“A time or two. I was wondering if you could give me directions…” The sudden change in Betty’s expression made him pause. Her eyes narrowed to slits, her lips pursed, and she directed her full attention to the door behind him. He spun around, his hand instinctively going to his hip where he had worn a sidearm for so many years in the service, and still wore it on occasion, but no one was there.
“Did you sit in that rocking chair, young man?” She sounded like a teacher scolding her pupil. He shook his head. “It’s moving. Did you push it? Brush up against it? You look like you might be clumsy.”
“I don’t think so. Why? Is it an antique?”
“A bad omen,” she muttered in a voice almost too soft to be heard. She bit her lip, and then returned her attention to him. “Anyhow, you were saying?”
“I was hoping you could give me directions. I understand there’s a Civil War battlefield in this area. Is there a park map that might show it?”
“The battlefield.” It was as if a shade had been drawn down across her face, all previous emotion gone. “You want to go there?”
“Yes,” Bones said. “One of my ancestors fought in a battle somewhere near here back during the war. I was hoping to visit the site, maybe take a few pictures. Just have a look around.” He gave her a congenial smile and leaned casually against the counter, trying to put her at ease.
“It’s not technically part of the park.”
“That’s fine. Could you give me directions?”
“I'll help the gentleman, Betty.” A keg of a man almost bursting out of his park ranger uniform stepped out from an office in the back. “Why don’t you go on and take your lunch break?” Betty fixed Bones with an unreadable look and then headed into the office. When she was gone, the man smiled at Bones and offered his hand. “I'm Earl Eddings, the man who passes for ranger in these parts.”
“Bones.” He shook the ranger's strong, calloused hand. Clearly this Eddings fellow did more than sit behind a desk all day. “That's what they call me, anyway. My mother stuck me with a weird name I don’t cop to if I can help it.”
“Understood.” Eddings grinned. “So, you say you're looking for Dark Entry?”
“I'm looking for the site of the Battle of Black Break. Is that the same place?”
“We don’t call it that around here. Black Break’s the Yankee name for it, you see.”
“Oh, right. The North named battles after the closest town, and the South usually named them after landmarks, right?”
Eddings nodded. “A lot of the times that was the case. Anyhow, they won the war, so…” He threw out hands in a gesture of futility. “Dark Entry is the name of the stream that feeds the lake at the site of the battle. Of course, you can't properly call it a battlefield, since it was more of a skirmish in a mountain valley, but it's all we've got around here.”
Bones' heart beat faster. A stream-fed lake in a mountain valley at the site of a Civil War skirmish. So, at least that part of the story was accurate, and if that part was true, why not the rest? Perhaps Esau really had hidden a treasure there.
“So what is it you say you’re looking for up there?” Eddings’ tone, a bit too casual, didn’t match the suspicion in his eyes.
“Nothing. I was researching my family tree and this place came up as a likely spot for the battle my ancestor took part in. I figured if I was ever in the neighborhood I’d check it out. I’ve got business in Atlanta so I took a little spontaneous detour. Beats working.”
Eddings smiled. “You don’t have to tell me twice. I just have to warn off the people who go up there looking for artifacts, you understand. It’s not government land but it’s part of our history, and it’s protected by county ordinance.”
“Do you get many visitors up the battlefield?”
“Almost none. It’s not very well-known. Locals might go up there for a picnic.” Eddings paused and fixed Bones with an appraising look. “Which side did your ancestor fight for?”
“The Confederacy,” Bones lied. He was in the heart of Dixie and figured he needed all the goodwill he could get. Eddings’ smile told him that was the right answer.
“Good man. I used to be a reenactor.”
“Really?” Bones didn’t want to waste time with small talk but he supposed he wasn’t truly in a hurry. “Me too. I’ve scalped General Custer, like, a thousand times.”
Eddings gaped at him and then guffawed. “Good one.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “I don’t get many laughs around here. Betty’s no Larry the Cable Guy.”
“And you’re no Red Skelton.” Betty said, leaning through the doorway. “If you’re planning on sending him up to the battlefield, are you going to tell him about the curse? All the disappearances? It's only right. You can’t let him go up there and have Lord knows what happen to him.”
“I will tell him. Thank you, Betty.” Eddings kept his voice pleasant, though his eyes had gone flinty. “Sorry about that. It's a remote location, and the site has had its share of tragedies: drownings, fatal falls, hikers gone missing. Plus, there’s a long-standing belief that the site is haunted. Kids go up there to party sometimes. They start drinking and smoking the marijuana and have fun scaring each other. Anyway, you can see why some people,” he rolled his eyes toward the open office door, “let their superstitious beliefs get the better of them. There's no reason for concern as long as you use caution. Just watch your step, and keep an eye out for the bears and the snakes.”
“Thank you for the warning. I'll be careful. Do you have a map that shows how to get there?”
“No, but I'll draw you one. It's not too difficult.” Eddings took out a legal pad, tore off the faded top page, and sketched out a map. He jotted a few notes about landmarks along the way and emphasized what he said were the more confusing turns. When he finished, he passed the paper to Bones.
“You taking anyone up there with you?”
There was something about the way in which the Ranger asked the question that put Bones on his guard. “Nope. Just me. Like I said, I’m traveling for business and I made a side trip on a whim.” For an instant, he feared the ranger was about to offer to accompany him, which would be entirely out of the question considering what Bones and Maddock planned to do. “It’s kind of a personal journey for me. Trying to get in touch with the spirit of my ancestor, you know.”
Eddings’ smile did not reach his eyes, but he nodded and assured Bones that he understood completely. That was one of the advantages to being an Indian. You could heap a big, steaming pile of spiritual crap onto white people and they'd believe it every time.
“Just curious,” Eddings said. “If you got in trouble up there I’d want the sheriff to know how many people to look for.”
Bones shook Eddings' hand, called a thank-you to Betty, and slipped out the door. This time, he was extra careful to not touch the rocking chair.
Eddings watched the big Indian step down off the porch and disappear from sight. He listened as an engine roared to life and then receded as the man drove away. Only then did he head to the office.
“Betty, can I have the office for a minute? I need to make a personal call.”
“All right.” Betty pushed back from the desk and wobbled to her feet. “It must be your mama because I know you don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Thanks so awful much, Betty.” He closed the door behind her, moved to his desk, and sank heavily into the chair. Pushing aside Betty’s tomato sandwich and bottle of water, he rested his elbows on the desk and buried his face in his hands. He hated what he was about to do, but he had no choice. He took out his cell phone and punched up the number.
“It’s me,” he said as soon as the party at the other end picked up. “We got a live one heading for the hills.”