The Blackham Mansion Haunting (The Downwinders Book 4) (9 page)

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Lorenzo was sitting down to a mid-morning cup of coffee when
someone knocked at the front door. Tabitha, his wife, went to the door and
opened it, and in walked her brother, Jacob.

“Egg day,” Jacob said, placing a large pail of fresh brown
eggs on the table.

“You’re a couple of days early,” Tabitha said. “Egg day is
usually Thursdays.”

“Well, I was coming this way and thought you might be low on
them.”

Tabitha smiled at him and took the pail, shuffling it off to
the kitchen. Jacob sat at the table across from Lorenzo.

“Have some coffee,” Lorenzo said, shoving a cup in Jacob’s
direction, knowing he was more than ready to serve himself from the large tin
pot that sat on the table.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Jacob replied, and poured himself a
large cup. “So, last night.”

“You don’t need the excuse of eggs to stop by here, you
know,” Lorenzo said. “If you wanted to talk about last night, you could just
drop in. You’re always welcome here.”

“I know. I appreciate that,” Jacob replied, sipping at the
hot cup. “I didn’t want to make Tabitha unduly concerned.”

“Why would she be concerned at a visit from her brother?”

“Because I usually only come on Thursdays, with the eggs,” he
said quietly, not wanting to be overheard from the kitchen. “And I think
there’s reason to be concerned.”

“Any word on Abraham?” Lorenzo asked.

“None, but then you don’t hear much up the canyon,” Jacob
replied. “Personally, I don’t think we’re ever going to hear from Abraham
again. I think Mary was right. I think he is lost.”

Lorenzo stared back at his brother-in-law, trying to gauge
the man’s seriousness. Jacob had always been the person he’d looked to for advice
when it came to the gift and how to use it. His own father, Amasa, was an
apostle in the church, and was constantly traveling on church business, often
with one of his wives. His mother, from whom he’d received the gift, was
reticent to teach him about its use, fearing its unusual attributes might
reflect badly on the position of her husband, and so Lorenzo had been lucky
when he married Tabitha and discovered that her older brother was also gifted,
and willing to teach. Jacob was five years his senior, but he’d been raised by
a father who showed no limits in his tutelage, teaching Jacob everything about
the River and how to traverse it.

Both Jacob and Lorenzo had been attracted to Spiritualism
when its fever swept through the State of Deseret several years back. As
practitioners of the River they’d always felt that the dead were more
accessible than most people believed, and when the neighboring United States
became enraptured with celebrity mediums and the fledgling religion that taught
that the dead had wisdom to impart, it wasn’t a huge jump for either of them to
accept the idea and become swept up in its popularity. That’s when they met Henry
and their group had formed.

Jacob now believing that Abraham was lost came as a blow to
Lorenzo. He’d been trying to convince himself that Abraham would be found, but
he respected Jacob’s knowledge and opinion. If Jacob thought it was so, it was
likely so.

“How?” Lorenzo asked. “Bingham?”

“Very possibly,” Jacob replied. “I know that others were
dismissive of the idea, but it’s too coincidental. Our first séance after he is
hanged and buried next door? Evil transcends this life, you know that, Lorenzo.
That man in the ground is still evil, even though the rest of the people in
this town think he’s dead and gone.”

“Are you going to tell the others your opinion, tonight?”

“I might,” Jacob replied, taking another sip.

“Henry was pretty dismissive of the idea, last night. He
might disagree with you.”

“Let him. Just because he has that big, fancy house doesn’t
mean he has the sole hold of the truth.”

“If he confronts you, do you have any evidence for this
opinion?”

“Nothing that they will believe. But I did see something,
just before I dropped out of the River, just as Mary was becoming hysterical
about someone in the room.”

“What?”

“I saw the kitchen, as I looked out the front door.”

Lorenzo paused, unsure if he’d heard his brother-in-law
correctly. “You saw what?”

“I was looking out the front door,” Jacob replied. “I saw the
kitchen.”

“What?” Lorenzo asked again, unsure how to continue his
question. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Jacob replied. “But it’s enough to
make me think something is happening to the house. I’m on my way to Parowan, to
talk to my father and see what he thinks about it. He has journals from my
grandfather and great-grandfather; there might be something in them about it.”

“You’re planning on going tonight? To Henry’s?”

“I should be back before then,” Jacob said. “If I’m not, try
to get the group to stall another séance. I know they’ll be anxious to contact
the spirits to see if any have information about Abraham, but I think the
effort will result in more tragedy.”

“I’ll try,” Lorenzo replied. “And if I can’t convince them?”

“Drink some protection before the séance starts,” Jacob
replied. “Don’t enter the River or drift off during the session. Stay alert,
and monitor the room if you can.”

“Alright,” Lorenzo replied.

“I’m off for Parowan,” Jacob said, setting down his cup.
“Thanks for the coffee. Remain vigilant tonight.”

“I will,” Lorenzo said, and escorted his brother-in-law to
the door.

After Jacob had gone, Lorenzo climbed the stairs of his house
and went to a tiny room at the end of the hall where he kept a study. He sat at
a small wooden desk, and looked out the window to the ground below, where
Tabitha was tending the garden. Beyond her, the stream that flowed out of the
canyon gurgled over rocks and boulders, loud enough that he could hear the
calming sounds through the single pane of glass.

He reached for the lowest drawer on the desk, removing the
tin box that held his flask and several other objects he’d collected over the
years. He shook the flask, gauging its fullness from the sound of sloshing
within, and satisfied, set it on the desktop. He looked through the other items
in the box, coming to rest on the arrowhead given to him a few years ago by a Paiute
elder who had stopped at their house, asking for food. Although wary of the
traveler at first, both he and Tabitha quickly grew to like the Paiute over
dinner, and invited him to stay the night. The next morning, when the man left,
he gave the arrowhead to Lorenzo as a gift, thanking him for the food and
hospitality, and claiming that the arrowhead held special protective powers.

He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, and he’d never
tested the Paiute’s claims, but looking now at the object, and his
brother-in-law’s warnings about the night to come, he decided he’d carry the
weapon with him when he went to tonight’s séance, just in case it might offer
some additional level of fortification beyond the protection in the flask.
Can’t
hurt,
he thought, remembering the look on the Paiute’s face when he’d
handed the arrowhead to him. He recalled thinking that the Indian might be
aware of his gift, his ability to enter the River.

He looked out the window again, watching Tabitha as she
pulled weeds from around the early peas. He replaced the box in its drawer,
stood, and slipped the arrowhead into his pants pocket.

He’d just expressed his misgivings at their plan to proceed
with the séance. Jacob hadn’t returned yet, and he was hoping his
brother-in-law might walk through the door and take over the argument that was
brewing.

“If we want to understand what has happened to Abraham, we
must
contact the spirits!” Henry was saying. “Do we suddenly give up our belief in
the ability of the dead to communicate to us? To explain? That’s the whole
point of Spiritualism! We mustn’t abandon it now, just when we need it the
most!”

Others in the room murmured in agreement.

“All I can tell you is that Jacob asked me to persuade you to
defer,” Lorenzo said. “He seemed very concerned, convinced that Mary might be
right — that Abraham might indeed be lost. To Bingham.”

“Preposterous!” Henry replied. Lorenzo saw Langford smile at
Henry’s accusation, obviously agreeing.

“I believe caution is warranted,” Lorenzo said. He and Jacob
had never really discussed their gift with the others in the group, and he knew
that now would not be a good time to raise the subject as some kind of
validation for Jacob’s opinion. He needed to convince them some other way.
Let’s
try fear,
he thought.

“There’s a very good chance that if we try to engage the
spirits tonight,” he continued, “the same fate that befell Abraham will befall
another of us.”

They all stared back at him. He heard Langford scoff. He
could tell Mary was on his side, but he also knew she loved the séance, and
would participate with the group if they decided to continue.

“Abraham will turn up eventually,” Henry replied. “I don’t
for one minute believe his disappearance was related to our séance last night.
I think it’s far more likely it was a sudden desire for a drink, and he might
be discovered with a hangover by tomorrow.”

Langford and his brother, Jonas, laughed at the suggestion.
It was true that Abraham was known to indulge from time to time.

Henry moved to the table, and the others began to take their
positions.

“I will entreat you once more,” Lorenzo pleaded. “Jacob
seemed quite set on the idea that this would be dangerous.”

“And where is Jacob?” Henry asked. “Can’t he speak for
himself?”

Lorenzo wasn’t about to tell them about Jacob’s trip to Parowan.

“Let’s put it to a vote,” Henry said. “All those who wish to
abandon our principles and cower from tonight’s séance, raise your hands.”

Lorenzo raised his hand, irritated with Henry’s choice of
words and letting his face show it.

“Those who wish to contact the spirits and perhaps discover
in which ditch Abraham is sleeping off his indulgence, raise your hand.”

All the other hands went up, with the exception of Mary, who,
after seeing the others, slowly raised her own to join them.

Henry moved to the gas switch. “Is everyone positioned
comfortably?” he asked.

Lorenzo gave up and sat at the table. He’d taken two large
throat-fulls of protection before entering the house, and he could feel it
surging through his system.
Alright,
he thought.
No sense in clearing
the mind tonight. Time to keep my eyes open, as Jacob instructed.

The lights dimmed and Henry began his patter, asking the
ghosts and spirits within the sound of his voice to respond.

“Our brother Abraham is missing,” he said, leaving a long
pause after the words before continuing. “Find him, and tell us of his
whereabouts. Locate him, that we may tend to him. Take our minds to him, that
we may see him and know he is alive and well.”

Once again Lorenzo felt the tingle at his spine, telling him
something was coming. His eyes were wide, attempting to let in as much light as
possible, and he scanned the dark room, trying to make out shapes and identify
each person around the table. Henry let silence fall around them, and the sense
of thickness in the air returned.
Just like last night,
Lorenzo thought.
It’s going to happen again.

“Henry,” Mary said quietly. “I think we should stop.”

“Silence,” Henry whispered back. “The spirits must know we
are intent. Show no hesitancy.”

“Henry,” Mary repeated. “I see him again. The intruder.
Someone’s in the room with us.”

Lorenzo saw the quick movement, the shift in shadow behind
people at the far end of the table, a blur that slid from right to left very
rapidly, momentarily blocking the reflection of moonlight from a glass clock on
the mantle.

“Turn on the lights, Harry!” Lorenzo said. “Now!”

He heard Harry sigh loudly. “These interruptions will only
serve to…”

The lights went on mid-sentence, and Mary screamed.

Two more were missing from around the table.

“This must be a game, some kind of joke,” Henry said, looking
around the room. “Someone is having fun at our expense. Who else is in on
this?”

“It’s no game, Harry!” Mary cried back. “They’ve been taken,
just like Abraham! Bingham was here, in the room with us! Why can’t you believe
that?”

“Come on,” Lorenzo said, standing. “We’ve got to hunt for
Joseph and Althea!”

They organized a search, similar to the previous evening.
After a half hour of calling names into the darkness outside, and a thorough
search of the inside, they came to gather back in the central room, around the
table.

“This cannot be happening,” Henry said, looking around the
room in desperation.

“Maybe Jacob was right,” said Espy Farnsworth. “Maybe we
shouldn’t have gone ahead with the séance. Perhaps we were opening ourselves up
to Bingham, handing ourselves over like lambs to the slaughter.”

Henry wiped his hand across his mouth. “I don’t know what to
do,” he said to the group. “How do we proceed?”

“We must reach the Sheriff,” Mary said. “He needs to be
informed.”

“And tell him what?” Langford asked. “That Joseph and Althea
just disappeared into thin air?”

“This must be reported!” Mary replied. “Three people are
gone! If we fail to inform the Sheriff, we may all come under suspicion!”

“I suspect we’ll all be suspects, regardless,” Henry replied.
“The town isn’t exactly supportive of our meetings here.”

“We’re done for the night?” Espy asked. “I think we may be
done for a while.”

“No,” Henry replied. “Yes. Yes, we’re done for tonight. But
no, we must meet again tomorrow.”

“I will not participate again!” Mary replied. “I’m not going
to offer myself to Bingham!”

“Not to séance,” Henry replied. “Just to gather and exchange
information. We need to keep in contact, in case one of the others is found.
Let’s not operate on the gossip the town spreads. We will need to remain
solidly together, firm in our union as a group, if we wish to survive whatever
scrutiny these disappearances might bring our way. Please, don’t abandon our
mission just yet. Come tomorrow. Emma will prepare food — we’ll discuss
whatever news has developed, and put our brains together to try and solve
things. What do you say? Yes?”

Several in the group nodded in response, while others seemed
to be weighing Henry’s proposal.

“Lorenzo?” Henry asked. “You and Jacob will come, provided
he’s returned? I’m sure the group would like to hear from Jacob, listen to why
he felt we shouldn’t contact the other side. You’ll come, will you?”

“As long as there’s no séance, yes, I’ll come,” Lorenzo
replied. “I’ll tell Jacob, but I can’t speak for him.”

“Of course, of course,” Henry said. People were beginning to
leave, lined up at the coatrack.

“I’m sure there will be a sensible explanation that will
relieve our concerns,” Henry said as people filed out. “Come back tomorrow, and
we’ll see what has developed. With God’s aid, I’m sure we’ll have good news.”

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A new face appeared at the house the next night. While
chatting with the others prior to the start of their gathering, Lorenzo watched
as Henry welcomed Bartholomew Stewart, the county Sheriff, through the front
door.

Jacob leaned closer to him. “Someone in the group turned us
in,” he said quietly.

“My guess would be Mary,” Lorenzo whispered back.

“Come with me to the kitchen, quickly,” Jacob said, a wink of
conspiratorial excitement in his eye.

Lorenzo followed his brother-in-law to the kitchen, where
Emma and a second woman were preparing food. They looked very busy, so Jacob
pulled Lorenzo to the far corner of the room where they would be out of the
women’s way.

“The séance tonight may be different,” Jacob spoke softly.

“There isn’t supposed to be a séance tonight,” Lorenzo
replied. “Everyone agreed that it was too risky.”

“My father gave me something I want to try,” Jacob replied,
slipping a small metal tin from his pocket, showing it to Lorenzo.

“What is it?”

“I haven’t got the time to explain right now, but I think it
will solve the disappearances. If the group resists a séance, we must try to
convince them to proceed, so I can experiment and see if it works.”

Henry appeared at the doorway and approached them. He looked
anxious. “There you are! Sheriff Stewart has asked to be introduced to each
member of the group, and you’re the last two. Can you come back with the others
so we can proceed, please?”

“Did you invite him here?” Lorenzo asked Henry.

“Of course not!” Henry whispered back. “It must have been Mary.
But now that we’re under the magnifying glass, so to speak, we must appear
innocent, and you two whispering in the kitchen doesn’t help matters!”

They followed Henry back into the central room. The others
were milling around the table. Normally by now they’d all be seated at it,
preparing for a session, but no one wanted to sit with the Sheriff walking
amongst them.

“Ah! Brother Lyman!” the Sheriff said, his voice rising as he
said it. Lorenzo detected the deference in the man’s voice, an automatic
respect granted family members of an apostle in the church. They shook hands.
“And who is this?”

“Sheriff Stewart, this is my brother-in-law, Jacob Leavitt.”

“I’ve never met you, so it’s nice to meet you now, Brother
Leavitt,” the Sheriff said, extending his hand to Jacob.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sheriff,” Jacob said
as he took the man’s hand. “You here to observe our gathering?”

“Well, about that,” the Sheriff said, dropping Jacob’s hand
and turning to face the group. “It’s come to my attention that a few members of
your group have gone missing. Brothers Abraham Stoddard and Joseph Naegle, and Sister
Althea Rowley, to be precise. None of them are at their homes, and their
families are concerned. It’s also come to my attention that they were here just
prior to their disappearance. Is that true?”

“It’s true,” Mary offered. “Abraham was here with us two
nights ago. He disappeared that night. And last night Joseph and Althea also
disappeared.”

Lorenzo saw Henry eyeing Mary with disgust and anger. He also
saw that Sheriff Stewart noticed Henry’s reaction.

“I assume none of you care to dispute Sister Pingree’s
account?” the Sheriff said. “Brother Blackham, you agree with it?”

Henry looked troubled, reticent to speak. With all eyes upon
him, however, he had no choice but to offer his opinion. “I do,” he replied.
“It is true. As to their whereabouts, I assure you that…”

“I understand you conduct satanic trances here,” the Sheriff
said, cutting him off. “Here, around this table, if I’m correct. Is that right,
Brother Farnsworth?”

Espy looked startled to hear the Sheriff single him out. “Not
satanic, Sheriff.”

“Well, are they of God?” the Sheriff asked. “Are you trying
to contact God when you sit at this table as a group, praying?”

“No, we’re…” Espy started, but the Sheriff cut him off, too.

“No! You’re not trying to contact God! If not God, then it
must be the devil. It’s one or the other, isn’t it? Are you trying to summon
the devil here, Brother Orton?”

“We try to contact the dead,” Langford told the Sheriff. “Not
the devil.”

“Oh,” the Sheriff replied. “The dead. I see. Would that
include Abraham Stoddard? Are you trying to contact Brother Abraham, Jonas? Did
you try to contact Abraham last night?”

Jonas seemed surprised to be singled out as well. “We were
trying to find out what happened to Abraham.”

“So you must have thought Abraham was dead, since that’s what
you do here, isn’t it? Contact the dead?”

“No, it’s not that way,” Henry interjected.

“And while you were trying to contact the dead Abraham,” the Sheriff
continued, “Joseph Naegle and Althea Rowley both died, is that it?”

“They disappeared!” Henry said. “We have no idea if they’re
dead or not.”