If It Is April

by Edward A. Stabler

  At first he’d thought she would eventually come clean with him – tell him who she was and explain whatever misadventures made her want to hide out at Edwards Ferry. Later he’d begun to consider that she might be telling the truth. Maybe she really had lost her memory, and maybe that was because she’d witnessed or committed a criminal act. Something the police wanted to question her about. Something related to the death of Russell Lee Fisher.

  He walked around to the backyard, where Gladys was still tethered to the corral post. She seemed relieved to see him. Hearing the truck depart might have made her worry she was being abandoned again. Jake led her back into the small corral, where she wandered over to rejoin Bertie in a corner as he grabbed a pitchfork and started mucking. When he was done, he grabbed two tin buckets and headed to the pump. He worked the handle until water gushed from the spout, exhaling a long breath as he watched the first bucket fill.

  Twenty minutes ago, he’d had no idea how to resolve April’s situation. Then Delmond Cole arrived out of nowhere, showed them a letter, and waltzed her away. Now Jake’s problem with April was solved, and he could refocus all of his attention on routine chores. He replaced the full bucket with the empty one. But the satisfaction he should have felt from sending April home was missing. Instead he felt hollowed out, as if all the mystery, anticipation, and nuance had been siphoned from his core. He hoisted a bucket in each hand and started back toward the corral.

  At least one thing was clear now, he thought. April hadn’t been deceiving him. She really didn’t remember anything about her life before the flood. Why else would she leave with a stranger at the drop of a hat? Jake felt his temples chill as he emptied the buckets into the water trough. With no friends or family at hand, and no memory of who they were, April was completely vulnerable. And taken away by a stranger! But wait, he reminded himself. I was a stranger nine days ago. That worked out pretty well for her.

  Still, why had he let April be carried off so easily? Cole probably wasn’t the man with the funny first name that April thought was trying to kill her. But maybe he planned on escorting Katie Elgin to the sheriff’s office to collect his fifty-dollar reward. Maybe he’d dictated the letter and asked his wife to write it. But that couldn’t explain the symbol on the back, the only writing on either side that had struck a chord with April. Now Jake’s confidence that he’d done the right thing was ebbing. He wanted reassurance, so he found himself walking into the lockhouse and climbing the stairs to her room.

  The door was open, as it had been nearly every morning, seeing as April always managed to be cooking breakfast by the time he woke up. Glancing into her room on his way downstairs had become a reflex. Without fail, she’d managed to pull up the bedspread and put away her clothes. So this time Jake was surprised to see the opposite. The bedding was gone and her small wardrobe lay folded in a pile on the stripped mattress.

  He walked in and picked up the blouse on top. It was slate blue with a pattern of tiny flowers. Something she’d bought on their trip to Poolesville. Underneath it was another purchase from that day, a velour pullover jersey with green and gold checks. Beneath that, two twill skirts and underwear. She’d been wearing her gray cardigan, so that accounted for everything she bought at Worthington’s. Then what had she been carrying in the potato sack? He realized he was staring at the answer, and glanced around the room to confirm it. April had carted off the sheets, a pillow, and blankets. Why?

  Maybe she was trying to hedge her bets, he thought. If Cole was taking her back to her family in Williamsport, and if she decided to resurrect her life as Katie Elgin, then she wouldn’t need these clothes; she’d have plenty at home. But maybe she didn’t want to completely relinquish her Edwards Ferry identity. What if Cole wasn’t who he claimed to be? What if the Elgins weren’t her real family? Even if they were, April might want to sever her ties. Maybe she took the bedding in case she decided to sneak away and return to Edwards Ferry. She might have to travel on foot by night and hide somewhere during the day.

  Now Jake found himself worrying about Cole. If April had really felt confident, she wouldn’t have left her clothes behind. Cole had implied he would take her straight to Williamsport to meet the Elgin family. Was he really driving there right now? Cole had also said he was working for a week or two down near Swains Lock. So the locktender at Swains, if he was still around, or maybe canal repair workers, must have seen him coming and going and could verify that claim. They might also be able to reassure Jake about Cole’s character or intentions, or confirm his account of meeting Tessie Elgin at Swains.

  Jake checked his pocket watch; it was just past 11:30. Maybe he should ride Bertie down there this afternoon. It was fourteen miles on the towpath. If he took both mules, the walk would be a good test for Gladys. The weather looked dry and warm enough, so he could spend the night and come back tomorrow. Feed and water the mules at Great Falls, get a meal at the tavern, if it had reopened, and then sleep outdoors between the canal and the river. The apron was wide and level at Swains, with old trees and not much underbrush. A good place to turn out the mules and an easy spot to build a campfire. And if he made it there by late afternoon, he was bound to run into somebody who had an impression of Cole.

  ***

  “Well, Katie, I got to hand it to you,” Cole said as the truck accelerated away from Edwards Ferry. Swinging onto River Road, he kept the pedal down so she wouldn’t entertain thoughts of leaping out. “You showed that Barnum was right. You can fool some people all the time.” He glanced at her face but she was staring straight ahead, hair blowing in the breeze through the half-open window, no expression on her unlined face.

  “That’s not my name. And I’m not trying to fool anybody.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Maybe your friend Jake fooled himself. I guess he wanted to believe you just dropped into Edwards Ferry out of the sky, like a little angel of the flood. No family or friends, no past to make things complicated.” He smiled his canine-tooth smile. “That act don’t work with me. We all got a past.”

  April returned a tight-lipped smile. “What’s yours?”

  “You don’t want to know. I ain’t a Bible salesman, or whatever else that kid was saying.”

  “He’s not the kid you think he is. He just got out of prison.”

  Cole raised his eyebrows and laughed out loud. “What was he in for? Being a fall guy?”

  April didn’t answer, but Cole saw her honey-colored eyebrows flex and the corners of her mouth harden. He almost laughed again but caught himself. So far this had been comically easy, but he needed to stay serious.

  “We ain’t going home to your family. You probably figured that out already.”

  April flared her nostrils and studied the road ahead. “I don’t know if I have a family. I just know I made a mistake getting in your truck. The letter seemed like it was real… I felt like I should trust it. But that doesn’t mean I should trust you.”

  “Here’s something you can trust,” Cole said, taking his left hand off the wheel to fish the Colt out of his pocket and point the barrel her way. “Forty-five caliber. It always tells the truth. Maybe it will help you remember a few things.”

  “I doubt it. Just tell me what you want to hear and I’ll say it for you.”

  “Back-talk ain’t what I want to hear. Let’s start like this: put your hands on your knees and keep ‘em there. Lift a hand and you’ll get smacked. Lift ‘em both and you might get shot.”

  April slid her hands onto her knees.

  “Now listen to what I’m asking and give me a straight answer. What happened to Kevin and Tom Emory at Swains Lock, the night of the flood?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You and your brothers was staying in the lockhouse. The Emorys’ scow was tied up there when the flood hit. When did you see ‘em last?”

  “I don’t know the men you’re talking about… brothers, Emorys. And I don’t remember Swains Lock.”

  “Then where’s Kevin Emory’s toolbox? The on
e with the money and the ledger inside. It didn’t walk off the boat or out of that lockhouse by itself. And everyone else big enough to haul it somewhere was busy getting drownded.”

  “I don’t remember a toolbox.”

  Cole hissed through his teeth and exhaled a popping sound, gesturing a recoil with the pistol as if he’d fired it, even though the safety catch was on. “Then you really ain’t much use to anyone,” he said. “I might as well spend a bullet and start looking for a place to dig a hole.”

  “If I knew the answers you’re looking for, I’d tell you. I’m not trying to get shot.”

  “Keep your hands on your knees,” Cole said. He slid the pistol under his left thigh and returned both hands to the wheel. “I’m going to give you some time to remember. Some place quiet and dark, where you won’t have nothing else to think about.

  “And here’s something you can practice remembering. When we get to Swains Lock, walk right by my side and keep your mouth shut. If you squawk or say anything, it’ll be the last sound you ever make.”

  Chapter 16

  Character Reference

  Sunday, April 13, 1924

  Jake dismounted on the towpath and led Bertie and Gladys down onto the apron between Swains Lock and the river. The sycamores and swamp oaks were old and widely spaced here, and spring grass was emerging through the dried silt and gravel washed up by the flood. He turned the mules loose to graze and headed back to the lockhouse. No one was working outside, so he rapped on the front door and waited until it opened a few inches.

  A short man with white hair and a round waist peered out and seemed to exhale in relief when he saw a stranger on his doorstep. Jake introduced himself and said he was looking for a man named Delmond Cole… tall and angular, with long dark hair streaked with gray, a mustache, and a short beard. The man had dropped by Edwards Ferry and offered to do some carpentry work for hire. He’d said he was repairing a boat washed out of the canal below Swains Lock, and Jake was hoping to find someone who knew Cole and could vouch for his character and work.

  Jess Swain opened the door fully and a Canadian goose strutted out and pecked at Jake’s boot before circling him and squawking a grudging assent. The goose returned to stand beside his master and bob its head at Jake.

  “Jimmy never liked that man and neither do I.”

  Jess told Jake he’d been tending Lock 21 for fifteen years and confirmed that he was the source of its colloquial name. “My father helped build this canal, and I was practically born on it. Spent almost twenty years captaining a coal boat. So I’ve seen lots of characters come and go. But that man Cole seems just plumb mean. Jimmy and me, we call him The Wolf.”

  “It doesn’t sound like he’s shown you his best side. Could it be we’re talking about two different men?”

  “There’s only one, though I guess he can turn on the charm when he wants to. It’s as fake as a three-dollar bill.”

  “So you wouldn’t recommend him as a carpenter.”

  Jess snorted. “I wouldn’t trust him to build a pig-pen. He’s been spending nights on that scow that washed up halfway down to Great Falls. Says he’s fixing it up for the owner, after the two moonshiners running it drowned in the flood. He comes and goes a couple times a day but I never see him carrying a hammer or a saw. Instead he’s got two mules in my corral, and he wants me to look after ‘em!”

  “Why does he need mules?”

  “It’s the team that was pulling the boat. They made it to high ground in the flood.”

  Jake scratched his head and looked puzzled, so Jess told him what he knew about the scow and the fate of the brothers piloting it. “Then Cole showed up and started asking how the Emory men drowned. And he said they had a toolbox that ain’t on the boat anymore. I said I don’t know anything about it. But when I was out last week somebody ripped up the lockhouse, and I’m sure it was him looking for it.”

  “I guess he didn’t find it.”

  Jess shook his head reproachfully. “No, but he won’t quit. He knocked on my door not two hours ago and wanted to borrow my pole-hook. There’s one of those in every lockhouse…”

  “I know,” Jake said. “We got one at Edwards Ferry. Use it to pull stuff out of the lock.”

  “And that’s what he tried to do!” Jess said. “Spent about twenty minutes poking around in the lock, even though that water can’t be more than two or three feet deep right now. I guess he got the notion that he might pull the toolbox out of there. When he gave up he didn’t even return the pole, just threw it on the grass and left. That was fine with me – I just wish he’d stay away.”

  “You said he was here two hours ago?” Jake asked, noting that his pocket watch said it was almost 5:00. Could Cole drive April to Williamsport, drop her with the Elgins, return to Swains, and walk to and from the scow in under three hours? It seemed unlikely. So maybe he hadn’t gone to Williamsport after all.

  “Did you see a young lady with him earlier today?” he asked Jess. “Before he came by for the pole-hook?”

  Jess furrowed his brow and pushed his glasses up his nose. “No. First time I saw him today was when he knocked on my door. No young lady, but sometimes I see him with an old miner named Zimmerman. He’s a strange one too. Don’t know what he would tell you about Cole, but I wouldn’t trust him either. And you just missed him anyway. I saw him get in his car and drive off a half-hour ago.”

  “Both those men keep their cars here?”

  “It’s the closest road to where the scow washed up. That’s probably where he was coming from.”

  “You think he’ll be back soon?”

  Jess made a sour face, turned and spat, and Jimmy examined the spit for something edible. “Maybe late tonight, maybe tomorrow. Sometimes he goes away for a week or two. I heard he’s up and down the river. Suit me fine if he’s gone for good.”

  “But Cole wasn’t with him this time, right?”

  Jess nodded, stepping out the front door and gesturing for Jake to follow him around to the side of the lockhouse. He pointed out Cole’s truck in the dirt parking area beside the end of Swains Lock Road. In the paddock abutting the backyard were his two mules.

  “He’s still on the scow. Either that or he went to Great Falls on foot.”

  Jake thanked him and walked down onto the apron to collect his own mules. As he guided Bertie and Gladys back to the towpath, he felt worried and guilty. Cole hadn’t taken April to Williamsport for a reunion with the Elgin family – he’d driven to Swains and marched her down the towpath to the scow. Even if Jess Swain hadn’t seen them go by.

  Then he’d come back to Swains alone to poke around in the lock for some kind of toolbox, which he hadn’t found. If he’d been looking for it for days, it must be valuable. He must have thought it was submerged in the muddy water at the bottom of the lock. If Cole interrogated April about a toolbox, maybe she concocted a story like that to get him to back off.

  Jake mounted Bertie with Gladys hitched behind and snapped the reins to send the dark mule forward. Could she have escaped, he wondered? But Jess had said the other man, Zimmerman, came by only half an hour ago. If Cole hadn’t been able to lock April up, Zimmerman could have been guarding her while Cole was fishing for the toolbox.

  Jake considered his options. The scow was less than a mile down the towpath. Great Falls was a mile further. With Zimmerman gone for now, Jake dismissed the speculation that Cole might have walked to Great Falls, either taking April with him or leaving her alone on the scow. Cole and April were probably both on board. The scow was across the drained canal, where the berm eased into the woods. Cole or someone else might be sitting on deck or standing nearby, in which case Jake and the mules would be spotted as soon as they came around the nearest bend. He’d have to tie Bertie and Gladys up out of sight and scout from the wooded apron, which became steeper and narrower downstream from Swains.

  As Bertie settled into a comfortable rhythm, Jake looked back over his shoulder at Gladys. She seemed to be bobbing along norma
lly. That was good, because she’d be needed. When he’d set out a few hours ago, he’d wanted to be reassured about Cole. Instead his suspicions had been confirmed. Cole had brought April here against her will, and Jake was partly responsible for that. Now he was going to take her back.

  Chapter 17

  Bit Parts

  Sunday, April 13, 1924

  Jake kept a wary eye on the scow as he rode past on Bertie, with Gladys following. He’d scouted it from the woods minutes earlier. There was still no sign of activity, onboard or nearby.

  Beyond Sandy Landing, the apron leveled and widened, leaving the river out of sight through the trees. He checked his watch – 5:15. Plenty of daylight left, but he wasn’t sure when the walkway to the falls would close, if it hadn’t been destroyed by the flood. He prodded Bertie into a faster pace.

  The Great Falls Tavern took shape in the distance, with its whitewashed façade, twin chimneys, and parapet roofline. As he approached the first of six closely-spaced locks that combined to match the drop of Great Falls, he could tell that it had escaped the flood. No broken gates or debris, no stains on the snubbing post. So the Tavern must have stayed dry as well. He saw a few cars in the nearby lot and two well-dressed men talking near its entrance. Maybe it was open and serving dinner tonight.

  Opposite the lock, plank steps descended from the towpath to a wooden footbridge. Jake dismounted and tied the mules to a railing at the top of the stairs. The arching sign overhead said “Fare to Falls 5 cents”, but no attendant was collecting nickels, so he walked down the steps and onto the span. Below him, a spur of the river raced through a boulder-filled channel that bypassed the falls. The footbridge creaked and swayed above the flying green water.