Scorned

By BD Nelson

Through an assignment, REGAN DUNN, a journalist for Women to Women Magazine learns of a group of vigilante women who banned together and built the township called Promise. It was said men were judged and hanged for their murderous crimes by this secret society and Regan has firsthand information by one who witnessed it all, EDNA JACKSON.

At one hundred and ten, Edna can still recite the events that took place over a century ago. She also tells of a legend that the dead roam the streets seeking vengeance. A legend better left buried. But since visitors were never heard from again, it’s believed that to this day those restless spirits roam the streets possessing men who enter its boundaries.

Although Edna Jackson was just a child, she remembered her father’s hanging and mother’s suicide like it were yesterday and told her tale in the bestselling novel: An Unsettling Justice. The story Regan Dunn was assigned to. But no one, not even Edna could foretell the danger lurking behind her words. Or the evils that still remained deep within the soil.

Writing about such a legend could bring ridicule upon someone with Regan’s reputation. So despite Edna warnings, her and her husband plan a week-long vacation where she learns the truth behind the legends—a truth that comes with a deadly price.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BD Nelson
• Release date: Mar 18, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458070630

BD Nelson

BD Nelson is a down to earth Oregonian, who loves to camp, fish, garden, and go on nature walks. She loves children, dogs and hanging out with her friends—nothing out of the ordinary, until it comes to her writing. Writing has been her passion from childhood. The choice of mystery/thriller being BD Nelson’s preferred genre, both in reading and writing, suspense being her main topic of interest. Whether she’s snuggled up next to her hubby watching a movie, cuddled up on the couch with a good book, or having lunch with her best friend, BD Nelson’s mind churns out scenes for a new story.

Book preview

SCORNED

By BD Nelson

Copyright 2011 by BD Nelson-Littrell

Smashwords Edition

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Other titles by BD Nelson http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/bdnelson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the Author except by a reviewer to quote a brief passage in a review. Characters are fictitious; any resemblance to a real person is strictly coincidental.

The book is not based on any factual event or place.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the Author except by a reviewer to quote a brief passage in a review. Characters are fictitious; any resemblance to a real person is strictly coincidental.

The book is not based on any factual event or place.

Other Titles by BD Nelson:

Abigail’s Cries

Thriller/Suspense

Each page that Karen Tyler Pens fuels the fires of her own nightmares and by the time she’s aware of what’s happening she’s knee deep in blood.

The Autobiography:

An Eternal Rite of Passage

Mystery/Suspense

From the moment Greg Reed steps foot onto the island, a strange phenomenon draws him deep into a family curse, threatening his sanity and the lives of his loved ones.

An Unforgiven Sin

Suspense/Drama

A novella about a young family, Jack and Angela Stevens who struggle through survival after a tragic accident took their child, left Angela paralyzed, and Jack teetering on the edge.

Visit me on my website:

www.bdnelsonlittrell.com

All books available as an eBook download in all formats.

Acknowledgement

There are so many special people in my life that have played a part in bringing this novel to be. What can I say about all my family, friends and fans? Words cannot describe how overwhelmed I am with your backing and loyalties. So many of you to mention, I know you know who you are. It’s a difficult decision to select a few out of the masses to dedicate Scorned to, let alone one. But there was a few that stood out from the crowd who played such a large part in making it happen, that suddenly the decision was clear.

Maddy Delaney, my aunt, my friend and my devoted fan—her praise and cheers have kept me going. She will never know how much that has meant to me. This fabulous woman has made a difference in so many people’s lives—I am privileged to be among them.

Judy Farrar, owner/operator Kissed by Mother Nature, my dearest friend. Judy’s assistance with critiquing, and reassurance was invaluable and without her undying encouragement the novel would still be stuffed away in a file. Thank you Judy! Kissedbymothernature.com

Last but not least, as always, Steve Littrell, my husband, my best friend, and my biggest fan. His suggestions encourage me to reach deep down into my imagination and pull up things I never thought were there. I have used some of his ideas as well that helped pull the novel together. Without his critiquing, editing skills and helpful hints, Scorned wouldn’t be all that it is. Not to mention the beautiful cover pictures he took in our front yard. One of them was used for the cover of The Autobiography.

I also need to take the opportunity to thank him for understanding and enduring the hours I spent in seclusion, while he helped with meals, dishes and laundry. No words can describe how I have appreciated that!

Thank you all, this one’s for you!

Author’s inspiration

Many years ago, when I was just a child, my family purchased several acres of land and we moved into the existing home. I was young and don’t remember much about it except that my mother was scared to death to stay in the house. For some reason, even at an early age I would become enthralled with the paranormal and captivated by mystery. Although a bit frightened, I couldn’t help enjoying the excitement of it all.

We weren’t there long, but while there I remember the beautiful scenery, thick woods and rolling blue hills. Next to the house were a few small structures. There was a date written over the door of one of the buildings, but all I remember now is that it was very old. I suppose one of my parents had told me it was a ghost town, and my imagination went wild. Along with intrigue for mystery, I always had a vivid imagination that sent me off on numerous adventures. In this particular place I liked to imagine myself being the Sheriff of the ghost town, and my little sister was my deputy.

On one of the buildings, was a name, which I assumed was the name of the town, at least in my imaginary world, that’s what I called it. The word Promise stuck in my mind all these years and my growing passion for ghost towns grew.

Interestingly enough, after doing a bit of research, indeed there was a town called Promise that is now a ghost town. Although stored far back in my memory, I was able to drudge up the name and was happy to learn that it wasn’t entirely imagined.

For once upon a time I was the Sherriff of a real ghost town, and thus inspired me to write this fiction novel—Scorned.

Prologue

REGAN DUNN was so engrossed in the novel that even the noisy coffee shop didn’t disturb her. She sipped on the double latte until it was time to flip the page.

Must be a pretty good book, Regan looked up to see Dana, sporting an arrogant expression.

I’m sorry if it seemed I was ignoring you. I didn’t see you come in. She gestured toward the chair across from her. Have a seat. The last person Regan wanted to run into was Dana Sykes, a modern day busybody spreading her misery along every inch of her path. She was more of an acquaintance than a friend—funny how people throw the word around.

Dana scoped out the coffee shop as she slid her elegant self into the chair with proper etiquette. It made Regan gag. Busy today huh? It must be the rain. Rain doesn’t bother me, I’m smart enough to adapt with common sense by wearing my hair off the collar. She waved her hand over her head displaying the tight bun, which reminded Regan of a model exhibiting a sports car.

I just carry an umbrella. Regan said cleverly then flipped her ash colored hair off her shoulder.

Dana’s smug look switched to stone. I can’t stay long, but I’m glad I ran into you. She slid an envelope across the table. I’m having a baby shower for Lori next month. It would be nice if you go."

Regan’s stomach soured. Dana’s pompous attitude put her immediately on the defensive. She knew her friend thought the quarrel was nothing but drivel. I’ll have to check my schedule.

Dana stirred her coffee slowly elevating a pinky. This thing between you two is just silly if you ask me.

Nobody’s asking, so let’s change the subject shall we?

Dana stared at her intently with her devilish green eyes. So much so that Regan broke eye contact. So what’s the book about?

What—oh the novel? she picked it up and looked at it vacantly. Dana had caught her off guard. It’s the assignment I’m working on. But then, you knew that didn’t you?

Oh yeah, that old lady—what was her name? She tapped a freshly manicured finger against her temple. Oh yes, Edna Jackson, am I right? Are you still writing that story?

Yes, I just came from her birthday party as a matter of fact. I’ve gotten very close to her. She threw that in as a warning to Dana to choose her words carefully.

You told me that before. Her snide attitude burrowed under Regan’s skin. So that’s the infamous novel? she reached across the table. Mind if I have a look?

No go right ahead.

‘An Unsettling Justice’—catchy, I’ve forgotten—how old is she?

She’s a hundred and ten years old. Regan stated proudly.

That’s amazing—and she’s still writing books?

"I only hope to be so sharp when I’m half her age," Regan said, still unsure where the conversation would go.

The infamous Edna Jackson, who ripped best friends asunder, how does she sleep at night?

Hey—I thought we dropped that subject.

Dana gave her a malicious grin. According to Lori, the woman is evil. She said she didn’t want the assignment anyway. Something about the woman nearly scared Lori to death. You should be careful Regan. She scooted her chair back and stood. I’ve got to get. It was nice to see you again. Good luck with the story. I mean that—really I do. Hope to see you at the shower.

Regan’s defenses emerged. Lori was pulled off the story by our boss. It wasn’t because I took it out from under her. She struggled to steady herself before too much tumbled carelessly out of her mouth. Ethically, I can’t say why, but Lori knows. It saddens me that she would be so vindictive. Ms. Stedman gave me the assignment. It’s not like I asked for it.

Dana’s smile was taut. Hey—all I’m saying is that I don’t see why the two of you can’t let this silly feud go. It’s just a story for crying out loud. She fanned the air. The rest of it isn’t any of my business.

Her phony smile and line of bull shit had worn on Regan’s last nerve. But the quickest way to be rid of her was to be nice. I’ll check my calendar, but I can’t make any promises. She held up the invitation in reference.

Dana’s smile was more sincere as she waved. See you there, she crooned then left the coffee shop.

Regan opened the novel flipping wildly through the pages until she found her place. It was hard to concentrate after encountering that albatross, but eventually Regan was once again, lost in the book.

***

A century earlier…

EDNA JACKSON watched from the saloon window as three men were brought from the jail and ushered onto a platform in the middle of town. She stood on her tip-toes to peer over the ledge. She’d always been short for her age. Her ma had said the pain in her legs were from growing. Edna had plenty of the pain, but was still waiting on the growth.

Hanging’s too good for those bastards, she heard a woman say. She turned to give the woman a quick once over. None of the women seemed to notice Edna which suited her just fine.

I think they should have tortured them to death. Someone else uttered. Edna gave her a sharp stare.

No—they should take them out to the middle of the desert and let the buzzards pick out their eyeballs.

Edna flinched.

Gross—I can’t believe you said that, Suzanne.

Edna’s eyes trailed back to the men on the platform standing beneath the three nooses hanging down from a post. Someone in a black robe spoke and although she couldn’t hear what was said, she had a pretty good idea. Even at the age of eight, she’d been well informed of what a hanging was all about from listening to all the women talk.

Slowly she inched closer to the window-glass as a gunnysack was slid over her father’s head. With cheek pressed hard against the pane she etches the final picture she’d ever see of him. A tear formed in the corner of her eye as the rope slid over the gunnysack and the noose synched tight around his neck.

She was supposed to hate him. Everyone else did. Edna feared if they saw her tears the same thing would happen to her. So she was very careful to keep the concealed.

An excited woman ran up to the saloon door and shouted. Hurry up Cora, you’ll miss the hanging.

I’m coming—I’m coming.

This is so exciting, isn’t it?

Edna watched the eager women rush toward the center of town. Skirts kicked up behind them as they hurried to get a better view.

She hung her head and shed more tears after seeing his body drop like a ragdoll, hanging by the neck with his hands tied behind his back. There’s no dignity in that. All their bodies Jerked violently. Edna could feel each one. The child began to think it would never stop. Daddy— she cried out, until their bodies stilled.

Edna slid to the floor, back hugging the wall and wrapped thin arms around her knees as the thirsty mob stormed the saloon.

Set up the bar, Cora. A round for the house, we’ve got something to celebrate.

Smooth silk fabric brushed Edna’s arm as the women hurried past her. Whoops and hollers fill the room and ricochet off the rafters. No one saw the little girl buried inside a cocoon of grief.

I’m going to check on Emily Jackson, let her know that it’s over.

Have a shot first Maggie, she’ll wait.

I’ll be back, save me one.

Has anyone seen the kid? Cora asked.

Everyone looked at each other in bewilderment, then scattered to search.

We need to find her. Cora shouted.

Hope she didn’t see any of that, another said.

Afraid they’d see her tear stained cheeks, Edna pushed behind a nearby bench.

Moments later, Maggie’s shrill scream drown out the celebration and the search for Edna came to a halt. Maggie appeared at the top of the stairs hysterical. Emily’s dead—there’s blood everywhere. It looks like she slit her own wrists.

The child’s eyes widened with horror, Mamma—

CHAPTER ONE

An Unsettling Justice—Edna’s novel

Elisabeth Ingram-Calloway

Winter 1897

Snow came early that year and as always, people were desperate. It was a time when supplies ran low, and anxiety intensified. Many folks died of fever, mostly women and children. At least that’s what went down on paper. The men blamed the untimely deaths on starvation and illness, but the women knew better. Winter was a time when tempers flared from the nerve wrenching seclusion. Many women and children died from abuse, buried in shallow graves, marked with a cross—if at all. No one could be sure of the cause of death, and for fear of exposure to illness and disease, they didn’t bother to ask. It was a man’s world, where women and children did as they were told. Even so, too often they were beaten anyway.

***

Spring 1898

The black buggy caught Beth Calloway’s attention as it rolled around the bend. It was a rare site in those parts. Weren’t many around who could afford one, except for the rich folk and Reverend Thompson. Only reason he had one was because the Miller family donated it to the church from their grandmother’s estate. Beth could see no good reason for any of those folks to travel all the way out that time of day.

Beth used the back of her hand to swipe away loose strands of golden hair, as she leaned across the mound of bread dough to get a better view. The buggy was headed for the cabin all right, dust billowing up behind. She covered the dough, then dusted the flour from her apron and headed for the porch.

The sun glare caused a reflex in her hand to rest over the brow like a visor, as she squinted to make out the figure in the driver seat. The German Shepard took a stance at her side and started a low growl. Who do you suppose it is Lady?

Beth grabbed the rail and let out a squeal. Well I’ll be! If my eyes ain’t deceiving me—look who it is, Lady. She patted the dog on the head, then stepped off the porch and approached the slowing buggy, wiping her hands nervously in the apron. What in tarnation are you doing out here?

Mandy pulled on the reins until the buggy came to a stop, and then twisted in the seat to face Beth. Ain’t you glad to see you’re big sister?

Well of course, she offered her hand and waited until Mandy’s feet were planted on the ground before throwing her arms around her neck. I’m just tickled all the way to my pinky toe! What a pleasant surprise. I just can’t believe you came all this way to see me. Don’t anybody have lack of sense like that.

Mandy threw off her hat and beat it against her thigh, Only me. I had a hankering to find out how y’all were doing. Letters are nothing like being there. Time and a hard living left their marks on Mandy’s face, but when she smiled her cheekbones stood out like polished red apples.

Beth chuckled, I’m sure glad you did, but you took quite a risk—it’s dangerous to be traveling alone.

I know, I know—but I had to come, got some things to talk over with y’all.

Beth’s elation flipped to alarm, Everything all right?

She waved it off, Yep—but I’m drier than old lady Wagner’s biscuits.

Beth giggled. Where are my manners? Come on in, I’ll fetch you some water.

Mandy took hold of Beth’s arm—her eyes narrowed, He here?

You mean Marcus? Mandy nodded affirmatively. No he’s off hunting. He won’t be back for another week I reckon. Michel’s down at the pond fishing, he’ll be here soon enough though.

Little Michel? She held her hand out at waist level. Why, he was just so high, last time I saw him.

He’s not so little anymore—turned eleven past fall.

Time’s sure a flying by. Mandy said as she took the glass from Beth and swilled it down like a man tosses down whiskey.

Come sit, I want to hear everything that’s been happening in your life. Beth led her into the sitting room, and offered her a seat.

Mandy barely had her rump in the chair when she leaned forward—both hands firmly planted on her inner thighs, and turned to Beth. I want you and the kids to come back with me. She reached in her vest pocket and pulled out a wad of chewing tobacco and bit off a chunk. Instinctively, Beth offered Marcus’s spittoon.

Mandy’s face was stiff as leather, a look of authority that Beth had never seen before. Mandy had always been a bit manly—liked wearing pants instead of fancy dresses. Clear back when they were kids, Beth remembered their Mama made them beautiful gowns with lace bodice and matching petticoats. She used the finest silk she could afford. Beth would be so excited, but Mandy would refuse to even try them on. Nearly tore their Mama to shreds. But what got her goat even more was when she caught Mandy competing with Brad and Carl, their older brothers, in a belching or spitting contest.

The worst time Beth could remember was when Mandy cut off all her hair. After the whipping was over, their Mama didn’t get out of bed for nearly a week. Mandy used to set their Mama to reeling all right. Sometimes Beth thought she’d done it on purpose. But even knowing all that, Mandy’s callous expression blindsided her that day.

Beth stood and fanned herself, averting Mandy’s stare. I can’t leave now. I have so many things to do. I have… She had just begun to tick off the list by her finger tips, when Michael burst through the door—face pale and filled with terror.

Ma…!

Michael, simmer down, everything’s fine. We got a visitor. She motioned toward her sister who stood to greet him, still chewing on an excessive amount of tobacco. This is your aunt Mandy—came all the way from Brownsville to see us. Mandy opened her arms to greet him.

Like a gentleman, Michael stretched out his hand. Aunts get hugs, not handshakes. Mandy pushed his hand aside and pulled him to her chest.

Beth was humored by her son’s bewildered expression, squished against her sister’s breasts. It was good for the boy to know his kin. Beth laid a hand on his shoulder. Michael, will you tend to Aunt Mandy’s horse and buggy?

Yes Ma’am, he seemed relieved to be released from Mandy’s grasp.

What a fine young man you are. Let me get a look at you. She grasped his shoulders and held him at arm’s length. My, my how you’ve grown—going to break some women’s hearts someday.

Michael blushed, It was nice to meet you Ma’am. He stretched out his hand again, this time Mandy took it, if for no other reason than to humor him. I’ll go tend to your horse now.

Mandy gave Beth a flabbergasted look, And a gentleman too.

Yes he is, Beth said with her heart full of pride. It’s stuffy in here, besides we’re wasting a beautiful sunny day. Shall we go for a stroll?

That sounds like a great idea.

She turned to Michael whose mouth was agape with awe over Mandy’s appearance. Beth had to admit, there wasn’t much about Mandy that looked feminine. Listen for the girls will you?

Yes Ma’am.

I can’t wait to see them twin girls. Mandy said.

They’ll be up when we get back. Beth reached for Mandy’s hand and led her sister outside then stopped to let the sun warm her face. Oh how I love that heavenly warmth against my skin.

Mandy tugged on Beth’s hand, Let’s go, we can talk on the way.

Beth took in a deep refreshing breath then turned to Mandy as they strolled along the path. I just can’t get over you being here. Brings back so many memories I’d forgotten about. Funny how a person gets so wrapped up in their day-to-day life, and forgets the little pleasures.

I’m happy to be here with you too Beth. I’ve needed to link back up with my little sister.

Beth smiled warmly, Remember when we used to skip rocks out at the old pond? Only thing I was better at than you.

That isn’t true. Mandy slapped Beth’s shoulder. You weren’t better than me.

Was too—even Carl said so.

He was talking about me!

Beth’s face got somber, I miss Carl.

Mandy raised an eye brow. I do too.

You heard from him at all? Beth asked.

Mandy glanced away, No—you?

Beth shook her head. No—I wonder if he ever thinks of us. She leaned down and picked a purple flower, and held it under her nose.

Don’t know, probably never will know neither. Mandy got quiet. I don’t want to talk about Carl.

Me neither.

They walked on in silence, Beth reminiscent about days past, until they sat to rest beneath an old oak tree at the top of the knoll. Beth gazed out at the rolling blue hills. They’re so beautiful this time a year.

That’s when Mandy turned to her with that same dull expression. Elisabeth, we need to talk. Mandy only called her Elisabeth when she was angry, or about to tell her something serious.

Mandy had raised Beth after that horrible summer they lost their family. It all started when four bank robbers rode into town. Up until that day, life was pretty average for the Ingram family. Matt and their pa were picking up supplies, and before either of them knew what was happening, they were standing between the sheriff and the band of thieves. Matt was shot in the chest, and died before his Pa could get to him. Filled with grief and anger, Earl Ingram rode off after the men who killed his son, and never returned.

Their ma died a month later. Mandy always said she must’ve died of a broken heart. Carl had left right after Brad’s funeral so he never knew about their ma and pa.

He homesteaded halfway across the country, leaving Mandy and Beth to fend for themselves. Course Mandy never bothered to let Carl know, figured he was better off thinking they were still alive. Got a letter once he was settled and that was the last of it. Mandy said he was running from the pain, close as he and Brad were—no need for him to