Terror on Loco Ridge: Thou Shalt Love Thy Neighbor?

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

AuthorHouse™

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Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: 1-800-839-8640

© 2008 Della May Olson. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 10/28/2008

ISBN: 978-1-4389-0774-1 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2008908816

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

This novel is a work of fiction and does not resemble any person living or dead.

Terror on Loco Ridge is dedicated to Beulah Stever, a good example of unconditional love, and the one who taught me about gum!

Chapter 1

How much of the terror that held Loco Ridge in its grip, on that dark night after the massive reign of death and destruction, can be laid at my feet, I don’t know! Maybe I will never know. I seem to be blamed for everything bad that happens on our mountain.

My mother told me that my love for Matthew Bronson would lead to grief, but I was only twelve at the time. How could I know? Now, in 1951, in Central Montana, a twenty-one year old fledgling newspaper reporter, I need to break the bonds that have tied me to Loco Ridge. My life is a pendulum swinging between the need to know, and the need to bury the intangible past.

I should have listened to Matthew. I should have recognized his cry for help. Now I would give everything I own to have Matthew back the way he was; a gentle, loving farm boy. I will visit him in the hospital in Lewistown once more, and then I will decide whether to tell all, or lie again. Lies are becoming easier with each one I tell.

Before leaving for my second year in college, Matthew told me about his carnivorous hogs. I didn’t believe him. I didn’t care. I just wanted to get away from him and from everything that reminded me of Kenneth. I needed desperately to find myself.

   Being the Prom queen of my graduating class at Fergus County High School had set me up for the role I was to play in college. My ‘queenship’ had done me no favors. The crown on my head made me believe what I had sometimes suspected, that I was a little bit better than my peers. With my nose held high enough for a magpie to roost on it. I dressed the imperial part, too. My clothes were the latest fashion, my hair done in the latest style and color; blonde, of course. My folks could afford to pay for my vanity and I used them unmercifully. Heads turned when Judith Marie Newman walked by. A snob! That’s what I had become; a mean, uncaring, stuck up snob. I drove Kenneth to do what he did, as surely as if I had signed his death warrant. I did not like who I had become.

   I had not always been that way, even if being the daughter of the largest, most powerful rancher in the area gave me that privilege. John Newman, my father, is descended from the mountain men who tamed the foothills of the Snowy Mountains, in the good old days when the law was a gun in the holster of the toughest man on the mountain. John’s grandfather, Henry Newman, fought Indians, weather and loneliness, until a petite Blackfoot Indian maiden warmed his bed, and life became delicious for the tough man of the mountains for another thirty years.

Henry’s son, Cloud Newman, put boundaries to the land his father claimed. Five thousand acres in the lush foothills of the Snowy Mountains became his domain, and my father’s inheritance. The East Fork of Spring Creek is the western boundary. To the east our acreage climbs the steep plateau known as Alaska Bench, for obvious reasons, where grass and forest and sky reach as far as the eye can see. To the south is the yawning gap in the Snowy Mountains called Half Moon Pass. Looking north and west from the top of Alaska Bench one can see the Moccasin Mountains, the Belt Mountains, and the Judith Mountains, ringing the vast fertile basin called Judith Basin, through which the Judith River flows. Judith was the name of the sweetheart of Meriwether Lewis, who in 1805 was one of the first white men to view this lush country.

   That my name is Judith has nothing to do with Meriwether and his henchmen. In the county seat of Lewistown (I will give you two guesses who that town is named for) you will find the Judith Creamery, the Judith Theatre, the Judith Mercantile, and most everything else Judith.

When I was a child and found out that I had a great grandmother who was pure Indian, I changed my name to Sun Flower, and I pounded anyone who called me different. My brother, John Jr., I called Loco Weed. Now we call him Jack so that he and Dad don’t get mixed up. Oh, the carefree days of our youth when we ran as free as the mule deer on the mountain! Oh, if I could only call those days back from the dim pages of memory.

   My grandfather, Cloud Newman, is brilliant, but he always felt disadvantaged because of his grade school level education, and because, even though he was the richest man on the mountain, some people still considered him a half breed. Not to his face of course, but behind his back people noted the Indian features that gave him a dark, proud, rugged look. Cloud Newman insisted that his son, John, my father, become educated. John could care less. All he ever wanted was a fast horse, the sun on his back, and a cow to chase. Cloud married Gertrude McPherson who grew up on a ranch over Grass Range way. The McPherson’s owned two sections of land adjoining our holdings on Alaska Bench. When she became the only McPherson heir, the holdings of the Bar X Bar, or Newman spread, grew by nearly a quarter again. Call it Snowy Mountain math. You don’t need an education to figure that out.

Grandpa Cloud and Grandma Gertrude still live with us. Grandpa can’t hear and Grandma can’t see. We get a lot of ‘huh’s’ and ‘what’d ya say’s’ around our house. My mother repeats everything twice before Grandpa has a chance to ask, ‘Eh, what was that’. She gets mad and won’t talk after the fourth repeat request. Grandma decided she would stretch the attention she was getting by claiming to be completely blind. It worked for awhile until Mama got smart and started leaving the toilet paper in different places in the bathroom. Grandma always found it.

I used to read to Grandma when I was younger, because I felt sorry for her. Not many people understood Grandma, and sometimes I wondered why Grandpa ever married her. I quit reading to her when I got in high school, which is something I am not really proud of. I can still see her sitting in her rocking chair, with a scowl on her face, as she knit from morning until evening, without ever dropping a stitch. I still can’t figure out how a person who couldn’t see could do that. I can’t figure out, either, how she got control of the check book. All expenditures for the ranch needed her approval. Her rocking chair was the throne from which she ran the ranch, her knitting needle her scepter. We walked quietly in her presence. Sometimes it’s a blessing that Grandpa can’t hear.

Of course Jack, my brother, will inherit the ranch. I am a girl. Girls are supposed to marry the sons of their rich neighbors. That way the dynasties are perpetuated. Each new generation is supposed to increase the size of the holdings, the size of the ranch house, and the bank account. Again, it is called Snowy Mountain Math.

Kenneth Cedarholm was my date to the Prom. Actually he was my first date. I am not what you would call a spectacular beauty, but I am not ugly, either. I have long dark hair that curls on the ends. I usually wear it in a pony tail that hangs half way down my back. I picture myself looking somewhat like Jeanne Crain in the movie ‘Home in Indiana’. The boys seem to prefer the June Haver type. She was a blonde.

Kenneth was the King and I was the Queen. The votes were counted a week before the Prom. The town kids could not believe they were bested by two country yokels. It was hard for me to believe, too. I had not yet assumed my queenly imminence.

Kenneth lived on a ranch on East Fork. He picked me up for the Prom in a new blue Buick roadster that his dad gave him for a graduation present. It still smelled new and the blue interior matched my blue formal. Kenneth’s bank account was probably larger than all of the rest of our class put together, but he did not flaunt it. He usually wore blue jeans and cowboy boots. For the Prom he wore a western style suit and shiny new boots. He was cowboy handsome, but danced like Fred Astaire. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

After the dance we were invited to a midnight soiree, or picnic, at Elldridge’s Grove out on Cottonwood Creek, a few miles from town. We changed our formal clothes to jeans and tee shirts at Nancy Thorne’s house before going to the picnic grove. The boys built a huge bonfire and after a few toasted marshmallows, the drinking and the smooching began. Quilts and blankets miraculously appeared from the trunks of cars. Don’t quote me, but I believe two of my friends got pregnant that night. As for me, I was disgusted. I wanted nothing to do with the drinking and the other. Liquor had always been banned at my house, calling it the evil it was. As for the other, I was yet to receive my first kiss.

Kenneth said if I loved him, I would prove it. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I was getting the idea. While we were reigning and dancing at the school, I really did think I loved him, even if it was our first date. We were a perfect match with all the required prerequisites as to rich rancher next farm and rich farmer’s daughter. I let him kiss me, but as his hands left my shoulders and slid down my back, I knew it was time to stop.

Hold on just a minute, I said and pushed him away to arms length. Hold out your hand. As he did so, I took the well masticated wad of Juicy Fruit chewing gum from my mouth and plopped it in his outstretched hand.

What in the world? he said in disgust, as he took the used gum and threw it to the other side of the creek and then some. As he vigorously wiped his hand on his pants, he said, Yuck! in no uncertain terms.

I don’t want to be a wad of used chewing gum, used once and tossed away, I replied.

Even in the moonlight I could see the look of wonder and surprise on his face. He had been brought up to respect women, and right away caught the gist of what I was saying. Maybe, we should go home, he said.

Right then I wondered if I had made a big mistake. Had I thrown away my chances with this incredible boy, or man, I might say? I did not know what to say next. For once in my life I was struck as dumb as Jane Wyman in the movie, ‘Johnny Belinda’.

It is seventeen miles from Lewistown to my home. Adding on the ten to the picnic grove, that makes twenty-seven. It was at least fifteen miles before Kenneth spoke to me. You really took me by surprise, he said. I did not think there were any girls like you left in Fergus County High School. I’m sorry. I was just trying to be like all the other guys. I shall never think of you as a wad of used chewing gum.

I sighed with relief and began my practiced ways of starting a conversation with a boy. What are you going to do when you grow up? Do you like baseball? What is your favorite movie? Who is your favorite movie star?

Let’s cut through the small talk, he said. I would like you to be my steady girl. Do you think your parents would approve?

By now we were driving up to the front porch of my home. I don’t know. Why don’t you ask them? There’s Dad and Grandpa sitting on the porch waiting for me to come home.

He didn’t have a chance to ask them. They smiled knowingly and waved before going into the house. It was three o’clock in the morning. I let Kenneth kiss me again and I knew I wanted him to keep on kissing me forever.

Kenneth was the boy that every girl dreamed of. Six feet four inches tall with a build like Johnny Weismueller, and a smile and a drawl just like Gary Cooper.

My concept of the world outside Alaska Bench and Loco Ridge was mostly influenced by what I saw in the movies. TV was a brand new miracle, but reception was not available out in the wilds where we lived. My Dad’s one weakness, as far as I could tell, was going to the movies on Saturday nights at the Judith Theatre in Lewistown, a pastime that the whole family loved. Afterwards he treated us to a hamburger and a milkshake at the Gem Café.

Before I went to college I had never been farther than Great Falls, or Billings, Montana. Lewistown is half way between the two cities. In the big cities you have a choice of two or three movies. In Lewistown there was no choice. You saw what happened to be playing. Usually there was a double feature. My family had never taken a real vacation, but I felt like I had seen the world as I sat spellbound in the loges of the Judith Theatre.   

Kenneth Cedarholm and I spent all of our spare time together that summer, although working on our respective ranches did not give us that much spare time. I was as much a cowhand as was my brother Jack. Jack and I were the designated riders to check on the cattle, the water holes, and the fences. We, also, helped with the haying, and I had, unfortunately, to become a girl and help with the canning and the garden when the vegetables were ready. Grandma always said, Waste not, Want not! That applied to every pea in every pod, and every berry on every bush. So Mama and I preserved and canned until our cellar was as full as a super market. Grandma couldn’t see well enough to help.

I can ride circles around Jack. With Kenneth I was more discreet. Except for a few instances, I let him beat me in horse races. My horse was named Jitter Bug and it was a toss as to whom I loved best, Kenneth or the horse. But by the end of summer Kenneth won hands down. It was a hard thing for me to do, but I even let Kenneth saddle my horse for me while I stood demurely by twiddling my thumbs. It made him feel manly. It made me feel useless and stupid.

On Saturday nights Kenneth and I, and sometimes Jack, took in the late shows at the Judith Theater, munching on pop corn, and holding hands. After the movies we attended Saturday night dances at various community halls and country schools in the area. The dances were in full swing by the time we got there and lasted until about three in the morning. Local bands provided the music which usually consisted of a piano, a drum, a guitar, and if lucky, a saxophone. Sometimes the guitar player could sing and that was a hoot.

By the time the County Fair was over in July, with its rodeo and midway, I knew I was destined to be forever in love with Kenneth. That he felt the same seemed obvious. We talked about going to college together. We did not talk about marriage or even an engagement, but we did exchange class rings which is paramount to being engaged. He wore mine on a chain around his neck and I wore his on the fourth finger of my right hand, with a wad of tape around the under side of the ring to make it fit snugly and prevent its loss.

Kenneth always ended our evenings by giving me a fresh stick of Juicy Fruit or Double Mint chewing gum. I took them home with me and slept with them under my pillow, enjoying the sweet scent of the gum as I fell asleep and dreamed of being Mrs. Kenneth Cedarholm.

When it was time for college we both enrolled at Montana State College in Bozeman. Kenneth wavered between studying animal husbandry and business. My choice of vocation was fashion design. He argued that the two hardly were compatible. Did I expect to dress a cow? he joked. But as I said before, being the Prom Queen had put strange and uppity ideas in my brain. Besides I could remember all of the elegant gowns I had seen my movie heroines wear and I knew I could duplicate them, given the chance.

When I showed up as a blonde, after two months of college, I thought Kenneth would choke. If I had wanted a blonde I would have let Maybelle Jenkins catch me, he said. Lord knows she tried.

Of course, Matthew Bronson, would not care if I were blonde or brunette, I returned. He likes me for what I am! I was a little miffed. I thought my Lana Turner hair style the latest thing, and I thought I was adorable.

Of course he does. And so do I! A brunette!

I’m sorry. Blonde is all the rage!

Speaking of rage, - - - - how do you come off snubbing your old classmates from Fergus High? I heard Nancy Thorne and Betty Lou Mifkin talking to Jane Daniels about what a snob you have become. I tried to defend you, but they just gave me a dirty look and walked away.

Did you believe them?

Sometimes I wonder. I can’t picture you stepping on a bug, let alone your old classmates.

Well, I have made new friends. Those girls are so small town. They will never rise above it. I will introduce you to my new friends. Eva Johns is from New York and she knows personally some of the country’s best fashion designers.

Don’t bother. I hope you will descend from your lofty perch to go to the Winter Ball with me. I need to talk to you about something.

Kenneth, that is not fair. Of course I will go with you. It is formal, you know.

I know.

Well, you probably should not wear your cowboy boots to a formal affair.

Kenneth looked at me with confusion, like I was someone strange that he had just met. Then he turned and walked away. A week later he told me that the Winter Ball was off. He was going home the day before the ball. If I wanted to ride home with him, I would have to miss the big dance.

Can’t you wait until after the dance to go home? What’s your big hurry anyhow? I asked him.

You’ll find out.

Well, I will just wait to find out! Eva Johns helped me pick out a gown for the dance, and I just have to wear it. It is black with silver sequins, and it is strapless and almost backless. And it fits me like a glove. I was going to wear it just for you. I can hardly wait to get into fashion designing. I - - - I. The look on Kenneth’s face made me stop babbling.

What has gotten into you? he said. I hardly recognize my Snowy Mountain girl.

That hurt. In defense I said, Go ahead and go home by yourself. I don’t need you. Don’t worry about me, I can get home without you. Maybe your brother, Devlon, will let me ride with him. Or my dad will come and get me. Go! Do what you have to! I will go to the dance, with or without you.

I was definitely confused. Something was eating at Kenneth and I did not think it