The Secret in Mossy Swamp

By Rita Monette

Living in a tiny houseboat, Nikki is stuck with sharing a room with her little brother, Jesse, who does what little brothers do best…torture their sisters.  Fed up, she decides to build a place of her own…a tree house where no boys are allowed. Meanwhile, something strange is happening on Bayou Platte. Things and people are co

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mirror World Publishing
• Release date: Sep 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781987976175

Rita Monette

Rita Monette was born and raised in Southwest Louisiana. After retiring from her "real" job as an administrative assistant for the State of Michigan, Rita began doing what she always wanted to do...write and draw. Her stories are set in the beautiful, yet mysterious, bayous and swamps of her home state. The Mystery on Lost Lagoon is the fourth book in her Nikki Landry Swamp Legend series, which is based on her childhood. Rita now lives with her husband, four lap dogs, and one lap cat, in the mountains of Tennessee.

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The Secret in Mossy Swamp

Rita Monette

E-BOOK EDITION

The Secret in Mossy Swamp © 2016 by Mirror World Publishing and Rita Monette

Edited by: Robert Dowsett

Cover by: Justine Alley Dowsett

Published by Mirror World Publishing September, 2016

All Rights Reserved.

*This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual locales, events or persons is entirely coincidental.

Mirror World Publishing

Windsor, Ontario

www.mirrorworldpublishing.com

[e-mail]

ISBN: 978-1-987976-17-5

For Bradley Daigle

1946 - 1967

Friend and Hero

Lost to us in the swamps of Vietnam

Cajun French Words and Terms

If this is your first time in the Louisiana bayous with Nikki Landry, here are some Cajun French words and Louisiana terms that are used in this book, how to say them, and what they mean.

Atchafalaya Swamp/Basin (A-cha-fa-lie-ya) – A large river, ending at the city of Morgan City, which overflows into a very large swamp by the same name. See more in the Author’s Notes about this swamp.

Bayou (ba-you) – A body of water, such as a canal or small lake. Typically found in Louisiana and states on the southern coast.

Cher (shah) – A term of endearment. Cajun French for dear.

Jacques (Zshock) – French for Jack.

Levee (le-vee) – A long, high ridge of dirt built around/along the swamp and bayous to keep the water from flooding into the cities.

Nonc (nunk) – Cajun French for uncle.

Pirogue (pee-rog) – A small, flat-bottom boat with a point on each end, designed to go through the swamps without getting stuck. That is, unless you run into a gator.

Rougarou (roo-ga-roo) – Also called Loup Garou. A swamp version of the werewolf. Every Cajun child is afraid of it…and some adults, as well.

’Tite fille – (’teet fee) Little girl in Cajun French.

Chapter 1 - The Intruder

June. 9, 1957

Dear Diary,

A lot of crazy stuff can happen in a week. And last week was the craziest ever. It all started with that terrible sound…the one that came from deep in the swamp. And then…

June 2, Sunday Night, One week earlier

SKREEEEEEE! The sound reminded me of a giant fingernail being scraped across a blackboard. Then everything suddenly got extra quiet.

Living in a houseboat and all, I’d gotten pretty used to strange noises coming from the swamps. But this one—the one that could make the other critters shut up—gave me the willies. Papa says folks living along the bayous are apt to believe in legends, and anything weird they can’t explain is on account of some swamp creature, namely the rougarou. But my papa, being smarter than most folks, told me there’s always something logical behind legends. And I always believed my papa…well, most of the time.

I rolled over under my quilt and wiggled to get more comfortable. Snooper, who had used my legs for his pillow, growled real low. He didn’t much like his sleep being disturbed. He was awful lazy for a beagle.

While I laid there trying to go back to sleep, my skin got a prickly feeling—sorta like when someone is watching you. I opened one eye. The pale moon and the wind through the trees made creepy shadows that moved like long fingers across the tiny window. I could barely see the outline of my little brother, Jesse, on his cot nearby. I closed my eye, hoping I’d soon doze back off, but in the dark, a sound like low deep breathing…real close to my bed…filled my head with images of blood-red eyes and yellow fangs. The wooden floor creaked.

I remembered the ghostly pirates that had visited me in my dreams a few months ago. But this wasn’t a dream. I was pretty certain I was awake. I pinched my arm to be sure. I opened both eyes just a slit. A shadow moved near the foot of my bed. I tried to swallow, but my mouth felt dry as a bite of an unripe persimmon.

My covers moved ever so slightly. I tugged ’em up to my chin and pressed my eyes shut as hard as I could…and waited.

The bed jiggled.

Snooper growled.

S-Snoop? I whispered. Something cold like my dog’s nose touched my foot…then it grabbed my toes. Not Snooper.

Eeeeeek! I screamed and jumped to my feet. I stood on the bed and yelled as loud as I could manage, hoping my parents would hear me from their room.

Rouwrrrrrr! Something tackled my legs and pushed me down on the bed. Yahahaha…

I swung my arms in the dark, but it was on top of me, its wet mouth snarling in my ear. Was it…?

What’s going on in here? Papa rushed through the door holding a lantern. The room lit up with the pale glow of kerosene light.

Hah, I got you good. Jesse stood up over me.

Papa, Jesse tried to scare me. My voice trembled.

"I did scare you. Jesse jumped around on my bed. Hahahaha."

Did not! I knew it was you. I threw my legs over the side of the bed. Papa, you’ve got to get him out of my room. I can’t have anything. He’s always in my stuff. I jerked my finger at him. And now he’s on my bed. I can’t even sleep!

It’s not that bad, is it, Tadpole? Papa usually called me Tadpole unless he was being serious, then it was Nikki, or Nicole Elizabeth Landry if I was in big trouble.

My face felt hot and my eyes watered. This has been my room since I was born—eleven years and four months to be exact. I took in a long shaky breath. My brother was almost six, and Papa had moved him in with me last summer, promising to put the houseboat on land and build a room on for him.

As long as our house is on the water, there ain’t no place to build another room, Papa said.

Well, park us on land, I whined. You promised.

I haven’t decided if I want to stay here permanent. He scratched the stubble on his chin. The crabs are biting real good here, but that could change any time. I have to stay mobile.

But you got the job as game warden so we didn’t have to move. You ain’t leaving that job, are you?

Papa was in the habit of moving our houseboat to a new place a couple times a year, until I talked to the sheriff about that game warden job in the paper. Papa had been raised in the swamps and bayous all his life and he was smart enough to pass the tests to get that job, even though he said it didn’t pay as much as being a swamper when the times were right. I think he just liked being his own boss and being able to move when he wanted to.

Mama came into the room, holding her worn cotton housecoat together in the front. What’s all the commotion?

Papa chuckled. Jesse’s giving Nikki a hard time.

He snuck up and grabbed me in the dark, Mama.

Oh, Nikki, he’s just playing around, she said. He’s just a baby.

Why does everyone take up for him? I folded my arms in front of me. He’s not a baby. He’s a pest, that’s what he is.

Jesse giggled and ran toward his cot, where he’d shaped his blankets to look like someone was lying under ’em. I really scared you, didn’t I? He made a growling noise and jumped onto his bed. Did you think I was the rougarou?

I threw my pillow at him. No.

Did that howling wake you? Mama asked Jesse as she tucked him in.

Nope. I ain’t scared of no how’ing dog. Jesse still struggled with his L sounds.

That wasn’t no howling sound anyway. I poked my lips out. It was more like some old pig a-screechin’.

Well, y’all quiet down. She handed me back my pillow. Papa’s gotta get some sleep. He has to get up early in the morning.

I crawled back under my covers before Mama picked up the lamp and followed Papa out, closing the door behind her. The room returned to darkness.

I hope the real rougarou gets you, I snarled at Jesse before I closed my eyes.

The rougarou ain’t real, and you know it.

Sometimes I wish it were…I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 2 – Papa’s Assignment

June 3, Monday Morning

The bright morning sun smiled at me through the window. I sat up and smiled back. Now that school was out for the summer, the day was mine to do as I pleased. No school bus full of smelly kids. No loud bells ringing in my ears. No more arithmetic homework with that dumb kid named John buying bushels of apples and trying to make me figure out how much they cost. The only thing I liked about school was recess and lunch time, when I could climb up into the branches of the old oak tree in the back of the school yard and be by myself…unless Spikes showed up.

Jesse’s bed looked empty. I got up and poked at the covers to make sure he wasn’t playing another trick on me. As I turned to get my clothes, something caught my eye. What looked like the edge of my diary poked out from under his pillow. I snatched it up and saw the little strap with the lock, meant to keep my deepest secrets from prying eyes, had been cut. Why would Jesse need to open my diary? He couldn’t even read yet. I flipped through the pages and saw why. He had drawn pictures on all of the blank pages…with crayon. Ruined. The book that had been a birthday gift from my closest friend, Patti LeBlanc, trashed. My jaws clenched hard and my lips pinched tight.

I got into my slightly dirty overalls and a clean shirt and hurried into the kitchen, where the smell of frying bacon made my tongue roll around in my mouth. Mama stood at the stove in her stained blue apron, while Jesse sat at the table drinking a glass of milk.

Good morning, Nikki, Mama said in her cheery voice. I hope you slept well.

How can anyone sleep well with a pesky brother in the room? I slammed my diary on the table. And look what he did to my diary.

I didn’t do it, Jesse shook his head so hard his whole body rocked.

Well, then somebody else did and hid it under your pillow, right? I reached for his neck.

He hopped off the chair and ran into the living room area. I chased after him, tripping on the corner of a rug. Papa sat at a small wooden table with his cup of coffee and a bunch of maps scattered in front of him. Jesse bumped into the table, knocking Papa’s coffee over. Hot brown liquid spilled onto one of the maps, ran off the edge of the table, and onto the back of my neck where I had fallen face down.

Papa jumped to his feet and snatched up the papers. Rose, get me a towel, quick!

Mama came running with a cloth and soaked it up. You kids need to go outside if you’re going to make such a commotion this early in the morning.

This place isn’t big enough for that kind of horseplay, Papa growled. Nikki, leave your brother alone.

I stomped back to the kitchen table, wiping my neck with the collar of my shirt, and grabbed up my diary. It wasn’t like Papa at all to get mad, and he usually took my side when there was trouble afoot. Jesse seemed to be taking my place as Papa’s favorite. He had started taking Jesse out to help run his crab lines. I used to be his right-hand fishing partner. I felt like I didn’t fit in anymore. This place ain’t big enough for anything, I said and ran for the door.

I sat on the dock with my ruined birthday gift in my lap. Snooper trotted up next to me and laid his head on my leg. I wish we had our own place, Snoop. He gazed up at me with his I know how you feel look.

Snooper was the only creature in the whole world that understood me. I put my arm around him and nuzzled my face in his short fur. Snooper had been my best buddy since Papa brought him home as a hunting dog. After he found out he was useless at that particular chore, he set out to get rid of him, but I wasn’t about to let that happen. Me and him were two of a kind. Neither of us fit in. Snoop couldn’t hunt coons or rabbits on account of his smeller not working, and it seemed I couldn’t keep my nose out of trouble.

I glanced out at an old oak tree with low, moss-covered branches that reached out over the bayou. That there would make a grand getaway, don’t you think? Maybe a tree house.

My old friend, Lydia Hebert, from Pierre Part, had her own tree house. We had a lot of fun playing in hers. Spikes and his brothers had their own clubhouse. That’s where we figured out the pirate map from our last adventure. I thought it was time I had one of my own. My dog cocked his head at where I pointed and blinked.

Mama came up behind me. Come in for some breakfast, honey.

I’m not hungry, I huffed. And why’s Papa so grumpy anyway?

Mama sat down on a wooden bench. Oh, he’s just fretting over that missing boy.

What missing boy? I squinted at her.

A young boy from up the levee near town. That’s all I know, she said. "He’s been gone