The Legend of Annie Murphy (12 page)

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Authors: Frank Peretti

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BOOK: The Legend of Annie Murphy
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“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

I
t 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?”

Jay nodded slowly, thinking along with her. “You might be onto something.”

She looked up the street toward the Crackerby Boardinghouse. “I don't know if I want to go in there again.”

“We have to. Come on.”

A century later, in the early evening, Dr. Cooper and Mac sat by the tent on cemetery hill. Mac was just ending a conversation with his secretary on his cellular phone.

“Thanks, Alice. Good information. The pieces are fitting together now.” He closed the phone and put it in his backpack.

Mac had repeated the new information to Dr. Cooper as quickly as he had gotten it from Alice, and now Dr. Cooper asked without looking up, “Can you see the sheriff?”

Mac glanced toward the town. “He's still walking around down there, stewing about something.”

“I think he's stewing about the carvings we found. They were obviously a surprise to him—and he didn't seem too happy about what they were saying.”

Mac nodded. “If we have the carvings in the right order the story's pretty clear.”

“So let's go over it again.” Dr. Cooper rubbed his eyes as he tried to clear his thoughts. “I suppose Annie began with the carving of herself and Cyrus overlooking the site of their cabin.”

“Portraying a happy couple with great dreams for the future.”

“And then we found the next scene from where the roof of the mercantile used to be: the death of Cyrus. I'm sure the kids discovered the same thing.”

Mac nodded in agreement. “And I recall the sheriff getting pretty nervous about that one.”

“That must be why he had such a hard time finding where his own jail used to be,” Dr. Cooper said.

“But you were right. Annie carved the judge from her cell in the jail.”

“And herself from the judge's bench in the courthouse: the judge's point of view. We can credit Lila with leading us to that.”

Mac scratched his chin as he considered, “So the carvings of Annie in jail and the judge with his bag of money go together as a pair, seen from opposing locations.”

“Meaning we stand a good chance of finding another pair—once we check the view from the boardinghouse.” Dr. Cooper shot a glance down the hill at the lone, dark figure lurking among the ruins. “I think it's the one carving he won't want us to find.”

Mac was somber. “We have to find it, Jake. It would confirm the information we got from Alice and bring all the pieces together for sure. Things could get dangerous around here. You didn't bring your gun, did you?”

Dr. Cooper shrugged. “I was on vacation.”

Mac nodded. “What about the sheriff's gun?”

“I still have it hidden in the tent.”

“Good.”

“But we don't have much time, Mac.”

“No. Even less than I'd hoped. It all ends tonight—or never. The big question is, how?”

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