Rockinghorse (18 page)

“I don't think so. Not just yet, anyway.”

“Need any help, holler,” Kyle said.

“And join us when you get through,” Tracy said.

Lucas nodded and looked at Jackie and Johnny. “You kids stay close to the house. And stay
out
of the woods. I mean that. Voices or no voices—stay out.”

“Yes, sir,” they said. They understood. The tone of their father's voice had warned them they had better not cross him.

Lucas walked across the yard to Ira's cottage. He stood at the front door for a moment, not wanting to enter the place, but knowing he had to do it. He put his hand on the doorknob and turned it, slowly pushing open the door.

He stepped into what had been his only brother's home for the past . . . no telling how many years.

And that didn't seem right to him. No matter what Ira had done, it just didn't seem right. And something else tried to push its way out of the dark reaches of Lucas's brain. But it just wouldn't come. It was there, darting and zinging around, but refusing to come to the surface. Maybe in time, Lucas thought.

The place was as dim and dank as a boar's den. And smelled just about like Lucas imagined a boar's den would smell. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. It was a hog pen.

The curtains blocking out the sun were no more than stinking rags. One large room served as living room, bedroom, and kitchen. A tiny bathroom with only a dirty curtain for a door. The bathroom was filthy, the tub and walls of the shower encrusted with grime. The toilet was so dirty it was black. And the small sink was even worse.

“This is where my brother lived,” Lucas said aloud. “I would never have believed it. Not in a million years.”

He inspected the shelves lining the bathroom walls. No medicines of any kind. Not even an aspirin. He shook his head. With a sigh of relief, he stepped out of the dirty bathroom and closed the curtain behind him.

With a grimace of resignation, Lucas began his search of the living quarters. Dirty clothes were tossed in every available chair and on the broken-down and ratty-looking sofa. He went through the old bureaus and dressers, finding only tattered and ragged shirts, pants, and underwear. He shook his head and stepped to the open door.

“Jackie! Bring me that box of big garbage bags out of the kitchen, please.”

“God!” the girl said, standing in the doorway. “What a dump.”

“We agree on something,” Lucas said with a grin. “At last.”

She ignored that. “You want some help in here, Dad?”

“No, babe, but thanks. Look, ask Mr. Cartier if he'd come in here, OK?”

“Sure. I'll be with Johnny in the side yard. Us and Baby. And we won't leave there unless you need us.”

“Good girl.”

Kyle's reaction was very much identical to Jackie's. “Good God! This is the absolute worst I have ever seen.”

“My thoughts exactly. But I'll tell you something. It somehow makes it easier on me.”

“Like it makes the distance between you two even further, huh?”

“Yeah,” he sighed his reply. “And something else, too. But I can't pull it out of my head. “Oh, well. Where to start?”

“Like they say, buddy: at the beginning.”

“I wonder if Sheriff Pugh is going to want any of this crap?”

“I wouldn't think so, Lucas.” The trooper held up a set of long johns with the ass end completely gone. He dropped them on the floor when he noticed lice jumping on the fabric. Lice or fleas, he thought. “According to my captain, the investigation is concluded and the matter closed. There is no one to bring any charges. You're Ira's only family and he was trying to kill you. The sheriff heard and saw what was happening and killed Ira. No one else gives a damn.”

“Well, let's start separating this crap and tossing it into the bags. We'll decide what to do with it later.”

The men worked for over an hour. They found nothing of any importance; no clues to Lige/Ira's past. They found no letters, no notes, no postcards, no back trails. Nothing. They did not even find one girlie magazine.

Straightening up from securing the last garbage bag, Kyle looked around him and said, “OK. That's it.”

“A great big pile of nothing,” Lucas replied. “Just nothing. I thought we'd find something to link him with the Brotherhood.”

“To tell the truth, so did I. But we haven't missed anything that I can see. So what do we do with all this crap?”

Lucas sighed. He wanted to be rid of his brother forever; wanted to burn everything. But something still nagged at him. Some tiny warning light flashed in his mind.

“Let's just leave it all bagged,” Lucas finally spoke. “Let's just pile it up, lock the door, and leave it.”

The trooper picked up on the hesitation. “Something, Lucas?”

“Maybe. Could be. It's just too . . . too . . . what am I trying to say? It's too
pat,
I guess. The man made a fair living as a caretaker. I know he did. He didn't have to wear ragged, filthy clothing. But he did. Why? He stole thousands. No one would have questioned new jeans or work clothes. But, instead, he chose to live in filth and dress like a bum. Why? Something is all wrong about this. I just can't figure it out—yet.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Kyle grinned. “You should have been a cop, Lucas. You have all the natural instincts for it. But, yeah, you're right. It stinks in more ways than one.”

Lucas returned the smile. “Oh, I wasn't always in corporate law, Kyle. I've handled many, many criminal cases.”

The cop again grinned. “From which side of the fence?”

“You got me there,” Kyle laughed. The laughter felt good.

“Come on, Lucas. Let's lock up and go see what mischief the gals are getting into.”

Just as they stepped from the foul-smelling cottage, both Tracy and Louisa began screaming, their horror-filled cries reverberating from the attic of the mansion.

Both men were breathless as they reached the dimly-lighted stairs leading to the attic. Lucas had warned Jackie and Johnny to stay with Baby on the landing just below the attic.

They did not hear Jackie say to Johnny, “Did you hear it?”

“Yeah,” the boy replied. “Again. That heavy breathing.”

“You know what it is, don't you, Johnny?”

“I think so. But it's crazy. And how can we tell Mom and Dad?”

“We don't tell them. They'd think we're both nuts.”

“So? . . .”

“They'll figure it out.”

“What if it's too late then?” the boy asked, a worried look in his young eyes.

Sister met brother's gaze. “It's too late now. You know that.”

The great house seemed to sigh with heavy breath.

“I'm all right,” Tracy said, coming to Lucas and putting her arms around him. “But the attic has snakes in it.”

“Snakes!”
Lucas said. He was as skittish of snakes as his wife.

Kyle smiled. “What kind, Louisa?” he asked calmly, as if he knew without asking.

Louisa wore a sheepish expression. Her smile was small. “Kings.”

“That's what I figured,” Kyle said. He winked at his wife and turned to Lucas and Tracy. “Relax. King snakes are harmless. Very beneficial, really. Lots of folks around here keep them in barns and attics. King snakes kill rats and mice and other snakes.”

Lucas felt Tracy shudder. He felt like doing the same.

“Will they bite?” Lucas asked.

Kyle nodded his head. “Yeah, I guess so. But you'd have to make one awful mad. I used to carry them to school in my pocket as a kid. Scare the girls with them.” He grinned. “This is the country, Lucas.”

“I
hate
snakes!” Tracy said.

“Lots of folks do,” Kyle said. “But it's mostly a baseless fear. A rattler will do his best to warn you of his presence—most of the time, if he can. Now, copperheads and cottonmouths—that's another story. They're both nasty little bastards. I kill every cottonmouth and copperhead I see. A cottonmouth will stalk you. Really! The rest of the varieties of snakes in this part of the country won't hurt you. We don't have any coral snakes—thank God.”

“But even the nonpoisonous kinds will bite, won't they?” Tracy asked.

“Yeah,” Kyle admitted. “Most of them. But a nonpoisonous snake's bite can vary anywhere from about the same as a mosquito bite to a wasp sting. I'm talking about snakes found in North America. Other parts of the world, well, that's a whole new ball game. In Asia, there's vipers damn near everywhere you put your boot down.”

“Where'd you learn so much about snakes?” Tracy asked.

“All part of SEAL training. Got to learn how to identify them, catch them, skin them, then eat them.” He smacked his lips and rolled his eyes, much to Louisa's disgust. She'd heard it all before. “Some of them are right tasty, too,” Kyle concluded.

“Don't get him started,” Louisa said. “Please. He can go on for hours. He'll tell you how invincible he is. And about how four SEALs once surrounded a whole village one night in Vietnam.”

“Well, we did!” Kyle defended his SEAL past. “That is, until about a battalion of VC came out of the brush.”

“What'd you do then?” Lucas asked.

“Took off runnin' for our lives!” Kyle said with a grin. “One guy was runnin' so hard he ran slap into a tree. Knocked the tree down. Damn thing fell right on top of me. Army Ranger fell out of it. He'd been up there peelin' bark off of it, having a late supper.”

“Oh, Kyle!” Louisa said.

* * *

With Lucas reluctantly helping, the men cleared out the attic of snakes—as best they could. Kyle would simply reach down and pick the king snakes up in his hands, then put them in a bag. Lucas would locate them, but steadfastly refused to touch one.

Kyle said, “You'd really be surprised at the number of men who'll go through the most dehumanizing military training in the world—SEAL, Ranger, Special Forces, Marine Force Recon, Air Force Jungle Commando, don't make no difference—and then get down to snake handling . . . and quit. I've seen them do it. It doesn't have a thing to do with a person's personal courage. Some folks just can't handle a snake.”

“I heard that,” Lucas said. “And you're looking at one of them.”

“Oh, maybe, Lucas. But I kind of doubt it. I think if you wanted to be a part of the best outfit in the world—take your choice, I'm partial—you'd do it if you just had to. I really believe that. You've got that bulldog quality about you. And so does Tracy. She's a strong woman.”

“I'll agree with the latter. You're a quick judge of character, Kyle.”

“Buddy, when your life depends on making quick judgments, you learn and you do it fast. Believe me.”

Lucas didn't doubt that for a minute.

The women cautiously stuck their heads in the doorway to the attic. Louisa asked, “Is the coast clear?”

Kyle winked at Lucas. “I thought you were psychic?” he gently ribbed her. “So you tell us.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

Kyle and Lucas spent another half-hour stringing light throughout the shadowy attic, illuminating all the dark and mysterious pockets of gloom around the huge attic.

“Well,” Tracy said, looking around at all the boxes and crates and trunks, many covered with a forty-year accumulation of dust and cobwebs, “Let's see if we can't unlock some of the mystery about this place.”

She had a smudge of dirt on the tip of her nose. Lucas mentioned it and said, “You look cute.”

“This ain't no time to get amorous,” Kyle reminded him.

The first trunk, which Lucas had to open with a prybar, revealed dozens of old manuscripts, the pages crumbling and yellowed. All were handwritten. Lucas recognized the handwriting as his grandmother's.

How did I recognize it? he questioned silently. I never received a letter from her in my life. Or did I?

“I'm sure my grandmother wrote these,” Lucas said.

“Kyle,” Louisa said, “carry this trunk downstairs, please.”

“Are you trying to herniate me, woman!”

“Oh, poo! Come on, Tracy,” she said, and the women lifted the trunk easily, one at each end.

“All right, all right!” Kyle said. “We get the point, right, Lucas?”

“We?”

Bitching and grumbling, the trooper picked up the trunk effortlessly and took it out of the room.

“And check on the kids while you're down there!” his wife called after him.

“Yes, dear. At your service. Your humble servant. The kids are right here on the landing, with that monster dog.”

“In the house!” Tracy called. “Lucas, put that dog outside where it belongs.”

Lucas went down and ordered the dog outside. Baby sat on the floor and looked up at him.

Lucas cleared his throat and raised his voice. “Baby, did you hear me?—out!”

The animal laid down on the landing floor and put its big head on Johnny's knee, completely ignoring Lucas.

“How about if we took Baby outside and gave her a bath?” Jackie suggested. “Then could we keep her in the house?”

“Absolutely not!” Tracy called.

“You two take Baby outside and bathe her,” Lucas said. “And then we'll see. And keep it to yourselves what I just said.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I heard that!” Tracy called. “No dogs in the house.”

“Go on,” Lucas urged. “And remember, stay close.”

“Yes, sir. Come on, Baby.”

Just as he was starting back up the stairs to the attic, he heard a vehicle pull into the driveway. Reversing direction, he went downstairs and onto the veranda. He smiled when he recognized Jim's pickup truck. He waved the man onto the porch.

They shook hands and Jim said, “I'm real sorry about your brother, Lucas. I mean that. Hell of a thing.”

“Thanks, Jim. Say, I've been wondering where you were.”

“Went down to Atlanta. Damn shock when that stupid Burt Simmons came blundering into my place when I got back and told me all about it.”

Kyle came out into the porch and shook hands with Jim.

“You don't get no prettier with age, boy,” Jim kidded the trooper.

Kyle came right back at him. “Look who's talking. I always heard your momma had to tie a pork chop around your neck when you was a kid to get the dogs to play with you.”

“Now, that's unkind,” Jim said, doing his best to look hurt.

“I'm glad you two are friends,” Lucas said, laughing.

“Known each other for years. He gets uglier every year.” Kyle playfully threw a slow punch at the man.

“Yeah,” Jim said, dodging the punch. “Me and Louisa used to keep company 'til this jerk came back from the war wearin' all them medals. He conned the girl into marryin' him. Flat out
lied
to her, is what he done.”

“Lots of medals, huh?” Lucas said, looking at the man.

“One or two,” Kyle said. His tone indicated he did not wish to discuss it.

“Jim, come on in,” Lucas took the man's arm. “We can use another hand. The girls are working us to death up in the attic, exploring.”

“Well, that ought to be more interestin' than changin' flats or listenin' to that ignorant Burt Simmons. Oh! The reason I come out was Tracy got a phone call at the station yesterday from some of the folks up north you gave my number to. One of my men took the message. ‘George and Mimi, Harry and Jan, and all the kids,' ” he read from a piece of torn paper that looked as though it had been handled many times. “They'll all be down in four weeks. Spendin' two with you. Said to lay in a good supply of gin.” He grinned at the last bit.

“Well, that's good news. They're coming down sooner than expected. You'll like these people, Jim, Kyle. They're good people.” But he wondered if he should call and cancel them out. But what to tell them? That the house was haunted? That bugaboos were about in the night?

Great God! They'd laugh themselves sick.

“I did meet a few folk in New York I called friend,” Jim admitted. He looked up at the cloud-free blue of the sky. “Gonna rain later on this evenin'.”

Lucas looked all around him. “There isn't a cloud in the sky!”

“There will be,” Kyle backed up his old friend. “It isn't so much what you can see as what you can feel and sense. Go back to your boyhood, Lucas. You told me you used to spend summers with your grandfather up in Vermont, didn't you? I bet that old man taught you a lot about nature that you've just forgotten over the years.”

“Yeah. You're right. I wish I had paid more attention to what my Grandfather Taylor taught me.”

And told me, Lucas silently chastised himself. He was fearful that all the things Grandfather Taylor told him—and that he had forgotten—would soon come back to haunt him.

Jim stayed for a couple of hours, teasing Louisa and ribbing Kyle, and helping move the crates and trunks and boxes around in the attic.

“Jesus!” he once complained. “This is worse than bein' married and movin' furniture around the damned livin' room.”

He stayed a while longer and then had to leave, get back to his business. Lucas invited him out for dinner and he accepted. Said he might even be able to scare up some ol' hant to drag along—winking as he said it.

“Jim's a good friend and a lot of fun,” Louisa said, after the man had left. “But no woman will ever get too close to him. Emotionally, he keeps women at arm's length. His marriage really soured him.”

Kyle winked at Lucas. “Yeah, a good woman is hard to find.” He sighed and shook his head. “But I just keep on lookin' and hopin'.”

That got him another pop on the shoulder from Louisa, though one with considerably more power behind it than the one he had received earlier.

They worked through most of the afternoon, attempting to place trunks with trunks, boxes with boxes, and so forth. Soon they all realized it was going to be a long job; they had hardly made a dent in the huge pile of haphazardly stacked containers.

Finally Tracy said, “Let's call it a day and get cleaned up. It's going to take weeks to go through all this junk.”

Both Lucas and Kyle made a great show of standing up straight, moaning and groaning with both hands to their back.

“How'd you manage to surround that village?” Louisa asked. “By pretending to be an old man, maybe?”

“I was
younger
then, woman!”

“Yes,” she said, very primly, but with a wicked look in her dark eyes. “I know.”

“Oh, the slings and arrows!” Kyle said.

* * *

Jim's date was anything but an ol' hant. She was introduced as Lyda. A blonde, and as Tracy put it out of earshot, with mammoth proportions. Kyle and Lucas agreed with that description.

“She ain't from here,” Jim drawled. “She's from down to Rome. Owns a beauty shop. With two PP's, mind you.”

“She is also interested in the dark arts,” Louisa said.

Lyda almost dropped her drink in her lap.

“Obviously,” Kyle said, “you forgot to warn her about Louisa.”

“I thought you give up all that spook stuff?” Jim looked at Louisa.

“I have told you more than once, Dooley,” Louisa said. “You can't just ‘give it up.' One is born with the gift. I even tried to suppress it for a time. But that doesn't work either.”