Found Drowned

by Norris, Laurie Glenn;

  Mary sat down in the rocking chair. Ever since her father got home yesterday, he and Ann had been arguing.

  He likely slapped her too. It looks like she has a bruise on her cheek, Mary thought as she rocked back and forth.

  She snuggled her head down into Harry’s warm body and closed her eyes. Her stomach started filling with butterflies.

  “He’s not up there anywhere,” John said. “I looked through all the rooms upstairs.” He slammed the door behind him.

  “Must have seen Hiram outdoors and gone and hid somewheres,” Mabel said as she put a plate away in the cupboard and pulled the curtain back from the window. Ann was out in the yard talking to Hiram.

  “Mr. Reid, I know that what Will did to your boy was wrong and we’re all very sorry because of it. But please, why don’t you just leave and come back another time? Will is wound up at the moment and it’s better if he’s left alone when he’s like this.”

  “I’m sorry to make trouble for you and your family,” Hiram told her. “But some things just can’t be let go. Your husband could have killed my boy. He and I have to have it out and it’s better if it’s just me alone. It was all I could do yesterday to keep my oldest boy, Smith, and a bunch of his friends, from going to Pugwash for the trial. They even talked about breaking in and lynching him on the spot.”

  Ann put her hand over her mouth and tears sprang to her eyes. “You are all such good people. I can’t believe any young man in Rockley would actually think about doing such a thing.”

  He looked at her more seriously now. “When a young man gets riled up there’s no telling what he might do. I told them I’d look after it so they’re leaving it to me, for now anyway.”

  John came back out of the house shaking his head. “He’s not in there. Don’t know where he might have gotten himself to.”

  “It’s no good lying for him, John.”

  “He’s not in the house, I swear. He was in bed a half-hour ago but God knows where he is now.”

  “Do I have your permission to look around?” Hiram asked, swinging his leg over his horse’s back.

  “Yes,” John said, “and I’ll help you.”

  A second search of the house, then the barn and outbuildings, revealed no sign of Will.

  “I’m goin’ down to look around the shacks,” Hiram told John.

  “I’ll get the wagon and follow you.”

  Will, hiding behind John’s fishing shack, heard the rumbling of the express wagon as it splashed through the mud puddles that dotted the long lane to the main road.

  “That idiot’s leading him right down here to me.”

  He plunged back into the woods and headed toward the house. He didn’t want to face Hiram Reid today. Not caught off guard like this. Will was sorry now that he had lost his temper and hit the boy. He knew he’d have to face Hiram for it sooner or later.

  I jump too fast, he thought to himself. Gets me in trouble every time.

  Hiram dismounted and took his rifle out of the saddle holster.

  “There’s no need for that now,” John said, jumping down from the wagon seat.

  “This is in case he tries any funny business. I don’t want to make things hard for you, John, but the way I feel right now I could shoot him and not think twice about it.”

  John lowered his head and walked towards the fishing shack. His hands shook as he forced open the door. He had meant to fix that broken padlock but hadn’t gotten around to it. He prayed that Will wasn’t inside hiding like some scared rabbit.

  “Your punt’s here so he didn’t take off down the river,” Hiram observed. “Unless he stole somebody else’s.”

  The two men walked down the shore in front of the string of shacks and then back up behind the buildings. There was no one else around to ask if Will had been there. But then Hiram spotted two boot tracks in the soft earth behind John’s shack.

  “Somebody’s been here and not too long ago.”

  “Looks like,” John agreed.

  Hiram walked around to the front of the shack then strolled over to his horse. He put his rifle back in the holster, walked over to John’s express wagon, and leaned up against it.

  “You know,” he said, taking tobacco and papers out of his coat pocket, “your nephew’s both a coward and a bully.”

  “A person can’t be one and not the other.” John retrieved his own makings from his shirt pocket.

  When they got back up to the main road, John turned to Hiram.

  “If I get him to agree to talk to you and Jack, would you be able to keep Smith and the others from coming after him?”

  “I’ll do my best. My boys are reasonable. What they want is an apology. I don’t know if Jack will ever breathe right again. Doc Creed is going to try and fix it, but there’s no guarantees.”

  “I’ll see what I can do and let you know as soon as I can one way or the other. Will can’t hide out for the rest of his life.”

  ***

  John did his best to convince Will to make peace with the Reids but he refused. The following Friday evening on his way home from Wallace, swaying in the saddle from his visit to the Wharf Tavern, Will was met just outside Rockley by Hiram Reid, Smith, and three of Smith’s friends.

  “I’m here to see that it’s a fair fight and nobody gets killed,” Hiram told them.

  Will calmly got off his horse and tied its reins to a tree branch.

  “Time that you had a fight with somebody your own size,” Smith said, circling around Will and looking for the opportunity to land the first punch.

  The men were the same height and of similar weight but Smith, almost twenty years younger, was quicker. He got Will down on his back and sat on top of him. He had punched Will twice when Hiram grabbed him by the arm. “That’s enough, you’ve proved your point. Be the better man now and leave it at that. Your mother will see to that fat lip when we get home.”

  Hiram took satisfaction, as did Smith’s friends, that Will had gotten the worst of it. And Smith was satisfied that he had avenged his brother. Dr. Creed had put Jack’s nose back in place the best he could. Jack whistled a bit through it from then on, but after a while people didn’t notice so much.

  Rockley

  Nova Scotia

  August 1876

  As Fred LeFurgey’s surrey turned into the lane, Ann looked back at the children. Mary was staring straight ahead while Little Helen dozed, leaning on her older sister’s shoulder. The time in Merigomish had gone so quickly. Ann wished Will had agreed to their staying for three weeks instead of just two, but she knew she was lucky to have gotten that much time away. It was good for the children to know her side of the family even if Will didn’t care for either of her parents or for Beatrice.

  Ann sighed and righted herself on the seat. Fred was sitting so near. She moved farther away, disturbing Harry’s sleep.

  “Glad to be back, Ann?” Fred asked.

  “Mmm.”

  Fred looked straight ahead. He found it hard to meet Ann’s eyes with his own. He had heard talk about her husband mistreating her. He hoped it wasn’t true but at the same time longed for the opportunity to come to her rescue. He wished the drive from the River Philip station had been longer.

  The surrey came to a stop in front of the Dempsey farmhouse.

  “Home again, home again, jiggity jig,” Little Helen called out, wide-awake now, and jumping up and down on the floor of the surrey.

  Harry was squirming to get out of his mother’s arms. “Down, down,” he said.

  “Looks like some people are glad to be back home.” Fred smiled.

  “And very tired,” Ann said.

  “Well, let me get your bags for you.”

  “Don’t bother yourself, LeFurgey. I’ll get them.”

  Ann and Mary both jumped. They turned to see Will striding up beside the surrey.

&nbs
p; “Daddy, Daddy,” Little Helen and Harry chanted.

  Will plucked Harry off his mother’s knee and deposited him on the ground.

  “Thank you for getting my loving family home safely.”

  “Will, how’s it going?” Fred replied with a smile.

  “Just fine. How’s the taxi business?”

  “Can’t complain.” Fred grinned.

  “Looks like you got a cozy little setup here,” Will said as he grabbed the handles of the bags and jerked them off the vehicle.

  In a panic, Ann jumped from the surrey and hurried onto the veranda. She wished that Fred would just drive away now. Why was he taking so long? She could feel her husband’s mounting anger. Couldn’t Fred feel it too? Wasn’t he nervous? Please, just leave, she begged him silently.

  Will walked over and dropped the bags heavily onto the floor in front of her.

  “Be careful, please,” she whispered.

  “Well, I’ll be off. Nice to see you again, Ann. Bye, kids.”

  “Bye, Mr. LeFurgey,” Mary called out, sorry to see him leave.

  Little Helen and Harry waved.

  Fred drove the surrey ahead, beyond the house and into the barnyard, to turn around. He tipped his hat to Ann as he drove past them again and down the lane.

  “Where’s my boy?” Will called.

  Harry came waddling up to him.

  “Here he is,” Will said, laughing and swinging the child up into his arms. “Come on, son, into the house to see Grandma.”

  The porch door slammed behind him.

  Ann, slowly regaining her composure, was feeling suddenly exhausted. Her bottom lip quivered.

  Mary stepped up onto the veranda carrying her case and grabbed the handle of one of her mother’s bags.

  Ann wiped her eyes. “Thank you, Mary. After you change your dress, could you run out to the garden and get some peas and carrots and potatoes? I think I’ll make a hodgepodge for supper.”

  “All right, Mumma,” Mary said. “Come on, Little Helen, let’s go upstairs and change into our chore clothes.”

  “All right, Mumma,” the child repeated.

  John rounded the corner of the house, carrying a hoe.

  “Well, well, look who’s back, all my best girls.”

  Smiling, he swept Little Helen up and placed her on his shoulders. She plucked the battered hat off his head and began to swing it around.

  “Unca John,” she cried, hugging his head and poking his face with the hat.

  “How are things here? Did the quarry run every day?” Ann asked him.

  “It was dull without you and the kids. Those two aren’t much company.” John lifted his chin towards the house.

  “What about the quarry? Did it run?”

  “Every day except one, when it rained. Rained hard, too. Will was there every day otherwise.”

  Ann breathed out heavily. Will missed so much work, often on the flimsiest excuse.

  John took the case out of Mary’s hand and stepped aside for her to walk ahead.

  “I’ve asked Mary to get some vegetables from the garden for hodgepodge; perhaps you could show her the best ones to pick,” Ann suggested to him.

  “Mary can help you in the kitchen. I’ll go to the garden myself as soon as we get these in the house.”

  They trooped into the kitchen. Ann, leading the way, removed the pins from her hat.

  Mabel was sitting on her daybed, propped up by pillows and covered with blankets. She was holding Harry in her arms with Will standing beside her, grinning widely.

  “Finally got back, did you?” Mabel asked Ann. “I don’t know how much longer I could’ve kept this house going on my own. And I’ve had three calls while you’ve been running the roads. Never mind looking at me like that, John Dempsey, you know how poorly I’ve been these last few days.”

  “You’ve had but one call since they’ve been away and you weren’t too poorly last night to eat half a chicken, a peck of potatoes, and two pieces of blueberry pie for supper.”

  “Oh, did you make a pie?” Ann asked her mother-in-law.

  “Your beau’s mother made it and brought it over to us.” Will smiled at her.

  “Who?” Ann sighed and motioned her daughters towards the stairs. It was this kind of talk that tired her out more than the long train ride, more than anything. She hated herself for asking a question for which she already knew the answer.

  Will caught Little Helen up into his arms and tickled the giggling child.

  “Rita LeFurgey, Fred’s mother,” Mabel answered. “It was good of her to bring it over. Seeing how long you’ve been gone, she likely took pity on us. But she sure skimped on the sugar. That pie was sour enough to make a pig squeal.”

  “You weren’t squealing much last night at the supper table,” John replied.

  “Never mind, you,” Mabel admonished him.

  “Well, that was very thoughtful of Rita,” Ann said. “I’ll sit down after supper and write her a thank-you note and Mary can run it over. I’m going upstairs now to change and then start supper.”

  Harry’s tiny arms shot out towards his mother.

  “Here, take this one with you.” Mabel lifted the toddler away from her.

  “He’s full of piss.”

  Ann walked across the room and picked up the child. Why did Mabel always have to be so vulgar? It was such a bad example for the children.

  “Did Mumma’s boy pee?” she asked kissing his cheek. Harry laughed and kicked his feet. “Upstairs we go,” Ann said.

  John trooped after her with the three bags.

  “And what’s for supper?” Mabel demanded, yelling after them.

  “Hodgepodge!” John yelled back.

  As they climbed the stairs, Ann turned around, grinned, and shook her head at John. He rolled his eyes.

  “May as well laugh as cry,” she told him when they got to the landing.

  ***

  “Your mother is such a lady, she knows about the niceties,” Rita LeFurgey told Mary. “I don’t get thank-you notes very often. And on such pretty paper.”

  It was stationery that Aunt Beatrice had given Mary’s mother during the visit. Heavy and ivory-coloured with a pale blue border and envelopes to match.

  “Can’t get anything like this in Pugwash. Be sure to thank her for me.”

  The sun was setting when Mary walked back up the lane from the LeFurgey farm. The house looked peaceful as she got nearer. Its windows were on fire with reflections from the setting sun. She took in the familiar sound of the birch leaves quivering in the evening breeze. She decided to sit on the veranda awhile and listen. Since she was little, she had liked to pretend that the trees were inhabited by fairies who would come out at night to dance and play on the veranda. She could see them in their tiny, colourful clothing scurrying along the railing and bouncing up and down on the wicker chairs. Once or twice in the summer, Ann would give Mary permission to spend the night outside on the veranda and she would imagine that, after she fell asleep, the fairies would surround her and marvel at her size and her beauty. In her imaginings she was always beautiful.

  In the dark, Mary had not noticed her father sitting there.

  “Did you have a good time away?”

  She jumped.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Mary settled into a chair across from him.

  “We all missed you, especially me. I’m glad you’re back.” Will stood up, leaned towards Mary, and touched her hair.

  “I missed everyone too.”

  “What’s your Aunt Beatrice up to these days?” he said, settling back into his chair. “Still ruling the roost, I’ll bet.”

  “She’s so nice,” Mary began, “and she has all kinds of beautiful clothes and books and—” .

  “Yeah, she’s nice all right.” Will snorte
d. “And how’s your grandfather’s business? That old bugger must be richer than ever by now.” Will laughed dryly.

  “We didn’t see him a lot. He was always working,” Mary told him.

  “Yes, I’ll bet he was. The old cheapskate.”

  Mary sat back in the chair and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to hear her father say mean things about Aunt Beatrice and Grandfather. She wanted to listen to the rustle of the leaves.

  “Mary, you were away at the LeFurgeys’ so long tonight that your Uncle John had to get the cows in and do the milking. That’s your job.”

  Mary’s eyes flew open. “I forgot all about it. Mrs. LeFurgey wanted to know all about our trip. I didn’t even think—”

  “Your Uncle John is in the barn right now.”

  She stood up.

  “Now, before you go, come give me a welcome-home hug.”

  Mary turned to her father, holding her arms closely to her sides. He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. She felt the butterflies rise in her stomach like they always did when Daddy was around. She didn’t look at him. She was afraid to move, yet she wanted to run.

  “Now get along.”

  Mary left the veranda and ran across the barnyard, wiping her cheek with her sleeve. Once inside the cool interior of the barn she felt safe and breathed deeply, taking in the smell of hay, manure, old wood, and leather. Fluffy grey kittens ran about on the dusty floor. She scooped one up and walked toward the stalls where John’s fifteen cows stood.

  Uncle John was seated on the stool next to Buckle, resting his head on the animal’s flank. He had just begun to milk her when he spied Mary and, taking a teat in each hand, pulled them up and down at twice the normal speed required. He gave Mary a grin as Buckle turned to look at him, as if to ask what all the hurry was about. Mary giggled.

  When the milk hit the bottom of the galvanized pail with a hollow thud, the kitten wiggled to escape from Mary’s arms. Released, it skittered over to John, who turned one of the teats sideways and squirted milk in its direction. The stream went into the kitten’s open mouth and washed over its face. Uncle John did the same to the other balls of grey fur who swarmed around him. There was silence in the barn for a minute or two as the kittens washed milk off their faces.