A Journeyman to Grief (16 page)

She grimaced. “I’ll expect that when it snows in July. Come on, we’re all in the kitchen. We’ve been waiting for you.” She took him by the hand.

“Just a minute, let me take my things off.”

“Only your hat and coat for now.” She said it with a mischievous grin, and the implication made Murdoch blush like a shy schoolboy. This relationship was so new, he couldn’t help himself. He was always chagrined when he reacted like this, he was almost thirty-five years old, for God’s sake. But what his mind wanted and what his body did weren’t always compatible.

Amy thrust open the door to the kitchen.

“Here he is at last.”

“Hurrah!”

Charlie Seymour was sitting beside Katie Tibbett, the fourth resident of the boarding house. Her twin boys were in high chairs
across from them. Somebody had given them each a wooden spoon and a pot to bang on and excited by the liveliness around them they slammed away enthusiastically. Both of them had cream smeared around their mouths. There was a bottle of wine on the table and the delicious aroma of a meal filled the kitchen. Katie got up to bring Murdoch his dinner, but Amy forestalled her.

“Stay where you are, I’ll get it. Tell him your news.”

Katie glanced at Charlie shyly. “You do it.”

“With pleasure. Will, Katie and me are going to put up the banns. We’ve set a wedding date for May 16.”

“Amy is going to be my maid of honour, and Charlie wants you to be the best man. Will you?” interjected Katie.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” said Murdoch. He thrust out his hand. “Congratulations, Charlie. I can’t say I’m surprised, but I couldn’t be happier for you.”

Both boys yelled and waved their spoons like conductor’s batons. Amy laced her fingers together and blew through her thumbs, making a shrill whistle.

“I don’t know why she’s said yes to an old codger like me,” said Charlie, “but I’m not going to talk her out of it.”

Katie gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t you dare say you’re an old codger. You’re the dearest, kindest man I’ve ever known.”

Charlie groaned. “You’d say that to your granddad.”

“Tell him he’s a grumpy beast and all you want is his money,” said Murdoch. “That’ll make him happy.”

“I couldn’t do that, it’s not true.”

Katie was still an innocent and didn’t always understand teasing.

Amy started to whistle a lively rendition of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow,” and Katie and Murdoch sang lustily to Seymour, who hung his head bashfully. When they’d finished, Charlie solicited another kiss from his betrothed, which was gladly bestowed.

Then Katie looked at Murdoch in dismay. “What are we thinking? You haven’t had your supper yet.” She bustled over to the oven, took out a plate of food, and put it on the table.

“It’s your favourite, baked ham and cabbage with roasted potatoes.”

“Let me pour you some wine,” said Charlie.

Murdoch tucked into the dinner. “What are you going to do after you’re married? Please tell me you’re not going to leave.”

“Seeing you stuff your face like that, Will, I would suspect you have designs on my fiancée,” said Seymour. “But we have talked it over and we intend to stay here for at least a year so we can save money for our own house. Amy has kindly agreed to switch rooms with me so we’ll put the twins in the middle room and Katie and I will have the parlour.”

Murdoch liked that idea. It meant Amy and he would have more privacy. He glanced over at her and saw she had read his mind. She smiled at him.

“More wine, everybody?” Charlie reached for the bottle.

“Not for me,” said Amy. “One is enough. I can’t go to Councillor Blong’s house smelling of drink.”

“Are you going out tonight?” asked Murdoch in dismay.

“I have to. Mary Blong hasn’t been in school for almost three weeks. I received a note today asking if I would visit her and bring her up to date with her lessons.”

“What’s wrong with her?” asked Katie.

“I don’t know. He didn’t say, but one of her friends whispered in my ear that Mary is having fits and the doctor is lost. I think she meant at a loss. My belief is that Mary would recover quickly if her new little brother disappeared.”

“Oh, Amy, don’t say that.”

“Sorry, Katie, but it’s true. Mary, poor thing, is consumed by
jealousy over the newcomer, a longed-for boy, and I think this is her way of getting attention. But we’ll see.”

“There’s a fresh junket in the pantry,” said Katie. “Why don’t you take some of it? That’s sure to put you into the councillor’s good graces.”

“Thank you, Katie, but I refuse to curry favour just because he’s a member of the school board.” She smiled ruefully. “Besides, Mary doesn’t like me much at all, and I wouldn’t trust her not to spit it out in disgust just to make a point.”

“Nobody would turn down Katie’s junket once tasted,” said Murdoch. “I’ll have Mary’s portion, though, if you think taking it is a waste of time. I can see the boys have already enjoyed their share.”

Seymour raised his glass. “A toast to James and Jacob, also jolly good fellows.”

He was a little tipsy because he was not a drinking man, but the wine and his obvious happiness had softened his usually austere features and took years off his age. Katie’s first husband had been a scoundrel, and Murdoch was glad she had now found a man who so obviously would treat her well.

Murdoch clinked glasses. “To the lads. And lucky fellows they are.”

Amy stood up. “I’ll be off then.”

“It’s getting rather late,” said Murdoch. “Why don’t I come with you?”

“That’s really not necessary, Will. They live over on Sackville Street not far from the school. It won’t take me long to get there. I’m sure you’ve had an arduous day.”

Murdoch felt a brief flash of frustration. This was not the first time they’d had a minor clash like this. “Amy! You’re the one who looks tired. A little fresh air will do me good.”

She hesitated. “Very well. At least we can give the lovebirds a little time to themselves.”

Murdoch picked up his plate.

“Leave it, Will. I’ll clean up,” said Katie. “You should get going.”

James bonged his spoon on the upturned pot in agreement.

Once outside, Murdoch and Amy walked in silence. He was damned if he was going to relent, but they hadn’t gone far when he felt her slip her arm through his.

“I’m sorry to be so pig-headed, Will. It’s just that I can’t bear to be treated as if I were fragile or incapable.”

“You think I’m not aware of that by now? Didn’t it occur to you that I wanted your company?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll never do it again,” she said meekly.

“Ha. I’ll believe that when it snows in July.”

They crossed over the street and he suddenly grabbed her round the waist and swung her over his hip to lift her up and over some horse dung that she had been about to tread in. He set her down on the sidewalk.

“See, you do need me. What would Councillor Blong think if you showed up smelling of wine and your skirt and boots covered in manure?”

She lifted her head. “I don’t still smell of wine, do I?”

“To properly determine that I will have to come very close to your mouth and if I do that I will have to kiss you, and seeing that we are being approached by a respectable middle-aged couple, I had better not.”

Amy stepped away from him. “No, you certainly had better not. They might recognize me and report me to the board for conduct unbecoming to a schoolteacher.”

The couple passed them and the man raised his hat.

“Good evening, Miss Slade.”

“Good evening, Mr. Hall.”

Murdoch waited until they were out of earshot. “It’s bad luck that he was somebody you knew. Not that we were doing anything.”

She slipped her arm through his again. “Let’s put it this way, that was Mr. Hall all right, but that wasn’t Mrs. Hall. The woman clinging to his arm was a rather attractive woman, don’t you think?”

“Very. And most stylishly dressed.”

“She could be his sister, of course.”

“Of course. And it meant nothing that he was in a hurry to go past us and seemed most disconcerted to see you.”

Amy laughed. “Your policeman’s eye, Will. But my heart did skip a beat when I realized we knew each other.”

“Good heavens, I thought you were a New Woman.”

“That’s got nothing to do with it. I don’t want to lose my position.”

He almost burst out that she wouldn’t get the shoot if she were a respectable married woman kissing her husband, even on the street, but he didn’t want to spoil the mood again. Besides, she would have to leave teaching if she were married, and he knew that was one of the reasons she wouldn’t agree to do it. In his blue moments, he wondered if the real reason was that she didn’t love him enough but when she lay in his arms in bed, he believed her when she said she had never cared for anybody the way she cared for him. He sighed. Patience, patience.

“What’s the matter?” Amy asked.

“Nothing.”

The rest of the way to the Blong house he filled her in on what had been happening in the course of his investigation. She listened intently, as she always did.

“How cruel to whip a man in that way. No matter what he’s done, nothing can excuse it. This feels like a bad case, Will. Be careful.”

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

SEPTEMBER
1862

T
he late-afternoon sun had turned the river red and there was a sharp nip in the air. Summer was almost done. They had been on the move for two weeks, travelling mostly at night and both of them were exhausted. A few apples they’d picked had been the only thing to sustain them for three days, wormy and sour as they were. Lena stopped on the crest of the hill.

“Look, Fiddie, there’s a farmhouse down there. Maybe we can find something to eat.”

“And maybe we’ll get taken. I’d rather stay hungry. We’d better scout it out first.”

“But we must be in Union territory by now. They won’t turn us in.”

“They sure enough will if they think there’s a reward. Come on, crouch down here, it’s out of the wind a bit and we can watch.”

Lena huddled close to Fidelia and they sat until the sun disappeared behind the horizon. They saw a wink of light from the farmhouse as somebody lit a lamp.

“Let’s get closer. See who’s at home,” said Lena.

Cautiously, they slithered down the hill, keeping to the shrubs that dotted the slope until they were within a hundred feet of the house. The windows were uncurtained and they could see clearly into the front room, which from the look of it was the only room in the house. They could see a kitchen range, a table, and steep stairs leading to the upper floor. A grey-haired woman sat sewing by a fire that burned low. She was dressed in black.

“I think she’s alone,” said Fidelia.

“Let’s wait a bit longer to make sure.”

A cow started to bellow from the shed that adjoined the house, and the woman got up stiffly, put down her sewing, and walked over to the door. Shortly afterwards she came out with a shawl around her head and shuffled across the muddy yard to the shed. The cow was louder than ever.

“That critter’s gonna bust if that old woman don’t get there soon,” said Fidelia.

They waited, but nobody else came out of the house, no new lights appeared in the upper window. The cow had quieted down.

Suddenly, the piercing bray of a mule came from the shed. Fidelia nudged Lena.

“The Lord done sent us a gift. Come on.”

They stood up and walked across the yard toward the out-house just as the woman emerged carrying a pail of milk. She stopped when she saw the two of them.

“Vot you want?”

She had a thick, guttural accent and she looked afraid.

“We’re in need of food and shelter, ma’am,” said Lena politely. “I wonder if you’d be so good as to let us have some of your fresh milk and a place to bed down for the night? We can work for it.”

The woman shook her head. “Nein. I sell this milk. You go away. No niggers here.”

Close up she wasn’t as old as she had first appeared, but her face was careworn and weathered.

She continued to walk past them to the house, but before she had gone more than a few steps, Fidelia grabbed a spade that was leaning against the wall and brought it down as hard as she could on the back of the woman’s head. She dropped to the ground, blood leaking through her grey hair. The pail fell and tipped on its side, but Lena was there in an instant and righted it, saving most of the milk. The woman was convulsing and twitching, but Fidelia hit her again and she was still.

“It was her or us,” she said.

Lena stared down at the body for a few moments. “Let’s go into the house, I’m freezing.”

“Shall we bury her first?”

“Later. We should make absolutely sure she is alone. Bring the spade just in case. I’ll carry the milk pail.”

They went inside. The room was plainly furnished, the plank floor well scuffed and worn, but the woman had been able to maintain herself somehow, and to their starved eyes the place was cozy and inviting, especially the sight of a half a loaf of bread on the table and the smell of something cooking on the well-blacked stove.

“Jesus, hallelujah,” whispered Fidelia.

Lena nodded. “Amen to that.” She went to the tall cabinet that was by the stove and quickly opened some of the drawers. She removed a long bread knife and handed it to Fidelia.

“Run upstairs and have a look in the bedroom. Leave the spade with me.”

Fidelia did so, climbing the stairs, the knife behind her back. A few minutes later, she called down.

“Not a soul. That old ugly white biddy lives alone, all right.”

At that, Lena tore a chunk of bread from the loaf and stuffed it in her mouth. She lifted the lid from the steaming pot and flinched at the heat of the handle. She grabbed two bowls from the shelf and started to ladle the soup into each one.

“Fiddie, come on down now, we can eat.” She heard a thump from up above. “What are you doing?”

“Just goin’ exploring. Hey!” Fidelia yelled out with excitement and the next thing she was hurtling down the stairs, almost falling.

“Lena, look what I done found under her mattress.” She was holding a fistful of paper money. “Is it Confederate money?”