Found Drowned

by Norris, Laurie Glenn;

  “Nice to see Mrs. Harney out and about.”

  “Yeah, it is,” the storekeeper agreed, “but Fred better be careful showing her too much attention. That husband of hers is a piece of work and he’s in a bad mood, at least he was yesterday.”

  “Yeah, why?”

  Calvin came around the counter and took hold of Hiram’s arm, leading him to a corner away from the other customers.

  “It was yesterday afternoon, when Harry Brown and I went fishing. I closed down for a couple of hours, Jennie being gone to her sister’s. Harry and I were just on our way back in off the river. We got a lot of nice trout. I was about to step out to tie the punt up when we could hear this awful cursing. Will was over by the shacks yelling at this dog. All at once he picks up a sizable rock and throws it at the dog and hits it in the head. It goes down and he walks over to it and picks up the rock again and starts pounding the dog in the head with it. Blood was flying everywhere. We were yelling for him to stop, the dog was likely dead after he hit it the second time. Before we could get to him, he dropped the rock and started kicking it in the ribs. Harry and I grabbed a hold of him so he would leave the animal alone. He said the dog pissed on some rope of his. We threw the poor thing in the bushes. Will was in some temper. I never saw the like of it. Poor Harry was scared to death, you know how soft he is.”

  Calvin stopped, out of breath.

  “Well, that’s too bad,” Hiram said after a pause. “I don’t like to see any animal abused.”

  “Don’t say anything about it. I don’t want it to get back to the Harneys. Harry’s not going to say a word. He’s scared the young fellow will come after him. And you know, Hiram, it was almost as if Will enjoyed doing what he did.”

  ***

  When Fred arrived in the yard with Ann and Mary in tow, Will was standing on the doorstep smoking a cigarette.

  Fred tipped his cap, helped Ann down from the surrey, and passed the roll of flannel to Mary.

  “I see you met my wife in her travels.”

  “Yes, just now at Bailey’s. Thought I’d help her and Mary home with their purchase.”

  “Much obliged, I’m sure.” Will nodded. He raised himself away from the post and followed Ann and Mary into the porch.

  Mabel had supper ready and the family sat down to eat.

  “Mr. Bailey has nice hats in his store,” Mary said. “I especially liked the blue one with the little veil—”

  “I saw that last week there,” Mabel interrupted her. “Way too old for the likes of you.”

  “Grandma’s right,” Ann said. “There were some nice boaters there we can look at next time.”

  “Will, would you pass the potatoes, please,” John asked, reaching out.

  Will ignored him.

  “Will? Oh, never mind.” John stretched across the table.

  “Will, that’s not very mannerly,” Ann scolded him.

  “Not as mannerly as the LeFurgeys, I suppose.”

  Ann shook her head.

  “Fred was just being—” John began.

  Will rose from the table, clattering his fork and knife on the plate. “He can go to hell, just like the rest of you.” He slammed the kitchen and porch doors on his way out.

  ***

  Mary was awakened in the middle of the night by loud voices and Little Helen’s crying. She got out of bed and tiptoed out into the hallway. Her parents were arguing.

  “I better not see him in this yard again or I’ll knock his block off,” Will threatened.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, he was just being friendly, giving me a ride home,” Ann replied.

  “He wouldn’t have bothered if he hadn’t been encouraged.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You were likely making eyes at him.”

  “Don’t talk so foolish, Will. Now I’ve got to nurse the baby, you’ve woken her up with all your yelling.”

  “Don’t you walk away when I’m talking to you.”

  Mary heard a sound, a slap.

  “How dare you.”

  Just then Mabel’s bedroom door opened. Mary ran back into her own room. She opened her door a crack so she could see what was going on. Mabel raced into Will’s and Ann’s bedroom.

  “Would you two stop it? I’m tryin’ to get some sleep.”

  “He hit me.”

  “You deserved it, acting like a whore.”

  “Be quiet, you’ll wake everybody up. And don’t use that kind of language in this house,” Mabel said. “You’re married and you have to put up with each other.”

  Mary could see Mabel pointing her finger.

  “Shut up, the both of you, and get back to bed.”

  Rockley

  Nova Scotia

  September 1872

  “Is Mary in the house?” Will asked as he came through the kitchen door. “It’s six o’clock. She should have been back with those damn cows by now. They’re not going to milk themselves.”

  Ann was seated in a rocking chair knitting while Mabel lay on her daybed snoring softly. The supper dishes had just been cleared away. A cool breeze lifted the kitchen curtains and ruffled Ann’s shiny hair as she looked up at her husband.

  “She was late going to get them, Will. She’ll be home soon. You know how Mary doddles by times.”

  “I’ll just run up and see where she is.” He turned and walked out the door.

  Ann shook her head, placed her knitting on the little table beside the chair, and picked up the book lying there. Beatrice had just sent her a new book of poetry and she dipped into it whenever she could.

  “No wonder that girl’s so flighty,” a voice called out from the daybed. “You’ve always got your head in the clouds or in a book, which amounts to the same thing.”

  Ann didn’t take her eyes off the page.

  “Grandma Harney, don’t begrudge me one of my few pleasures.”

  The old woman muttered to herself and turned away, facing the wall.

  ***

  “There you go, Beauty, now you have one too.” Mary placed the chain of goldenrod around the cow’s neck. “Like the Lady of Shalott. Although you’re not travelling down the river. She was very beautiful and the poem was sad. But you’re just sweet.”

  Mary smiled at the thought of Beauty the cow mournfully sailing down the River Philip in a punt. She kissed her on the nose.

  “All right now, we all have on our crowns or chains of gold. We must away to the castle before dark. There’s evil about.”

  She hummed to herself as she led her charges along the path leading down to the barn. Her father had sent her up here more than an hour ago to fetch the cows and she had let the time get away on her again. She didn’t want him to come looking for her. But as she rounded the last corner before the farm came into sight beyond the evergreens, she spied him making his way towards her.

  “Taking your own sweet time again this evening, are you?” Will stood in the middle of the path blocking her way. “And what sort of getup is this?” he asked, surveying the flower-draped cows trailing behind her.

  “We’re…pretending,” Mary offered, blushing.

  “Pretending, eh.” Will smiled. “I never knew a cow to pretend.”

  He walked up closer to her and looked down into her face. Mary could smell the liquor on his breath. She knew her father kept a bottle in the woods sometimes and drank from it whenever he had the opportunity. She had come upon him and his cache one time when she was picking berries. He’d made her promise not to tell anyone.

  “Daddy just needs a little refreshment every now and then,” he had told her, winking.

  “Well, get on home now,” he said, putting his hand on the back of Mary’s head and hurrying her forward. “These poor things are straining to be milked. It’s not good to let them go so long. I’ve told you that before. And stay and do
the milking with your uncle. Don’t just leave it to him like you usually do. You’ve got to learn some responsibility.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Now hurry along. I’ll be back at the house shortly.”

  John laughed at the sight of Mary and the cows when they trooped single file into the barn.

  “Well, the queen and her court have finally arrived,” he said, bending down to kiss the top of Mary’s head. “All right then, Queenie, help me get these ladies settled in for the night.”

  ***

  “It’s not good, a child always making up stories in her head,” Mabel commented later that evening when the adults were seated around the kitchen table. “It leads to lies, it does.” She nodded her head and buttered another piece of bread.

  “Oh, it’s harmless enough and there’s a difference between pretending and lies. I’ve never caught Mary in a lie,” John reassured his sister.

  “And it’s a sign of intelligence,” Ann pointed out.

  “I just don’t like the idea of her being bookish, like the rest of your clique,” Will said and frowned at his wife. “Look at that Beatrice, never got a man because she thought herself too smart. And what good does book learning do when a girl is just going to grow up, get married, and tend house?”

  “Too much reading’s not good for the brain,” Mabel declared.

  Ann spit her tea out and burst into laughter.

  “What…what does that mean?” Her eyes twinkled as she blotted at her apron with a handkerchief.

  “Well,” Mabel replied, “it turns your head. And it makes a woman forget her duties around the house. I can read, my ma taught me, and it comes in handy from time to time but I know where my first duties lie.”

  Ann shook her head and stood up.

  “Well, I must get to bed,” she told them. “My duty lies in getting a good night’s sleep so I won’t forget my place in the morning.”

  ***

  “I’m so nervous,” Ann told Mabel on a sunny Friday afternoon as she placed napkins and good cutlery on the parlour table.

  “Why’s that now?” Mabel had just finished dusting the room and was fluffing up the pillows on the sofa.

  “Well, it’s the first time I’ve hosted the Improvement Committee. The first time Will said it was all right with him. I hope he won’t come home in a temper.”

  “Will doesn’t like foolishness and I don’t blame him.” Mabel sniffed, “Glebe House Improvement Committee my—”

  “It’s for a good cause, keeping a decent roof over the heads of the minister and his family,” Ann interrupted, smiling. “The Catholic Church does the same for the priest. And thank you for helping when you don’t really have to.”

  “Don’t be comparing the two,” Mabel warned. “I’m helping to be sure none of my good dishes get broke. And I’ll be working on my own knitting for my own church and not some Protestant rug.”

  Ann headed for the kitchen to bring in the food. She hoped she’d made enough.

  “Oh God, let it be all right,” she prayed.

  Only four—Rita LeFurgey, Elaine Clarke, Elsie MacDonald, and Jennie Bailey—of the twelve committee members came to the meeting that day. The women were making hooked and braided rugs for the glebe house’s parlour and hall floors. A new minister and his young wife were expected in the next month and there was a lot to be done before they arrived.

  “That Washington pie is just delicious, Ann,” Elaine said. “And that jam.”

  “Mabel makes the best jam in the county,” Rita said. “Don’t shake your head, you know it’s true.”

  They heard boots stomping into the kitchen. Ann excused herself and left the room. She hoped to smooth the way by talking to her husband first. Her sweaty hands worried a napkin into a tight ball.

  “You’re home early today,” she said to Will and kissed him on the cheek. She could smell liquor.

  “Yeah, they let us go at a decent hour for a change. I heard talking when I came in. Are those old bags still here?”

  “Shush. Lower your voice,” Ann whispered, reddening.

  “I thought they’d be gone by now. I’m getting hungry.”

  “We’ll be done in about a half-hour, then I’ll make you a nice supper and there will be lots of sweets left over from our tea.”

  “I don’t want any leftovers.”

  “Just go have a smoke on the veranda, dear, and we’ll be done in a little while. Please don’t be mad.”

  Will left the kitchen. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ann went back into the parlour.

  But the gathering wasn’t over in a half-hour. The women decided to push on, finishing as much of their rugs as they could that day. Ann was looking nervously around her when Mabel suddenly got up from her chair. “That’s it for me,” she announced, and walked out of the room. Shortly after, Ann heard the noise of pans clanging and relaxed a bit. Mabel would make something for Will to eat. She didn’t relax for long. All at once her husband was in the parlour. And he didn’t look just tipsy anymore. He looked drunk. He surveyed the room, head held high.

  “So, ladies, isn’t it about time you all went home?”

  There was a collective gasp.

  Ann stood up, a lump in her throat.

  “Dear, these are our guests.”

  “They’re not my guests. Just a bunch of fat-ass old women who should be home looking after their men instead of running the roads.”

  Ann stood speechless, her mouth opening and closing.

  “It’s all right.” Rita touched her arm. “It is time for us to go.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Ann kept repeating as she followed the women through the house. “Please excuse Will, he’s not himself.”

  She felt her face burning.

  “Ill-bred, if you ask me,” Elaine said, looking directly at Mabel who stood by the stove with a wooden spoon in her hand.

  Ann, not able to stop the tears, stood on the doorstep wringing her hands as the women climbed into Jennie Bailey’s buggy.

  Rita turned in the yard, walked back to Ann, and put her arms around her.

  “This is going to be all over the village,” Ann whispered hoarsely, “what with Jennie witnessing it.”

  “Never mind that, Ann. People are so used to that one gossiping that they only half pay attention to what she says anymore. Now dry your eyes and go back to your family.”

  “I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Never mind.”

  Jennie had turned the buggy around and brought it up close to the porch.

  “Mrs. Bailey, everyone, thank you for coming and please forgive me.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Rita whispered.

  “Come on, Rita, I’m not staying around where I’m not wanted,” Jennie said, not looking at Ann.

  Rita got up into the buggy. She and Elsie were the only two who waved back as they rolled out of the yard.

  “I can never show my face in Rockley again,” Ann said to herself as she stumbled back into the house and upstairs to her bedroom.

  ***

  “Ann, there’s something I hoped I would never have to tell you, but Will’s got a dirty temper just like his grandfather, it runs in the family,” John said in response to her account of the ladies’ abrupt dismissal earlier that day. She sat crying and rocking Little Helen back and forth.

  “Why does he act like he does, John? Why doesn’t he care what anyone thinks of him, not even us, his own family?”

  John looked over his shoulder. “Don’t let on to Mabel that I told you but our father, who Will was named after, had some awful temper and Will reminds me of him.”

  “Does he? In what way?”

  “To tell the truth, our pa was a mean bastard, excuse my language, Ann. Mabel and I don’t talk about him. He’s best forgotten really.”

  “Tell me about him.”
<
br />   “Well.” John sat up straight on the edge of his chair and leaned in towards her. “You never knew what he was going to do next. He’d get mad at the drop of a hat. Our mother was a nervous wreck. I remember the time, I was about seven, I guess, and Mabel was twelve. One night he was mad over something or other and started throwing everything we owned out into the snow. Ma got a black eye for trying to stop him. She ran out of the house bawling, with me and Mabel behind. The old man locked and barred the door on the lot of us. It was February, freezing cold. We didn’t get back in the house that night. I can see him yet, bold as brass, looking down at us from an upstairs bedroom window, where you and Will sleep now, sitting on a chair, holding his shotgun. Pretty near all of Rockley came out to see him. He had every lantern in the house lit and set behind him so he showed up real good, like one of those fancy silhouettes. He was just daring somebody, anybody, to try to get in. He’d have killed them sure as we’re sitting here.”

  “Your poor mother. What did she do?”

  “Nothing much she could do. We all stayed at the LeFurgeys’ there across the field. They took us in. That’s the only thing that kept us all from freezing to death. We were there for a couple of days. Then old Mr. LeFurgey, Fred’s grandfather, came and talked Pa into letting us come back home. But every once in a while he’d run us all out again. You never knew when he was going to fly off the handle. I’m surprised he never killed us when he was wound up. My mother suffered terrible from ulcers her whole life. Even after he was dead.”

  “What a terrible way to have to live. Was he a drinker?”

  “No, not really. Just full of meanness and hardness. And not afraid of a thing, human or otherwise. He had a team of horses, one he named Jesus Christ and the other was the Virgin Mary. People was afraid to go anywhere near them. Yeah, he was quite the fellow.”

  John reached into his shirt pocket for his makings and slowly rolled a cigarette. As he blew out the smoke he began again.

  “When something got him into a temper he used to blame either the Lord or the Devil, sometimes both of them, and call on them to come and have it out with him. When I was little I slept with one eye open, scared to death that I was going to wake up and see one or the other of them standing over me.”