said. “He won’t bother you after he gets used to you.” He climbed up on the seat and said to Amelia, “Hurry up. Let’s get going.”

But before she climbed up on the high seat with Joshua, she looked at me, and for the first time she smiled. “Who’s this?” she said. “You didn’t say you had a son.”

“He’s not my son,” Joshua said. “He’s just a boy who works around the place.” He picked up the reins and clucked at the horse.

“But he has a name,” Amelia said. She smiled at me again. “What’s your name, young man?”

“Amos Corley,” I answered, smiling back.

“Let’s go,” Joshua snapped. Amelia climbed on the seat and held on tightly as the wagon jerked into motion.

The horse began plodding down the main street of town. Joshua didn’t say anything, so Amelia twisted to look at me. “Do you live here in town?” she asked.

“No, ma’am,” I said. “I’m just working my way north. I’m an orphan.”

“So am I,” Amelia said, and smiled.

I wondered why I had thought she was plain. Her smile made her whole face light up. I liked her smile, and I liked Amelia.

Joshua pulled up the horse so abruptly that Amelia lost her balance and almost fell from the wagon. “Here’s where we meet the county judge who’ll marry us,” Joshua said. He waited a minute while Amelia smoothed down her skirt and adjusted her hat. “You want to change your mind?”

She took a long look at him. “No,” she said. “Might as well go forward. I’ve got nothing to go back to.”

Joshua tied the horse to the nearest post and turned to me just as I was climbing out of the wagon. “You stay here with Shadow. This won’t take long.”

Amelia looked so scared I thought she needed a friend with her, and I wanted to be her friend. “I’ve never been to a wedding,” I complained. “I’d like to come, too.”

Before Joshua could answer, Amelia spoke up. “Weddings have got to have witnesses,” she said. “Amos can be our witness.”

Joshua didn’t say a word. He walked up the wooden steps and into the office of the county judge. I hopped down from the wagon, and Amelia and I followed him.

He was right. The ceremony took just a couple of minutes. The judge read it from a book. Joshua and Amelia said, “I will,” or something like that, and the judge told them they were married. They both signed their names on a paper, and we left to go directly to the farm.

It was nice having Amelia there. She thought of all sorts of things to do to that house besides cleaning it. She painted the inside walls white and made some blue-and-white flowered curtains and planted some flowers by the front door. Sometimes she rowed out in the little boat and fished and brought back a good supply of catfish for dinner, which she fried up with cornmeal all brown and crunchy on the outside and flaky and delicious on the inside.

Could she cook! She made a mutton stew good enough to brag on, and biscuits that rose high and light, and a squash pie with cinnamon and nutmeg that smelled almost as good as it tasted.