House on Diablo Road: Resurrection Day (The McCann Family Saga Book 3) (21 page)

“
Who are
you
to question
me
? Take him out to the dogwood tree. Now! Someone will be there waiting for you. You should be glad to even the score yourself, after what he’s done.”

Louis looked up to refuse her order and found himself staring into the end of a shotgun barrel.

“
He’s not dead, Lucinda. We can save him.”

“
Get up, and load him into the wagon. You have no say here.”

He thought of making an attempt to disarm her, but the barrel was two inches from his face. He did as he was told, for the meantime, without knowing her plan or his own. His heart raced, as he lifted a now semi-conscious Cyrus over his shoulder and took him to the field where he laid him down in the bed of a cotton wagon. With Lucinda riding shotgun, they went to the front of the property, where she directed him.

There beside the dogwood tree, in the twilight, stood Jonathan Bonney. In his hands he held an expertly fashioned noose, with the other end of the rope tied to a large branch. Jonathan said nothing but raised Cyrus to his knees in the wagon and placed the noose around his neck. Just as he tightened the noose, he saw, shining in the moonlight, a gold insignia ring on his victim's finger. Jonathan caught his breath and threw his arms up, releasing Cyrus, allowing him to fall face down in the wagon, with the rope still around the neck. “I can’t do this, Lucinda,” he said.

“I thought you
wanted
this. You wanted
me
and this land and that house. Yet when it came right down to it, you can't do it...and you a Night Rider at that. It wouldn’t have been the first deserter’s neck you stretched. What’s the difference?”

“
Look on his finger, Lucinda. He wears the Masonic ring. You
knew
he was a member. Did you not realize I can’t lynch a
Freemason
, even if he happened to be a deserter. All hell would break loose.”

Standing straight up in the wagon, Lucinda had the look of one who had come to a high cliff and had overcome the fear of falling. She turned and aimed her shotgun, the one Cyrus had given her for protection. She lined it up at the back Cyrus’ head, as he lay there in the wagon. Louis grabbed for the weapon too late. Cyrus was gone in one gut wrenching, shattering moment. A man of good will had made one tragic mistake and had paid a price far steeper than should have been due.

“
Bon Dieu!”
Louis moaned.

The noose was still around Cyrus' neck, and the blast from the shot skittered the horses. They bolted, charging forward with the wagon, while Louis frantically tried to grab the reins. The man was already dead, but Louis could not allow him to hang for all to see. Cyrus quickly come to the end of his rope, when the wagon dashed forward and the slack ran out. The body broke free from the tailgate to dangle from the tree.

“
Let him hang there,” Lucinda said, looking up by the light of the full moon. That ghostly light magnified the misery in her face. “I know what they’ll say...'another hanging by the Night Riders’ they’ll say. ‘He had it coming,’ they’ll say. And to think I did this for you, Jonathan. So let them believe whatever they will.”

Jonathan’s breathing was labored, and his face was bloodless white. “You didn’t do it for
me
. You did it because you felt worthless and unloved. You did it because Cyrus turned to another woman to give him what you couldn't. Or maybe we can blame it on that old full
moon up there. But one thing's certain. You'd kill the child's mother too, if she weren’t helping you fulfill your almighty addiction.”

Lucinda looked at Jonathan as if he had struck her in the face. She stumbled from the wagon and threw herself down at the base of the dogwood, sobbing uncontrollably, while the body of the man who had been her husband swung above her. “What have I done,” she cried.

Louis could bear no more. “For the love of God, Jonathan, I beg you not to leave him hanging there. His spirit won't
rest.
It won't be able to
leave
!”

Jonathan was ready to take control of a situation that had spun out of control: “We’re not burying him in the ground. We don’t have time to dig a grave deep enough to keep the coyotes from unearthing him. All the same, we’re not leaving him hanging, so me and my riders take the blame. The Freemasons will come for me, and they have more power than any group in East Texas. It will be
my
neck. I’ll have to point the finger at you, Monet. I’ll tell them it was you who killed Cyrus as a part of the cotton workers' rebellion...or maybe the two of you argued. You had reason to argue, because of the adultery. It was your woman! I'll go along with whatever folks want to believe.”

“
You know what they’ll do to a man like me.”

“
Ah well, everybody knows I’m a hardhearted bastard...except when it comes to that one neurotic woman lying there, crying over a dead man killed by her own hand. How do we explain who and why we love?”

“
What is it you want me to do?” Louis asked softly.

“
You go get the good cotton wagon, because you’re going on a little trip. Hide the body, along with Lucinda’s shotgun, since its engraved with her initials and has blood in the grain of the stock. Don’t take time to try to clean it. Take it and the body to the deepest, most inaccessible place in this county. Take it to Blue Hole. You know the place.
Keep your mouth shut
, and nothing will happen to you and your family.”

A frail and failing Louis Monet looked around and realized he was sitting in Sheriff Bridges’ office. He had told the story. He had given up the secret, even though it compromised one whom he had long protected, one whom he had loved purely and from afar. It no longer mattered. He had been redeemed, and redemption was as solitary a step as death.

The day before the funeral, the
Morgans Bluff Gazette
ran a front page story on the discovery of the skeleton:

Based on an admission provided by a former cotton worker named Louis Monet, the intact skeletal remains of one time owner of McCann Plantation, Cyrus McCann, were recovered yesterday at Blue Hole.

Monet maintains that although it was he who hid the body on the day of McCann's murder in 1864, someone else was the perpetrator. Sheriff Bridges says the old, long debated case will be wrapped up shortly, as new information surfaces.

The day they laid Cyrus McCann to rest, the primary emotion was relief. Yet there was one step left to set things right. Jerod Morgan rode into Morgans Bluff from the Renegade Native Village on a jaunty white horse. He came at the request of his daughter, Annie, and his mother Minna, and he came in the capacity of a Shaman. He was prepared to purify the house on Diablo Road. Jesse and Nathan were there waiting when he arrived.

“There can be no interference in the ritual,” Jerod explained. “Believe in the cleansing, and trust in me. Put aside your doubt and negativity, because the essence within the house feeds on it. You may enter with me, if you can control your mind and your emotions.”

“I can promise to be open-minded,” Jesse said. “I'm not a true believer, but there are practical matters involved. This is my chance to get in the attic and find Cyrus' personal effects. Buck told me they were stored in a box of books and was contained in one in particular. Besides, I'd like to know more about the man. That leaves me or Thomas to open the will and whatever else is there. Thomas has declined due to strong feelings.”

“Why did you not get Katie to check on it for you?” Nathan asked. “Or me, for that matter.”

“Because there may be something in there, about your family, that would drive that wedge even further between the two of you. It's only natural for families to take sides, and you two are no different. Wait until we know the strength of your marriage, and the rest is up to Katie.”

“Buck Hennessy will want to go in with us,” Jerod said. “You know how he can be. We can't allow it because of his handicap and his bad heart.”

“He may raise a ruckus. If you tell him he can't do something, he'll kill himself trying to prove you wrong. I have to look out for him. He's like a father, brother and friend. He gave me my first job, encouraged me, and gave me a scolding when I needed it. He saved my life a couple of times as well. I love the man. Let me handle him.”

“Now that all is settled, we have a funeral to attend,” Nathan said. “Let's go, shall we?”

Already waiting at the McCann family cemetery were Annie, Katie and the boys, Nathan's parents Travis and Sarah, Mr. Clancy, Snake Eye, Buck, and Granny Minna who seemed at peace. Somewhere in her brain, was the picture of Cyrus as she had known him in the Civil War days—but most of that time had been erased from her memory. It was indeed a good thing.

The preacher from Morgans Bluff Full Gospel Church read from the bible, as he had little personal history to recite for a man already dead before he was born. Crow, Jesse, and Nathan lowered the casket into the open grave, and Thomas shoveled the soil over his father's remains. To finalize the ceremony, Jerod stood before the grave in full Shaman regalia and extended his arms to the sky. “Great One, we offer up the spirit of Cyrus McCann to his final resting place, as you see fit. May his lost and restless spirit
rest in peace
for eternity.”

Buck hollered “Amen!”, and no one batted an eye.

Travis Bonney came over to Jesse and Annie in an effort to clear the air and bury the past: “I've thought that, under the circumstances, I might have Grandfather Jonathan exhumed and placed on our own grounds. He doesn't really belong here and never did.”

“It makes little difference to my family,” Jesse replied. “After all, this cemetery is on land now owned by Nathan. I understand he had been fond of the man.”

“My grandfather could be loyal and loving to his own flesh and blood, but there was a twist deep inside that could turn without notice—usually happened when he didn’t get his way. Some men have to control everything around them, and it was easy to control a little toddler such as Nate. Had he lived longer, I assure you he and my boy would have butted heads. Nate is strong willed too, but I don't believe he has the same obsession for total power over others.”

“We're counting on that,” Jesse said. “Let us be cordial for the sake of Nathan and Kathryn. A bitter history is buried here today.”

So ended a funeral without mourners, except for one: Thomas Monet, who had been cheated of a life with his father. It was as if everyone else was there as honor guard for a man's crossing over. Afterward, they walked among the headstones and placed flowers on all the graves, even Lucinda's. Buck knelt and laid gardenias on Charlotte and Baby Hennessy’s stone angel. Watching the touching gesture, Katie was suddenly reminded of that inexplicable fragrance she had encountered more than once. “She wore 'Gardenia' perfume, didn't she?”

Buck wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “It was her favorite. I picked cotton 'til my fingers bled, just to buy her a little bottle of it. They had to special order it at the Mercantile.”

They turned from the grave-sites at the sound of Jerod Morgan's powerful voice: “I'll ask everyone to leave now, except for Jesse. He and I have a sacred duty to perform inside the house. When we have finished, my granddaughter and her husband will be able to live in their home, if they so choose. Two families are joined in their union, and both are connected to this ground beneath our feet, and the house behind us.”

The purification rites were ready to begin.

Jesse would never forget that he and Buck argued that day. The old logger would not leave, and Jesse had to actually pull him toward the Lizzy, while Buck flailed about kicking his leg and letting loose a stream of obscenities. As Jesse watched him drive away, a thought came to him.
I am the steward of my family, and this man is, in the truest sense, my family. I will protect him.

Meanwhile, Nathan paid Crow a visit in the carriage house and found him in a foul mood. “That half blood Shaman has no rights poking around in that house performing black magic. Jonathan wouldn’t like it, and I don't like it.”