The Allegheny Chronicles: Veil Falls SAMPLE

The Allegheny Chronicles: Veil Falls is available for pre-order. We are a mere NINE days from it's release on Friday, December 15, 2023. How about a sample? Here are the first 30 pages (technically page 6 through 37) of Veil Falls!!

Author’s Note

Dear Reader,

For whatever reason, these Allegheny Chronicles novels always seem to be sparked from another book, another story, that I am writing. It is never an intention – It just happens. This novel spawns from a short story in my “Could’ve Been Something” collection, a story entitled One Hell of a Best Seller. These particular characters wouldn’t stop ‘talking’ to me, so I had to keep writing their story. I did not see it unfolding the way that it did, and I will say I was rather surprised that it tied into the Allegheny Chronicles series. But, with the way I write, I must go where the story takes me and this is where we went.

While One Hell of a Best Seller introduced you first to Gia Bennington and Mason Beaudrie, this novel is mostly Mason’s story.

Let’s see where it goes….

 

--Em Brooks

May 2023

PROLOGUE

 

Late November, present day,

Cooper County, ID

 

It was almost surreal. Running across the open field, up into the tree line on the cold, wet afternoon. Behind them, shooting was still taking place, but the sounds were getting faint and more muffled. They paused to take stock, their breathing heavy, and their breath causing mist. Their radios had gone silent further down the mountain. They just wanted to get what they were here for and get out as quickly and safely as possible.

“Up ahead,” Deputy Mason Beaudrie quietly told the DEA agent who was with him. He then shot a hand signal to State Trooper Noah Harding and Trooper Sergeant Daniel Lafferty who were ten yards to the right of them. The two state policemen acknowledged with a nod of their heads. He did a quick glance behind them to see that they were the only ones who kept up with the fleeing suspects. They cautiously moved forward, rifles ready, keeping low, hearing the six suspects crashing through the brush and trees ahead of them. The fog was closing in around them the further up the mountain they went, which would make it more difficult to see their suspects. However, their tracks in the snow were very clear to see. They heard the suspects yelling back and forth, and then a man screamed, followed by a crashing of trees or branches. Another man yelled, fear telegraphing in his voice before another blood-curdling scream was heard. Then there was an eerie silence. It sent shivers up their spines.

“What the fuck?” DEA Agent Jorge Castillo muttered to Mason, fear in his voice. “Did they find Bigfoot?”

“Not even Bigfoot would be caught dead here,” Mason assured him, easing forward. The tracks led to a large, wooded area covered in snow and downed branches. They could be hiding anywhere, but as Mason’s eyes recognized where they were, he gave a whistle and then a hand signal. The troopers both stopped and lowered, wondering what Mason had seen. Castillo kept walking but Mason reached forward and grabbed his jacket. “Watch where you’re walking,” he told the man quietly. “We’re at the Pits.”

“The what?”

“All through here, the width of a football field, are holes. Or rather mineshafts. Some are 5 feet deep; others are 50 feet or more,” Mason told him motioning in front of them. “Some are covered in branches, so you won’t know it until you’re at the bottom of one. Then only God can help you there.” He gave a hand signal over to Harding and Lafferty, telling them to regroup. The two state policemen slowly joined them. Mason reiterated what he had just told Castillo.

“How do you know all this?” Lafferty gave him a look.

“We crossed over onto my family’s property at that fence line a ways back. My family’s hunted up here for generations,” Mason told them. “Those guys ran right through the Pits. I can get us through on a trail we marked over here. We’ll see how many made it out.”

“Those bastards weren’t dressed for snow,” Harding commented. “They’ll have to double back.”

“Hypothermia will get them first if we can’t find them,” Lafferty frowned and shifted, pulling out the phone in his pocket to check if he had a signal. “What the hell was so important they fled?”

“Two of them ran with cases,” Castillo informed them. “We need those cases. Those will have laptops, phones, ledgers, money, everything.”

“I can’t believe they were able to run this far,” Harding commented, his eyes still forward. “It’s nasty up here.” He adjusted his scarf up over his face. “This air will freeze your lungs.”

“What the hell is with the radios up here?” Lafferty asked, having found no signal on his phone, and was trying his radio again. “I can’t get anyone on mine.”

“You won’t,” Mason frowned as his eyes were trained ahead of them into that fog. “The mountain blocks it. The only thing we can use this far up is GPS to mark position. So, if you’ve got your GPS on a smart watch or phone, use it.” He paused, seeing the fog getting thicker. “And be mindful of the weather. Life happens really fast up here and there is so much that can go wrong.”

“I hope you know where all of the caves are up here, Beaudrie,” Harding commented, brushing snow off his jacket. “In case really bad weather hits suddenly.”

“Depends on where we wind up,” Mason told him.

“We’re over two miles from IC,” Lafferty looked at his smart watch. “That’ll be no problem getting back down before any weather starts.”

“Let’s go get these assholes,” Castillo looked at them. “My feet are starting to freeze, and I’d kill for some hot coffee.”

They carefully made their way through the trail, marked by old notches in the trees. They just emerged on the other side when shots rang out at them, nicking the trees around them, sending splinters out. They instantly took cover.

“See them?” Harding asked as more shots splintered the trunks around them and chipped holes in barely visible rocks.

“I can’t see shit,” Lafferty was annoyed.

“Let me get a better position,” Mason told them, eyeing a cropping of boulders ten yards to the left of them and another ten yards up hill. “Give me suppressive fire in their general direction.”

Harding nodded and began intentionally firing up the hill. As he did that, Mason ran for cover behind the rock. Run was a generous word, as Mason hit a few pockets of deep snow. A hail of gunfire kicked up all around him. He got some branches to his face and arms, but he dove to cover behind the rocks. With his heart beating fast, he took a deep breath to center himself and then slowly peeked around the rock. From here, he could see four men huddled together behind some trees above him.

“Drop your weapons and surrender!” he yelled at them.

“Go to hell!” One of the men yelled back and fired down at him.

Mason returned fire but the four men out gunned him, sending another hail of bullets biting in all around him, chunks of rock, trees, and dirt raining all over him. Were they even aiming at anything? At that same moment, Castillo and the troopers fired back. If only he could disarm those suspects… He noticed some chunks of snow in the trees above the men. If that snow would just fall onto the men below, it would stun them for the moment he needed. He visualized what that would look like and suddenly, the snow right above the men began dropping out of the trees onto their heads. The men swore and cussed so Mason took advantage to move to a better position.

“You ought to give up,” Castillo yelled up to the men. “You aren’t dressed for this environment. Let us take you in before you get hypothermia.”

“Go to hell!” one of the suspects yelled back.

Mason could see the men, wearing nothing but jeans and thin zippered hooded sweatshirts, sitting on the snow, huddled together. They wore sneakers. Their clothing was dark as if it was soaked and wet. Mason could see the steam rising off them in the cold, telling him they were rapidly losing body heat. They were probably already hypothermic, and if they sat there for another 20 minutes, they’d be in extreme danger. Could he get to them and hold them at gunpoint until the others moved up the mountain to him?

He knew they didn’t want to be out here too much longer. A night on this mountain, in this weather, was a dance with death. He knew he was dressed appropriately for the environment, layered in moisture wicking material and wool with his snow gear on. But he wasn’t sure if Harding, Lafferty, or Castillo were.

He ejected the magazine to his rifle, seeing he had two rounds left. He knew his pistol had four rounds. He didn’t have more magazines because he wasn’t expecting to have a running gunfight in the woods. He realized that he wasn’t hearing anything from the suspects and was about to look over when suddenly, the men started screaming and one of them came out from behind the trees, charging at him with a gun in his hand.

“Drop the gun!” Mason ordered as the man charged him, screaming in another language as if Mason were the devil himself. “Drop the gun or I will shoot you!” Mason issued his last warning to the man, who then wide eyed aimed the gun at Mason. Mason swore and fired a single shot, the man instantly falling and sliding down the hill in the snow toward him, the blood seeming eerily too bright on the white snow.

Mason looked back up the hill at the other men, seeing several of them tossing their clothes off. What the hell? Mason wondered briefly but realized they weren't focused on him. The men were staring up the hill, seemingly terrified of something he couldn’t see. While they were distracted, Mason moved further up the slope to the cover of another tree. The snow was getting deeper and worse the further up he trudged. What the hell kind of drugs were these guys on, he wondered. As it was, they were going to be dangerously hypothermic in minutes and there would be nothing anyone could do for them. One of the men saw Mason and picked up one of the guns but had a difficult time finding the trigger. But when he did find it, he lacked control and began spraying bullets all around himself, including shooting his buddies in the feet, and then finally aiming it in Mason’s direction. Mason dove behind the tree as best as he could in the deep snow. It was a miracle the bullets missed him.

“Toss your weapons down and come out with your hands up!” Castillo yelled at them.

The men only grunted and cried in return before they began running down toward the others, leaving a trail of blood from their injuries as they went. It was obvious that none of them had weapons anymore. One of the three men suddenly just fell to the ground sliding down the snow towards Castillo and the troopers. The other two dropped as well. Mason indicated he had them covered, so the other three moved up the hill as Mason came down to flank them. The suspects weren’t even shivering and were gasping like a fish out of water as they stared up at them with blank looks.

“Why the hell are they fucking naked?” Lafferty queried. “Where the hell are their clothes?”

“Did they swallow some drugs?” Castillo asked.

“It’s hypothermia,” Harding shook his head. “Sometimes it leads to hallucinations and shedding all their clothing. It’s not a good way to go. We need to get them medical attention immediately.” He tried to get on the radio again as Mason got down to them. It was nothing but static and silence. At that moment, the sky opened with vengeance. A bone chilling gust hit them, and the snow came down hard.

“Let’s get them up and get them moving,” Mason said. “If we don’t, they’re as good as dead.”

“Let’s go,” Lafferty grabbed one of the men by the arm, but the man wouldn’t even move. Lafferty pulled a glove off and reached to feel for a pulse. There was none. “This guy’s gone.”

They worked on trying to get the other two up but neither man wanted to move. They wouldn’t stand. They wouldn’t move, despite what the officers tried to do. Snow was coming in fast. The men’s breathing became shallow and they knew there was no hope. They’d be gone in minutes.

“We’re going to end up like them if we don’t get some cover and a fire,” Harding told the others. “Beaudrie, please tell me your family has a cabin close by.”

“It’s not close by but, there is a place,” he marked the GPS location on his own smart watch, so they’d know where the bodies were. “Let’s grab these two and go.”

“Yeah, these guys aren’t going anywhere,” Lafferty told them, seeing the men’s blank stares. “They don’t have a pulse.” He swiftly put his glove back on.

“I can’t feel my feet,” Castillo looked at them. “And I am fucking freezing. Aren’t you?”

“You’d better lead the way,” Harding told Mason.

The snow stung Mason’s face as he looked around for bearings and then led them away from the site, the snow already trying to cover the bodies.

 

 

Part I

 

Mason

 

 

Sometime in January 2002

Veil Falls, ID

 

He stared out the window at the cold, icy ground as the truck slowly made its way to Veil Falls Elementary. His stomach was in knots, he felt anxious, and he was doing his best to be strong. It wasn’t like he hadn’t ever changed schools mid-year before. He had. Several times. But here…This was different.

“Your dad is looking forward to hearing the top five things you like about your new school,” Henry Beaudrie said from behind the steering wheel of the ranch truck. “Says he’s curious to know if you’re going to be in room 7, which was the room he had for the fifth grade when he was here.”

“Why couldn’t I stay home and do school work there?” Mason turned to look at his grandfather. “I can help with the ranch work. Help with the cows, horses…Fix fence.”

“You need to be in school Mason. A half of a fifth grade education isn’t enough,” Henry told him. “You’ll make new friends. A man can never have enough friends.”

“I won’t be here long. Dad will come home,” Mason stated. “All of my friends are back home.”

“Your dad is a half a world away, son,” Henry told him. “He needs to concentrate on his job.”

Mason frowned. “How long will he be over there?”

“I wish I knew,” Henry looked at him. “You aren’t the only one who wished he was safe at home here with you and not over there. Lord knows what kind of mess it’s going to be.”  Henry pulled into a parking spot, turned off the truck, and then looked squarely at Mason. “Trust me. You’ll find new friends here. You’ll fit in just fine. And when your dad comes home, you’ll be back with him. Understood?”

Mason nodded.

“Now, you go have a fun day making new friends so you can tell your dad all about it when he calls tomorrow.”

“What if he calls when I’m at school?”

“You won’t miss his call,” Henry assured him. The two of them got out of the truck and Mason shouldered his backpack – an old camouflage backpack with his father’s name tape and patches hand sewn on it. Mason looked at the school with apprehension, took a deep breath, and then fell into step beside his grandfather. As they walked, he couldn’t help but notice how his grandfather walked like an old cowboy. Mason always found it funny as he could picture his grandpa as an old western town marshal. Mason’s eyes went up to his grandfather to see he was focused on the school and Mason got the sense that Henry didn’t want to be doing this just as much as Mason didn’t want to. Yet still, Henry reached up and adjusted his cowboy hat over his gray hair, let out a deep breath, and said, “It’s got to be done, Mason.” As the two of them walked to the school office, Henry looked around at the emptying hallway. “None of this was here when I was in school,” Henry stated. “We had an eight room school in this place that they tore down for this monstrosity. Grandma went to a small school on the other side of the valley. It’s not there anymore either.” He pulled open the clearly marked door to the office.

Once his grandfather made sure the school had Mason’s paperwork correct, he bid Mason goodbye, said he’d be back at two and then headed out the door. Mason shifted uncomfortably as he waited for the office clerk to verify all of his information before she led him to his classroom. He kept his head held high and his shoulders back, removing his hat when they entered the room. The teacher hadn’t started the day yet when they walked in. The office lady handed over the note to the teacher and then left the room. Mason frowned as the teacher smiled and said, “Class, we have a new student. This is Mason Beaudrie. Mason, could you tell us where you are joining us from?”

Mason frowned. “North Carolina, ma’am.”

“That’s far away. Well, we look forward to learning more about you. Welcome to our class,” the teacher said. “Go ahead and sit in the empty chair in the back row. You’ll find text books in the desk.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said and walked down the aisle, knowing eyes were on him, and some were snickering over how he called the teacher, ‘ma’am.’

To them, he likely seemed like any other rancher kid or that’s what he hoped. He was dressed in jeans and cowboy boots with a USMC t-shirt layered over a thermal long john top and was carrying a winter jacket, his hat, and his old-ragged camouflage backpack. His dark hair was cut short, and he was boringly average in looks, size, and build and could easily be overlooked. His brown eyes rested on the two person desk and the empty seat beside a girl with her long dark hair in a braid. Her full attention was on a book in her hands. She didn’t even look up at him as she was so engrossed in the book.

He sat down at the desk and put his backpack and his hat on a hook on the side of the desk. She still didn’t even look up at him. He took a moment to survey his surroundings. Despite being surrounded by ranches and farms, the kids around him were dressed much like city kids in jeans and athletic shoes. Their sweatshirts and shirts all were brand names or band logos. Their clothes looked new and clean. They still had their hats on their heads indoors. Their backpacks were hung from hooks on the side of their desks. They were all talking to one another, laughing, and looking back toward him as he sat in his seat, unsure as to what came next.

The teacher began class and Mason frowned, let out a deep breath, and sunk down in his chair. There was no use being posture-perfect here. He didn’t want to be noticed by any one and he could tell that none of the other kids were like him. He couldn’t wait for his dad to come home and make his life normal again.

The girl beside him put away the book, put on a pair of glasses, then let out a deep bored breath as the teacher began talking. Mason gave her a glance as the girl took out a notebook and a pencil. Mason listened to the teacher speak and instruct, frowning because he wasn’t sure if he had learned this already or not. It was language arts, not his favorite subject in the least. Who really needed to know what adverbs and prepositions were? He frowned, rubbed his eyes, then looked around the classroom. Kids had notebooks out in front of them. Some were open, some were shut. Mason decided to look in his desk and saw that there was only text books in the desk. No paper. No pencils. He reached down for his backpack and unzipped the main compartment, well aware there was no paper in it. Oh well, he thought and just laid his arms on his desk. Mason’s eyes glanced around the room as the teacher continued talking as she turned to the whiteboard on the wall.

The girl beside Mason leaned forward and began writing on a sheet of notebook paper. He glanced at her, thinking she was taking notes. He looked around to see if anyone else was. Nope. Others were doodling. He looked back at this desk mate and saw she was definitely writing. Great. He was stuck sitting next to the class brain who he would have nothing in common with. He was surprised when he saw her move the notebook, tap her finger on it to get his attention, and look at him.

He saw she had written, “Don’t worry, you haven’t missed anything interesting.”

His eyes went to her before he looked back at the teacher.

She wrote something again. “Did you need some paper?”

He nodded. His grandparents had thought the school provided paper and materials because they did when his dad was in school. All Mason had was a pouch with pencils and a folder for papers and homework, so he got out a pencil. The girl ripped out a few pieces of paper, including the note. She wrote. “Hi. I’m Gia.” And then passed him the papers.

He wrote, “I’m Mason.” Then he folded the paper, so it’d be less obvious and handed it back to her.

They continued to trade notes back and forth until the teacher gave an assignment. Mason then focused on his own work. When they were both finished, they wrote notes back and forth until it was time for recess. At that point, Gia gave him a smile then moved off to where she greeted a small group of girls. They filed outside and Mason looked around the playground area. He saw some boys with a ball, getting ready to play basketball so he went over to them. He was actually really good at athletics. His dad always told him he must’ve inherited his genes as his dad was always very good at sports.

“Mind if I join?” Mason asked.

One boy looked him up and down and then said, “Sorry. The teams are even.”

Mason gave a nod and then moved to the kids with a football. But it was the same story there. “The teams are even,” he heard. He had counted and knew they weren’t but if they didn’t want to play with him, there was no forcing it. Every group of boys seemed to not be interested in allowing him to join them – even the brainy, geeky looking loners wouldn’t talk to him and moved away. So, Mason just walked the perimeter of the playground until he found an empty swing. The others left the area as soon as he got there so he couldn’t help but wonder if Veil Falls was just not accepting of strangers. It had been so much easier making friends on base, he thought. Then recess was over, and they were all headed back inside, but first the class had to make a single perfect line in order to go back to the classroom. Mason wound up at the back of the line because everyone cut in front of him just to be with their friends. They filed back into the classroom, and it was now time for math.

He definitely didn’t know this kind of math and he didn’t like it. Midway through the day, lunch came. He grabbed his brown bagged lunch and tailed the class to the lunch room. He didn’t bother trying to join anyone but sat down at an empty table as it seemed like they could all sit anywhere. He had unpacked his lunch when some kids with trays came over to him.

“Hey, new guy. This is our table,” the bigger, older kid told him. “Go somewhere else.”

“No one was sitting here,” Mason told him. “And there wasn’t a sign saying it’s reserved. It’s big enough to share.”

“Not with you,” another kid frowned.

They all put their trays on the table and crowded around him trying to be intimidating. Mason let out a disappointed sigh. “Really?” he looked around at them. “This is how we’re going to do this?” He looked up at each one of them. He could take them all. Easily. Or at least a few of them.

An adult clearing his throat behind them made them all look up. A teacher was looking at them, unimpressed.

“Nothing to see here, Mr. Hodges,” the boys all said. “We’re just introducing ourselves to the new kid.”

“Just sit and eat your lunches while they’re still warm,” Mr. Hodges said. The other boys all sat down at the table and Mr. Hodges moved on. But it wasn’t over. Some of the boys swiped the food from Mason’s lunch, making unkind comments directed at Mason as they slowly encroached on his space, pushing him off the bench. Mason’s eyes went to the teachers who were sitting at a table nearby. Mason was calculating in his head that he could get in two or three well placed swings before the teachers could even react, but then looked at the boys and determined they weren’t worth disappointing his dad, who was relying on him. His dad needed to focus on the warzone, not him getting in trouble at school.

Mason threw away the wrapper from the only piece of food he had been able to hang on to and headed out to the playground. There weren’t many kids out yet, and the yard aides were sitting at a bench in the sun, eating their own lunches and talking to one another. Mason grabbed a basketball from the cart and went to shoot some baskets. After a few minutes, more kids came out, but no one joined him. Then that same group of guys came over and told him they wanted the basketball. “Fine. Let’s play then.”

“You and what team?” one boy sneered.

“So it’s going to be nine against one?” Mason asked.

“What of it?”

“Fine,” he said with an uncaring shrug. Despite Mason’s attempts, the game didn’t go well. They purposely bumped into and shoved him hard, making him fall to the ground. Mason would pick himself up, brush himself off, and got back into the game. They would belittle him and call him names, but he just saw that as a distraction and tuned them out. But the more he ignored them and focused on the ball, the rougher they became. It was truly an unfair game, but Mason could play dirty too. They’d try to keep the ball away, but he’d find a way to trip them. When one fell to the ground, the kid would cry out and yell, “Foul! That kid tripped me!” while pointing at Mason. After a few more times of the others crying and blaming him, a teacher’s aide came over to them.

 “Young man,” she motioned to Mason. “I think it’s time for you to stop playing.”

“But I was on this court first,” Mason told her.

“You’re done,” the aide told him, this time with the tone of voice that left no argument.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mason begrudgingly said. His knees hurt anyways from falling, there was a hole in the knees of his jeans, and the palms of his hands were scraped up and bleeding.

“Come with me,” the aide said. Mason followed her to the office, wondering what kind of trouble he was in. His grandparents would not be impressed at all. “This young man fell down on the pavement while playing basketball,” the woman told the office staff.

“That happens,” the woman behind the desk commented and picked up the phone. “Connie, tell Serene we have a young man here who fell.” She then hung up the phone. “The nurse will be here in a moment.”

The aide left, and Mason stood awkwardly there, looking around the office. A woman came in from another door and focused on him. “Rough day on the playground?” She queried.

“Just playing basketball,” he shrugged. She motioned for him to come with her. He went into the room, and she told him to wash his hands in the sink.

“You’re new here,” the nurse commented.

“It’s my first day.”

“I’m Mrs. Grayson, the school nurse. What’s your name?”

“Mason Beaudrie.”

“Beaudrie?” She seemed surprised. “You’re June and Henry’s grandson?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The nurse seemed to scrutinize him even more. “From what’s printed on your shirt, your dad is either Marty or Hank,” she told him as she took his hand and cleaned the wound with some disinfectant.

“My dad is Hank,” Mason winced over the stinging from the liquid. “Why? Does that make a difference?”

“No. I went to school with your dad. He was in my class.”

“He was?” Mason looked at her now, wondering if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Yes,” she said with a smile. “He was always the athlete focused on baseball, basketball, and football. He was very talented and very popular. He also had a way with animals.”

Mason nodded, wondering if she was insinuating that Mason was not talented or athletic. “That sounds like my dad.”

“So has he really moved back to Veil Falls?” she asked curiously.

“No, ma’am. He’s deployed.”

“Oh. So, then did your mom move back home?” The tone of her question was as if she was fishing.

“No, ma’am. I’m here with my grandparents.”

“Oh, well, I wasn’t sure if your mom would come back here. I did see your dad five years ago when he came home on leave and I do recall your parents had just divorced,” the nurse said as she put bandages on his palms. She gave him a smile. “You do resemble your father in looks, Mason.”

“I’ve been told that,” Mason nodded.

“Did you get your knees too?” She noticed there was blood on the knees of his jeans.

“Yeah, but they’ll be fine.”

“Your dad was a tough guy too,” the nurse frowned. “I can’t let you go back to class, bleeding. Here,” she gave him some wipes and two bandages that were the size of his knees. “Go clean them up in the bathroom and put these bandages on.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Did you want me to call your grandparents?”

“No,” Mason shook his head. “I just fell down playing basketball. It’s nothing.”

“Yup. Just like your dad,” she gave him a smile.

The way she said it and the way her eyes lit up made Mason curious. “If you don’t mind me asking, Mrs. Grayson, but how well did you know my dad?” Mason asked, a bit blunt. “Were you one of his friends in school?”

“I was, yes,” she smiled. “Your dad and I were really good friends. I knew your dad before your mom did.”

“You must be Serene,” Mason looked at her. He had heard his aunts and uncles talk about her when they didn’t think Mason was listening. They thought his dad should have stayed with Serene instead of dating his mom Kelly.

“That’s me,” she said. “Of course, I haven’t seen your dad in four or five years as we have lost touch. Well, go take care of those knees and head back out to the playground. It was nice to get to meet you, Mason.”

“You too, Mrs. Grayson,” he said and walked out of the office. He did as the nurse told him to, cleaning up and putting the bandages on his knees before he returned to the playground. He stopped and his eyes went to that group of boys, still playing basketball. He looked down at his bandaged palms, then gave a narrowing look at those boys, taking stock in what he knew so far. Some of the kids were afraid of him. Others were bullies to him. None wanted to be around him. He wondered why. It sounded like his father hadn’t had these issues so what was he missing? Was it just the fact that Mason was the new kid, and this is the kind of ‘welcome’ they gave here at this school? Was it a test? Mason saw the main bully, the largest of the kids, calling for his teammate to throw the ball to him. Mason smirked as he thought it’d sure be a shame if the ball struck the bully in the nose. The ball made a straight line for the bully who caught it with his hands. Mason focused all of his attention on that ball and the ball suddenly leapt toward the bully’s face, as if it was shoved with force by unseen hands. The bully was struck squarely in the nose, which startled him. Shocked, the bully threw down the ball like it had been possessed and began screaming as blood poured out his nose. One of the adults ran over toward the group. Mason quickly took all emotion from his face, although he felt justified for what happened. The teacher’s aide who had taken him to the office noticed he was standing there, watching.

“Young man, would you please go sit on the bench until the end of lunch? We don’t want your bandages to fall off.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said then motioned out to the commotion on the court. “What happened to him?”

“It appears the ball hit him in the face,” the aide said, and Mason saw Mrs. Grayson coming out with a medical kit. Everyone had stopped playing to watch this one boy get his nose tended to. The boy who had thrown the ball was claiming innocence, that he didn’t throw it too hard.  But when the principal came out, the crowd was dispersed and all of the boys playing were ushered off toward a part of the playground where the principal was giving them a stern talk. Nobody would ever know the truth, Mason thought.

After a few minutes, Mason was bored sitting on the bench. He wished he had a book or something to occupy himself, so he people watched. He noticed how they treated each other and who was friends with who. He noticed Gia, the girl who sat next to him, had her own small group of friends and they were over near a tree, with jump ropes and the hopscotch lines. There were a lot of kids here and he knew no one else as his cousins were older than him and at the junior high. When the bell rang, Mason took his time heading over to the class line, knowing everyone would just cut in front of him again and he’d be last. There was no use exerting the energy. They got back inside and had science next. Mason frowned. He wasn’t too excited about science and was looking forward to history. The girl sitting next to him eagerly got out her science book.

“You like science or something?” he asked as he slowly got his book from his desk.

“Yes.” She spoke for the first time. “I love science.”

Mason raised his eyes over how she spoke. He had not been expecting that. He gave her a funny grin of amazement. “You’ve got an accent.”

She looked instantly uncertain and self-conscious. “Yes. I was raised in France. I just moved here last month.”

“France?” Mason had to smile, amazed. Mason’s father was good friends with a few guys in the French Special Forces as the Marines did occasional training with them. Caporal-Chef Louis Chapelle found it disgraceful that Mason could only speak one language at the age of five, so he worked on teaching Mason useful phrases and a few French drinking songs every time there was training in the US. Now, five years later, Mason forgot most of what he had learned, except some inappropriate phrases and the drinking songs. But Chapelle wasn’t the only person who spoke a foreign language around Mason -- Mason’s family had spoken a hodge podge of French, English, and Nimiipuu words for generations. It was their own language as the older generations just said whatever word in whatever language it came out as. Mason turned to look back at his textbook, trying to recall something that wasn’t bad-mannered to say. “Um, say-tone please-air duh-vu…um…awe-con-tray.” He knew he slaughtered it as he didn’t speak it much.

She was clearly surprised. “Tu parles francias?” The way she said it sounded so refined, civilized, and proper compared to his crude attempt.

“Um…Juice de staple may faire bottay,” he made a face, trying to recall the rest of it. “Uh….Tele-fez.”

Her face turned red, and she covered her mouth as she giggled.

Mason blushed, wondering what he actually said. He had meant to say that he knew just enough to get his butt kicked. “Did I say that wrong?”

“No,” she shook her head with a smile, her eyes were lit up over his attempt. “It was…um… Good. It is just strange hearing those words with your accent.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess so,” Mason still blushed. “It’s weird to hear yours too.”

“Where did you learn to speak French?”

“From my dad’s friend in the French Special Forces.”

“Oh?” she looked at him. “Where was he from?”

“Um… I don’t know. Some farming community in a valley somewhere in France?” Mason shrugged. “I can’t remember the name, but it had a lot of different syllables.”

The teacher called the class to order, so their conversation fell as their science lesson began. Whenever Gia answered a question, the kids would snicker at her accent. Sometimes she’d use French to answer, and the teacher would remind her to use English. The kids in the class would laugh and all talk, which caused the teacher to shoosh them all. Whenever Mason would answer, the class snickered at his accent, and he noticed some kids poked each other. Mason just noticed and frowned. This behavior kept up through history, but Mason already knew this part of history.

When it came time for afternoon PE, Gia looked at him. “You should hang out with us. Come. Meet my friends.”

“Aren’t you a bunch of girls?”

“So? Who else are you going to hang out with?”

“That’s a good point,” Mason admitted. He followed Gia out the door and over to her friends who were walking together down the hall toward the playground. Mason followed behind until the girls they were trailing turned around.

“Hey, this is Mason,” Gia introduced him. “Mason, this is Lexi, Jenny, Amber, and Liz.”

“Hi,” Lexi smiled at him.

“Uh, you’re a Beaudrie,” Amber stated with an unimpressed scowl.

“I am,” Mason wondered why it made any difference.

“Uh, yeah, we don’t hang out with Beaudries,” Liz sneered. “So go somewhere else. You aren’t welcomed.”

“You’re new here, Gia, so we don’t expect you to know,” Amber gave Gia a look of pity.

“Why don’t you go sit on the bench by yourself again?” Jenny frowned at Mason.

Mason didn’t understand why they were acting this way. “I don’t know why you’re --”

“Whatever. You’re a freak. We don’t hang out with freaks,” Liz was blunt. “Gia, you either hang out with him, or you hang out with us. We will not be seen with a Beaudrie.” With that, Liz walked away with Amber and Jenny following her.

Gia looked at Lexi, perplexed. “I don’t understand. Are you going to walk away, too? I’d like to be friends with both of you. You are both nice to me. Them I don’t care about.” She sent a glare after the other girls and muttered something in French.

Lexi hesitated, looked after her friends with a frown, and then at Mason and Gia. She sighed, shook her head, and finally said, “Well, I’ll hang out with you both and find out for myself if there’s any truth to the rumors.” She now smiled. “So, Mason, how is your first day here?”

 

Twenty Years Later…

Late October, Veil Falls, ID

 

The leaves in the mountains above Veil Falls were awash in fall colors with their vibrant shades of orange, red, and yellow. The air was cool enough to need long sleeves and Mason Beaudrie realized that brought a smile to his face and made his shoulders relax. That meant the oppressive and miserable heat from summer would finally be gone and he could spend more time outside doing what he enjoyed. But fall also meant work and prepping for winter. He had a long list of things to do, but at this moment he didn’t want to think about that.

His mind went to the one event that had dominated his thoughts this past week – Gia was writing a romance novel. That in itself wasn’t bad as he knew whatever she wrote would be good. But what twisted the knife for him was that she told him she needed to start dating again in order to do research for it. And no matter how much he had tried to convince her that dating was a bad idea, she was being stubborn and dug in on the idea even more.

 Of course, she didn’t know his protests had an ulterior motive.

She had no idea how he felt about her, even after twenty years. But the conflict was that he didn’t intend for her to ever know of those feelings. Two things could happen if she knew. The most obvious one was that of awkwardness and letting him down easy because she didn’t think of him in the same way and didn’t want him to be anything more than her best friend. The less likely reaction would be that she had mutual feelings for him but hadn’t known how to address them.

It had been easy living this lie… Well, no, even that was a lie. It wasn’t easy. It was one long tormenting dance of being invisible to her as a man. He considered himself lesser because of it. He had a whole, long line of adjectives that he could use to describe himself for not being capable of telling the woman he loved that he loved her. But the time never seemed right, and then days kept passing with the months, the years, and now decades. And he was no closer to telling her than he was when he was eleven.

He could really fool himself sometimes and convince himself that she really could see him as a man she’d date. He was the one she’d turn to, count on, call on, and spend platonic evenings with. But the truth hit him every conversation they had – He was her best friend, and that’s all he would forever be.

If you were to ask anyone in Veil Falls, half of them would tell you that Gia Bennington was too good for him. That he was taking advantage of her good heart and her kindness. The other half would roll their eyes at the first half, and then say that Mason and Gia just both needed some sense knocked into them. They all knew Mason was in love with her and couldn’t understand how Gia was so oblivious to it.

He couldn’t understand why either. Perhaps she just wasn’t into his looks.

His grandmother and aunt always told him he was a handsome and good-looking man. But they were biased because he knew he had always been average in looks. His looks were often picked apart by the friends of the women he dated, could potentially date, or were dating his own friends. They’d tell him his face was too oval-ish and not symmetrical enough. One time they told him that he looked unimpressed all the time because his eyes and mouth formed parallel lines. They’d say his nose didn’t match his face as it was smaller than they thought it should be. One time he heard the female friends snicker and tell his date that his ears stuck out too far, like an elephant. One woman he once dated told him he looked tired all the time with his ‘droopy’ dark brown eyes. He had dark brown hair that was still styled in the latest military fashion -- short on the sides, slightly longer on top. He felt it was practical, but the women never liked it because it was ‘too short.’ Even though looks were everything to women, he didn’t think of his own looks most of the time because it wasn’t as if he could change them. Now being 30 years old, with a lot of life lived already, he figured if they liked him, they liked him. If they didn’t, well, there wasn’t much he could do about it – He already knew he wasn’t much to look at.

His aunt would still tell him that he had a great smile, and his doting grandmother always said he’d have the girls lining up to marry him. He appreciated the wishful thinking, but the truth was, he was never the one the females gravitated to. He could talk to them, but he'd quickly get bored with them because they all seemed to be superficial and maybe they sensed that. He was soft spoken with a masculine voice and tended to quietly observe and notice more than he spoke. But he knew how to raise his voice, to be heard, and to be listened to. He could stand tall and be solid. He was confident in his work life and family life, but just not in his social life.

In fact, he really didn’t have a social life.

Mason pulled into the driveway of the home he shared with his grandparents. This was one of the ‘newer’ homes that his ancestors had built in the early 1900s and it grew as the family grew. It was always well maintained and kept up to date, as were the surrounding barns, outbuildings, and livestock fences. He looked at his watch as he got out, knowing he had time to get his afternoon chores done before going to meet Gia and their other best friend, Lexi, at Jim’s Bar. He had been working nights the last several weeks and hadn’t had a chance to get out. In fact, he was on-call three ‘weekends’ a month because he had to be ready to go at a moment’s notice to help out if the on-duty officers needed back up – It was a large, sparsely populated county and they often only had five officers on duty at a time on a rotating five day shift, along with a sixth deputy who filled in where he was needed, when he was needed, for vacations and family or sick leave. Even that duty rotated through the ranks of twenty-five deputies. The fourth ‘weekend’ of the work month was their only ‘real’ weekend. He parked his patrol vehicle beside the house as he always did and headed in to check on his grandparents, Henry and June Beaudrie.

June was standing at the sink, washing some dishes when he came in. She looked like how the typical 80-something-year-old grandmother would look – Except June wore waffle knit pajama leggings under a flannel dress with a crocheted sweater underneath her apron. Her feet had some sherpa lined boots that one of her granddaughters had bought her for her birthday. She smiled adoringly at her youngest grandchild as he entered through the kitchen door.

“I made you some dinner,” she motioned to a covered plate on the table. “You can have it now or save it for after your chores.”

“Thanks Grandma,” Mason gave her a kiss on the cheek. “How’s Grandpa today?” His grandfather was close to 90-years-old now.

“Taking a break in front of the TV,” June replied, nodding to the living room. “He was helping Avery and Silas out in the far pasture, mending fences so he’s done for the day.”

“You mean he was making sure they were fixin’ the fence correctly,” Mason was humored. “Supervising.”

“Oh, you know Grandpa,” June gave him a look. “How was work?”

“It was work.” He just shrugged. “Covered a quarter of the county four times. Gave Jerry Ashcroft a warning for riding his horse on the road with an open container.”

June shook her head. “He’s been doing that every October since Florence died.”

“I know. We always have one hell of a philosophical conversation, so I wind up giving him a warning,” Mason shrugged. “After all, his horse is more responsible than he is and always knows the way home. But it’s the calls like that that only makes this job more interesting.”

“You know, you don’t have to stay with this job,” June told him, studying him closely, her tone caring. “It’s dangerous these days and there’s always a target on your back. You only went into law enforcement because Gia was working at the Sheriff’s Office. She left that six months ago…” She gave a shrug. “You can always come join the boys on the ranch. We’ve got plenty of work.”

“The job’s growing on me,” he told her. It was true. He did get into this job because of Gia, but he stayed in it because he was gaining experience. “I couldn’t imagine not having a job where I didn’t have a uniform and couldn’t carry a weapon the whole time.”

“You can do that here,” June looked at him. “The whole time you’re on the ranch.”

Mason gave her a smile. “I’ll be fine, Grandma. Sure, there’s some real assholes on the job and aspects of it are difficult to take and I’d rather not ever see, but that’s been the story of my life for the last twelve years.”

June dried her hands and turned to face him, letting out a deep breath as she looked at him. “You just need a woman.”

“I’ve got one.” It wasn’t the one he wanted but it was at least someone.

“Pfsh. That ain’t a woman,” June scoffed and waved her hand. “And that ain’t a relationship. That woman avoids you twenty-nine days a month and I can’t understand why. For the life of me, why would a woman want to avoid a good looking, handsome, and wonderful man like you? I’d think a woman would want --”

“Grandma, I hate to interrupt, but I have to go get changed and head out for chores. I promise I’ll let you lecture me when I sit down for dinner,” Mason told her, knowing his grandmother could carry on about her disdain for Laura, his girlfriend. It wasn’t lost on him that his grandmother was right once again.

“Ok. This isn’t the last we’ll talk about this,” June turned back to the sink. “Perhaps Grandpa and I should have been more specific with the talk we had with you as a boy and what love actually is.”

“Hey, I don’t think I turned out so bad,” he told her as he walked out of the room. “I’m not divorced, and I don’t have any children so, that’s something.”

June just let out a deep sigh and picked up her kitchen towel, knowing that he was going to be her biggest challenge. She wished Mason could just either get Gia to notice him or find the woman who would make him forget her. She prayed for her grandson every day, but her prayers had not yet been answered. Still, she wasn’t worried. Her prayers would be answered when the time was right. She definitely didn’t want to have Mason’s current girlfriend be ‘the one.’

*******

 

Mason took his time doing his work. He knew his cousins had taken care of the fence that needed repaired, but they left him the tree that had fallen to cut. They had bucked the tree and cleared the brush to a pile that he’d burn here after the first rain, so he set to work on the rest of the tree, cutting it into rounds. When he was finished, he began loading it into the back of the ranch truck. When he figured he had a good enough work out, he paused to wipe his brow and take a drink of water. As he did so, he glanced around to be sure he was alone in the field.

******************************************************************************************

And that is where we're ending this sample. Find out what happens next and preorder your copy of  The Allegheny Chronicles: Veil Falls at www.amazon.com/author/embrooks, at www.barnesandnoble.com, and on your Apple Books App!!!