Outcasts of River Falls (16 page)

Kathryn debated internally: stay, and continue to pe
ruse her latest treasures, or visit the
big city?
Shopping was most tempting, even in a less than metropolitan centre like Hopeful, and she could continue getting acquainted with her new friends when she returned. Plus, the idea of
another thrilling carriage ride was irresistible and she didn’t
care what excuse was needed. Flying across the countryside in the Phaeton was one of the few things she would
miss about living in this wasteland. She’d never done any
thing like that back in Toronto.

Slamming the book shut, she jumped off the bed and darted into the main area of the cabin. “The answer is
oui
, of course!”

Belle pulled off her apron and hung it in the cupboard. “When I delivered her dresses to the barracks, Mrs. Prentiss had left a letter ordering three new outfits for her daughters and a full-length sheared beaver coat for her. The girls’ dresses are complete; now I need the trimmings for the coat.”

At this, her aunt became very animated. Kathryn couldn’t understand why any one would get excited
about taking on a mountain of such eye-straining, finger-
blistering work.

Bustling about the cabin, Aunt Belle continued to explain
the new project. “I had this idea to fashion a detachable hood for the coat. It would make it very versatile. Left on,
the hood would give extra warmth against the cold. Re
move the hood, and the coat would become much dressier and appropriate for mass on Sunday and fancy parties. It will be fabulous and very chic.”

Kathryn wouldn’t argue on that point, mostly because she didn’t care. “Can we take the usual transportation?” She gave her aunt a Cheshire cat smile.

“Of course! And there may even be time to visit the Apothecary Shop for a licorice stick. It’s a weakness of mine.”

Kathryn made a face. “I must admit to having several sweet tooths – or is it sweet teeth? – and wouldn’t mind some tasty confection. But not licorice – I detest the stuff. One lick and I have the worst digestive distress you can imagine.” The dreadful root upset her stomach so badly she would have to take a long walk, alone, until it passed.

The ride was exhilarating.
Then Aunt Belle shocked Kathryn by handing over the reins.

“You may have to take the buggy one day when I’m not around, so you’d better know how to drive it.”

“Back home, ladies don’t drive carriages. We hire men to do that sort of chore.” Kathryn shied away from the proffered reins.

“Out here, we don’t hire people, Katy; we’re the people folks hire. Surely you understand that by now.”

Accepting the challenge, Kathryn tried gingerly shaking the reins: the merest suggestion to Nellie that it would be nice if the old dear could amble slowly, cautiously into town, no rush, they had all the time in the world; then with what Kathryn could only describe as a completely evil sounding whinny, the crazy horse raced off as though the hounds of hell were snapping at her tail.

Controlling the beast quickly proved to be quite beyond
Kathryn’s abilities. They hit a deep rut, causing the buggy to come perilously close to tipping. She shrieked, yanking on the reins as Nellie ran off the road and detoured into the tall grass. Pulling hard, she managed to get both the horse and the buggy back on the road where the Phaeton slewed dangerously back and forth, so violently that Aunt
Belle finally had to retake the reins to prevent a total dis
aster, much to Kathryn’s relief.

The experience was terrifying and Kathryn wanted nothing more to do with driving the Phaeton, or any other conveyance. One had to know one’s strengths and being a mule skinner for a particularly stubborn jackass was not hers.

Nellie, contrary beast that she was, knew immediately who was in control and docilely complied with anything Aunt Belle requested without balking, biting or running wild. By the time they tied up the horse in a shaded alley in town, both Aunt Belle and Kathryn were laughing again.

“Would you deliver these to Sergeant Prentiss at the barracks while I pick up a few provisions?” Her aunt gave Kathryn the bundle of dresses.

“Of course. I’ll meet you back here in a tick.” Kathryn knew that building well as it came with the fondest of memories. It was where she had first laid eyes on her new suitor, Mark.

When she entered the detachment, a big man with a clay pipe clamped between his teeth was pinning up a poster on the wall. His brown field jacket was impeccable and the buttons polished to a gleam. The lanyard running down his barrel chest was spotless and Kathryn’s eye was drawn to the well-worn gun holster on his belt.

“Excuse me; do you know where I can find Sergeant Prentiss?”

He turned to her. “You found him, ma’am.” It was then Kathryn noticed the four chevrons on his sleeve.

“Belle Tourond sent me to deliver these dresses. Where would you like them?”

“My wife’s been expecting those.” The sergeant gave his head a shake as the corner of his mouth opposite the pipe, twitched up into a smile. “There’s a church social on Sunday and she wants her little girls to outshine all the other little girls. Doesn’t seem very Christian to me, but after fifteen years of marriage, I’ve learned not to argue with my commanding officer. You can put them in the storage room in the back.”

He indicated a hallway at the rear of the office.

In the passage, Kathryn found two unmarked doors, one on each side, and further along, barring her way, she saw another labelled
Cells
. Curious, she tiptoed down the hall and opened this one a crack. The three cells were cold and sparse, each with a wooden sleeping platform and a chamber pot. Horrid! There was also an exit to the outside and she wondered if it was through that grave portal that they led the condemned men to the gallows tree. It was a gruesome thought and she hastily returned to the hallway. Wondering which unmarked door was the storage room, she tossed a mental gold doubloon – after all, if one was going to use an imaginary coin, it may as well be a valuable piece – and chose.

Inside there was a chair and slung over the back was the slovenly brown uniform jacket she remembered seeing on Cyrus Blake. What a difference from Sergeant Prentiss’s spit-and-polish regalia. This had to be Constable Dung’s office.

The desk was strewn with papers and folders. She sniffed and winced at the fetid odour. There were stubbed-out cigars, empty bean cans, discarded and mouldy food, any or all of which could be the cause of the stink. How could anyone breathe, let alone work in there? Disgusting.

Trying the door on the opposite side of the hall, Kathryn discovered it was indeed the storage room with labelled boxes of files, rifles locked in a cabinet and a saddle on a wooden sawhorse with a tin of dubbin sitting beside it. Next to this, in a glass fronted cabinet, was Sergeant Prentiss’s dress uniform. The red serge jacket blazed scarlet fire while
the shiny spurs sparked like quicksilver on the highly pol
ished knee high boots. Suppressing the urge to snoop
into the other items in the cabinet, she wiped the dust off a
crate and carefully laid the dresses down.

Closing the door as she left, Kathryn turned and ran full force into Constable Blake.

He leered rudely. “What are you doing here? Did you miss me?”

She stepped back quickly as though this time, she truly had met the Big Bad Wolf with his fangs bared and his breath reeking of rotten meat.

“I’m delivering a dress order for my aunt,” she stammered.

“Belle’s with you?” Blake asked eagerly.

“Yes, she’s waiting for me now, and I’d better not be late.” And with that, Kathryn edged by him, fleeing from the jail. That man was truly unsettling.

When Kathryn joined Aunt Belle, she didn’t mention her encounter with the constable. She knew it would only upset her aunt. Instead, they discussed the new sewing project, or more accurately, Aunt Belle discussed the project as sewing was another of those domestic things Kathryn had no expertise or interest in.

As they made their way down the boardwalk, a group of whiskered men in severe black suits came out of a building. The party were talking amongst themselves as Kathryn watched them approach. Instead of parting for the two ladies, as all gentlemen should, the men seemed oblivious to Kathryn and her aunt.

“I hope Mr. McGraw got in his new shipment of buttons at the mercantile...” Her aunt stepped down off the boardwalk and onto the dirt street, narrowly avoiding dragging the hem of her dress through some fresh horse droppings. Without a pause, she reached up and pulled Kathryn after her. “I’d like something special for the beaver coat.”

The men walked past with no form of acknowledgment or greeting, secure in their position as kings of the realm.

Once they’d moved on, Belle climbed back onto the walkway without comment and continued their conversation. “Of course, fancy will cost more but in my opinion, it will be worth it. If this coat is a success, other ladies will order from me and we’ll be in the furrier business.”

Kathryn was aghast. She stood rooted to the spot, gaping up at her aunt from the dusty street. “Aunt Belle! Those, those...
gentleman!
Why did you make us step off the boardwalk?”

Her aunt’s excitement of a moment before evaporated.
“Katy, we don’t want to cause any problems, and it’s expected for us, for the Métis, to give way to those who live in town.”

“You mean to the
white people
. That’s utter nonsense. Unacceptable. I deserve the respect that should be shown any lady, no matter what her race. Scurrying into the gutter! Impossible!” Kathryn was furious as she climbed back onto the boardwalk and shook the dirt from her skirt. “When I read
Uncle Tom’s Cabin
, I was so thankful I lived in Canada where cruel treatment of another human being
because of his skin colour didn’t happen. I see now, the se
quel to Mrs. Stowe’s novel could easily be written right here in Hopeful!”

“I don’t like it any more than you do, Katy, but we have to live here. This is life for the Road Allowance People. Accept it.” Without another word, her aunt turned and walked away.

Kathryn was stunned. Was this how it was for the Ditch People? They would forever be considered outcasts with every one going along like it was the right thing to do? She thought of all the Métis and the years stretching ahead. How would they bear it?

Silently, she followed her aunt into the mercantile, still dumbfounded by what she’d experienced outside. The most shocking thing had been that no one had thought anything of it. It was business as usual: white men on the boardwalk; Métis in the dirt.

The injustice of what had happened made the future lawyer in her seethe. Kathryn felt anger, shame, hurt and helplessness all at the same time. Toronto and her privileged life seemed very far away.

Aunt Belle took forever to choose the right threads, buttons, needles and other assorted frippery, checking each item a thousand times until she was satisfied.

“There, that should do it. I hope Mr. McGraw will let me put all this on my bill until I’m paid for the work. I don’t have any money right now and there must be over five dollars worth of goods here.” She held up her basket of loot.

They went to the counter so that Aunt Belle could arrange credit, but before she could say anything, a large woman with a garish purple dress and matching hat decorated with drooping bunches of fat grapes approached.

The woman gawked at Aunt Belle in her faded yellow dress, moccasins and braids, and her expression turned to one of intense disgust. It reminded Kathryn of the last time she’d stepped in something that was best scraped off her shoe. The rotund woman pushed in front of Aunt Belle and placed her own purchases on the counter.

After the boardwalk incident, Kathryn couldn’t believe this was happening. Fury flashed white hot as her spine straightened. “Oh, no you don’t. I believe we are next, madam.” She firmly slid the intruder’s basket aside.

“Well, I never!” The woman squawked indignantly, her face blossoming into the same purple shade as her hideous dress. “You sort are getting way above yourselves. You should be run out of town back to where you belong.” Huffing loudly, she turned to the merchant who was at a
loss as to what he should do. “Mr. McGraw, you should re
strict the clientele you allow into your establishment. The City Ladies League all agree, these half-breeds should be barred from stores where decent people shop.”

Kathryn’s temper shot off the scale. “Why you...” She took a menacing step forward, about to really get into it when her aunt laid a silencing hand on her arm.

“Katy, please, it’s all right, I’ll wait. I have to speak to the proprietor about the details.” She gave Kathryn a pleading look.

“No, it is absolutely
not
all right!”
Then Kathryn re
alised she shouldn’t cause any more trouble. Without those supplies Aunt Belle couldn’t sew and that would mean no money to buy food. Reluctantly she gave in, biting back the scathing retort waiting to leap off the tip of her tongue. “I’ll be at the chemist’s.”

Using every fibre of self control, she left the store before she turned the huge purple grape into a vat of quivering jelly.