The Darkness You Fear Page 16

  Jonathan’s deep voice came from behind me, and I froze. “Won’t you be needing the cloth, dear?” he asked.

  I didn’t turn around, afraid to look him in the face while I dared to contradict him. “We are almost to Oregon City,” I said. “If we need to, we can dump the rocks out then.”

  “To what purpose?” he asked. He reached over and took the pail from Mary. He lifted one of the rocks and examined it. He frowned, and then his face became impassive. I felt a chill, for I knew that when he became impassive like that, he was at his most dangerous. I wasn’t sure what had caught his attention and breathed a sigh of relief when he shrugged.

  “Please, Jona…Mr. Meredith,” Mary said. “The children have so little.”

  “I don’t suppose it will hurt anything,” Jonathan said. “I suppose old Clyde and Peter can pull a little extra weight a few more miles.”

  September 21, 1845

  We have resumed our journey, following the lost wagons ahead of us, hoping that by the time we catch up, they will no longer be lost. I did not sleep last night. The vision kept coming to me of my husband reaching out for the blue bucket and his hand lingering a little too long on Mary’s, and the way she went still, as if afraid. I remembered that she had begun to call him Jonathan before remembering her place. And I tried to remember whether I had seen either my husband or Mary all afternoon.

  Jonathan came to bed but did not want me, and for that, I was glad. He could not see the tears that flowed from my eyes like a stream flowing over stones.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Testament of Virgil Conner

  August ?, 1851

  The lights flickered deep within the tunnel to the left, the passageway that was caved in. I sensed the draft came from there as well. It was as if the spirits or apparitions were expecting us. I couldn’t see Jake’s expression, only the outline of his body, but I could tell he was ready to go. It was either dare the ghosts or become ghosts ourselves.

  Whether malevolent or benign, the spirits lit our way. I could dimly see the walls and loose rocks upon our path. Our weird guides stayed well in front of us, and we followed them. My vision couldn’t quite grasp them in full. If I stared at the lights too long, they disappeared. I closed my eyes and wondered if they were an illusion. It was when I didn’t look directly at them that I could see their glow.

  Once, as we rounded a corner, one of the apparitions appeared to be waiting for us.

  “Tad, is that you?” I whispered. Beside me, Jake started in surprise, but then turned to the light as if he too was curious.

  The light shot down the tunnel and disappeared. We were left in darkness.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t talk to them,” Jake muttered.

  We waited, as if we both sensed the apparition would come back. “Maybe they are leading us deeper into our graves,” Jake said.

  “What choice do we have?” I asked.

  “They give me the creeps,” Jake said. “They make me think upon my past, every damn thing I ever did wrong. Things that can’t be helped. Things I had to do. But now I look back and think maybe I could have been a better man, a kinder, more generous man.” He paused. “Ah, to hell with that,” he said bitterly.

  Gnawing guilt was mounting inside me as well, along with the kind of doubt that comes late at night, when the mind can’t let go of the idea of what should have been. Perhaps it was the nearness of death, but I couldn’t help but notice how the remorse built the longer and the more closely we followed our guiding spirits. I pushed the doubts down, as I always do, but they kept rising up like a nightmare.

  ***

  “Mary and Joseph and Baby Jesus,” Jake said.

  The smell struck both of us at the same time. We had reached the cave-in, the place that Meredith had led us to before. The ghosts—I had begun to think of them as such, for there was no doubt they were unnatural—had dipped over the drop-off and disappeared into the darkness.

  “It’s Tad,” I said, not knowing I was speaking aloud. “It must be.”

  “Jesus!” Jake repeated, and I sensed he was making the sign of the cross, as I’d seen him do before in times of danger and trouble. “You really think it’s him?”

  “Meredith wouldn’t have let him escape, any more than he let us,” I said. The familiar guilt surged inside me, and I could barely breathe. “We should have looked for him.”

  “Meredith would only have killed us earlier,” Jake said. “Hell, the bastard didn’t really need us all that much after we opened up the mine. He could have dug up the gold himself without much trouble if he weren’t such a lazy bastard.”

  I saw a light appear far below. It seemed to be beckoning to us. I started to ease my way down over the rocks.

  “I ain’t going down there,” Jake said. “Damn ghosts want us to join them. They want company.”

  “We aren’t dead…yet,” I said. My voice cracked as I said it, as if there wasn’t enough moisture in my throat to form words effectively. “Come on, Jake. Why would the spirits bother with us if they didn’t have somewhere they were leading us?”

  “Leading us to hell,” Jake said. “Leading us to the bottomless pit.”

  I laughed, and once I started laughing, I couldn’t stop. Jake didn’t join me, but I could sense him reluctantly grimacing. “We’re just getting a head start,” I said. “This way, they won’t have so far to drag us down.”

  The vast regret I’d been feeling over the last few days confirmed what I’ve always known—it is too late for me. Too late to make amends, too late to become a better man, too late to return to my darling Agnes and become the husband she always hoped I’d be.

  I started down the scree again and heard Jake following. Halfway down, the stench forced me to breathe through my mouth, but even so, the odor of death seemed to coat my lungs. I coughed and retched, and heard Jake doing the same thing. It was dry heaves; neither of us had enough water or food in our guts to do much more than that.

  A single light shone at the bottom. It was hovering over Tad’s body. It seemed to me that it had the shape of a girl, with a wide, round face and staring eyes. It wasn’t my Tina, but a strange girl about the same age, eleven or twelve. The ghost floated over a jumble of what looked like clothing. I went closer and saw something squirming, and realized that bugs were swarming about the body, already picking the bones clean of flesh. Maggots and beetles were fighting for the remaining raw meat.

  The ghost of the little girl backed away slightly, as if in respect. I could see by her light.

  There was some paper clutched in Tad’s skeletal hands, and I removed the sheets gently, careful not to tear them. It was too dark to read them, but I realized that poor Tad had had the same idea as me: to record his doom. I shuddered, for I wondered if I would meet the same end and whether sometime soon, someone would find this book.

  Tad had apparently survived the fall for a time. His belt was wrapped around one leg, and I could see splintered bone through the shredded cloth.

  “There’re other bones down here,” Jake said.

  I tore myself away from the sight of Tad’s yawning skull. “What’s that?”

  “There’s another body down here,” Jake said. “And it ain’t buried under no rocks, neither.” He leaned down and examined the skull. “There’s a bullet hole in this one.”

  “We were lucky Meredith didn’t plug us when he had the chance,” I said.

  “Maybe,” Jake said. “Or maybe he did them a favor.”

  We stared down at the collection of bones, and it was strange to realize that someday others would look down on our bones the same way. I shuddered. I realized that I was resigned to dying, but I didn’t want to become a ghost.

  Our guiding spirit was hovering in the air, moving away and then back again, as if urging us to hurry. I started after it, and within moments, we came across two more skeletons. These bones were smaller, older. I sensed that they belonged to our child ghosts.

  A wave of sadness came over me. Strange tha
t I should feel it so strongly, but I’ve always been affected by the misfortunes of the young. A child beggar always gets my coin, if I have one.

  Worry about yourself, I thought.

  We were no longer in a tunnel fashioned by tools but in a natural cavern, like a crack in the earth. It was smooth in places and nearly impassible in others. I felt the moisture in the air, and when I reached out and wiped my hand along the stone, it came away wet. I put my dampened fingers into my mouth, and it helped.

  I heard the trickling water from a long way off, and it gave me added strength. Jake, who had been grunting and complaining the whole way, suddenly fell silent, and he almost pushed me aside in his eagerness.

  The ghosts stopped, and as we came upon them, we saw that they were hovering over a dark pool of water. Jake and I dropped to our bellies and plunged our heads into the pool, drinking deeply. It was freezing, but clear.

  I gasped, raising my head, feeling awake and alert for the first time since we’d begun our journey.

  The ghosts whirled about us, and again memories bombarded me with regrets, but instead of it dispiriting me this time, I felt hope, for I wanted to return to Agnes, to start over. I’d never look for gold, never leave my job, again.

  We filled our waterskins. Our bellies were full of water, and I could actually hear the sloshing as we walked. I smiled and then marveled that I could still find humor in our ordeal. The water had the strange effect of satiating my hunger a little bit but at the same time reminding me of just how hungry I was.

  The breeze that had been so slight that it could have been a zephyr of imagination now felt strong on my wet face. I hurried forward, my eyes on the floating ghosts who were leading us out of the subterranean burial chamber. We reached a wide spot in the cave, and then they swooped into a hole near the base of a wall. The ghosts disappeared into the hole, and I followed.

  The floor disappeared beneath me, and I tumbled into a pit, smashing into loose objects that clattered about me. Jake followed with a grunt.

  The ghosts appeared to brighten. Amid miles of dark soil and rock, the clattering objects at our feet were a bright white. All the dread and regret of a misspent life came down upon me at that moment. It was a necropolis, a catacomb of bones, thousands upon thousands, with the round shapes of broken skulls dotted among them. And all the souls were still here, still raging at the living.

  These were not the ghosts of children, or of people who were like us in any way. These were the ghosts of an ancient and long-lost tribe.

  “Oh, God!” Jake cried. He dropped to his knees, crossing himself again and again. The ghosts swirled around him as if excited, and he cried out, “I’m sorry, Betsy! I didn’t mean to hurt you!” He toppled over and curled up in a ball. “Forgive me, Betsy. Please, dear God, forgive me. I didn’t mean it to happen!”

  I stared down at him in shock. I too was roiled by memories, but his undoing was so complete that for once I was able to shove aside my own guilty thoughts and worry about him. Perhaps this saved me; I don’t know.

  Betsy had been his first wife. He had told me that she had abandoned him, but with a chill, I heard his words and understood their meaning.

  “Come on, Jake,” I said. “We’ve got to get away from here.”

  The ghosts still swirled around us, and now they were passing through us as well. Each time one of the lights went into Jake, he jerked as if being stabbed. He’d stopped babbling, stopped moving at all.

  “Jake!” I cried, and then the ghosts concentrated on me. They swirled around me, and each time, I had visions: of Agnes as she was on our wedding night; of Timothy as a young boy, when he’d still looked up to me; and most of all, of Tina, my beautiful little girl whom God had called home.

  I wanted to go back to my family, to my gentle memories, not these horrid thoughts of abandonment and shame.

  “Stop it!” I cried. “Stop!”

  The lights swirled about me again and then moved away, as if warded off. In their place were the brighter lights of those who had led us to this place, the ghosts of the children. For the first time, they fully coalesced. Their feet reached the ground, and I could see their features clearly: a young girl, a boy with a misshapen leg, and a taller, handsome older boy—a young man, really. They didn’t say anything, but I could sense them judging me.

  I turned and ran deeper into the blackness. I found a small hole on the other side of the chamber, and I scrambled into it. It led to a tunnel leading upward. I left the chamber of bones and the avenging spirits behind. God help me, I left Jake behind.

  The breeze grew stronger until it felt like a wind, and I saw a light far in the distance, far above. I scrambled up the slope, slipping, falling more than once. I knew that if I survived this day, I would be nothing but bruises, but I would be alive. I would return to Saginaw, and I would seek out Timothy and help him if I could, and I would put flowers on Tina’s grave every day, and I would never leave my home again.

  I could feel the warm air halfway up the slope. My fingers scrambled on the hard rock, bleeding, fingernails shredded, and I crawled those last few feet, to a hole that was just big enough for me to fit through.

  I felt the hot desert sand and rolled over on my back, blinded by the midday sun. I closed my eyes and breathed in the air, and extended my arms and grabbed handfuls of sand and let them run through my fingers. The sun was low in the sky, but it was still hot out.

  I knew that I was not yet safe, that perhaps the most dangerous part of my return home lay ahead of me. But I had no doubt that I would survive. When the sun dropped below the horizon, I forced myself to stand and walk.

  I was walking blindly through the dark when I came among them.

  There in the blackness, I sensed other men, who could see me even if I could not clearly see them. Savages.

  I waited for the deathblow. I wasn’t afraid. If I must die, I thought, then let it be here in the open, while I am free. I could not even blame the Indians for wanting me dead.

  And then they were gone. Maybe they’d never been there. Maybe I had imagined it. When morning came at last, I saw moccasin prints in the sand, and I understood that by some miracle, they had decided to let me live.

  Meredith had done his best to confuse us by blindfolding us, and if you’d asked me a few days earlier, I would have thought us lost. But I seemed to have an unerring sense of which direction to go. The territory really isn’t as large as he’d tried to make us believe. He must have led us in circles, crossing the same creek more than once.

  I reached the creek bed where we had been blindfolded. It was dark again by then, and I saw a campfire where the guards Meredith had hired to patrol the perimeter were eating dinner. A few days earlier, I might have been frightened, but now I detoured around them without a qualm.

  The guilt I’d been feeling began to fade like a bad dream, but the resolve the guilt had engendered in me remained. I hefted my pack, which I’d managed to hang onto through my escape. It was heavy with nuggets.

  I don’t know how much gold is in there, but I know I’ll never return for more. It will have to be enough.

  I am going home. The rest of the gold can stay buried for all I care.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Vale, Oregon Territory, September 1851

  Dearest Frank,

  We reached Vale without trouble. I have given these letters to a wagon master who is heading for Oregon City and who promises to see them forwarded from there. First thing in the morning, we intend to find the Smith Feed Store and, hopefully, Gus and Abigail Catledge. I hope they have enough information that I might combine it with what Mary has told me and what is in Ellen Meredith’s journals and get a full accounting.

  However, I also wish to fulfill Mary’s request and find Becky Catledge and make certain she is safe. From what I have learned from the journals, this will probably mean confronting Jonathan Meredith, for he seems to be at the center of all these mysteries.

  It will be a dangerous confrontation, I
suspect. But I have good men around me. Terrance Drake is an admirable young man, and of course Angus knows how to take care of himself. Franklin also seems a capable fellow. If it must be done, I cannot think of better support than these three men. Don’t worry, dear husband. I will endeavor to stay safe.

  Love,

  Virginia

  Virginia sealed the envelope, wondering if she’d said too much. She’d started the letter intending to downplay everything—thus telling Frank that the journey to Vale had been uneventful, which was far from true. But she couldn’t lie to him. Whenever she did that, it only caused problems later on. She hated to worry him, but either she would come out safe, in which case his worries would be resolved, or she wouldn’t, in which case her warning might help prepare him.

  She handed the letter to the wagon master, along with enough money to pay for him to find way to get the letter to California. It was only money, which Virginia could get more of at any time. Keeping in touch with Frank was far more important.

  I will ask him to come with me next time, she thought. I mustn’t lose him.

  They had arrived in Vale after dark and found the one hotel in town already closed. Virginia pounded on the door until a grumpy woman answered and let them in. She was going to refuse them lodging until Virginia opened her pack and brought out a stack of money.

  “Two rooms?” The woman looked from Virginia to the three men accompanying her with raised eyebrows. It wasn’t the first time Virginia had found herself being judged by others for being a woman traveling with three men, none of whom were her husband.

  “My employees can sleep in one room,” she said. “I would like a private room for myself.”

  The hotel owner seemed reassured by that. Virginia had already learned that having retainers was less frowned upon than having three men as colleagues.

  As soon as they were unpacked, they went to the nearest saloon. Again, Virginia got looks, but she stared the men down defiantly. She asked the saloonkeeper if anyone was heading to the Willamette Valley, and he pointed out the wagon master. After giving him her letters, she left the men to their drinking and went back to her hotel room.