The Secret In Mossy Swamp by Rita Monette

Author:Rita Monette [Monette, Rita]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lulu.com
Published: 2016-08-10T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16 - Is It The Rougarou?

Late Afternoon/Early Evening

My arms were aching by the time we saw a dimmer light in the distance. “I’m sure that’s Uncle Luke’s house there,” Spikes whispered loudly as he picked up speed. My whole body shook by the time our boat hit the bank with a thump.

Together, we pulled the pirogue onto land, where the fog seemed a little less dense. Mr. Luke came to the back door. He had his shotgun in his hand.

“It’s me, Nonc,” Spikes yelled through the fog. “Me and Nikki.”

“What y’all doing out there in the bayou in this fog?” he hollered. “Y’all crazy kids gonna get yourself drowned…or worse.”

“We went over to Mossy Swamp looking for where the man that came in the yard last night might have gone.” Spikes breathed heavily. “We thought he might have seen the missing boy or know the whereabouts of Nikki’s pet turkey.” He took a deep breath. “But what we saw was—”

“Pet turkey?” Mr. Luke stepped off his porch. “Who keeps a pet turkey?”

“I do.” I had a frown on my face that I was sure he couldn’t see in the fog. “And my brother’s missing too. And we’re pretty sure who took him now. We saw this—”

“Your brother too, you say?”

“I’m certain he’s just with his dad, though,” Spikes said, probably to make me feel better. “I’ll bet he’s already home by now.”

“I don’t know, Buzzard,” I said. “That man in the boat is still out there, and he’s acting all weird and stuff.” I waved my arms around my head. “He kept turning his light and his motor off and on…and his boat disappears. He’s up to no good, I tell you.”

“Anything could disappear out in that soup,” Mr. Luke said. “Y’all come on in the house. I’m getting all wet out here.” As he walked back up onto his porch, he turned back around. “Did y’all get a look at him?”

“Yes sir,” I said. “Well…we couldn’t see him. But we saw a man earlier with a big straw hat on. I don’t know if it’s the same man that you saw earlier in your yard. This one could be the rougarou.”

He squinted his eyes into the fog. “Naw…that there was probably crazy old Buster Blalock…Stubs, to most. He lives across the levee. He rides along the bayou at night, or when he thinks no one can see him, and takes things. He lost one of his hands to an alligator years ago, and he can’t row very well, so he always uses a motor, cutting it off so no one can hear him. But he ain’t foolin’ nobody.”

“Why don’t you report him to the sheriff?” I asked.

“I have, many times, but nothing’s ever done about it. Oh, he’s been out doing that stuff for years now. He can’t fish or work—or says he can’t—so he steals. We mostly just let him be, or scare him off now and then. But since my pigs went missing, I’m gonna be watching him a little bit closer.

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