PART 3

Three days later the town was now in complete uproar over the disappearance of yet another young daughter. Fingers were pointed in every direction but ever increasingly at Sheriff Maddox and his deputy George Stone who not only hadn’t been able to solve the last three disappearances but also now seemed incapable of preventing further from occurring. Sheriff Maddox knew that his job was on the line but more than that he knew it was his responsibility to end these tragic mysteries. He had laid awake many nights over these past few months wondering what he might have missed in the search for Madeline and Katherine. The reality of another girl disappearing from under his nose was too much to bear and he wished now that he had not been so dismissive of Ruth that day in his office. Not that he could lend any credence to the thought that Elsie may have had a hand in it but Elsie’s father was certainly worth having another look at. 

He had already paid a visit to Frank Meyer’s still up in the hills after the first two girls went missing. If Elsie’s father had been on site, the sheriff had been prepared to run him in for cooking corn mash shine but mostly he just wanted to rummage the area for any indication of foul play; any clue at all that might connect Frank Meyer with the mystery. He had paid a number of such visits to the haunts and hideaways of every suspicious character and well known troublemaker he could think of. He had scoured the county but the presence of Elsie had always kept him from disturbing the Meyer home and bringing her any more shame than what she was already accustomed to. That was a consideration he could no longer afford her. 

It was about ten in the morning and the steady spring rain that had started the day before showed no sign of letting up. He pulled on his slicker, grabbed his shotgun from the rack and told Deputy Stone to mind the town while he went out for a bit. He deliberately didn’t tell George where he was headed because experience had proved that his deputy had a bad habit of sharing sheriff office business all around town and he didn’t want any more gossip following young Elsie. Besides, he didn’t really expect to find anything. After all, successfully perpetrating the disappearance of three girls would be too much like work for Frank Meyer. He didn’t have the vigor or the smarts to pull it off. 

The rain had caused a number of washouts on the main road and beyond and when he finally reached the winding road that climbed the mountainside he knew better than to try and push the Oakland V8 up those treacherous hills so he parked it off in a cut. It was plenty dangerous enough just walking up the road and he slipped more than once. He had his pistol at his hip but had removed and pocketed the shells from the shotgun, not wanting to have some ridiculous accident on the way up and alert the whole mountainside of his approach. His plan, such as it were, was too have a look around the grounds of the small Meyer farm, before looking through the out buildings and then finally knocking on the door to ask Frank Meyer a few questions. He’d have the shells back in their chamber before he did that. He figured he’d have free reign to do so since Frank was most likely passed out this time of day and neither he nor Elsie should be outdoors in this weather. 

When he reached the top of the Meyer lane he held tight to the tree line walking behind the barn, keeping out of view of the house. Already he was on the lookout for any piece of clothing or disruption that might indicate trouble. Emerging from the back corner of the barn he lingered behind the hog pen, his back to the trees with a torrent of slop running in rivulets between his legs. He was trying not to disturb the pigs but they seemed uneasy, almost eager at the sight of him. They were letting out a ruckus that in turn had the animals inside the barn sharing in their agitation. He was going to move away quickly and come up behind the house to walk the field when something bright in the dark mud caught his eye. 

Elsie meanwhile had been up in the loft of the barn in her cozy spot where she often went to read or sew. She spent much of her time in the barn by choice as it kept her a safe distance from the reach of her father. When she heard the disturbance in the yard she prayed hard that her father had not awoke and was headed to the barn with lascivious intentions. Now that she carried the pistol, that was never going to happen again. She peered from a high window toward the house and saw no movement and next went to the back of the loft and looked out the door. Below and to her left she saw the figure of Sheriff Maddox climbing the fence of the pen, careful not to slip on the wet rails, using his shotgun for balance as he pulled himself up and over. Elsie ran to the ladder and shimmied down just as fast as her bad foot would allow, exited the front of the barn and crept round the other side to see just what the sheriff was up to. Sheriff Maddox walked slowly through the muck, swinging the shotgun at any pig that got too close and bent over the object looking intently. It was a piece of bone and it had teeth. He was trying to reconcile what animal it could have been, dog or deer or what? And then a chill ran the length of his spine and his head filled with fire as he picked it up and the mud slipped away revealing a fully intact, lower human jawbone. “My God, what has happened here?” said the sheriff, now standing erect and letting the rain wash the last remnants of filth from the gleaming white bone that he held aloft in dismay. Elsie who had fed the pigs daily, wondered how she could have missed it. The heavy rains must have unearthed it from deep in the mud. She had believed they had been so thorough in their consumption that she had never even bothered to search the pen for remains. There was nothing else left to do now; her deeds were discovered. She pulled the pistol from her skirt and held it straight out, inching as close as she dared to the fence. She was looking at a three quarter view of the back of the sheriffs head, certain that he could spy her but between his hat, the steady rain and his horror, he never saw her approach. She fired the gun, striking him in his lower right side and he instinctively whirled pointing the shotgun directly at Elsie, flinging the jawbone aside in the process. He was stunned stupid when he saw what appeared to be the pretty face of Carra Meyer staring back at him. Only it wasn’t Carra, it was little Elsie. Confused and frightened he pulled the trigger of the shotgun and nothing happened. He noticed the corner of Elsie’s mouth lift a little and her shoulders shrug a bit. The next shot rang out, hitting nothing. The right hand of Sheriff Maddox felt for the grip of his pistol as his left dropped the shotgun in the mud and then instantly, he felt nothing at all. Elsie’s third shot had struck him dead center in the forehead, knocking his hat clean off his head and dropping him backwards in the filth. The pigs could no longer contain themselves.

Elsie left them to it and went straight to the house, carefully opening the front door, still gripping the pistol and fully expecting her father’s wrath but all she heard was the familiar, sickening snoring she had come to hate so fiercely. She waited for a long, uneasy hour back up in the loft as she listened to the hogs furiously fighting for each new rendered scrap. She sat and thought deeply about what to do next. “I will have to rake through the entire pen and make sure nothing has been left behind. They can’t eat the guns so I will have to retrieve them.” Soon enough the pigs were all piled in a corner under an overhang out of the rain, fat and drowsy from their latest feast. Elsie did indeed rake the muck of the pen after carefully placing the sheriff’s pistol, shotgun, badge and keys on a barrelhead to let the rain wash them clean. It was sloppy, impossible work in the still steady rain but Elsie stuck with it until she was certain she had collected anything that could arouse further suspicion. The pigs had ignored his hat too and the jawbone still lay where the sheriff had tossed it. Elsie had collected a few more random scraps of bone that she threw into the woods and quite a few scraps of the Ruth’s dress that she placed in the hat along with the keys and jawbone. The sheriff’s badge, she placed in her pocket. She carried the hat and its contents to the root cellar where she dislodged a large loose stone from the foundation wall, placed the items inside the considerable empty space behind and then using all of her might, lifted the stone back into place. She carried the sheriff’s guns up to the hayloft, placed his badge alongside and covered them under deep piles of straw. Then she went back to her sewing and waited. 

It rained the entire rest of the day. Her father woke late afternoon, ill tempered as ever, he ate a little and drank a lot. He was passed out again in the parlor shortly before midnight.

The next morning was a bright and cheery one. The clouds had lifted and the sky was clear blue with that intensity that the sky only achieves after a prolonged rain. The birds were chirping and nesting and the chickens were amok in the yard pecking away between the puddles. Elsie’s father was up early, for him, though Elsie had already been awake for three hours having milked the cow and collected the eggs, with many chores still ahead. Frank Meyer was dressed and as clear-headed as he ever got, which was not an occasional occurrence. “I’m off into the hills to see if I might shoot a pheasant or two,” he said approaching something like civility. “Alright Father, I wish you luck. Pheasant would be a welcome dish.” She knew and he knew that she knew, that he was actually headed to check on the still after the long interruption of rain. He would have the fire going and be cooking mash again by noon. 

Elsie watched as he navigated the muddy trail, disappearing into the wet, thick woods. She immediately went to the hayloft and retrieved the sheriff’s guns and badge. She looked long and hard from her high perch in the loft to make sure her Father did not return after forgetting something. When confident he was well on his way, she carried the sheriff’s pistol and shotgun carefully down the ladder and into the house. She entered her Father’s bedroom and sat down on the floor next to the big oak bed that her father had special ordered from back east, as a wedding present for his lovely new bride. Her father had long since taken any interest in maintenance of the home and the housekeeping fell to Elsie along with everything else. She kept a tidy home but rarely entered this room and it showed. The floor under the bed was thick with dust. Elsie took one of her father’s handkerchiefs from his drawer and meticulously wiped down the sheriffs guns. Then she withdrew her own little pistol from her pocket and did the same. Crawling under the bed she placed all three guns fast and center against the wall under the headboard. There too she left her Father’s handkerchief, with the sheriff’s badge wrapped inside. And then she headed into town. 

Walking the full five miles into town she went straight to the Sheriff’s Office without delay. Opening the door she walked up to the desk where the sheriff would have been seated but found Deputy Stone in his place.

“I want to speak to Sheriff Maddox.” Elsie firmly demanded.

“Just who are you and what do you want with the sheriff?” replied George Stone.

“I’m Elsie Meyer and I want to know what the sheriff wants with my Father. He came around our place yesterday looking for him and I told him, you know where to find him and now I haven’t seen either of them since.”

“So your Frank Meyer’s girl? Well you’re not alone child because I haven’t seen hide nor hair of the sheriff since he left here yesterday morning.” “You say he was up at your place, what time was that?”

“ A little before noon I suppose,” Elsie answered.

“My father never came home the night before and I told the sheriff so.”

“You mean to tell me your father spent those rainy days and nights tending his still? Not likely, he ain’t that dedicated to his work,” Deputy Stone quipped.

“I didn’t say that. I only said he never came home. I figured he was out carousing with his no-good acquaintances or maybe passed out in the hills. He keeps a little shelter up there, near the still.” Elsie paused for a moment as if to suggest that she had almost forgotten the following minor detail, “Oh and one more thing, the sheriff’s car is sitting parked at the bottom of the mountain road this morning. At least I think it’s the sheriff’s car.”

“Is that so? And when is the last time you saw the sheriff?”

“The last time I saw him he was entering the woods behind our house headed toward Father’s still. That was yesterday just after we spoke.”

“Well pardon my language young one but this is getting damned curious. If you’ll excuse me I have a few telephone calls to make.”

“What about my father?” 

“I’m going to damn well find your father; the sheriff too! I’m tired of being in the dark and I’m going to get to the bottom of this.” You run along back home and you may be seeing me again real soon.”

It was around three in the afternoon when she did see Deputy Stone again. The roads had dried enough that he drove straight up the mountain road, though twice along the way the three men with him had to get out and push the car out of a puddled ditch. He drove hard and furious up the Meyer lane, whiplashing the Model T through the obstacles and gullies, all the while the two hounds accompanying the men brayed relentlessly. By the time he reached the Meyer place he was in a foul mood and with both dogs and men piling out of the car, the dogs still yapping and pulling on their chains, he walked up to Elsie’s door and rapped hard and fast. Elsie had heard the commotion well before the knock came and was already standing behind the door. She opened it fast leaving George Stone briefly wagging his fist in the air. “Hello again, Deputy Stone.”

“Little girl, I need to know if your father or sheriff Maddox have returned here since we last spoke.”

“No sir, I’ve not seen either of them and I’m getting mighty concerned,” Elsie replied, allowing her voice to quaver a little, even mustering a tear for effect.

“So am I Elsie, so am I.”

Then Deputy Stone said, “Before I take these men up into them hills, I need to know where your father keeps his guns and if you know how many he has.”

“He has one pistol I know of,” Elsie answered, “and his hunting rifle and a shotgun that is hanging right now above the hearth.” “But I can’t speak for where the pistol and rifle are right now.”

“Does he keep them anywheres special?”

“Well, when he’s at his worst with the drink he gets extra scared and addled. I’ve known him to keep the pistol at his bedside, sometimes even under his pillow or the mattress. I’ve found it there before when I’ve tided his room or cleaned up his sick.”

Deputy Stone didn’t ask, rather he told Elsie, “I’m needing to come into the house and look around for them guns.” 

“Jubal, you come inside with me. You other men stay out here and keep a sharp eye.” “Elsie, I’d like you to point me to that shotgun.” She didn’t protest at all and Elsie and the two men entered the home.

“Have her take you to the bedroom and check under the pillows and mattress like she said.” The shotgun was hanging just where Elsie said it would be. Deputy Stone pulled it from the pegs, opening the break-barrel and saw two shells in the breech. Holding it up to his nose he took a deep whiff. He didn’t get the impression that it had been fired recently. He removed the shells and returned the gun to its cradle. Just then an excited voice came loud from the backroom.

“George get in here! You’re gonna want to see this!”

Jubal Johnson was down on all fours peering under the bed, his right hand still gripping his own rifle when the deputy entered the room. “What is it, what have you found?” Elsie stood stoically in the corner. Did George Stone detect a glint of excitement in her eyes? “You better get down here and have a look for yourself, I ain’t touched none of it.”

Deputy Stone eased down on his belly next to Jubal and had a look; two pistols, a shotgun and a bundle. The deputy didn’t have to look twice to recognize the clunky Colt .45 automatic that Hank Maddox carried at his side. Sheriff Maddox had liked to describe it as less cumbersome than a shotgun but just as effective. He must have been loaded for bear because there was his shotgun too, the one he had pulled from the rack in the office yesterday. He slid them out to his side along with the second pistol and lastly the oily, muddy handkerchief. “Take out your handkerchief Jubal and place them guns on the bed. Don’t touch the trigger or the grips.” Stone sat like a child playing jacks with his back against the bed and slowly unwrapped the dirty handkerchief in his lap. When he saw Hank’s badge he bit his lip, muttered something unintelligible and shook his head from side to side. He knew that Hank Maddox was dead. He would have never let himself had his guns swiped, much less his badge. Finally he stood up, steely determination replacing all consternation on his face. 

“Put them guns in the car and check your own weapons, we’re heading up the hill.” 

”Miss Elsie, your Daddy’s in a mess of trouble. I want you to be right here when we return. If he should arrive home while we’re gone, you don’t let on to nothing.” 

Elsie protested, “But if my father comes home to find your car and those guns missing from under the bed, it’ll be the end of me!” 

“Well you’re right about that. I hadn’t considered.” Deputy Stone thought for a moment. “Well, we can’t take you with us. I want you to start walking back to the Sheriff’s Office and wait for me there. If we should pass you on the road after we finish our business we will pick you up along the way.”

“Yes sir.” And then she added, “Please don’t kill my Father.”

Deputy Stone didn’t answer her. “Come on boys, we’re heading up to that still. Fred you lead with your dogs.” And with that they disappeared into the brush.

The still was not that far from the Meyer home, maybe three quarters of a mile. Frank Meyer was too dumb drunk and too lazy to place it any deeper in the wood. Besides most everybody knew about it anyway. Some of the most respectable town folk were his best customers, receiving his wares through shady third parties, too refined to deal directly with detestable Frank Meyer themselves. At the first sound of unnatural movement coming from down the hill, Frank thought it was maybe Elsie coming along but even so his hand reached out for the rifle. Then the hounds started barking, very near and he grabbed the rifle and stood rigid, aiming at nothing yet. A voice called out from the wood, “Put that gun down Meyer, I’m taking you in.” 

“Like Hell!” came the reply. 

Frank, who had been sampling his product all afternoon fired one shot up in the air and immediately took another two blind shots into the deeply shaded woods. Bleary eyed and angry he shouted out, “Show yourselves goddammit” With that Deputy Stone leveled his rifle and hit Frank plum in the right shoulder, the impact sending Meyer’s rifle flying into the underbrush. George Stone, who had desperately wanted to fight in France but couldn’t hide the limp in his left leg, the result of being thrown from a horse when he was ten years old and breaking it bad, was something of a crack-shot. With Frank disarmed and stunned, the hounds were let loose and they set on him like they would any helpless quarry. The four men closed ranks around him and Deputy Stone announced, “Frank Meyer, I’m arresting you for the murder of Sheriff Maddox and for the disappearance of them three girls.” “Stand up and start walking.”

“”What the Hell you talkin’ about? I ain’t done nothin’ to the sheriff or no damn girls!” “Not another word Meyer or I swear on my Mother I will drop you right here in the woods and leave the buzzards to pick you clean.”

Frank Meyer who never had the sense to shut up for his own good continued to snarl and spit until Deputy Stone popped him clean on the mouth with the butt of his rifle, splitting his lip and setting free a couple of Frank’s rotten teeth. He was silent and sullen for the rest of the walk to the car and finally passed out on the drive to the jail. 

Elsie had only been sitting outside the locked office for about ten minutes or so when the deputy’s car pulled up and parked alongside the brick building. The man with the dogs went the opposite direction down Main Street while the other two dragged Elsie’s father under his arms towards the front door of the jail. Deputy Stone followed directly behind with his rifle leveled at her father’s back. 

Coming to his senses Frank Meyer saw Elsie and said, “What in the hell is she doing here?” Elsie quietly followed the group of men into the Sheriff’s Office and watched them place her father into one of the two small cells in the back. Frank Meyer sputtered and cursed the whole way and as his three captors secured him behind bars, he looked over their shoulders to see Elsie grinning a quizzical, wicked grin until it finally registered, “My God it was her, it’s that evil child that done it all!” Deputy Stone growled, “Shut up or so help me I’ll knock what teeth you have left down your throat!” Frank Meyer’s head was whirling at the thought of what had become of his life as the deputy shut and latched the heavy door between the jail cells and the office. “Jubal, you better go fetch Doc Creighton and ask him to get over here in a hurry.”

“I’m very sorry Elsie but your Father won’t be coming home.”

“I know that Deputy. It’s just as well; I’ll finally be free of his terrors. I just can’t believe he had the need to hurt my poor friends when he had already spent so much of his time hurting me.” 

Deputy Stone, his tone now tender said, “I’ll have one of the boys drive you home and I’ll ask my missus to come calling on you in the week ahead to see if she can help you in anyway.” 

“That’s very kind of you Deputy Stone but I will manage. I run the farm on my own anyhow, now I will be able to do so in peace.”

The neighboring county constables, the state police and Deputy Stone scoured the woods up around the still in the days to come. There they unearthed the shallow grave of the Treasury man and several remnants of the missing girls dresses. That, along with the sheriff’s possessions found under his bed, were more than enough to send Frank Meyers to the gallows and by the time he was hung he had himself believing he had committed all of the terrible acts of which he had been accused. He went to his drop screaming as they placed the hood over his head, “I’m sorry Carra, I’m so very sorry my love! What a monster I have become! What a horror I’ve committed! Now I will never see your pretty face again! I am damned to perdition!” He was still lamenting, muffled under the hood, when his neck snapped and after that he just danced awhile, silently.

Nobody ever knew what became of the bodies of Sheriff Maddox and the three girls but many folks marveled at how transformed and upright Elsie Meyer had grown. She even entered a fat and frisky hog in the County Fair that summer and won a blue ribbon. The events of 1918 were not soon forgotten and the disappearances remained a well-told tale in the region for generations to come. Some spoke warily of the strange woman who lived alone up on the mountain and others championed her for her fortitude and perseverance. Fewer still, including the parents of Ruth Presseisen, went to their graves never giving up the idea that she was somehow involved in the tragedies of that long ago winter and spring. 

As for the quiet, dowdy cripple of Christian County she lived out her days quietly and peaceably. And only now and again would she pull the stone from the root cellar walls and fondle those long ago relics. The Sheriff’s hat was now musty and misshapen and his keys were tarnished and rusting. The scraps of dress she had kept for herself had grown moldy and brittle over the years. Only the jawbone remained the same, still to this day white and rigid. She often wondered which of her classmates it had actually belonged to but every now and again, when she held it up close and examined the teeth, she was quite certain she caught a trace of a whiff of peppermint.