Scars (8/?)
Sep. 9th, 2006 11:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stillroseTitle: Scars - Chap 8
Fandom: Supernatural
Sequel to: Burn (found here)
Warnings: Slash, wincest, language, angst, and Winchester Whompin
Rating: NC17
Summary: Sam and Dean deal with the aftermath of actions in Burn while trying to stop the “Greenbrier Witch” from preying on any more of the heart-broken.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sam and Dean; just borrowing them. All I own is what my cats don't want. Unbeated.
Sorry for the long delay.
“Nice boys. Passing through?”
The girl shrugged, rung up the sheriff’s coffee and said, “Maybe. Writers. Doin’ a story on Eddie’s dolls.”
The sheriff fished out dollar and half in change from his pocket and passed it to the girl.
“Now ain’t that sumthin,” he said as he sipped his coffee.
Sam and Dean poured themselves back into the Impala.
“She’s on to us,” Sam said as Dean started the shiny black car. “Think she left town?”
“No,” Dean said as he shook he head and backed the Impala up and pulled out of the parking lot. “She’s got unfinished business.
“Me?” Sam asked.
“Us,” Dean replied.
“What makes you so sure?”
Dean briefly looked away from the road to look at his brother.
“If something took you away from me? I wouldn’t rest until I brought that ‘something’ or someone down and got you back.”
Sam met Dean’s heated gaze and caught his breath. He could only breathe again once Dean looked back at the road.
“Besides,” Dean continued. “The bad guys are always cocky. They always stick around because they always think they are going to win.”
Sam had to laugh. “Well usually they do.”
“Not when the Winchesters are after them,” Dean smiled.
Both brothers laughed.
***
It didn’t long for the brothers to make it back to the diner where they found Granny engaged in a heated conversation with Myrtle about whether or not the diner’s French toast needed a dash of cinnamon or more vanilla.
“I’m tellin’ ya, Mytrle, a dash of cinnamon is what ya need!”
“And I’m tellin’ you Granny, this is my diner and I’m serving plain food not sumthin’ folks see on Emeril’s!”
“What yer servin’ ain’t no bettern’ what they can get a Denny’s!”
Myrtle’s eyes bulged and her hands flew to her hips.
“Granny Mitchum you say one more word like that again and so help me you won’t get so much as a pinewood float from me!”
“Whoa!” Sam said as he stepped between the two women.
“Ladies,” Dean tried to warm the chill in the air with his patent smile.
Granny pursed her lips and Myrtle’s hands didn’t move.
“We’re all friends here,” Sam intoned.
Myrtle arched an eyebrow.
“Granny?” Dean coaxed.
“Well I mighta spoke a bit harshly,” Granny mumbled.
Myrtle sniffed.
“Uhm…Ma’am?” Sam smiled at Myrtle.
“Well, maybe when you order theParis
“Good,” Dean said as he put a hand one each woman’s shoulder. “We’re all friends again here?”
Both ladies turned and looked at Dean and then began to laugh.
“Why of course we’e friends!” exclaimed Myrtle. “Y’all have some pretty odd notions if ya think that little difference of opinion met we weren’t friends!”
At that Myrtle winked at Granny and headed off to the kitchen shaking her head and cackling all the way. Granny reached up and lightly pinched Dean’s cheek.
“Ain’t you precious,” Granny chuckled at Dean and then let the bewilderedWinchester
The confused brothers followed the old woman and took a seat.
“God Bless that Mryle,” Granny began. “I love that woman, but when it comes to her cookin’ she done had her mind closed to new ideas long ago. Its like someone took crazy glue and went in there and sealed it up tight!”
Granny took a sip of her coffee and looked at the boys.
“Now,” she began, “tell me what you learned.”
“Well not much,” Sam said.
“Eddie wasn’t there,” Dean said.
“Wasn’t there?” Granny asked.
“Yeah. Told work she’d be taken a few days off,” answered Dean.
“Ya think she left town fer good?” asked Granny.
“I don’t think so,” said Dean.
“We did find out her last name though.” Sam said. “It’s Schue; Eddie Schue. We might be able to see if she’s in the phone book.”
At Eddie’s last name Granny shot Sam a piercing hard look.
“What?” Dean asked noting Granny’s look.
“Maybe nothing,” mumbled Granny.
“Or maybe something?” asked Sam catching on to the under current.
“Well in these parts Schue ain’t a good name,” answered Granny before she took another drink of her coffee.
“Why?” asked Sam.
“The Greenbrier Ghost,” Granny whispered into her cup.
“The Greenbrier Ghost?” asked Dean.
“Eddie,” mused Granny. “Is that short for sumthin’? It’s an unusual name for a girl.”
“Edwina,” answered Sam.
Granny hissed.
“Granny, what’s going on?” Dean asked.
Granny closed her eyes, took a deep breath and then opened them.
“Just before the turn of the last century,” Granny began to intone, “there used to live a girl around these parts by the name of Elva Zona Heaster. Now she was a girl who’d made some mistakes. She’d had a child out of wedlock and even though that was a terrible scandal back in them days her family still loved her. Anyway, she seemed to be a girl who just wouldn’t learn and about one year later in, 1896, she met a drifter by the name of Erasmus….”
Granny paused and drank the last sip of her coffee.
“Or sometimes known as Edward,” Granny continued. “Erasmus Edward Stribbling Schue.”
“Try saying that ten times fast,” Dean muttered.
Sam kicked his brother under the table and Granny shot him a look.
“What?” Dean said.
“Sorry,” Sam said. “Please continue Granny.”
“Well,” began Granny, “Schue took up work with the local blacksmith. In those days there was still plenty of work for a blacksmith. Anyway, Zona and Trout, as he liked to be called,…”
Dean laughed, “Trout? I mean Erasmus is bad enough but he chose to be called by the name of a fish? I can hear it now. Zona and Trout sittin in a tree. K-I-S-S-….”
“Dean,” Granny snapped, “you want to hear the story or go sit in the car and wait fer Sam and I? One more interruption and you can go. I make myself clear?”
“Sorry,” mumbled Dean.
“Now where was I?” Granny asked.
“You started to say something about Zona and Trout,” Sam offered.
“Yes,” Granny said. “Zona and Trout hit it off and were married despite the objections of Zona’s mother, Mary Jane Robinson Heaster. Now you know Mrs. Heaster must have had a powerful dislike of Trout…”
Dean bit back a giggle while Sam sensing his brother’s amusement kicked him under the table again.
“…to not want Zona to be married and made an honest woman,” Granny continued. “They say Mrs. Heaster never trusted Trout. I think it was more’n that. I think she had the sight as you’ll come to see.”
Granny waived Myrtle over who was making the rounds with the coffee pot.
“Anyway, Zona and Trout lived together for several months and things seemed to be ok. But then one day onJanuary 23, 1897 , Zona’s body was done discovered inside of her house by a local boy, Andy Jones, who Trout had sent to the house on a made up errand. Well young Andy found Zona lying on the floor at the bottom of the stairs with her head turned slightly to one side. Her eyes were wide open and staring. Even young Andy knew poor Zona was dead.”
Myrtle began to fill Granny’s coffee.
“Well Andy was young but he knew what to do,” Myrtle took over the story telling from Granny, “and he went and got the local doctor. By the time they arrived back at the house Trout had already arrived and carried his wife upstairs and laid her out on their bad and had done gotten her ready.”
“Ready?” Dean asked.
“For burial,” Granny answered. “In those days arrangements happened quickly. Didn’t take long for a body to ripen. However, Trout went against custom by preparing his wife’s body on his own...”
Sam interrupted, “Normally washing and dressing the body; preparing it for burial was left to the women of the community.
“Yep,” answered Mytle. “That should have sent up red flags right there but that Erasmus Schue he was putting on a big show. Carrying on with his grief over the loss of his Zona even while the doctor tried to examine her trying ta figure out what killed ‘er.”
“Trout dressed her in a high collar dress with a veil over her face too,” Granny said. “But the grieving act worked and though the good Doc noticed some bruising on Zona’s neck he didn’t press the examination. Just put the death down to childbirth problems.”
“She was pregnant?” Dean asked.
“Don’t know for sure,” Myrtle responded. “Though the Doc said he had been treatin’ her for ‘female trouble.’”
“Anyway,” Granny continued, “when the news of Zona’s death made it back to her ma…well Mary’s face went dark and the first words she said were ‘The devil has killed her!’”
Mytle put down the coffee pot, crossed herself and scooted herself into the seat next to Granny.
“Well the Heaster’s insisted on having the funeral at their homestead and the body was brought round,” Granny began again. “All during the wake Trout kept vigil at the head of Zona’s coffin and wouldn’t let anyone get to near her or his grief and wailin’ would get outta hand. He was seen puttin’ a pillow by her head and tyin’ a scarf, which he later claimed was Zona’s favorite, around her neck.”
“Odd,” mentioned Sam.
“Oh and there was talk,” said Mytle, “afore the dirt was even settled over poor Zona but no one had to convince Zona’s mother. She’d always hated Schue. Didn’t like him. Didn’t trust him and was convinced he had killed her daughter.”
“But she had no proof,” said Dean.
“Right,” said Granny. “Anyway after the wake, Mary Heaster took the sheet from inside of the coffin and later tried to return it to Shue, but he refused it.”
“Probably was just an excuse to try and find something out,” Mytle said. Granny nodded.
“However,” Granny began again, “Being a mother, Mary Heaster wasn’t gonna let something that had touched her daughter’s earthly remains go. So if Trout didn’t want it she was gonna keep it. So she took it home and started to folding it back up to put it away when she noticed that it had a an odd odor.”
“Now folks were a little less squimish about things in those days,” said Myrtle,”so Mary thought all it needed was a good washin’ and airin’ out. So she went to wash it out but as soon as she dunked the sheet in the basin; the water inside turned blood red!”
Granny nodded and genuflected. “Then the sheet turned pink and the color in the water vanished. Mary knew somethin’ powerful was happenin’ but she wanted to be sure. So she then boiled the sheet and hung it outside for several days but the stain didn’t disappear. Finally Mary had no choice but to accept the odd ‘bloodstain’ as a sign that poor Zona had been murdered.”
“That was when she began to pray,” Myrtle once again picked up the story. “Every night for the next four weeks, Mary prayed her daughter would come back and tell her poor ma what had happened.”
“And the good Lord showed her mercy,” said Granny, “and Zona did come back. She came back for four nights and over her poor grievin’ mother’s bedside told the story over how her husband and killed poor Zona in a fit of rage cuz he thought she hadn’t cooked his dinner right!”
Myrtle snorted. “Men like him need a skillet upside the head!”
Granny nodded, “Anyway, Zona said Trout had broken her neck and to prove it she spun her head clean around so she was facing backward!”
Myrtle crossed herself again.
“Well after that,” Granny continued, “Mary Heaster knew what she had to do. Get justice for her poor girl and so she went to the prosecutor. Now they didn’t much cotton to her ghost story but they did send some deputies to talk to the doctor who testified he hadn’t gotten to examine the body properly. Now, the talk around town was growing louder and so the law despite, Trout’s loud objections, ordered poor Zona’s body to be dug up and so a proper exam could be done.”
“So they did the autopsy and found that poor Zona’s neck had indeed been broken!” said Myrtle, “and when they told Trout the news he replied ‘They cannot prove that I did it.’”
Sam and Dean whistled softly at the near admission of guilt.
“Well Trout was charged with murder and a trial was held,” started Granny, “and during the trial what do you think they found out?”
Sam and Dean shook their heads.
“Seemed Trout was a regular Blackbeard!” replied Myrtle. “Zona had been his third wife! He was first married to an Allie Estelline Cutlip, The marriage had ended in divorce in 1889 while Trout was in prison for horse stealing. His first wife claimed that Trout had done beaten her a lot.
“In 1894, Trout married again,” Granny continued, “this time to Lucy Ann Tritt. However, poor Lucy died just eight months later and no one was real sure what happened. Trout claimed Lucy had fallen and had hit her head on a rock, but few believed him so he picked up and left town.”
“And you know what that scoundrel said in prison?” asked Myrtle.
Sam and Dean shook their heads again.
“He bragged to reporters that he was still a young man and he had a life long goal of having seven wives!” answered Granny.
“Well,” continued Myrtle, “as you can imagine things didn’t go well for him at trial but he done got himself a pretty good defense and it seemed like things might go his way.”
“And then the defense,” Granny picked up the story again, “hoping to some how cast doubt on the investigation by bringing up ‘ghost’ angle called poor Mrs. Heaster to the stand. Now the defense thought she’d come off sounding crazy and that’d make the whole investigation crazy but Mrs. Heaster was a strong woman. She came off earnest, righteous and put Edward Erasmus “Trout” Stribbling Schue to shame.”
“Her testimony,” continued Myrtle, “was so powerful it stirred up the whole town and surrounding community!”
“And when Trout was found guilty,” intoned Granny, “a lynch mob formed.”
Dean and Sam sat forward in their seats.
“Did they lynch him?” asked Sam.
Granny shook her head, “Nope, a Deputy Sheriff Dwyer managed to sneak Trout to some hidden place in the woods outside of town until the mob had been disbanded. Shortly after that Trout was sent to the West Virginia State Penitentiary in Moundsville to serve out his life sentence.”
“Shoulda hanged him!” muttered Myrtle as she got up from the table, picked up the coffee pot and moved off.
“Was that the end of him?” asked Dean.
“Well, he died a few years later, in 1900, of the pneumonia,” said Granny, “but he always swore he’d get revenge for not getting to have his ‘seven wives.’”
“And you think Eddie has some connection?” asked Sam.
“Well you have to admit, Sam,” said Dean, “pretty odd coincidence her name is Edwina Schue….”
“And she’s preying on folks in or passing through Greenbrier,” continued Granny.
“Think she might be a descendant?” asked Dean.
“One way to find out,” answered Sam, “Granny, how up to date is your local library?”
“What?” asked Granny.
“They have the internet there? If so we can do some genealogical research on the Schue family and also search the public records on Eddie.”
Granny smiled. “Oh we’ve got computers there, Sam and I’m pretty sure the librarian, Ms. Avers will let us use ‘em without interruption.”
“Let’s go then,” Dean said as he put five dollar bill down on the table. The trio got up and headed out the diner. As they left, Myrtle crossed herself again.
TBC in prt 9
For the full story of the Greebrier Ghost click here
The girl shrugged, rung up the sheriff’s coffee and said, “Maybe. Writers. Doin’ a story on Eddie’s dolls.”
The sheriff fished out dollar and half in change from his pocket and passed it to the girl.
“Now ain’t that sumthin,” he said as he sipped his coffee.
Sam and Dean poured themselves back into the Impala.
“She’s on to us,” Sam said as Dean started the shiny black car. “Think she left town?”
“No,” Dean said as he shook he head and backed the Impala up and pulled out of the parking lot. “She’s got unfinished business.
“Me?” Sam asked.
“Us,” Dean replied.
“What makes you so sure?”
Dean briefly looked away from the road to look at his brother.
“If something took you away from me? I wouldn’t rest until I brought that ‘something’ or someone down and got you back.”
Sam met Dean’s heated gaze and caught his breath. He could only breathe again once Dean looked back at the road.
“Besides,” Dean continued. “The bad guys are always cocky. They always stick around because they always think they are going to win.”
Sam had to laugh. “Well usually they do.”
“Not when the Winchesters are after them,” Dean smiled.
Both brothers laughed.
***
It didn’t long for the brothers to make it back to the diner where they found Granny engaged in a heated conversation with Myrtle about whether or not the diner’s French toast needed a dash of cinnamon or more vanilla.
“I’m tellin’ ya, Mytrle, a dash of cinnamon is what ya need!”
“And I’m tellin’ you Granny, this is my diner and I’m serving plain food not sumthin’ folks see on Emeril’s!”
“What yer servin’ ain’t no bettern’ what they can get a Denny’s!”
Myrtle’s eyes bulged and her hands flew to her hips.
“Granny Mitchum you say one more word like that again and so help me you won’t get so much as a pinewood float from me!”
“Whoa!” Sam said as he stepped between the two women.
“Ladies,” Dean tried to warm the chill in the air with his patent smile.
Granny pursed her lips and Myrtle’s hands didn’t move.
“We’re all friends here,” Sam intoned.
Myrtle arched an eyebrow.
“Granny?” Dean coaxed.
“Well I mighta spoke a bit harshly,” Granny mumbled.
Myrtle sniffed.
“Uhm…Ma’am?” Sam smiled at Myrtle.
“Well, maybe when you order the
“Good,” Dean said as he put a hand one each woman’s shoulder. “We’re all friends again here?”
Both ladies turned and looked at Dean and then began to laugh.
“Why of course we’e friends!” exclaimed Myrtle. “Y’all have some pretty odd notions if ya think that little difference of opinion met we weren’t friends!”
At that Myrtle winked at Granny and headed off to the kitchen shaking her head and cackling all the way. Granny reached up and lightly pinched Dean’s cheek.
“Ain’t you precious,” Granny chuckled at Dean and then let the bewildered
The confused brothers followed the old woman and took a seat.
“God Bless that Mryle,” Granny began. “I love that woman, but when it comes to her cookin’ she done had her mind closed to new ideas long ago. Its like someone took crazy glue and went in there and sealed it up tight!”
Granny took a sip of her coffee and looked at the boys.
“Now,” she began, “tell me what you learned.”
“Well not much,” Sam said.
“Eddie wasn’t there,” Dean said.
“Wasn’t there?” Granny asked.
“Yeah. Told work she’d be taken a few days off,” answered Dean.
“Ya think she left town fer good?” asked Granny.
“I don’t think so,” said Dean.
“We did find out her last name though.” Sam said. “It’s Schue; Eddie Schue. We might be able to see if she’s in the phone book.”
At Eddie’s last name Granny shot Sam a piercing hard look.
“What?” Dean asked noting Granny’s look.
“Maybe nothing,” mumbled Granny.
“Or maybe something?” asked Sam catching on to the under current.
“Well in these parts Schue ain’t a good name,” answered Granny before she took another drink of her coffee.
“Why?” asked Sam.
“The Greenbrier Ghost,” Granny whispered into her cup.
“The Greenbrier Ghost?” asked Dean.
“Eddie,” mused Granny. “Is that short for sumthin’? It’s an unusual name for a girl.”
“Edwina,” answered Sam.
Granny hissed.
“Granny, what’s going on?” Dean asked.
Granny closed her eyes, took a deep breath and then opened them.
“Just before the turn of the last century,” Granny began to intone, “there used to live a girl around these parts by the name of Elva Zona Heaster. Now she was a girl who’d made some mistakes. She’d had a child out of wedlock and even though that was a terrible scandal back in them days her family still loved her. Anyway, she seemed to be a girl who just wouldn’t learn and about one year later in, 1896, she met a drifter by the name of Erasmus….”
Granny paused and drank the last sip of her coffee.
“Or sometimes known as Edward,” Granny continued. “Erasmus Edward Stribbling Schue.”
“Try saying that ten times fast,” Dean muttered.
Sam kicked his brother under the table and Granny shot him a look.
“What?” Dean said.
“Sorry,” Sam said. “Please continue Granny.”
“Well,” began Granny, “Schue took up work with the local blacksmith. In those days there was still plenty of work for a blacksmith. Anyway, Zona and Trout, as he liked to be called,…”
Dean laughed, “Trout? I mean Erasmus is bad enough but he chose to be called by the name of a fish? I can hear it now. Zona and Trout sittin in a tree. K-I-S-S-….”
“Dean,” Granny snapped, “you want to hear the story or go sit in the car and wait fer Sam and I? One more interruption and you can go. I make myself clear?”
“Sorry,” mumbled Dean.
“Now where was I?” Granny asked.
“You started to say something about Zona and Trout,” Sam offered.
“Yes,” Granny said. “Zona and Trout hit it off and were married despite the objections of Zona’s mother, Mary Jane Robinson Heaster. Now you know Mrs. Heaster must have had a powerful dislike of Trout…”
Dean bit back a giggle while Sam sensing his brother’s amusement kicked him under the table again.
“…to not want Zona to be married and made an honest woman,” Granny continued. “They say Mrs. Heaster never trusted Trout. I think it was more’n that. I think she had the sight as you’ll come to see.”
Granny waived Myrtle over who was making the rounds with the coffee pot.
“Anyway, Zona and Trout lived together for several months and things seemed to be ok. But then one day on
Myrtle began to fill Granny’s coffee.
“Well Andy was young but he knew what to do,” Myrtle took over the story telling from Granny, “and he went and got the local doctor. By the time they arrived back at the house Trout had already arrived and carried his wife upstairs and laid her out on their bad and had done gotten her ready.”
“Ready?” Dean asked.
“For burial,” Granny answered. “In those days arrangements happened quickly. Didn’t take long for a body to ripen. However, Trout went against custom by preparing his wife’s body on his own...”
Sam interrupted, “Normally washing and dressing the body; preparing it for burial was left to the women of the community.
“Yep,” answered Mytle. “That should have sent up red flags right there but that Erasmus Schue he was putting on a big show. Carrying on with his grief over the loss of his Zona even while the doctor tried to examine her trying ta figure out what killed ‘er.”
“Trout dressed her in a high collar dress with a veil over her face too,” Granny said. “But the grieving act worked and though the good Doc noticed some bruising on Zona’s neck he didn’t press the examination. Just put the death down to childbirth problems.”
“She was pregnant?” Dean asked.
“Don’t know for sure,” Myrtle responded. “Though the Doc said he had been treatin’ her for ‘female trouble.’”
“Anyway,” Granny continued, “when the news of Zona’s death made it back to her ma…well Mary’s face went dark and the first words she said were ‘The devil has killed her!’”
Mytle put down the coffee pot, crossed herself and scooted herself into the seat next to Granny.
“Well the Heaster’s insisted on having the funeral at their homestead and the body was brought round,” Granny began again. “All during the wake Trout kept vigil at the head of Zona’s coffin and wouldn’t let anyone get to near her or his grief and wailin’ would get outta hand. He was seen puttin’ a pillow by her head and tyin’ a scarf, which he later claimed was Zona’s favorite, around her neck.”
“Odd,” mentioned Sam.
“Oh and there was talk,” said Mytle, “afore the dirt was even settled over poor Zona but no one had to convince Zona’s mother. She’d always hated Schue. Didn’t like him. Didn’t trust him and was convinced he had killed her daughter.”
“But she had no proof,” said Dean.
“Right,” said Granny. “Anyway after the wake, Mary Heaster took the sheet from inside of the coffin and later tried to return it to Shue, but he refused it.”
“Probably was just an excuse to try and find something out,” Mytle said. Granny nodded.
“However,” Granny began again, “Being a mother, Mary Heaster wasn’t gonna let something that had touched her daughter’s earthly remains go. So if Trout didn’t want it she was gonna keep it. So she took it home and started to folding it back up to put it away when she noticed that it had a an odd odor.”
“Now folks were a little less squimish about things in those days,” said Myrtle,”so Mary thought all it needed was a good washin’ and airin’ out. So she went to wash it out but as soon as she dunked the sheet in the basin; the water inside turned blood red!”
Granny nodded and genuflected. “Then the sheet turned pink and the color in the water vanished. Mary knew somethin’ powerful was happenin’ but she wanted to be sure. So she then boiled the sheet and hung it outside for several days but the stain didn’t disappear. Finally Mary had no choice but to accept the odd ‘bloodstain’ as a sign that poor Zona had been murdered.”
“That was when she began to pray,” Myrtle once again picked up the story. “Every night for the next four weeks, Mary prayed her daughter would come back and tell her poor ma what had happened.”
“And the good Lord showed her mercy,” said Granny, “and Zona did come back. She came back for four nights and over her poor grievin’ mother’s bedside told the story over how her husband and killed poor Zona in a fit of rage cuz he thought she hadn’t cooked his dinner right!”
Myrtle snorted. “Men like him need a skillet upside the head!”
Granny nodded, “Anyway, Zona said Trout had broken her neck and to prove it she spun her head clean around so she was facing backward!”
Myrtle crossed herself again.
“Well after that,” Granny continued, “Mary Heaster knew what she had to do. Get justice for her poor girl and so she went to the prosecutor. Now they didn’t much cotton to her ghost story but they did send some deputies to talk to the doctor who testified he hadn’t gotten to examine the body properly. Now, the talk around town was growing louder and so the law despite, Trout’s loud objections, ordered poor Zona’s body to be dug up and so a proper exam could be done.”
“So they did the autopsy and found that poor Zona’s neck had indeed been broken!” said Myrtle, “and when they told Trout the news he replied ‘They cannot prove that I did it.’”
Sam and Dean whistled softly at the near admission of guilt.
“Well Trout was charged with murder and a trial was held,” started Granny, “and during the trial what do you think they found out?”
Sam and Dean shook their heads.
“Seemed Trout was a regular Blackbeard!” replied Myrtle. “Zona had been his third wife! He was first married to an Allie Estelline Cutlip, The marriage had ended in divorce in 1889 while Trout was in prison for horse stealing. His first wife claimed that Trout had done beaten her a lot.
“In 1894, Trout married again,” Granny continued, “this time to Lucy Ann Tritt. However, poor Lucy died just eight months later and no one was real sure what happened. Trout claimed Lucy had fallen and had hit her head on a rock, but few believed him so he picked up and left town.”
“And you know what that scoundrel said in prison?” asked Myrtle.
Sam and Dean shook their heads again.
“He bragged to reporters that he was still a young man and he had a life long goal of having seven wives!” answered Granny.
“Well,” continued Myrtle, “as you can imagine things didn’t go well for him at trial but he done got himself a pretty good defense and it seemed like things might go his way.”
“And then the defense,” Granny picked up the story again, “hoping to some how cast doubt on the investigation by bringing up ‘ghost’ angle called poor Mrs. Heaster to the stand. Now the defense thought she’d come off sounding crazy and that’d make the whole investigation crazy but Mrs. Heaster was a strong woman. She came off earnest, righteous and put Edward Erasmus “Trout” Stribbling Schue to shame.”
“Her testimony,” continued Myrtle, “was so powerful it stirred up the whole town and surrounding community!”
“And when Trout was found guilty,” intoned Granny, “a lynch mob formed.”
Dean and Sam sat forward in their seats.
“Did they lynch him?” asked Sam.
Granny shook her head, “Nope, a Deputy Sheriff Dwyer managed to sneak Trout to some hidden place in the woods outside of town until the mob had been disbanded. Shortly after that Trout was sent to the West Virginia State Penitentiary in Moundsville to serve out his life sentence.”
“Shoulda hanged him!” muttered Myrtle as she got up from the table, picked up the coffee pot and moved off.
“Was that the end of him?” asked Dean.
“Well, he died a few years later, in 1900, of the pneumonia,” said Granny, “but he always swore he’d get revenge for not getting to have his ‘seven wives.’”
“And you think Eddie has some connection?” asked Sam.
“Well you have to admit, Sam,” said Dean, “pretty odd coincidence her name is Edwina Schue….”
“And she’s preying on folks in or passing through Greenbrier,” continued Granny.
“Think she might be a descendant?” asked Dean.
“One way to find out,” answered Sam, “Granny, how up to date is your local library?”
“What?” asked Granny.
“They have the internet there? If so we can do some genealogical research on the Schue family and also search the public records on Eddie.”
Granny smiled. “Oh we’ve got computers there, Sam and I’m pretty sure the librarian, Ms. Avers will let us use ‘em without interruption.”
“Let’s go then,” Dean said as he put five dollar bill down on the table. The trio got up and headed out the diner. As they left, Myrtle crossed herself again.
TBC in prt 9
For the full story of the Greebrier Ghost click here
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Date: 2006-09-10 03:21 am (UTC)thank you
Date: 2006-09-11 02:13 pm (UTC)Thanks for the feedback.
sr
Re: thank you
Date: 2006-09-11 08:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-09-10 08:59 am (UTC)thank you
Date: 2006-09-11 02:13 pm (UTC)sr
no subject
Date: 2006-09-10 09:32 am (UTC)Very interesting.
:)
Date: 2006-09-11 02:14 pm (UTC)sr
no subject
Date: 2006-09-10 02:53 pm (UTC)*Bounces up and down*
lol
Date: 2006-09-11 02:14 pm (UTC):)
no subject
Date: 2006-09-10 02:55 pm (UTC)“If something took you away from me? I wouldn’t rest until I brought that ‘something’ or someone down and got you back.”
Sam met Dean’s heated gaze and caught his breath. He could only breathe again once Dean looked back at the road.
I love this exchange. Awesome.
thank you
Date: 2006-09-11 02:16 pm (UTC)Glad you liked!
sr
no subject
Date: 2006-09-10 04:22 pm (UTC)*cackles* good, I wasn't the only one singing this...
Nice work weaving in the story! Can't wait to see what they find out. 'course now I gotta go back and find out the name of the deputy...
LOL
Date: 2006-09-11 02:16 pm (UTC)Glad you are enjoying it.
sr
no subject
Date: 2006-09-17 02:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-09 01:10 am (UTC)