Читать книгу The Curse of Bloodstone - V. J. Banis - Страница 5

CHAPTER TWO

Savage ocean waves crashed and pounded against the high sea cliff, gnawing away at its foundation. The angry, howling wind whipped up over the bluff and across the housetops. It toppled chimneys, ripped shutters from houses, doors from hinges, uprooted trees and fences as it cut a path across the village of Skull Point. The people of Skull Point had not seen the likes of such a storm since the night Vanessa Mallory went away, five years before.

And now, Vanessa Mallory was back, or at least Simon Caldwell said so. When Simon told them the news, they stared in disbelief. Such news was almost as frightening as the hurricane that threatened to tear them from their homes. Simon Caldwell must be mistaken, they thought. It just couldn’t be so. Vanessa Mallory could not have returned to Skull Point. Vanessa Mallory was dead.

“I saw her,” Simon Caldwell insisted. “I saw her with my own two eyes, I tell you. I watched her landau barrel over the stone bridge at the end of Noah Bingham’s property, streak down Willow Lane, and race straight through the center of town—toward Bloodstone.”

The small, select group of townspeople who were clustered around the great open fire in Simon Caldwell’s kitchen just continued to stare at him. Simon saw the disbelief in their eyes. “You wouldn’t be thinking me to be a liar?” he challenged.

Jenny Hastings gave Martha Wilkins a questioning glance; Martha shook her head, cautioning Jenny to keep her thoughts to herself. Jenny gave a resigned sigh and nodded. They knew better than to disagree with Simon Caldwell. This was Simon’s house, their refuge from the storm; the newest and strongest brick-and-mortar building in all of Skull Point; their only stronghold against the fury of the hurricane that raged outside.

Simon Caldwell, their appointed mayor, didn’t offer the safety of his house without reason, and more than mere loyalty would be expected of them once the storm was spent. Simon would expect repayment—not always direct monetary payment, of course, but payment of a type that would make them forever dependent upon Simon Caldwell for the livelihood of the town as well as for themselves.

There was Noah Bingham’s house, of course. But Noah Bingham was merely a fisherman and not quite on their social level. Besides, Noah lived at the other end of town and took no interest in their social and political affairs.

Of course there was the Mallory mansion—Bloodstone. They might seek shelter there. After all, Bloodstone was a larger and stronger refuge than either Noah Bingham’s or Simon Caldwell’s. The old stone mansion on the bluff had withstood more violent storms than anyone could remember. But no one went to Bloodstone. Death lived within its walls.

“I tell you, I saw her,” Simon Caldwell said in the face of their doubtful expressions. “She had that old Cajun woman with her, Tutrice.”

* * * *

Noah Bingham had seen Vanessa also.

Noah’s house, like Simon Caldwell’s, was crowded with neighbors huddled together to ride out the storm. They weren’t of the social ilk that Simon Caldwell attracted. They were farmers and fishermen who lived on the periphery of Skull Point—the hard-working people who never bothered much with the affairs of their so-called “city cousins” who lived in the town proper.

No one argued with Noah’s announcement. If Noah had seen Vanessa Mallory, then Vanessa Mallory must indeed have returned to Skull Point...to Bloodstone.

“Then she isn’t dead,” Zeb Brewster said.

“Appears not, Zeb. I saw her real clear, and that old Indian woman was with her.” Noah shook his head slowly. “I can’t tell you where she come from, but she’s back all right.”

“But she was drowned,” Brewster’s wife said. “Five years back.”

Noah shrugged. “That’s what they said, Caroline. But I saw what I saw. Vanessa Mallory rode over my bridge no more than a few hours ago.”

The wind suddenly started to pound more violently against the outside of the house. They heard a shutter being ripped from its hinges. A window shattered somewhere in one of the upstairs rooms.

Noah’s wife gasped and quickly got to her feet.

“No, Ruth. You’d best stay put. No tellin’ what’s going on in the rest of the house. We’re safest here in the kitchen.”

Ruth gave her husband an anxious look. “I’ll just go into the next room and make sure the children are all right.”

Noah nodded. The overhead beams creaked and groaned. “She left in a storm just like this one,” Noah said. “It was this time of year too...almost to the day.”

* * * *

In Simon Caldwell’s kitchen the elite of the town did not worry about their heavily boarded windows. There was no reason to worry; everything was safe and secure. The howling of the storm didn’t seem to interfere with the whispers that buzzed among them. Even their own individual houses seemed to be of no importance. What was damaged, Simon would see was repaired. What was irreparable, Simon would see was replaced. The land would remain, and that was all that was of significance. The land was theirs and no one, not even the heavens themselves, was able to take that away from them,

But the return of Vanessa Mallory brought fear into their souls. The land once belonged to the Mallorys. Vanessa might make claim to all these properties now that she wasn’t dead and had returned to Skull Point.

Martha Wilkins expressed her fears openly.

“How can she make claim for the land?” Jenny Hastings asked her. “Her parents deeded it over to the town.”

“That’s right,” her husband agreed. Sam Hastings never disagreed with anyone, especially his wife. “Even if she isn’t dead, Vanessa can’t take what is rightfully the town’s own property.”

Simon Caldwell shook his head. “Vanessa’s back to make trouble though,” he predicted. “The Mallorys always make trouble.” He sucked air through the gap in his front teeth. “But everyone here has a stake in Skull Point and we’ve been doing pretty good since we took over the Mallory properties. Noah Bingham and his crowd don’t give a hang about what happens here; all they care about is their precious little boats and farms. It’s up to us to stand up to Vanessa if she intends to make trouble for us.”

Everybody was quick to agree, all nodding their heads and mumbling their support for whatever Simon intended to do. The town had prospered since the Mallorys relinquished the land to them. None of them wanted to lose any of the advantages they had gained from such transfer of title.

* * * *

Noah Brewster wasn’t worried about Vanessa making trouble. He reached for his pipe and stuck it between his teeth. His bright, handsome eyes danced as the flame of the match touched the tobacco bowl. He sucked in his fat cheeks as he puffed the pipe to life. “Old Simon must be fit to be tied,” he chuckled.

“Do you think he knows Vanessa is back?” his wife asked as she closed the door that connected the children’s room and the kitchen.

Noah chuckled again. “Simon knows all right,” he said. “Old Simon don’t miss a trick.” He sat back down on the stool and put an elbow to a knee and leaned toward the fire.

Zeb Brewster suddenly got to his feet and started pacing. “It’s all well and good for you to think lightly of all this, Noah,” Zeb said. “You ain’t got no interest in the land. You’re a fisherman. Your boats and tack is all you care about. But what about me and Jonah here? We work our lands and we’ve been doing pretty good since old Simon’s been running things.”

Jonah Black and his wife, Rachel, sat at the large, square kitchen table that had been pulled up close to the hearth. “Yes,” Jonah agreed. “Zeb’s and my property are two of the biggest farms in these parts. Since title changed hands, we find ourselves a lot better off.”

“Simon don’t give us any trouble at all,” Rachel put in.

“Not yet, he won’t,” Noah said as he continued to puff leisurely on his pipe. “You just wait, Rachel. Old Simon will tighten the reins on you before long.”

“How can he? The property isn’t solely his. It belongs to the town...to all of us,” Caroline Brewster said.

Noah glanced at her. “Now, Caroline, you know Simon better’n that. Once he and those highfalutin friends of his gets control of something, they’ll figure out some way of running the whole shebang. Oh, they’ll do it all right and legal and proper like, but in the end they’ll wind up owning everything and you’ll all be right back where you started.”

Zeb jumped to his feet. His wife put a hand on his arm but he shook it off. “I don’t agree with you, Noah,” he said angrily. “Simon Caldwell and his crowd don’t have no claim on my farm now.”

“Don’t he?” Noah asked sagely, narrowing his eyes to give his question the proper degree of seriousness he meant to convey. “Do you have sole claim to your farm, Zeb?”

Zeb floundered. “Well, no,” he stammered. “It ain’t mine and Caroline’s outright. But it ain’t Simon Caldwell’s neither.”

Noah sucked smoke into his mouth. The howling storm was the only sound in the room. Finally Noah glanced up at Zeb. “Jeremiah Mallory deeded your farm and all the rest of his property over to Skull Point,” he said. “Skull Point is run by Simon Caldwell. You and me and everybody else is run by Simon Caldwell.”

“But what about the council? We have a town council,” Caroline argued. Caroline Brewster was a big woman and her voice matched her size.

“And who, may I ask, is on that town council, Caroline? I’ll tell you,” Noah answered. “Simon Caldwell, Sam Hastings, Will Wilkins, and four or five other close, intimate chums of old Simon’s...all of whom, I might add, are deeply in Simon’s personal debt.”

Rachel Black leaned across the table. “Well, we’re not in Simon’s personal debt.”

Noah merely smiled. “You’re not on the council, neither,” he said. He put his pipe back between his teeth and bit into the stem. The whipping, screeching wind and rain lashed against the house. A sudden, appalling crash made everyone stand up. The noise cut through the room like the blade of an ax.

“Glory be,” Caroline groaned, making the sign of the cross. Her husband went toward the window. He couldn’t possibly have seen out through the heavy wooden shutters. He just stood there staring at the boarded window.

“A tree,” he said softly, nervously. “I guess it was just another tree.”

From beyond the closed door a child started to cry. The women glanced toward the sleeping room beyond. Ruth started toward it.

“No, Ruth,” Rachel Black said. “I’ll go see.”

Ruth went to stand in front of the fire. She rubbed her hands nervously, bringing circulation back into her chilled fingers. “There won’t be no land to worry about if this storm don’t let up,” she said. Her lips were thin and white, her face pale and drawn. Her nervousness and fright were responsible for her turning sharply on her husband. “It’s bad enough for us to be upset about this storm without you upsetting us with other problems.”

Caroline Brewster was suddenly as jumpy as the others. “Why do you say ‘problem,’ Ruth?” she wanted to know. “The deeding of the land to the town was no problem until you and Noah here made it into one.”

Noah leaned back and tried to look as calm as possible. “It’s Simon Caldwell who will create the problem.” He bit hard on the stem of the pipe and wished he’d given a little more forethought to his remark. Everybody was becoming more and more unnerved.

* * * *

The men and women in Simon Caldwell’s kitchen were as composed as a group of spectators at a music recital. Simon Caldwell’s long, bony face, however, was screwed into a frown. He was thinking about the land, but it wasn’t the deed to the lands that troubled him. Vanessa Mallory’s presence in Skull Point was his problem. What did she want?

Sam Hastings echoed his question. “I wonder why Vanessa came back here to the Point?”

Simon shrugged. “Where else would she go, Sam? This is her home.”

“But she left it to run off after that sea captain, or whatever he was.”

His wife gave an admonishing huff. “Wild! That’s the only word to describe Vanessa Mallory. Just like her granddaddy. Wild!”

Simon rubbed his bristled chin. “Maybe so, Jenny. But something happened inside Bloodstone these five years ago, something that we don’t know about. Jeremiah and Hester would never say what it was, but I know something happened there. Vanessa didn’t run off into that storm for no reason.”

“There was that sea captain,” Martha Wilkins reminded him.

“No, there was something else. I just know there was,” he said.

Simon’s craggy old face caught the reflection of the fire. To the others he looked exactly like what the children of the town called him: Mr. Skull Point—not because of his position in the town, but because at times like this Simon Caldwell looked more like a bleached skull than anything else. The cheeks were sunken, the eyes deep set and ringed with dark, grayish circles.

Simon was an oddity to look at and to add to his oddity he had no wife—never had one—which made him seem more queer, especially to the children of the town. The older folk—those close to Simon—knew there had been a woman in his life at one time. Simon had loved her more than life itself, but Hester Cartwright had married Jeremiah Mallory and Simon Caldwell had adopted bachelorhood and sworn never to love again.

Simon sighed. “I don’t know, Jenny. I just don’t know,” he said. “But it’s something.”

“You don’t think Vanessa is going to try to get back the deed to the properties, do you, Simon?” Will Wilkins asked.

“How can she?” Simon said. “I’ll wave the deeds in front of her pretty nose. What can she do?”

Simon moved a little away from the heat of the fire and studied his friends for a moment. “We don’t have a deed to Bloodstone,” he said. “The mansion wasn’t included in the list of properties.”

“I wonder why?” Jenny Hastings asked. “They thought Vanessa dead. Who else would Jeremiah and Hester deed it to but us?”

“Us? You mean ‘the town’ don’t you, Jenny?” Martha Wilkins corrected.

“Same thing,” Will said, giving his wife a hard look.

Martha lowered her eyes and fumbled with some imaginary object in her lap.

“Perhaps old Jeremiah deeded it over to some relative we don’t know about...maybe one of Hester’s people,” Sam said.

“There aren’t any relatives,” Simon told him. “Jeremiah; his wife, Hester; his daughter, Vanessa, that’s the lot of them.”

“That old house should be torn down before it falls down,” Will Wilkins said as he adjusted his more-than-ample frame deeper into the soft chair in which he was sitting.

“Lord, I wouldn’t go near that old place for love or money,” his wife said.

Jenny Hastings laughed. “Now, don’t tell me you believe those tired old stories about its being haunted, Martha. Why, this is 1851.” Jenny Hastings was a modern, worldly woman, or so she considered herself.

“The place is haunted,” Martha insisted.

“Nonsense. There aren’t such things as ghosts any more. They went out in our granddaddy’s time.”

Simon rubbed the bristles on his chin. “Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, Jenny. Ghosts are ghosts. They’ve always been and they’ll always be.”

Simon Caldwell, however, wasn’t thinking about ghosts. He was thinking about Bloodstone. He was thinking about Vanessa Mallory and the old crone, Tutrice. They were back for no good purpose and he wondered what that purpose might be.