The Legend of Annie Murphy Page 9

  “You got it.”

  “There’s only one problem.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know how to get out of here.”

  When Dr. Cooper and Professor MacPherson returned to the ruins of Bodine, they found Sheriff Potter walking up and down where the streets used to be, scowling angrily.

  “Where have you been?” he growled. “Don’t you know what’s happening in this town?” Then he muttered to himself, “That dirty, low-down . . . Wait’ll I get my hands on him!”

  “Get your hands on whom?” asked Dr. Cooper. Sheriff Potter came right out with it. “Judge Crackerby! He went ahead with the auction and bought the Murphy Mine! He didn’t even wait for me!”

  Mac was interested. “You saw him?”

  “You bet I did. Saw him on the steps of the courthouse just shaking hands with Forshay and smiling big.”

  “The courthouse?” Cooper asked. “Where?”

  Potter pointed. “Over there, that pile of gray stone. That used to be the courthouse and those planks out front used to be the steps.” Then he added, “Saw your daughter too. She was hanging from the roof of the courthouse until she fell off.”

  That spun Dr. Cooper around. “What? Are you sure?”

  “Don’t worry, she wasn’t hurt. I saw her fall and it was nice and slow.”

  “Another gravitational tremor,” Mac noted. “You and the kids slipped in between time for a moment.”

  The sheriff stuck a finger in Mac’s face. “And I’ve had enough of it! Enough, you hear? If you’re such a smart, educated professor, then get me back there, and right now!”

  Dr. Cooper asked, “What about my son? Did you see him anywhere?”

  “No Doc, just your girl. She fell off the front porch roof into a crowd of people standing around for the auction . . .” The word auction seemed to make him angry again, and he started muttering to himself, “He thinks he’s going to pull this thing off, well, not without me he isn’t. . . .”

  “The news article,” Mac whispered to Cooper. “The ghost of the young girl seen at the courthouse.”

  “On the roof . . .” Cooper mused. “She had to be looking for Annie, perhaps trying to see another carving. But there was also the auction going on.”

  Sheriff Potter paid no attention to their whisperings. He’d walked past them to take a closer look at the machine they’d brought back from town, hitched to the back of Mac’s jeep. “What in the world is this thing?”

  “It’s a hydraulic lift,” Dr. Cooper answered. “You stand on the platform, and it lifts you to whatever height you want.”

  Potter shook his head with amazement. “First you have wagons that don’t need horses, and now this! What are you going to do with it?”

  “Well, the town isn’t here anymore, and the terrain has gone through some changes as well. We need to be able to see the cliffs around town from where the buildings, rooftops, and windows used to be.”

  The sheriff was puzzled. “Why? What are you looking for?”

  “Oh . . . I guess we’ll know when we see it. But we need your help. You know where the buildings used to be. Perhaps you could show us, maybe even draw a map.”

  “If it’ll get me back where I belong, it’ll be a pleasure.”

  “Then let’s get right on it,” Mac urged. “I’m sure the vortex is growing more unstable even as we speak.”

  South of town, the sheriff directed them to a desolate, empty hole resembling a gravel pit—something he didn’t expect to find there.

  “Hydraulickers,” he muttered in amazement. “They’ve washed away the whole Murphy homestead.” Mac nodded as he explained to Dr. Cooper, “Miners would sometimes use high pressure streams of water to wash away the earth in their quest for gold.”

  “So hydraulickers took the gold and left us this hole,” Dr. Cooper observed. He cocked his hat back on his head. “Well, we guessed right. The terrain has definitely changed.”

  “They were building their cabin here,” the sheriff insisted, trying to persuade even himself. “They were staying at the boardinghouse until they could get it finished and came out here most every day to work on it. Cyrus had a trough to catch gold set up in a creek that used to run through here, and the cabin was right . . .” As he stood in the center of the yawning pit, he had to look all around for any landmarks that could tell him where the cabin had been. “I think it was right about here, only this hole wasn’t here.”

  “Time for the lift,” said Dr. Cooper.

  Mac hauled the lift into the pit with the jeep, and they positioned it according to the sheriff’s best guess. Then all three men stepped onto the platform and Dr. Cooper started it. The lift began to rise with an electric hum as the sheriff, amazed and startled, hung onto the safety railing for dear life.

  When the platform had risen out of the hole to where ground level had been, Dr. Cooper and Mac started scanning the cliffs, often closing one eye.

  “How’s our location, Sheriff?” Cooper asked.

  “Close,” he responded. “But what are you looking for?”

  “Got it!” Mac hollered in jubilation, pointing at the cliff to the west.

  Dr. Cooper looked that direction and then laughed in delight. “Yes, absolutely!”

  “What?” asked the sheriff. “What is it?”

  He looked where they were looking and, following their example, covered one eye. It was obvious he saw it as he muttered in shocked disbelief, “What is this, a joke?”

  “No joke, Sheriff,” Mac replied. “It’s the real thing.”

  Less than a quarter mile away, the cliffs revealed a young couple with their arms around each other. They were looking down at where their cabin would have been, their faces full of joy and hope. The resemblance to the old photograph of Annie and Cyrus Murphy was unmistakable.

  “This is where the story begins, don’t you think?”

  Cooper asked.

  “I would say so,” Mac responded. “A young couple with a great future ahead of them.”

  “Their hopes soon to be shattered by what happened at the Crackerby Boardinghouse.”

  The sheriff was getting irritated at all this cryptic talk. “Just what are you two talking about? What story?”

  “The story of what really happened to Annie Murphy,” said Dr. Cooper. “We have strong reason to believe that Annie Murphy carved her story in the cliffs around this town from key locations where her story took place: the courthouse, the boardinghouse, this spot right here.”

  The sheriff gazed at the image in the cliff again as his face grew pale.

  Dr. Cooper continued, “The next image in the story would probably be visible from the site of the boardinghouse. Can you show us where it was?”

  The sheriff was still staring at the cliff carving, stunned.

  “Sheriff Potter?”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah, the boardinghouse . . .”

  “Please,” said Mac. “We’re in a hurry.”

  Deputy Erskine Hatch carried the lost clothing in his arms as he knocked on the door of a little house just across the alley from the Bodine Mercantile. A pleasant lady with her brown hair in a bun answered the door.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Hartley,” said Deputy Hatch. “Would you happen to be missing this dress and this bonnet, and this hat and shirt and pair of trousers?”

  She recognized them immediately. “Well yes! They belong to Lizzie and Stephen! Where did you find them?”

  “The courthouse. I guess some kids—a girl and a boy—decided to borrow them for the day.”

  Mrs. Hartley’s expression darkened. “A girl and a boy. What did they look like?”

  “Both blond, about the same size as Stephen and Lizzie. Strangers in town.”

  She called into the house, “Stephen! Please come here a moment.” Then she asked Deputy Hatch, “Was the girl dressed . . .” she blushed a little, “immodestly?”

  Hatch thought about that and then nodded. “You could say that.”

  “And did the
boy have a strange red shirt with numbers on it?”

  Deputy Hatch nodded. “Then you’ve seen them?”

  A young man in his midteens came to the door.

  “Stephen,” said his mother, “tell Deputy Hatch about those two kids you saw today.”

  Stephen pointed directly at the roof of Maude Bennett’s mercantile. “I saw them climbing up on the roof over there. The boy was climbing that drainpipe, but the girl used a ladder.”

  Hatch got a very puzzled look on his face. “Any idea what they were doing up there?”

  Stephen shrugged. “I thought they lost a ball up there or something. But they didn’t come down with anything, so I don’t know.”

  Deputy Hatch didn’t respond for a moment, which made Mrs. Hartley quip, “But maybe you don’t believe Stephen either.”

  The deputy defended himself. “Mrs. Hartley, I never said I didn’t believe you.”

  Mrs. Hartley couldn’t help the anger that raised her voice. “You don’t believe any of us townsfolk. If you did, Annie wouldn’t have been convicted. Why didn’t anyone look into it? Why didn’t anyone ask about it?”

  Deputy Hatch shook his head regretfully. “I really don’t know.” Then he added, “But I’m going to find out.”

  That calmed her a little. “I heard the shots, Deputy Hatch. I heard the shots on that day and they came from the roof of the mercantile.”

  “Did you tell the sheriff about it?”

  “Of course I did! He said it had to be echoes from the boardinghouse.” She gave an angry sigh. “The shots were quiet, kind of like they were far away, but I was right out in the yard, and I know where they came from.”

  Deputy Hatch tipped his hat. “I’ll look into it, Mrs. Hartley. I promise.”

  Sheriff Potter led Dr. Cooper and Mac to an old foundation along the main street. “This would be it right here. This is where the Crackerby Boardinghouse 115 used to be.”

  Dr. Cooper looked up and down the ruins of the old street. “Mm, are you sure about that?”

  The sheriff fumbled a bit, looking this way and that but not looking directly at Dr. Cooper. “Well . . . pretty sure.”

  Dr. Cooper shrugged. “Okay, let’s have a look.”

  They eased the hydraulic lift inside the old foundation and Dr. Cooper and Mac climbed aboard.

  “Let us know how high the upstairs was,” Cooper called to the sheriff still on the ground.

  The sheriff stepped out into the street to watch and let them know.

  Dr. Cooper worked the levers and the lift started to rise. Then he said quietly to Mac, “He’s steering us wrong. According to the photographs, this is where the mercantile used to be.”

  Mac tried to look normal and unconcerned as he muttered back, “Do you think he did it intentionally?”

  “Let’s just say I have this feeling. But the kids were also sighted on this building, so they must have found something.”

  The sheriff called up to them, “That’s it, right about there. That’s where the upstairs window used to be.”

  Dr. Cooper and Mac looked all around. Nothing appeared in any of the cliffs.

  “See anything?” the sheriff called.

  “No,” Dr. Cooper replied.

  “Well then, I guess there’s nothing there,” said the sheriff.

  But Dr. Cooper was surveying the ruins from this higher perspective and piecing the town together in his mind. “Unless we go higher than the window,” he said quietly. “Unless we go as high as the roof. That’s where the kids were seen.”

  He pressed the raise lever and the lift reached farther skyward.

  “Hold on,” said Mac, looking at the cliff to the east. “I’m getting something now.”

  “I see it too,” said Dr. Cooper, inching the lift higher as both of them studied the cliff.

  Another foot higher, and they could both see it clearly: a carving of Cyrus Murphy lying with three wounds in his back.

  “Bingo,” said Mac.

  “Jay and Lila had to have seen this too. The question is how they knew where to look for it.”

  “Why would Annie be on the roof of the mercantile?” Mac wondered.

  The sheriff called up to them, “What are you doing up there?”

  Dr. Cooper answered, “We’ve found something.”

  Even from high on the lift, the sheriff’s surprised expression was plainly visible. “You have?”

  A century away, Deputy Erskine Hatch stood on the roof of the mercantile in the last light of the evening and carefully studied the skillful carving of Cyrus Murphy, shot dead. He’d found the evidence of chewing tobacco on the shingles. He’d found the remaining feathers of goose down.

  He was certain that he would soon find the boy and the girl.

  TEN

  It was well past midnight, June 9, 1885. The town was quiet. Lila groped along in the dark with Jay following until she found the spot where the curious townsfolk had torn some boards off to look for her. The boards had been nailed back on, but she hoped a few firm kicks could remove them again.

  Jay lay on his back in the dirt and gave it a try. The first board took two kicks before it broke loose. The second board only needed one. When the third board popped off, they were able to wriggle free and step into the pale light of the moon.

  Jay looked toward the cliffs west of town. They were a little dark, but for two kids who’d spent the last several hours in a pitch black crawl space, they were clear enough to see.

  After a careful look up and down the street, they stole across to the one-story brick structure that housed the sheriff’s office and jail. At the right end of the building was a small, barred window about eight feet above the sidewalk. It faced the courthouse and the cliffs beyond, so it held some real possibilities. They dashed over and stood beneath it, their backs to the brick wall, looking toward the cliffs.

  “Ummm . . . maybe,” Jay whispered.

  “Something doesn’t look natural,” Lila observed, straining to see the cliffs in the dim light.

  Jay bent over, bracing his hands against his knees. “Get up on my back. See if you can get your eye level as high as that window.”

  She steadied herself against the brick wall as she climbed up and then stood on her brother’s back. As she straightened, her head came up to the same height as the cell window.

  Her eyes grew wide. She covered one. “Jay, I see something!”

  A gruff voice behind her whispered, “Clance! Is that you?”

  She gasped and almost lost her balance.

  Jay could feel her feet digging into his spine. “What’s wrong?”

  Lila twisted to look behind her and saw a rough, stubbly faced character looking back at her through the cell window. His hairy fingers were wrapped around the bars. “Oh. Hello.”

  He looked surprised—and disappointed. “You’re not Clance!”

  “No sir. I’m Lila.”

  “Is Clance out there?”

  “No, just me and my brother.”

  Now he really looked disappointed. “I don’t suppose you’re here to spring me out?”

  “Sorry. We’re just trying to get a better view of that cliff over there.”

  He peered through the bars. “Where?”

  She pointed. “Over there, just above the peak of the courthouse roof. You see it?”

  “See what?”

  “Close one eye. It’ll help.”

  He closed one eye, and then broke into a toothy grin. “Well I’ll be . . .” Then he started laughing a wheezy laugh. “If it ain’t the old judge himself!”

  Lila was glad for the confirmation. “You see it, then?”

  “Yeah, sure I do. That’s the same expression he had when he sentenced me to five days. Who did that, anyway?”

  Lila studied the carving in the cliff, picking out the details in the dim moonlight. It was Judge Crackerby scowling down at her, a bag of money in one hand and a hangman’s noose in the other. “Annie Murphy carved it.”

  The prisoner
laughed even louder. “Yeah, yeah, I get it! They kept her in this same cell! Hoo, she’s sure getting back at him, isn’t she? I always thought he was on the take!”

  “You mean that bag of money?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I mean. However his trials turn out, they’re sure to pad his pockets! There’s plenty of folks around here have done a lot worse things than I ever did, but they had money and I didn’t, so they’re out there and I’m in here. That’s how it works with old Crackerby, him and the sheriff both!”

  Jay was still trying to hold Lila steady and could feel his back starting to ache as he whispered up to Lila, “Ask him about Annie’s trial!”

  Lila forwarded the question, “What about Annie’s trial? Was it crooked too?”

  The man laughed and she could smell the beer on his breath. “Trial? What trial? The judge and the sheriff fixed the whole thing: paid witnesses, leaned on the lawyers, doctored the evidence. They wanted to hang her, that’s what, and now the judge is richer for it. Him and the sheriff have a real racket going.”

  “Then we were right!” Jay exulted, although it came out like a groan because Lila was getting heavier by the second.

  “Why doesn’t anybody stop it?” Lila asked.

  “They don’t want to end up in here,” the prisoner replied. “There ain’t too many angels in this town if you follow what I’m saying. The judge and the sheriff could lock up most of us any time they wanted. You play along with them and life is a lot easier.”

  “So why are you in jail?”

  “Got in a fight and tore up Kelly’s saloon. Didn’t have any money to buy my way out.”

  “Oh.” To Lila, jail seemed fair enough for this guy.

  Jay was about to collapse. “Say thank you, Lila. We’ve got to get moving.”

  “Thanks a bunch,” she said, getting ready to climb down.

  “Any time, sweetie.”

  She dropped to the ground as Jay straightened up and stretched out his muscles.

  “Well, that’s that,” she said. “Annie carved the judge from the jail.”

  “And I guess she’s saying he hanged her for her money,” Jay concluded. “Or tried to.”

  “But you know . . .” She looked across the street at the courthouse and then over her shoulder at the jail. “Isn’t it interesting how she carved herself in the jail from the judge’s point of view, and then carved the judge from her point of view while she was in jail?”