Outcasts of River Falls (8 page)

“Yes, yes, because you’re a woman and women aren’t
allowed. I’m talking about the men.” Kathryn knew her fa
ther had voted.

“No, Katy.” Her aunt spoke as though Kathryn had re
verted to that very young child again. “None of the Road Allowance people can vote. We don’t own the land we are
on and so we don’t pay taxes which means we are not al
lowed. It also means we can be driven off at any minute, as has happened so many times.”

“What do you mean?” Kathryn asked.

“This is government land and if the municipality wants to use it for roads or some farmer needs a new pasture and strikes a convenient deal with the local officials, we must leave and after we’re gone, the good citizens burn our homes so we cannot return.”

Kathryn was stunned. She thought of Aunt Belle’s cozy little house reduced to a pile of cold, black ashes. Where would her aunt live? What a terrible predicament to be in – powerless and at the mercy of people who had already cheated and swindled you and who would rather you disappeared. No wonder the families of River Falls helped one another; no wonder they enjoyed themselves so intensely at evenings like this one. Who knew when it could all go up in a fiery blaze?

And where was the law in all this? She could easily see the need for the Highwayman, the Métis Robin Hood. There was only one word Kathryn could think of to ex
press her outrage.
“Impossible!”

Later that night,
as they strolled home through the sweet-smelling pines, Kathryn’s thoughts continued to swirl around the Highwayman. Who could he be – and was he handsome? Surely he was; and young, and passionate.... “Do you know any other stories about the Highwayman? Has he ever rescued anyone from a tower in a lonely castle?” she asked dreamily.

Her aunt smiled at this. “We don’t have a lot of castles around here; still, I know some who owe him a debt of thanks. The gentleman who helped build your room, Pierre, he was the first to benefit from the
Bandit de Grand Chemin
. Pierre painted the outside of the hardware store for the owner, Mr. Campbell. He bought the paint and did the work and then, when he went to collect payment, Mr. Campbell said he wasn’t happy with the job and refused to pay. Pierre was out the cost of the paint and four days’ worth of hard work and could do nothing about it. A week later, he woke to find three gallons of paint sitting on his step, along with two bags of oats which covered the cost of his labour.” She laughed softly. “Everyone said it was only a coincidence that the very same hardware store he’d painted had been broken into and certain items gone missing.”

“And it was the work of the Highwayman?”

Aunt Belle was noncommittal. “Perhaps. No one knows for sure...”

Even in the dim light of the lantern, Kathryn could see that telltale twinkle in her aunt’s eye.

“Another time concerns Henri Beauchamp. He doesn’t
live here; instead, he’s way down by the big bend in the Old Man River. He has this amazing red hair–it sticks out from his head like a fiery haystack. Anyway, he needed money so he sold his last hog to a white man who then ran Henri off with a gun – without paying for the hog.” She picked up a stone from the path, examined it, and then, finding it wanting, tossed it spinning into the woods. “Now you have to understand, Henri Beauchamp is a proud man and stubborn to boot. He told no one how tough things were, never complained, simply kept on trying to make a living for his family. After the animal was butchered, two large hams mysteriously disappeared from the white man’s smokehouse and reappeared at the Beauchamp farm which was a very good thing as the family had been reduced to eating gophers.”

“Gophers!
You can’t be serious! You mean the little ro
dents that run around in the dirt?” To Kathryn, this was abominable.

“When your children are starving, Katydid, meat is meat.”

“And this was the Highwayman again?”

“Or God balancing the scales. One thing we know for sure is that if they could catch him, the law would put our Robin Hood in jail and throw away the key.”

Kathryn would love to meet this hero, whoever he might be.

They walked on in the still evening, but when they reached the place in the path where Blake had accosted them, Kathryn involuntarily shuddered. She peered into the dark forest but could see nothing. “Maybe we should have asked Mr. Remy to escort us home.”

“We’ll be fine,” her aunt assured her, but she moved a little closer to Kathryn.

It was such a protective gesture, unexpected and very
welcome that Kathryn immediately felt better. “I want to thank you for taking me to the dance tonight. I truly enjoyed myself.”

“I’m glad you liked it because, as you will find out, we have a lot of get-togethers here in River Falls. I think we will have to work on your jigging for the next dance.” Aunt Belle did a complicated step in the dust, too fast for Kathryn to catch.

“Mr. Remy, he sure likes to jig up a storm.”

“
Oui
, but he is a little, shall we say, too insistent?” Belle laughed at this.

“He certainly didn’t take no for an answer,” Kathryn agreed. She’d noticed the big woodsman was also very possessive and obviously still had feelings for Belle.

Her aunt hadn’t been too forthcoming when it came to admitting any romance between them – maybe it was her way of being coy or keeping it discreet. Whatever the reason, this had been Kathryn’s cue, as mysteries were her weakness.

“Mr. Remy was so adamant in squiring you about this evening...” She kept her tone light and innocent. “I’m surprised he didn’t
insist
on escorting you home.”

Belle pulled her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders. “Actually, Claude did wish to walk me home. He lost some enthusiasm when I said it would be
us
he escorted. I assured him he should stay at the party and it didn’t take too much persuading to convince him.”

“I’m assuming he could come and go from the party so he could have walked
us
home, sat with
you
on the porch swing and then
he
could have returned?’

“Oh, yes. People often leave and come back. I felt that after our busy day, I’d rather go home without any complications.”

Kathryn thought
complications
was an odd way of referring to a suitor. There was something else she wanted to ask her aunt which would require some diplomacy as she didn’t want to be offensive. “About Mr. Remy,” she wrinkled her
nose at the memory, “he certainly was courtly tonight, all cleaned up and his hair so shiny.” She paused. “And that
unusual coat of his with the beautiful beadwork...”

About then, she noticed her aunt’s lips had curved into the shadow of a smile. “Oh yes, we Métis are famous for that flower design. In fact, we’re known as the Flower Beadwork People.”
The smile grew a tiny bit.

“Well, I was wondering, that coat, it sort of, well, it...”

“Had a rather strange bouquet?” Her aunt’s restraint evaporated as she choked back a girlish giggle.

“Actually, it was a little...pungent.” Kathryn agreed tactfully.

“That’s because it was brain tanned and smoked. Surely, they taught you about brain tanning at that fancy school of yours?”

“I must have missed that class.” Kathryn made a face, her own laughter bubbling up.

“After the kill, the brain is dug out of the animal’s skull and when boiled, enzymes ooze out. The hide is stuffed into the pot with the brain and the chemicals tan it, preventing rot.”

Kathryn couldn’t believe she’d heard correctly.

Her aunt continued the lesson. “Oh, it’s a very useful way to preserve the hides. There are lots of tricks to tanning hide. For instance, to remove the hairs, one needs a mild acid: in the old days, urine was used and for some processes, you rub dog dung into the hide. There’s also a smoking step, so it remains soft if it gets wet. That really adds a distinctive note, which you noticed.”

Kathryn was aghast...smushed brains, urine, dung, smelly smoke. Her aunt was a font of information, way too much information, in fact.

“The next time Claude is tanning, you should go and see. It’s unforgettable. He might even let you scrape off the bits of flesh and fat, which is the first step.”

This was the limit for Kathryn. “It sounds very...
educational
, and messy...followed closely by disgusting.”

Her aunt laughed and Kathryn joined her. The very idea of it. Impossible!

Chapter 6

In
Need
of
a
Poisoned
Apple

The next morning was glorious – sunny and warm. Kathryn and her aunt were up early, applying the smooth coat of clay to Kathryn’s room. They chatted about the dance, the people of River Falls, then fell into a companionable silence.

Again, Kathryn was very slow, while her aunt swooshed through her wall in record time. Then something surprising happened. Aunt Belle, instead of leaving Kathryn to slog on alone as she’d done with the straw mix, blithely and without a word set to work on the unfinished half of Kathryn’s wall.

“With this heat, we’ll be able to do the whitewashing later today; then you can officially move in. You’ll have a lovely room, Katydid.”

Kathryn didn’t say a word as her aunt picked up the clay buckets and took them outside.

Since her aunt was dealing with the bucket mess, Kathryn decided she would make tea and re-heat some bannock. After much poking and stoking, she got the fire going and had made tea by the time her aunt, who had gone to her tiny room to change, came down the ladder cradling a bundle in her arms.

“I finished these early this morning.” Aunt Belle set the pile of neatly folded dresses on the end of the table and sat for her tea. “Mrs. Prentice, she’s the Sergeant’s wife, wants them delivered today. It should take about twenty minutes to make it to the barracks.”

This puzzled Kathryn. Twenty minutes might take
them to the train station, which was halfway to Hopeful –
but she didn’t recall an army encampment there. “Are you talking about going to Hopeful?”

“Yes, of course, Katy. To the North West Mounted Po
lice detachment office. Locals call it ‘the barracks’.” Her aunt explained.

“One of the ladies at the dance mentioned it was miles to town and would take an hour with a wagon.”

Her aunt had a devilish look in her eye. “The distance remains the same, but with a good horse and better buggy, I can shorten the time.”

This made no sense – but Kathryn was beginning to get used to her aunt talking in riddles. Running her fingertips over the soft material of the finely stitched dresses, she noted the superior craftsmanship. “This is how you make your living, you mend clothes?”

“Actually, I do more than mending. I design and tailor ladies dresses and I also do millinery work in a pinch. These are my creations.”

“You made these? They’re exquisite!” Kathryn was amazed at the intricate detailing on the bodices. She held up one of the dresses – carefully keeping it from her own muddy clothes – to inspect it more closely. “It’s flawless.” She set the frock back down on the table. “I can’t sew at all. The nuns tried to teach me, and discovered I have two left thumbs.” Kathryn wiggled her fingers to emphasize the point. “I think I’ll spend the day catching up on my reading.” Sir Giles was about to joust for his fair lady as unbeknownst to him, that cad, Sir Robert of Worsley, has rigged the contest with faulty lances! Kathryn could hardly wait to find out what happened next.

Aunt Belle pursed her lips. “Hmm, speaking of reading, that brings up a point. You need to continue with your studies. Do you have any school books with you?”

Kathryn had no intention of going to school anywhere except Toronto, and the next term didn’t start until September. By the time autumn rolled around, she’d be gone from River Falls. She was sure the good Sisters, with their hearts of soft gold, would take her back, and she’d worry about the tuition when that detail came up. Would it matter to them that she was Métis? Unfortunately, Sister Bernadette was a known blabbermouth, so she was sure this bit of tittle tattle was well known. Otherwise, she could pass like her father....