Lost in Nowhere

  Also by Barbara Pietron

  Legacy in Legend Series:

  Heart of Ice

  Thunderstone

  Veiled Existence

  Soulshifter

  Legacy in Legend

  Lost in Nowhere

  Book Three

  Scribe Publishing Company

  29488 Woodward, Suite 426

  Royal Oak, Michigan 48073

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people or real places are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, people or places, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2021 by Barbara Pietron

  www.barbarapietron.com

  Cover design by Hadrout Advertising + Technology

  Interior design by Inanna Arthen

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  ISBN 9781940368047

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020945218

  Printed in the U.S.

  This one is for my sisters, Judy and Linda,

  because they understand taking the road less traveled.

  The Vriller Family Tree

  It isn’t just cleverness you’ll be needing now,

  but discernment and good judgment too, and persuasiveness,

  and perhaps even some courage.

  The White Cat ~ Henri Pourrat

  Chapter 1

  Jeni froze, her gaze fixed on a book title: Myths and Legends of America’s Heartland. Her hesitation to pick the book up was unwarranted, and she knew it. She’d learned the hard way that she couldn’t ignore what she was—what she’d started. After being burned twice by stories that shouldn’t have been true, she’d be a fool not to learn if there were any threats in the immediate area.

  She’d arrived with her parents last night to the row of cabins known as the River Aux Vases Resort just outside Ste. Genevieve, Missouri. The resort office was closed then—keys left in the cabin—and her mom had walked down to officially check in that morning. When she mentioned the office doubled as a gift shop, Jeni agreed they should go back together and take a look.

  Daylight revealed that the office was actually a room attached to what Jeni assumed was the owner’s residence. The dimly lit interior was rustic, but clean. Clothing filled the majority of the space—sweatshirts and T-shirts primarily, some hats and tank tops, even a few infant onesies. Aside from the rotating wire rack of books Jeni had been perusing, the remaining items were small, like beer cozies, keychains and bottle openers.

  Filling her lungs with air, Jeni plucked the book from the rack and fanned the pages in search of a table of contents. Scanning the list of stories, the word “curse” nearly leapt off the page, making her heart stutter for a moment.

  Not again, she thought. Please, never again.

  Flipping to the correct page, Jeni found The Curse of Kaskaskia and began to read.

  Marielle knew her love was forbidden.

  Yet she could no more control her feelings than she could stem the flow of the mighty Mississippi River. So she held out hope.

  She knew Papa loved her above all. And he was the only family Marielle had ever known. After her mother’s death, Jean Bernard had taken his infant daughter from the cold, northern region of New France and settled much farther south, in the village of Kaskaskia.

  Marielle’s earliest memories were of animal fur. Sleek beaver pelts were by far the most sought after, but her father also traded the smaller soft furs of mink, marten, fox and otter. She grew up accustomed to rough men with long bushy beards and dirty clothes. The black-robed Jesuit missionaries and fierce-looking Indians she saw less regularly, although Papa had told her Kaskaskia was established by the missionaries to spread God’s word to the Indians and they’d named the village after one of the local tribes.

  As the town grew, so did her father’s business; his trading post expanded to a general mercantile. Nearly a woman by that time, Marielle was not sorry to leave behind the cleaning of animal hides for stocking shelves, helping customers and managing supplies that arrived by riverboat. But the highlight of her days became working with Amakapa, a young Indian man her father had hired to do menial work.

  At first Marielle had hardly noticed the well-mannered, soft-spoken Indian. Then, one day, she asked Amakapa to move a crate for her. As she gazed into his gentle eyes—so deeply brown they were nearly black—Marielle became hopelessly smitten.

  About the same time, her father came to recognize Amakapa’s capabilities. Taught by the Jesuit priests, Amakapa spoke English and could read, write and do basic math. He was also baptized in the Christian church. Marielle realized Papa had grown fond of the young man when he gave Amakapa jobs he’d previously reserved for his white employees.

  Observing this, Marielle allowed herself to hope that she might have a future with Amakapa. She knew an Indian man with a white woman was met with disapproval among the townsfolk—even though most accepted a white man with an Indian wife—but if papa gave his blessing, perhaps the town would accept their relationship.

  With only rare, clandestine moments to spend together, Marielle and Amakapa awaited an opportune moment to make their plea to Jean Bernard.

  Fate, however, never gave them that chance.

  Arriving unexpectedly at the mercantile, Bernard discovered the lovers in a passionate embrace. Flying into a rage, he ignored Marielle’s attempted explanation and immediately fired Amakapa, adding that he would spread word about town making it impossible for the Indian man to find work. Then he threatened to kill Amakapa if he caught him with his daughter again.

  With no means of supporting himself, Amakapa was forced to leave Kaskaskia, but he managed to get a note to Marielle promising to return for her.

  Marielle pretended to recover from her broken heart, while inside, she lived for the day she would see Amakapa again. When she had nearly given up hope, her love crept into town in disguise. That very night, Marielle and Amakapa fled.

  Their freedom was short-lived. They were captured and taken back to Kaskaskia to face Jean Bernard’s wrath. Marielle wailed in protest when Papa ordered his men to truss Amakapa to a log and set him adrift on the Mississippi River.

  Although Marielle did not witness Amakapa’s death, word spread. As the log swirled away from shore, Amakapa proclaimed that he and Marielle would be together forever in the afterlife and Jean Bernard would be dead within the coming year. Then he cursed all of Kaskaskia, saying the town would be destroyed, its churches and homes ruined and the dead would be disturbed from their graves.

  The townsfolk gave Amakapa’s words little thought until the foretold events began to take place. Heartsick at her father’s cruelty, Marielle refused to eat. Although her father threatened and ultimately begged, she welcomed death so she could join Amakapa on the other side.

  Incensed by his inability to prevent Marielle’s self-imposed death, Bernard became crazed, turning his wrath on anyone and anything. Five months after burying his daughter, he accused a man of cheating him in a business deal. The man refused to concede, so Bernard challenged him to a duel. Jean Bernard lost the duel and died of the gunshot wound, fulfilling the second part of Amakapa’s proclamation.

  In time, the remainder of the curse came to pass. Though it had once been named the capital of the Illinois Territory, Kaskaskia lost th
e distinction as continual flooding battered the town. Eventually, the residents relocated Kaskaskia farther south. In the late 1800s, a great flood swept away all remnants of the original town, necessitating an emergency operation in which three thousand graves were exhumed and relocated atop a river bluff to the east.

  The aftermath of the great flood left the relocated town of Kaskaskia severed from the state of Illinois. The Mississippi River, which once flowed west of the town, had shifted into the Kaskaskia River, to the east. Today, Kaskaskia is nearly a ghost town, with less than twenty residents and a mere scattering of buildings.

  Jeni stared at the page for a moment. There was no monster or otherworldly creature to fear in this story, although it left her with a wistful sadness. She was lucky to live in a time where diverse couples weren’t unusual.

  “Are you interested in local lore?”

  She fumbled the book, whirling to face the deep voice. “Uh, I…” She swallowed, her next words drying up on her tongue. A guy around her age regarded her; his raised eyebrows nearly eclipsed by the shock of straw-colored hair that fell across his forehead. His eyes were deep blue and a smile softened his square jaw. Broad shoulders and a narrow waist rounded out the stereotypical look of a high school football captain. “Yeah. I mean… it depends on the story, I guess,” Jeni finally managed to say.

  A blush heated her cheeks as she realized how stupid her answer sounded out loud, but he was gracious.

  “I can understand that,” he said, smile widening. “Some legends are just ridiculous.”

  “True.” Jeni hitched her purse higher on her shoulder as she glanced across the room for her mom.

  “Kaskaskia’s close by if you’re interested in seeing it.”

  When Jeni returned a blank look, he said, “The story you were just reading, wasn’t it about Kaskaskia?”

  “Oh… uh… right. Yes, it was.” The blundering response lit Jeni’s face aflame. “But… it said the town was in Illinois. I didn’t expect it was around here.”

  “Sure is. Only about fifteen or twenty minutes away. I can give you directions. Or better, I’d be happy to take you out there.”

  His good looks were immediately negated by the creepiness of his overfriendly vibe. Spying her mom, Jeni took a step backward. “I should see if my mom is done.”

  He nodded, shifting on his feet. “Wow, sorry, that was awfully forward. It’s just that I’m kind of a buff on this area’s history—including the legends—and I can tend to get too enthusiastic about it.” He sidestepped, putting more space between them. “You just let me know if you have any questions about the area. I can tell you what things are worth your time and what things are as pointless as a bucket under a bull. I’m Ansel, by the way. Me and my ma run the resort.”

  With a stiff bob of her head and no intention of sharing her name, Jeni stuffed the book back in the rack and then hustled toward her mom, perplexed by the warm feeling in the pit of her stomach. Had he been coming on to her? Or did he offer personal tours to everyone? And what was that comment about a bucket under a bull?

  Her mom held up a shirt which had “Ste. Genevieve Est. 1735” printed on the front in distressed lettering. “Do you think this will fit Dad?”

  Jeni sized up the shirt and then nodded. “Yeah. It looks like his style, too.”

  “You mean black with worn print?” Her mom chuckled. “That’s what I thought, too.” She draped the shirt over her arm and headed for the cash register.

  To avoid further awkwardness, Jeni drifted to the rack of local attraction brochures near the door as her mom paid Ansel for the shirt. Although he’d been forward, Jeni blamed herself for the uncomfortable conversation. She’d never been great at talking to guys in the first place, but now that she was in a relationship—particularly a long-distance relationship—she wasn’t sure of the proper protocol. At what point should she blurt out that she had a boyfriend? What if the guy was just being friendly and not coming on to her? Especially at school, she often felt like guys thought she was making up an excuse since they never saw her with a boyfriend.

  Bright sun and warm air greeted them as they exited the store and Jeni pulled her sunglasses from her head to put them on. She noticed her mom had slowed while rummaging in her purse.

  Recovering her phone, Jeni’s mom read a text message. “It’s Jessie,” she reported. “She and Neil will be here in about ten minutes. Let’s stop in and let the others know.” She turned toward the first, and largest, log cabin in the row of four that made up the resort.

  “Awkward” must’ve been the theme for Jeni’s afternoon, because her cousin, Tyler—who had always treated Jeni like an annoying little sister—barely spared a glance at her as they entered the cabin. He was sitting on the couch with a pretty dark-haired girl snuggled under his arm.

  Jeni’s mom followed Tyler’s mom into the kitchen area, while Jeni trailed behind since her cousin hadn’t offered any introductions. She hadn’t seen Tyler since the riverboat cruise last fall, which had left their relationship on a tenuous note. She had no idea what to say to him, especially since he had a girl with him.

  “Hey, is that a Second Star to the Right shirt?” an unfamiliar feminine voice inquired.

  Jeni jerked her chin up, turning toward the couple on the couch. She ignored her cousin’s displeased glare. “Uh… yeah.” She straightened, smoothing the wrinkles from her shirt. “They’re my favorite band.”

  Eyes animated, the girl replied, “I love them, too.” Her straight, shiny hair brushed along her jawline as she nodded. “I’m Mandy.”

  With the issue forced, Tyler spoke up. “This is my cousin, Jeni.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jeni.” The corners of Mandy’s brown eyes crinkled when she smiled. “We’ll definitely have to talk later.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Jeni didn’t want to sound unfriendly, but she also wasn’t going to get too excited about making friends with this girl. Tyler’s girlfriends never lasted long. She was surprised he’d even brought her on a weeklong trip.

  According to Jeni’s best friend—who’d fallen for Tyler while they were on the river cruise—her cousin possessed some kind of bad boy vibe and irresistible charm. His sandy brown hair had just enough curl to pull off a casual disheveled look that Jeni wasn’t sure was intentional or incidental. He was broad shouldered and fit, spending his free time snowboarding in the winter and skateboarding in the warmer weather.

  Pressing her lips together, Jeni recalled how Tyler had flirted with her friend, Carolyn, and then once she was under his spell, moved on to the next pretty girl that came by.

  A distinct crinkling followed by the dry sound of munchies hitting plastic drew Jeni’s attention to her aunt who was dumping potato chips into a bowl. It was the perfect cue to walk away. A question from Tyler, though, stopped her mid-pivot. “Did you and Ice break up?”

  “No.” Jeni frowned at her cousin, not liking the smarmy undercurrent to his voice. “He’s flying in tonight, why?”

  “I just saw that picture… with some other girl.” Reading her bewilderment, he added, “Oh. I guess you didn’t see it.”

  “Nik asked Ice to give a campus tour today to a girl from another reservation, if that’s what you mean.” She tried not to sound defensive. “Wenonah’s an apprentice medicine woman. They’ve known each other since they were kids.”

  A scuff from the steps outside interrupted their exchange.

  Jeni’s eyes widened as she recognized Ansel standing there. Jeez, had he followed her over here?

  Unexpectedly, Tyler hailed Ansel, immediately rising from the couch to open the door, while Mandy bounced to her feet saying, “Be right back. I gotta grab some shoes.”

  The log home’s open floor plan didn’t offer a place to hide, so Jeni joined her mom at the kitchen counter, keeping her back to the door and ears tuned to Ansel and Tyler’s conversation. Though the smell of pota
to chips tantalized her, she resisted, knowing the crunchiness would impede her eavesdropping. Instead, she pulled out her phone and pretended to be absorbed.

  Tyler asked how far the drive was to St. Mary and then someone mentioned Mandy’s grandma. Sounded like Ansel really did take people on tours. He hadn’t followed Jeni here after all.

  With her phone open in front of her, Jeni was curious how much her cousin had exaggerated the picture on Ice’s social media account.

  Her first glance nearly took her breath away.

  A very attractive, curvy girl with raven hair down to her shoulders clung tightly to Ice’s waist. His arm was behind her back. One of her cultivated eyebrows peaked provocatively and her lips formed a sultry pout as she pressed her head against Ice’s shoulder.

  A streak of anger flashed through Jeni. Childhood friends? Wenonah was certainly no longer a child, and she seemed eager to let Ice know it.

  “ …us, Jeni?”

  “What?” Jeni looked up, uncertain who’d said her name.

  Mandy had returned and stood by the guys at the door. “Do you want to come with us? We’re going to see if we can find my grandma’s house in St. Mary.”

  Tyler looked annoyed, but Ansel smiled at her, his eyebrows arched. Again, the warm, slightly pleasant, yet slightly uncomfortable feeling roiled in her stomach.

  “I… uh…” Her gaze fell to her phone, still displaying the photo. She flipped it face-down. “Yeah, why not?” she blurted. “Is it okay with you, Mom?”

  Having heard the exchange, her mom nodded. “Sure, go ahead.”

  Dropping her phone into her purse and looping the bag over her shoulder, Jeni followed the other three out the door. Better to pass the time talking to Mandy about Second Star to the Right than stewing over that picture.

  The V-8 engine rumbled eagerly as Ansel guided the muscle car through an s-curve in the two-lane road. Wind whipping through the open window slicked Jeni’s hair away from her face , the tendrils tickling her neck as they attempted to hide from the rush of air. Capturing most of the hair by smoothing open hands around her head, Jeni slipped an elastic from her wrist to secure a ponytail.