Chapter 2--Shadows and Cigars

SECRETS AT DILLEHAY CROSSING

Chapter 2—Shadows and Cigars

           

            Abi backed out of her driveway and turned onto the gravel road and glanced back at Howie who was standing in front of their home, an updated structure that once belonged to Howie’s parent.  She waved at Howie one last time then drove down the windy road relishing the warm shafts of light that filtered through the giant, old pecan trees that stared back at her like motionless statues.  What stories could these ancient trees tell her about the former inhabitants of Dillehay Creek?  

Through the trees Abi caught a glimpse of Dillehay Creek itself and the old dilapidated farm house and barn that she’d seen earlier that morning.  The sunlight faded behind the trees, creating shadows and dark patches along the gravel road; eyes seemed to glimmer from the hollows of the pecan trees.  And there in the middle ground between the shadows and the light, Abi thought she saw the ghostly figure of a man on a horse racing from the farm house toward town.  

            The hair stood up on the back of her neck and goose bumps rose over her body.  Her eyes widened in disbelief.  What was that?  Was it possible that she’d seen the spirit of a man on a horse? Was it the same ghost rider that Howie saw when he was a kid?  She slowed the car and continued gazing into the tree line.  Perhaps my imagination is playing tricks on me.   Before turning onto the main highway and making the short drive to Hickory Pines, Abi glimpsed into her rearview mirror.  ….but I saw what I saw.   

As Abi pulled into Hickory Pines’ circular drive, her assistant ran towards her car.  “Miss Abi! Miss Abi!”  Robbie gasped for breath.  “I tells him you’d be along dreckly.  So, he’s awaitin’ in your office!  You gots ta come quick!  I duzn’t believes my eyes!”

            “Slow down, Robbie.  Calm down.  Who’s waiting for me?”

            “Frank! You know . . . Frank, dat man with dem evil eyes.  He’s been asittin’ in your office for nary an hour.”

            “For how long?” Abi asked wide-eyed. 

            “Nary an hour.  I did just likes ya told me and asks him if I could help him, but he sayz ‘No!’ and dat he’d only be talkin’ with you.  I even offer him up some coffee, but he just be staring at me and growling.”

            “Well, what an interesting way to start my day.” Abi grabbed her purse, locked her car, and walked inside the building with Robbie. 

            “Duz you want me to goes along with ya when ya talks with him?”  Robbie offered.

            “No, that’s not necessary, Robbie.  Just bring me a cup of hot tea.  I’ll be fine.”

            “You’re braver dan me, Miss Abi.  Dat man gives me da creeps.  If ya be askin’ me, he just a lawst cawse.  ” 

            “I know Frank’s a challenge, Robbie.  But he’s struggling on the inside and needs our kindness.”

“Yes, ma’am, Miss Abi.  Whatever ya sayz.  Hot tea comin’ right up.” 

            Abi walked toward her office and saw Frank gazing out the open windows apparently lost in his own thoughts.  His hand trembled slightly as he raised his cigar to his mouth; he shut his eyes and took a long, deep drag from his cigar.  The cigar smoke swirled down Frank’s throat; then he snorted the smoke out of his flaring nostrils releasing a dense blue cloud of tension into the room.  The cigar smoke hung in the air around him, shifting like ghosts in the breeze. 

            Abi drew closer to Frank.  He had a stooped body, a straggly salt and pepper beard, and a bald spot on the back of his head.  His face was gnarled like an old tree with years of unhappiness etched in every deep line and wrinkle on his face. 

His lips were slightly turned down, and the deep creases on his forehead pulled his eyebrows down—as if he was always scowling. 

            Frank turned his head in her direction, and Abi noticed that the cigar he was smoking bore the same label as the ones that Howie and Granddaddy Dave smoked.  Even though a fluttery feeling filled her stomach, Abi approached Frank and looked him straight in the eyes.  “Good morning, Frank.  How are you?”

When Abi reached out to shake his hand, the contents of her purse poured out onto the top of her desk.  Frank stared at the contents, focusing on the Cuesta-Rey cigar label.  “You just don’t strike me as the cigar-smoking type,” he rasped in his deep voice. 

            “Oh . . . uh . . . no, I’m not.”  Abi giggled and sat down at her desk.  “That label belongs to my husband, Howie.  He gave me that label this morning so I could buy cigars for him and my father-in-law.”

 “Must be you with him in that picture there on your desk.”   Frank flicked cigar ashes on the floor.

            “Well, yes, it is.”  She handed him the picture.  “His name’s Howie; we’ve been married only a few months.  He’s the love of my life.”

             “Ah.”  Frank plopped down in a chair across from Abi and took another long drag of his cigar.  “You sound confident about your love.”   Frank returned the picture to Abi, flashing a cold, almost brittle and disapproving frown.  “When you’re young and naïve, you can believe in the certainty of love.  But love is for the foolish—it always abandons and hurts.”  Frank blew a cloud of smoke toward Abi.    

“Ahem! Ahem!”  Abi took a sip of her hot tea to clear the irritating smoke from her throat.  “I don’t know that I can agree with you, Frank.  I'm not yet ready to let go of the hopeful part of me.  Regardless of the price, I’d always choose love.  You can only love too little.”

Frank’s neck and jaw stiffened.  “You’re just immature and gullible!  One day, though, someone you love will hurt you.  Then we’ll see if you change your mind.”  

“I don’t believe maturity means becoming a cynic and killing the part of me that is romantic and idealistic.  I think I’d rather die young and still have my humanity intact!”

He huffed, blew more cigar smoke in Abi’s direction, and threw her a dismissive nod.  “But someone like me, I don’t believe in any certainty other than the coffin that waits for me.”

            This time, Abi choked on Frank’s cigar smoke and whisked it away from her face.  “Frank, I couldn’t help but notice that your cigars are Cuesta-Reys,” she changed the subject, “like the ones my husband smokes.”

            “Yes,” he said without even a hint of a smile.  “I smoke Cuesta-Reys.”  Frank flicked more ashes onto the floor in front of Abi’s desk.  “Even though I have trouble finding them, Cuesta-Reys are just about the finest handmade cigars ever made.  My father smoked ‘em, and I’ve been smokin’ em ever since I was about 12.”  He continued puffing on his cigar.  “Well…enough of this small talk.”  He rolled his eyes.  “I need to know who’s taking me to my eye doctor next Tuesday.”  

            “Let me check the staff calendar.”  Abi fumbled for the calendar and sifted through its pages.  “Frank, I don’t see you on the calendar for next Tuesday.  Did you schedule your appointment through my assistant?”

            “Hell, no!” he bellowed.  “I don’t need your assistant to make my appointments; I’m perfectly capable of calling the doctor myself and setting up my own appointment!”

 “Oh, I’m sorry, Frank.  I’m afraid I didn’t make myself clear.  I meant to ask if you set up an appointment through her for our driver to take you.”

            “Obviously, no I didn’t or we wouldn’t be having this discussion!”  Frank began sweating and clenching his fists.  “I pay you people good money and expect to be taken care of!”  

            Abi struggled to find the best words to diffuse Frank’s agitation.  “We’ll figure out a way to get you to your doctor, Frank.”  She patted him on the shoulder.  “Tell me again where and when is your appointment?” 

            “Don’t touch me!”  Frank barked at her with a scathing tone.  “Like I said, it’s Tuesday morning at 11 o’clock here in Parker!” 

Although slightly shaken, Abi thought for a moment.  “Let me make a quick phone call.”  Abi picked up the phone and dialed Mack.  “Good morning, Mack.  This is Abi.  Oh, me?  I’m fine.”

Whatcha need, sweetheart?” he asked.  “You know you sound a wee bit stressed—almost desperate.”

“Yes, just a wee bit.”   Abi twiddled her pen in her right hand.  “Well, I was wondering.  Do you happen to have a Hickory Pines vehicle I can use next Tuesday morning about 10:30 to take one of our residents to his doctor’s appointment?”  She swallowed hard and tugged on her tight, dry throat.   “This is a last-minute urgent appointment, and I’d like to take him if at all possible.”

            Abi titled her head toward Frank and nodded.  “Terrific!  What?  The driver?  Oh, I didn’t tell you, did I?” she laughed.  “That would be me.  Is that a problem?”

“No, ma’am.  I just need to make a note of the driver in my log.  You can pick up the keys to the van around 10 o’clock”

            “Thanks, Mack.  You’re a lifesaver!”   Abi hung up the phone.  “Frank, you’re all set up.  If you’ll meet me here in my office a little before 10:30, I’ll take you into town Tuesday morning for your 11 o’clock appointment.”

            Frank removed his cigar from his mouth dropping more ashes on the floor. 

As he returned his cigar to the corner of his mouth, he wrinkled his brow.  “Hmmmm.  I’ll believe you when you actually show up and take me into town!”  With that Frank stood up struggling to keep his balance.  He turned around and shuffled out of Abi’s office unaware that he was leaving a trail of cigar ashes behind him. 

Abi watched Frank as he plodded his way through the lobby.  With each step, his feet seemed to almost stick to the floor.  He eventually found a secluded chair in the far corner of the lobby and sat down.  When his smoldering cigar dropped from his mouth onto the floor, Frank stomped on it several times then glared out the open windows. 

            “Miss Abi, Miss Abi!” a familiar, sassy voice shouted.  “Ya be okay?  I hears what dat man sayz to ya.  He waz just downright rude, if ya be a askin’ me.  Like I sayz earlier dat man be a lawst cawse.”

            “Well, I’d have to say that our first encounter was a tad rough.” Abi shuffled through some papers on her desk.  “Frank’s not a lost cause, though, Robbie.  You know, I think I’m beginning to figure him out.”  She pulled her hair into a ponytail and leaned forward on her elbows.  “He thought we had forgotten his appointment leaving him abandoned and alone to fend for himself.   Maybe he’s afraid of being abandoned.” 

            “Miss Abi, dat don’t make no sense to me.”  Robbie shook her head and peered over her glasses.  “I dunno about dat, Miss Abi.  If he be afraid of being abandoned and alone, why den duz he sit alone?  Den when peoples talk with him, he be rude like he was with ya.  Den nobody wants to be with him so den he be alone.  He be crazy man!”

            “Indeed Frank is complicated and a mystery.  And just like you, I’m uncomfortable around him and don’t care for his cynicism.”  Abi rubbed the back of her neck.   “As odd as it sounds, perhaps being cynical is just a mask Frank wears to push people away so he won’t be hurt, disappointed, or abandoned.  Hmmm….maybe being alone and abandoned is all that Frank has ever known and all that he understands.” 

Robbie shook her head.  “I declares, Miss Abi.  Nowz ya be talkin’ about stuff I just duzn’t get.”  She stood up and headed for the office door.  “I duzn’t know why ya cares about dat crazy man!”   

            “On some level most of us are afraid of being hurt, and Frank’s no different.  I just wish I could ease his suffering somehow.  That’s all.” 

            “Whatever ya sayz, Miss Abi.  Ya gots anything dat needs filin’?”

            “Not just yet, Robbie.  Thanks.  But after I clear off my desk and update the weekly report, I’ll have some filing for you.” 

While Abi worked in her office, she occasionally glanced at Frank from her office window. 

Was Frank intentionally isolating himself so he didn’t have to face the pain of abandonment from others?  Was his anger another way he protected himself from others making him feel more in control?

 “Miss Abi, Miss Abi!”  Robbie’s saucy voice interrupted Abi’s thoughts.  “Can ya’ hears me?  I’s been a knockin’ at yer door, but ya duzn’t hears me.”

“Sorry, Robbie.  I was thinking about Frank again.”

“I gotz yer phone when ya duzn’t answers it; I thinks the caller be yur husband.  Line 2.”

Abi picked up the phone.  “Hi, my Honey Bear!  Me?  Oh, my morning’s going fine.  You won’t believe who I talked to this morning.”  Without pausing or giving Howie a chance to answer, she rushed on.  “You remember Frank?  Well, he was waiting for me in my office when I pulled into the  . . . and . . . he wanted to know who was taking him to his eye doctor appointment, but he wasn’t on the schedule so he thought we’d forgotten him . . . so he was madder than a hornet . . . but we hadn’t . . . and . . . I called Mack and . . . ”

“Whoa, there cowgirl,” interjected Howie.  “You’re wound up as tight as a bedspring, aren’t you?!”

“Sorry, Honey Bear.”  Abi laughed and took a deep breath.  “I just wanted to tell you that I think I understand Frank a little bit better after our encounter this morning.” 

“You want to tell me more, my Darlin’?” 

“Oh just that I think he’s afraid of being forgotten or abandoned.  He acts the way he does to shield himself and cover up what he really wants.  He’s perplexing that’s for sure.”

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”  

“Get inside people’s heads and figure out what’s troubling them.”

“I don’t know exactly.  I suppose I put myself in other people’s shoes and try to see the world through their eyes.”  She paused.  “Anyway, I’m taking Frank into Parker for his eye doctor appointment.  Oh, and one last thing.  He smokes Cuesta-Reys like you and Granddaddy Dave.”

“Well, he can’t be all bad, right?”  Howie chuckled.

“Right!” Abi moved the receiver to her other ear.  “Oh, Howie, I apologize.  I’ve been selfish and rambled on so.  Why did you call?”

“No pa’ticular reason.  I just wanted to hear my wife’s sweet voice and tell her I love her.”

“Oh Honey Bear!  You’re the most thoughtful husband alive!  I miss you!” She blushed as if he were in the room with her.  “How was your meeting with Cooper this morning?” 

“We tweaked the new city hall plans; he’ll sign off on them later this week.  Then, I’ll receive my first check as an architect!”

“Now that’s exciting stuff.  I’m proud of you, Mr. Mason.  You’re so talented and smart!” 

“Mrs. Mason, you’re just too kind.”  He snickered.  “Did you eat your lunch—the one prepared at the Mason Deli?”

“As a matter of fact I did.  The apple slices dipped in caramel sauce were lip smackin’ good!  Thanks, Honey Bear!”  She eyed her clock.  “It’s getting late so I’ll be leaving here shortly.”

“Just a reminder, Darlin’, to pick up Granddaddy Dave’s cigars on your way through town.”

“Right!  I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with Granddaddy Dave.  I’ll go by the cigar shop after I stop at Dusty’s.”

“Be safe my love.  See you soon.”  Howie hung up the phone. 

Before leaving for Dusty’s, Abi straightened her office.  As she pulled out of the parking lot, she saw Frank sitting alone on the patio and gazing off into the distance—cigar smoke billowing from his nostrils.

Abi rewound part of their conversation. He had trouble getting Cuesta-Reyes.  Was he hinting?  Would he be offended if I bought him some cigars while I was at the cigar shop? 

 Abi pulled into Dusty’s parking lot, opened her car door, and saw that the cigar shop Howie mentioned was across the street from Frank’s eye doctor’s office.  Now that’s a convenient coincidence!  Maybe he’d prefer buying his own cigars after his doctor’s appointment!

After opening the front door of Dusty’s, a deep, rich leathery smell followed Abi as she strolled across creaky, wooden floors passing several mannequins dressed in jeans, western shirts, boots, and cowboy hats.   

Near the back of the store, a petite woman with wavy red hair and cheery voice greeted her.  “Good afternoon.  My name’s Dusty.  I’m guessin’ you’re Abi Mason, right?” 

Abi’s mouth flew open.  “Well, yes, I am.  Since we’ve never met, how did you know who I am?”

“Ah, sweetkins, your husband dropped by and said you’d be coming in this afternoon and to be on the lookout. . . ” Dusty removed a hat from one of the mannequins.  “. . . for a pretty lady with brown hair pulled into a cute ponytail.” 

“Oh, that Howie!”  Abi blushed again.

“I’ve known Howie ever since he was knee high to a grasshopper.  Met him shortly after his folks’ accident . . . tragic . . . just tragic that tornado was.  Came through town while they were shopping for his birthday present.  He was only 12.” 

“Howie’s never told me much about his parents—just that they died when he was young.”  Abi’s voice cracked.  “Oh my!  No wonder he has trouble talking about what happened to them.”

“That’s Howie.  But I’m guessin’ that your love will help him finally move on.  By the way, did he tell you that he worked here while he was in high school and college?  I loved havin’ him around.  He’s like a nephew to me.”  Dusty adjusted the brim of the hat in her hand and placed back on the mannequin.  “You’re a right sensitive and down-to-earth gal, even if you are from ‘Big D’.”

“Big D—I mean Dallas—is an awfully big city.  A person can get lost in it.  But Parker is um . . . um . . .  what’s the word I’m looking for?”  Abi paused and thought.  “Quaint.  Parker is quaint.”  Abi smiled.

Dusty hugged her.  “Quaint?  Yes, I suppose it is.  Sweetkins, we’re gonna get along just fine!”  She handed Abi a sack.  Howie came into the store this morning and bought you a couple of things.  He wants to make you into a cowgirl, you know, before the Mason’s July Fourth shindig.  I’d suggest you try ‘em on, though.  Western clothes are cut a little different than city clothes.”

Abi pulled open the sack and discovered a pair of western cut jeans, a leather belt, a red cowboy hat, and a red western-cut shirt with dark blue piping and white pearl buttons.  The note inside the sack read:  You’ll be the prettiest gal at the shindig!  Love, Honey Bear.

Abi stepped into the dressing room and easily slipped into the jeans and shirt.  After she put the hat on her head, Abi got a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror.  She did, in fact, look like a cowgirl!  She smiled. 

  “Come on out here and let me see you in your new threads,” said Dusty.  “Don’t be shy now!”  Abi reluctantly opened the dressing room curtain.  “Yee haw!  You’re no longer a city girl!  But you’re gonna be needin’ some boots, don’t cha think?  If you like, I can find you a right purdy pair.”

“I appreciate your help, Dusty.  But I think Grandma Annie will be loaning me a pair of boots—red ones I think.”  Abi returned to the dressing room and changed into her city clothes.

“Ah, red boots would be so perfect with your new duds.”  Dusty wrapped Abi’s new clothes in tissue paper and placed them in a sack.  “That Annie.  She’s a gem, ain’t she?  She’s the finest woman I know.”

“Yes, she is.  She’s been quite gracious in welcoming me into the Mason family.  I can see her fine touch in raising Howie.  Can’t you?”

“Yes, I can.  Good to meet you, Abi.  Dusty handed Abi the sack.  “I suppose I’ll be seein’ you at the shindig.”

“Yes, ma’am.  I’ll see you then.”

Abi waved goodbye then walked across the street to the cigar shop entrance where a rather formidable, life-size wooden Indian stared back at her. 

“He can’t hurt ya none.  Come on in.”  A gray-haired man with a weathered face and stocky build looked up from behind the counter inside.

Abi walked inside the store past a strategically-placed spittoon.  As she headed toward the counter, the unfamiliar sharp but sweet smell of tobacco and cedar quickly engulfed her.  Although she didn’t know why, she immediately loved the rich, dark smell of the place.  She inched her way past walls of pipes and tables covered with jars of pipe tobacco and tins of chewing tobacco.  Along the back wall just above the counter were shelves with boxes of cigars neatly organized in humidors.

“You must be Hal, the local tobacconist.” Abi laid her purse on the countertop.  “I’m supposed to pick up some cigars for my husband and father-in-law, Cuesta-Reys, I think.”  Abi fumbled inside her purse for the label.  “I have the label right here.”

“No need for the label, ma’am.  I know what the Cuesta-Reys look like.”  Hal walked behind the huge counter and pulled some boxes from one of the humidors.  “The Masons are generally the only folks in town who buy Cuesta-Reys.  So are ya a Mason?” 

“Yes, sir, I am.”  She reached out to shake his hand.  “I’m Abi Mason, Howie’s wife.”

Hal shook her hand.  “So, you’re Howie’s new bride.  So good to meet ya.  How many Cuesta-Reys ya buyin’ today, little lady?”

“Two boxes, please.”

“That’ll be $52 before tax, Mrs. Mason.  Would you like me to put that on Howie’s tab?”

“Well, I guess so, Hal.  Is that what he normally does?”

“Yes, ma’am.  That’ll be fine.”  Hal placed the boxes of cigars inside a paper bag. 

“Well, alright, Hal.  You know his buying habits better than me.”  Abi grinned.

“Anything else for ya today, Mrs. Mason?”

“Call me Abi, please.  I’m not used to being called Mrs. Mason.”  She snickered.  “What’s this?” She pointed to a figurine display next to the cash register.”

“Oh, those are Cuesta-Rey copper penny trays.  The sales rep left them as a type of promotion.  Would ya like to buy one?”

Abi rubbed her chin.  I wonder if Howie, Granddaddy Dave, and Frank would each like one.  “You know, Hal, I think I’ll take three.  How much will that be?”

“Well,” he said with a smirk on his face.  “For most folks, they cost three bucks a piece.  But . . . ,” he winked.  “. . . my newest customer can have ‘em for free.”

“Free!” Abi blurted.  “Oh, no, Hal.  That’s not right.”

“Listen, pretty lady.  Not to worry.  I’m makin’ plenty of money selling cigars.  ‘Sides, I like givin’ away stuff when I can.”

“Okay, Hal.”  She beamed.  “If you’re sure.”

“Great.  They make terrific gifts.  I’ll wrap ‘em in tissue paper to protect ‘em and put ‘em in a separate sack.”  He handed Abi the paper bags and escorted her to the front door.  “I suppose I’ll be seein’ ya at the July Fourth Shindig.  Save a dance for me!”  He grinned and waved.

As Abi headed toward her car, she removed one of the copper penny coin trays from the bag and tucked it into her purse so she could give it to Frank.  She hoped the gift would somehow show Frank that she and the staff at Hickory Pines cared about him.

Abi drove back through town, exited the main road, and pulled onto the entrance of the Mason property where she now lived.  She stopped her car, and spotted the cast iron arch above the entrance into the property that read MASON RANCH EST. 1886.  After her trip into town, Abi was beginning to appreciate the family who had lived and worked on this land for so many decades.    

Her mind drifted as she followed the mid-afternoon sun’s rays as they trickled through the pecan and bois d’arc trees.  She closed her eyes and imagined what life must have been like for the family that once lived in the dilapidated farm house and barn along Dillehay Creek.  When she opened her eyes, Abi saw the slender figure of an elderly man striding along the trail that snaked through the Mason property. 

Was that Granddaddy Dave? What was he doing out here all by himself?

Abi drove closer to him and rolled down her car window.  “Granddaddy Dave, do you need a lift back to your house?  You’re pretty far from home.”

“Oh, no, Darlin’.”  He smiled and leaned into Abi’s car.  “I’m out for my afternoon walk enjoyin’ this beautiful summer day.  ’Sides my Annie’s got some of her lady friends back at the house…playin’ some crazy dice game.”  His eyes danced and sparkled as he winked at Abi.  “Just way too much chattering going on over there for my blood.”  He paused.  “Would cha’ mind takin’ me over to your house to see my grandson?  If’n so, I’d be mighty grateful.” 

            “Sure thing, Granddaddy Dave.  Hop in.”  Abi reached across the seat and unlocked the passenger side door. 

DILLEHAY CROSSING--Chapter One (An Old Farmhouse)

DILLEHAY CROSSING

Chapter 1—An Old Farm House

            Abi slipped into her running gear, inched past her sleeping husband, blew him a silent kiss, and tiptoed downstairs.  After a quick drink of water, she eased out the back door. The lavender early morning lit her way as she approached the gravel trails that meandered along the creek’s edge.  At first her stride was short and her pace slow; but as her heart pounded harder, the blood in her body heated, and her tight muscles loosened.  Abi lengthened her stride and quickened her pace.  Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead, stung her eyes, and blurred her vision.  So when the trail turned sharply, Abi didn’t see the broken tree branches in front of her. 

She stumbled and landed face first in some underbrush.   She stood up, wiped the dirt and sweat off her face, and caught a glimpse of something just around the bend.   What were those old structures off in the distance?  She’d never seen them before.  She shook off her fall and continued her run, curiosity and adrenalin surging through her body.  Abi ran across a narrow, shallow bend at Dillehay Crossing where an old dilapidated farm house, Texas wind wheel, and crumbling red barn came into view. 

  She slowed to a walk as she followed the rutted weed-grown track to the barnyard and ventured inside the decrepit red barn.  She brushed her fingers over a rusty, turn-of-the-century tractor.  Who once lived in this farm house and drove this old tractor?  Abi strolled up the dirt and gravel walkway that led toward the discolored, broken down farm house.  The crumbling and sagging structure beckoned her inside; so she crept up the rickety steps onto the front porch.  Using her shoulder, Abi shoved open the front door and found that—although the wooden house was clearly decaying—the floors were not rotten and actually looked sturdy enough to bear her weight. 

She entered the house, turned right, and discovered the parlor had a fireplace with an adjoining kitchen and an antiquated four-hole wood cook stove.  Abi picked up the empty cast iron cooking pot from the stove and pretended to stir its contents.  How long have you been waiting for the woman of the house to return?  She asked it silently and smiled. 

Abi retraced her steps then made an immediate left toward the stairs.  At the base of the steps, Abi saw her—the cloudy figure of a woman.  A ghost?  Abi sucked in her breath as her eyes traveled upward, looking for some semblance of a face.  Only smoke—gray smoke—filled in the places where the woman’s nose, mouth, and eyes were supposed to be.  The eerie image made Abi’s skin crawl, and a cold shudder trickled down her spine.  She stood frozen in place, unable to move.  The woman turned and floated up the stairs, the morning light passing through her like sunlight through smoke. 

There was no sense of threat; so Abi slowly followed the woman who never looked back or hesitated.  Did she know Abi was there?  

At the top of the stairs, the woman disappeared as she faded through one of the bedroom doors.  Abi jumped as a young woman’s frantic voice begged from behind the wall.  “Hurry!  Fetch the doctor right away!  Something’s terribly wrong!” 

Abi jumped back, spun around, and scurried back through the house.    Once outside, Abi rushed back down the dirt and gravel road.  She leapt across the shallow end of Dillehay Crossing then sprinted along the creek’s edge until her own front porch was in sight.  Finally, she stopped and caught her breath, and bent over with her hands on her knees.  Questions whirled through her mind.  Who was the woman she’d seen?  Whose voice did she hear?  Just who were the farmers who had once cared for the livestock and land on the other side of Dillehay Crossing?  Why did they leave?  Were they in any way related to her husband and the Mason family?  Abi straightened.  She’d have to ask Howie.  But would he believe her if she told him about the woman?  She pursed her lips and squinted up at the morning sun rising above the eastern horizon.  Maybe she wouldn’t tell him about the woman just yet.    

“Where have you been?”  A familiar voice shouted out, disrupting her thoughts. 

Abi turned in the direction of the voice and smiled at Howie with his unruly hair, still shirtless, standing on the front porch with a mug of hot coffee in his hand.   

“I’ve been out for my morning run.”

“You were gone for over an hour, and I was worried about you.”  He came down the porch steps to meet her and swept her against him for a morning kiss. 

“You shouldn’t worry about me, Howie.”  Abi wrapped her arms around him and gazed into his eyes.  “I can take care of myself.  Besides, I discovered the most fascinating turn-of-the-century farmhouse on the other side of Dillehay Crossing!” 

“You didn’t go inside it did you?”

“Yes, I did.  You won’t believe what I saw!”  Abi’s voice trembled with excitement.

“You need to stay clear of that place!” 

His tone made her pull back.  “But Howie, why?  You know I love exploring old houses and learning about their history.”  Abi tilted his coffee mug and stole a sip of coffee, trying to placate him.  “I just couldn’t resist.”

“Seriously, Darlin’!  Don’t go down there!  All sorts of varmints and critters lurk in that old house.  It’s far too dangerous and just plain ol’ scary.”  Howie’s expression didn’t soften.  “When I was a kid, I was riding my horse along Dillehay Creek when an overcast sky turned black, and a thunderstorm rumbled its way across the property.  The first crack of lightening struck a nearby tree and spooked my horse.  He bucked, threw me to the ground, and fled back to my barn.  The driving rain forced me to seek shelter in that abandoned old house until the storm passed.” 

“Oh, Howie!  You escaped into that old house during a thunderstorm!  Tell me more.”  Abi danced in place.  “What did you do?  What did you see?  What did you hear?”

“I dashed toward the house and flung open the front door.  But once over the threshold, the door slammed shut behind me leaving me trapped inside a long, dark corridor.  So, I walked toward a room in the center of the house.  When I opened that door, the air in the room suddenly chilled, and I froze in place.”  Howie closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.  “As I stood there, I caught a woody scent lingering in the air that reminded me of tobacco smoke.   I glanced around the room and saw a small beam of light streaming through a small crack from a nearby boarded up window.”  He opened his eyes.  “And that’s when I saw a man dart out the front door, mount a dark horse, and ride it through the thunderstorm heading for town.” 

Abi looked Howie straight in the eyes.  “So, you saw a ghost rider?”

“Well, I thought I did.  Remember, I was just a cold, frightened kid trapped in an old house during a thunderstorm.  The storm exaggerated the house’s eerie atmosphere and made me believe I saw a man climb onto his horse and head toward town.  You know as well as I do that ghosts don’t exist.”

Abi broke eye contact with Howie and decided not tell him about the woman she’d seen.   “Will you at least tell me who once lived there?  Were they Masons?”

“I can’t really tell you much.”  He shrugged.  “All I know is that my great Aunt Sara Francis and her husband, Robert, lived there.  No one’s lived on that property since sometime in the 1930s—a long time before I was born.”  He smiled down at her.  “You’d have to talk to Granddaddy Dave about them.  I’m warning you… he’s a crusty ol’ galoot who doesn’t like to talk about that side of the family.”  His eyes twinkled.  “Something tells me, though, that he might just open up to you.”

  “Fair enough.”  Abi tossed her head.  “I’ll just have to wait for the right time.”

 “How about some breakfast?”  He took her hand and led her up the porch and into the kitchen.  “Look.”  He picked up a plate from the table and waved it under her nose.  “I cooked the traditional Mason breakfast—crispy bacon, fried eggs, and biscuits with cream gravy.”

She wrinkled her nose.  “Nothing like starting your day with enough cholesterol for an entire week!”  

 “Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying to have breakfast with his new bride.  Besides you need to eat something before you leave for work.”  He winked.  “Where are those muffins you love?  You know the ones with all the nooks and crannies?  How ‘bout I toast one for you?” 

“Howie, you really know how to charm a girl!”   He blushed as she kissed him lightly on the cheek.  “We got any apple butter in the fridge?”

“Whatever my darlin’ bride wants.”  Howie toasted an English muffin and spread a thin layer of apple butter across both halves of it.  “Here’s your muffin, Darlin’, and some cranberry juice.  You’ll definitely be needin’ something to wash down that hockey puck!”

She took a small bite of the muffin.  “Oh, this muffin is just perfect!”  She smiled.  “You shouldn’t be so critical of your toasting skills.” 

“Alright.  You got me.”  He gently hugged her and looked into her eyes.  “You look a bit tired this morning.”

“Well, now, aren’t you the perceptive husband!  Yes, I didn’t sleep well.  So, I’m pretty tired this morning.” 

“Here,” he patted the bottom of a chair, “sit next to me and tell me why you were so restless last night.”

“Oh….it’s work related.”  She took a long drink of her juice.  “One of the Hickory Pines residents is on my mind.  He just seems like a troubled soul, and for some reason I can’t seem to stop thinking about him.”

He reached for her hands, clasping hers in his. “What makes you think this man is troubled?”

“For one thing, when I talk to him, he just mumbles and groans;he raises one eyebrow then just stares back at me with those dark, brooding eyes.”

“He definitely sounds creepy to me!”  He snickered.  “No wonder you can’t get him out of your head.”

“Seriously, Howie!”  She pulled her hands away and glared back at him.  “I see years of pain in his eyes and desperation across his face.  I want to reach out to him but just don’t know how.”

“I know you’re serious, Darlin’.  Honestly, I wasn’t trying to make light of your concerns.  I apologize.”  He kissed her knuckles.  “Please continue.  What’s his name?  How old is he?  Why did he move into Hickory Pines?”

“His name is Frank; my supervisor told me he moved into Hickory Pines a few weeks ago—shortly after he was diagnosed with the early stages of Parkinson’s Disease.  I believe he’ll be 60 years old come this January.”

“I’m no expert here, but maybe he’s having trouble adjusting to life with Parkinson’s.”

“True. That’s possible.”  Abi leaned back in her chair.  “At least that’s what my training tells me, but my gut tells me that there’s more ailing Frank than his disease.” 

“What else does Maggie have to say about him?”

Abi frowned.  “When I spoke with her, Maggie told me she didn’t know much about his past, or his circumstances.  I guess he’s a bit of a mystery to us all.’.”  Abi looked at Howie.  “One of the nurses complained about him.  She told me that Frank is just a brute of a man.  She said he never showers and smells like stinky feet and blows nasty cigar smoke in her eyes.  She simply refuses to care for him.”

 “He does sound a bit strange to me, too, Darlin.  Why don’t you keep a respectable distance from him until you know more about him?”  

“That’s the point, Howie.  I don’t want to distance myself.”  Abi sniffed back some tears.  “I care about each of the Hickory Pines residents, and Frank is no different.”

“You’re the one with the heart for the elderly, Abi.”  He patter her hand gently.  “I understand your conflict.  I’m just suggesting you be patient with him.  That’s all.”

“I just sense hopelessness and loneliness.”  Abi ran her fingers through her hair.  “I suppose there’s no harm in keeping a ‘wait and see attitude’ and looking for signs from him that I can approach him.”

 “Sounds reasonable to me.”  Howie stood up and glanced at Abi’s plate.  “Looks as if your English muffin has gone stone cold while we were talking.  Let me toast you another one while you shower and get dressed for work.  I’ll put some extra love on this one!”

As Abi stood up, Howie drew her into his arms and hugged her.  “Thanks, my Honey Bear.”  She smiled up into his caring eyes.  “Thanks for listening to me.”    

Abi showered and dressed quickly; just as she finished, Howie shouted upstairs, “Your breakfast is ready, my Darlin’.” 

Abi hurried down the stairs, pulled out a chair at the breakfast table, and blew Howie a kiss.

“Your muffin’s toasted to perfection with a slight hint of apple butter.”  Howie handed her a brown paper bag.  “Here’s your lunch with a sweet surprise for you later in the day.”

Before Abi sat down, she hugged him and asked, “What’s in store for the resident architect today?”

“Still preparin’ those site plans and floor plans for the new city hall.  I’ll probably swing by Cooper’s office later this afternoon with the revisions he wanted. I should spend some time studying for the architectural exam on schematic design.   What about you?”

“First thing on my agenda is planning the monthly day trip for the Hickory Pines residents and . . .”

The phone rang.  “Hello.” Howie answered the phone.  “Oh, hi, Granddaddy Dave . . . yes, Abi’s here . . .Yes, sir, I certainly do.  I don’t know.  You’ll have to ask her.  Wait just a second; let me put you on speaker phone." 

“This is your ol’ Granddaddy Dave here.  Hadn’t talked with you youngins since your weddin’ day.”  Granddaddy Dave’s voice cracked over the speaker.  “Abi, is my grandson treatin’ you right?  His dad and me we raised him right and proper.  Remember, yer kin now.  So, ya need to tell me if he mistreats ya in anyway, ya hear!”  He gave a throaty chuckle.  “We Masons we takes care of our kinfolk—no matter what.”

“Sure thing, Granddaddy Dave.”  She gave Howie a grin.  “Not to worry.  Howie’s right respectful—most of the time.”  She threw a flirtatious glance in Howie’s direction. 

“Well, Annie and me are plannin’ the Mason family Fourth of July barbeque and shindig.  You youngins are coming ain’t cha?”

“Yes, Granddaddy, we’ll be there.” Howie winked at Abi.

“Abi, we’re gonna be doin’ some boot scootin’.  You got yerself a pair of cowboy boots, some jeans, and a western shirt, don’t cha?”

“Afraid not, Granddaddy Dave.  I suppose I can get me some western clothes between now and then, though.”

“Tell ya what.  You give my Annie a call.  She can fix ya right up with a pair of boots that’d fit ya.  Howie, ya taught yer bride how to country western dance yet?”

“I can’t get her to stop long enough to teach her how to dance.” 

 “That’s what you get for marryin’ an independent city girl!”  Granddaddy Dave chuckled.  “But she’s a looker.  Gotta give you credit there, grandson.”

 “Once she gets them boots, I’ll give her a few lessons.  Beside, Abi’s a quick learner and light as a feather.  She’ll be scootin’ better than all of us and ‘makin’ them splinters fly’—you just wait ‘n see.”

“No doubt, grandson!”  Granddaddy Dave paused.  “Hope they’re treatin’ ya fair ‘n square at yer new job, Abi.  No need to give Annie a call; I’ll tell her you’ll be swingin’ by this afternoon to try on some boots.  Well, suppose I’ll be hangin’ up now so you youngins can get to work.  Jest one more thing.  Ya know the doc told me I ought not to be drivin’—my reflexes just ain’t what they used to be.  So when one of you drives through downtown, would cha’ mind stoppin’ and buyin’ me some of my cigars at the smoke shop?  I’d be mighty grateful.”

“Sure thing, Granddaddy; we’d be happy to run that errand for you. You’ll be needin’ some extra smokes for the Fourth of July shindig.”  

“Yer right, grandson.  Then I’ll be needin’ a pack of 50 of them Cuesta Rey cigars.   ‘Preciate it, grandson.  Bye now.”

Howie turned to Abi and rubbed his hand under his chin.  “Hmmm….Granddaddy Dave sure seems comfortable with you—like he’s accepted you as family.”

“Well, he’s a likable ol’ guy…like the grandfather I wish I’d had.” 

 “He’s downright protective of Grandma Annie and doesn’t invite just anyone over to their house.  Yet, he told you to ‘drop by and see his Annie.’  That is huge!”  Howie reached over and hugged Abi. 

 “Then I’ll definitely need to drop by and see Grandma Annie this afternoon.”

 “Yes, she’ll be expecting you for sure.  You know, Darlin’, I believe she just might have a pair of red boots that’ll fit you—perfect for a cowgirl like you!”  He snickered.  “You be sure and ask her about them.”

“Red?  Don’t you think red is a little flashy for me?”

“Absolutely not!  Those boots are beautiful and practically brand new—made from authentic alligator skin—a gift from Granddaddy Dave last Christmas.”

“EEEW!  Allegator skin!  Are you serious?”  

“Don’t worry, Darlin’—they won’t bite you,” He spun her in a circle.  “Honestly, those red boots are colorful and classy—just like you.” 

 “Honey Bear, you certainly know how to sweep a cowgirl off her feet!”  Abi tossed her hair, strutted around the kitchen, and pretended to primp.  “So exactly where does a classy cowgirl like me shop for a pair of western jeans and a western shirt?”

“I believe Grandma Annie buys most of her western clothes at the town square in downtown Parker.”   He grabbed a sheet of paper and drew Abi a map.  “You can’t miss it; it’s a huge store called Dusty’s Boot Barn and Western Wear; it’s right here—just across the street from the smoke shop and art supply store.” 

“Well, since I’m only working this morning, I could stop in downtown Parker and try on those western clothes.  Would you like me to stop at the smoke shop and pick up those cigars for Granddaddy Dave?”

 “Sure thing, Darlin’.  You’ll need to know what kind of cigars he smokes.”  Howie opened a kitchen drawer, riffled through its contents, and retrieved a half-empty package of

Cuesta Rey cigars.  He emptied the remaining cigars onto the countertop and handed the package to Abi.  “Take this with you and give it to Hal at Smoke ‘n Ashes.  He’ll fix you right up.”

“Howie, are those your cigars?”

“Yes, my Darlin’, they are.  I occasionally smoke one with Granddaddy Dave.  It’s a Mason men’s family tradition of sorts.”

“You Masons are full of little surprises.”  Abi giggled.  “I have a lot to learn about this family, don’t I?”

“Afraid so, Darlin’.”  He grinned.  “You know you’re a clever genie.  He’ll never figure you out!”

“Whatever do you mean?”

 “You’ll score some major points with Granddaddy Dave for buying his cigars and taking them to him this afternoon.  I know what you’re thinkin’.  You’ll get on his good side then ask him about that old dilapidated ranch house near Dillehay Crossing.” 

Abi stood up and reached for her sack lunch.  “You saw right through me, didn’t you?  Time for me to head to work.”  Howie placed his arm around Abi’s waist as he walked her to her car.  They embraced and kissed.  As Abi drove off, she lowered the car window, “You want to meet me tonight at Granddaddy Dave’s?  Maybe you two Mason men can share a smoke while Annie and I try on boots.”  

“It’s a date, Darlin’.  See you tonight!”