‘You and Aaron have frequently clashed,’ he said. ‘You are alike in certain unfortunate ways.’ He did not sound critical. He was simply stating a fact and that made the sting worse.
‘I know,’ Rees said. He took a deep breath. ‘I promise you this is not a vendetta. Aaron was there at the right time and he blames Leah.’
‘He is trying to protect Shem,’ Jonathan said. ‘Aaron has always been protective of our young.’
Rees looked at Jonathan in disbelief. Aaron had claimed more than once that Leah’s death was a consequence of her wicked behavior. But Rees, who did not want to argue with the Elder, took a deep breath. ‘That may be true,’ he said after the passage of several seconds, ‘but you must agree that, if I am to find Leah’s murderer, it is necessary for me to question everyone. And know everything that might have a bearing on her death.’
‘Aaron’s past sins have nothing to do with Leah’s murder,’ Jonathan said firmly. ‘He would not—’
‘Just as a previous Brother we know would not, hmm?’ Rees interrupted impatiently, referencing previous murders in this community.
Jonathan’s mouth fell open. ‘That-that was an anomaly,’ he stammered. ‘If you wish to know Aaron’s past you must question him yourself.’ Turning on his heel, Jonathan walked away.
Cursing under his breath. Rees looked around him. Was there anyone else he could speak to? Most likely, only the Elders knew Aaron’s secrets. And Rees knew that Esther, his friend and someone who might be prevailed upon to confide the truth, knew nothing of Aaron’s past.
Muttering under his breath, Rees flung himself into his wagon and headed home, more determined than ever to learn Aaron’s secret.
The following morning passed in a flurry of chores. With David’s help, Rees succeeded in finishing everything, including clearing another field for planting, by the noon meal. He was almost tempted to leave as soon as he’d changed his clogs and muddy shirt but he didn’t quite dare. He suspected if he did Lydia might tell him not to come home. And, although legally the farm was his he knew it really belonged to her. He would win in court but he did not want the farm. It was a base, no more. Besides, his rush to reach town had nothing to do with the circus or Bambola. That’s what he told himself anyway.
So, he ate dinner with as much patience as he could muster before leaving. He thought Lydia might say something sharp or protest when he went out the door but she did not. Instead she kissed him and bade him good luck.
Rees crossed town to the fairgrounds and turned in, the golden straw crackling underneath his wagon wheels. He heard the hammering before he saw the posts. The two men working on it turned when they heard Rees approaching and he saw that one of the men was Boudreaux. His frown blossomed into a pleased smile when he recognized Rees. He climbed down from the landing step and ran across the field. ‘You are here,’ he said.
‘Mr Asher asked me to come and help,’ Rees said. He couldn’t help staring at Boudreaux’s head. The showman’s dyed hair, revealed by his cap, had faded to a peculiar rusty red.
‘I wasn’t sure he told me the truth,’ Boudreaux said.
‘We are both tall, you see,’ Rees said. ‘But only you know how to attach the rope so Bambola won’t fall.’
‘And you are not here to ask questions about me,’ Boudreaux said. ‘You know I am innocent.’
‘Probably,’ Rees said, always cautious. Otto the strongman was also a strong contender, but no one had seen him on the lane. Now Rees’s primary suspects were Piggy Hanson and Brother Aaron, men who traveled regularly and had been present in several towns where there’d been murders.
‘Mr Rees,’ Asher said, crossing the field, ‘I wondered when I might see you. Those men asking for you came back.’
‘They did?’ Rees’s belly revolted and he swallowed hard several times. ‘But I spoke to Magistrate Hanson.’
Asher grimaced. ‘You did? Well, maybe these men are not the ones you know. I did wonder if they might be servants. Someone’s grooms perhaps? They had that air about them; obsequiousness mixed with sullen defiance. Anyway, they promised to return again so be careful.’
Rees knew many people with servants. Even his son David hired extra help to work in the fields when needed. But Rees would be hard pressed to describe any of them. ‘Who trusts his help so much he sends them on a task such as this?’ he said aloud.
‘You are naïve if you don’t believe some men will kill another for just one saulty,’ Asher said in a grim tone. A penny? Rees considered that statement and slowly nodded in agreement. He had seen the same, especially in family disputes. His sister would have destroyed Rees’s entire family. But she was far away now. Who else hated Rees that much? He thought again of the magistrate. He certainly had the funds to hire a killer. But would he? And then there was Aaron. He didn’t hate Rees, at least Rees didn’t think so, and was far too poor to hire a killer. He did have a lot to hide though. And maybe Rees was closing in so Aaron had scraped together the necessary funds.
‘Anyway,’ Asher continued, interrupting Rees’s thoughts, ‘if you’re going to be here today I think you should consider a disguise.’ His eyes went to Rees’s bright hair. ‘Something simple.’
‘Hair dye like Boudreaux?’ Rees said, his voice rising to a squeak. ‘No. I expect to be here for only a few hours. At most.’
‘Nothing so dramatic then. How about a cap? And different clothing? You’ll look like one of us.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ Rees asked, genuinely curious.
Asher grinned. ‘Simple really. You’re more like us than them.’ He waved his hand toward the town. ‘Instead of just assuming Boudreaux was guilty, you were at least willing to consider him innocent. Not many would do that. Besides, when those fellows came looking for you, something evil walked over my grave. You’re a good man. I know they aren’t.’
‘A cap is acceptable,’ Rees said. ‘I don’t want my hair looking like Boudreaux’s.’
Asher laughed. ‘He did that himself with a mixture of indigo and henna and a soupcon of blackberry juice.’ He cast a glance at Rees. ‘We can’t do anything about your height. But Boudreaux is almost as tall; we’ll pass you off as his brother.’
For a moment Rees considered just leaving but now he was desperate to know about the men tracking him and the villain behind them.
While one of the women brought various articles of clothing for him to try on, Rees asked questions. Some arose directly from his curiosity about their lives: how did they prepare meals on the road? (Over open fires.) Were the wagons comfortable? (Mostly but only in the warm weather.) How did they choose the towns in which they performed? (They would usually stop at any cluster of houses and put on a show, even if it were a small one.) But some of Rees’s questions were more pointed as he attempted to discover where the circus had been. He planned to examine Rouge’s letters and mark the connecting dots on the constable’s map.
Asher also owned a map and had a circuit in mind that they more or less followed, always heading toward towns of a decent size like Elliott or Durham. Gradually Rees worked out the path they’d taken this year and last. He wished he had pencil and paper. Without those tools, he repeated the names in his mind, trying to commit them to memory, as the woman listed them. His retention of detail was usually excellent but this time there were a lot of names and he wasn’t sure he could remember everything. He just hoped to recollect enough to draw out a rough approximation of the circus route.
Within half an hour Rees’s clothing, his soft linen shirt and brown breeches, had been exchanged for tattered replacements. Although clean, his shirt especially looked just one step removed from the ragbag. Instead of his favorite tricorn, Rees now wore a flat cap of a grimy indeterminate shade. Since shoes of the proper size could not be found, he was allowed to keep his own. A worn woolen vest completed the costume.
He doubted even Lydia would recognize him.
When he rejoined Asher he pronounced himself satisfied. ‘You look like a differen
t person. With luck, those men will not return but if they do we’re ready.’ He pointed to the center of the wagons. ‘Come and eat before you start helping Pip.’
Rees and Asher joined the crowd already grouped around the fire. An older woman was ladling out soup. She handed Rees a bowl without really looking at him and he sat down next to Boudreaux. Without speaking, the performer offered Rees the bread. Both men put their bread into the soup. It would have made a poor meal otherwise.
Billy and his trained pig sat across the circle, looking like two little, old, bald men. He offered Rees a friendly nod.
‘We’ll have to purchase more supplies,’ Asher said as he joined them. ‘We’re getting low. Usually we purchase our food – bread, bacon, garden sass and sometimes a chicken or ham – from a farmer. And we always lay in supplies when we stop in town. But we haven’t done either of those things this time.’
‘The shops are open,’ Rees said. ‘And some of the farmers have food to sell.’ He nodded toward town.
‘Are they butchering?’
Rees, his mind following a different train of thought, said, ‘Has Boudreaux been accused of murder before?’ Rees knew the answer but he wanted to see what Asher would say.
The circus owner sighed. ‘Durham was not the first town to connect our show with an unexplained death. But I don’t want to discuss this here,’ he said, glancing around. Rees followed Asher’s gaze but as far as he could tell no one was paying any attention. Nonetheless, Rees inclined his head in assent and turned to Boudreaux with a question about the horses he used in his act.
The conversation that followed was a bit of a struggle since Boudreaux’s English was not up to the task of explaining the intricacies of training a circus horse. But they managed to converse in the mixture of English and French and when the performer invited Rees to come and see his horses close up Rees agreed.
‘You take them as poulains … um … babies,’ Boudreaux said when they reached the pasture where the animals were pegged out.
‘Colts,’ Rees said, nodding to show he understood.
Boudreaux knelt by the gelding and ran his hands down the horse’s legs. Rees was amazed that the animal submitted so readily to Boudreaux’s touch. None of the horses Rees had employed in the last year, even the most docile, would have been so calm.
‘They’re here.’ A breathless boy ran up shouting. Rees turned to stare at the dirty child.
‘Who’s here?’
‘Those men. Hide. Hide.’
‘Move!’ Boudreaux shouted as he jumped up and ran towards the wagons. Rees started after him but realized he did not have time to follow. He could already hear Asher’s voice. Besides, he didn’t know where to go.
THIRTY-FOUR
After wasting several precious seconds in frozen indecision, Rees dropped to his knees with some hope of disguising his height. He picked up the horse’s hoof as though he was examining it. The gelding snorted and shifted but did not pull away. From the corner of his eye, Rees watched the two ruffians approach.
They were just as Asher had described and Rees did not recognize either one. The bigger man overtopped his companion by six or so inches and looked as strong as an ox. And about as intelligent. The other man, a small scrawny dark-haired fellow with a feral grin, was as different as chalk to cheese. As he walked past the show people, he nodded, affecting a friendliness that was so patently false there was an almost universal shivery retreat away from him. Now Rees understood what Asher had meant about the clothing. While the bigger oafish fellow’s shirt and breeches fit well and he wore them with easy familiarity, the smaller man wore his awkwardly. Perhaps they were not servants as Asher had thought but deserters from some army and the smaller man was accustomed to both a uniform and command.
‘I told you, the man you are searching for is not here,’ Asher said as he hurried behind the duo. ‘Why do you think he’s here?’ That was the question on Rees’s mind. He did not know these men and, to his knowledge, had never seen them before. Oh, the small man, and the more dangerous of the two, looked familiar but Rees suspected that was only because he knew the type.
‘If I find you’ve hidden him here and lied to me,’ that dark man said now, ‘I’ll make you sorry.’ His fingers touched the knife handle with loving gentleness. Rees, who felt certain this villain would make good on his threat, could not repress a shudder.
The door to the wagon into which Boudreaux had fled banged and both men looked toward the sound. The smaller man began running and after a few seconds the larger of the two lumbered after him. They opened the wagon door and disappeared inside. Rees feared for Boudreaux but he must have been securely hidden. The men did not have him when they stepped from the wagon. They searched all around the vehicle, even crawling underneath, and went through the camp. Although they passed Rees several times they paid him no attention at all. Finally, cursing Asher, they moved toward the mounts tied up by the road. Rees dropped the horse’s hoof and discreetly followed them.
He’d wondered why Asher and the other men had so easily allowed these men access but realized when he approached the road that they had help. Two other men, both armed, waited with the horses. Besides a blunderbuss Rees also saw a rifle and a musket. He knew these men would not hesitate to use their weapons.
The men who had searched the circus mounted and the entire band rode away, westward toward Elliott. ‘I would pick up and move on to the next town if we were allowed,’ Asher said, coming up behind Rees. He turned. Asher looked thoroughly spooked. Perspiration glittered on his cheeks and forehead and he kept biting his lower lip.
‘It wouldn’t matter,’ Rees said. ‘They’ll follow you and keep following you as long as they think I’m with you. I’m putting all of you in danger. I should leave immediately.’
Asher shook his head. ‘Oh, we’re safe enough now, I think. They’ve already been here. You might as well remain and assist Boudreaux. But by dark …’ His voice trailed away. After a few seconds pause he added, ‘Maybe once they realize they can’t find you here they’ll leave for good. I can assure you I do not want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.’
Rees’s gaze returned to the road and the cloud of dust hanging in the air. He was trembling.
‘It’s almost as though they suspect you of murdering that girl,’ Asher said, leveling his brown eyes at Rees.
‘How would they even know about Leah?’ Rees said. ‘No, this is about something else.’ He paused. Could Piggy Hanson carry a grudge this long? Rees shook his head, trying to clear it. ‘Maybe I’ve gotten too close to someone,’ Rees said, stumbling over the words as he tried to put his vague thoughts into language. ‘Maybe my efforts to clear Boudreaux is threatening someone.’
‘Who?’ asked Asher.
‘I don’t know. Yet. But I promise you I will find out.’
Asher examined Rees’s determined expression and nodded. ‘I think you will,’ he said. ‘If those two don’t kill you first.’
Although Asher soon disappeared among the wagons, Rees lingered by the road watching as the dust from the passage of the four men dissipated. Before it was entirely gone Boudreaux joined him. For several seconds the two men stared at the road and then the Frenchman said, ‘The rope?’ With one final glance over his shoulder Rees turned and began to follow the other man. He had not gone more than a few steps when he heard a familiar voice saying, ‘Father.’ Rees turned. David was standing between two wagons – and this time Rees was sure the fellow in the battered straw hat was David.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘Lydia suggested I see something of the circus,’ David said.
‘I’ll show you,’ Rees said as he stared around, trying to see the circus through David’s eyes.
Everyone was working. Although no performance was planned for the immediate future, these were busy folks. Some of the women sat outside the wagons working on costumes, mending seams torn during acrobatics, sewing brilliants or feathers over carefull
y darned holes in the equestriennes’ riding habits, or scrubbing much worn petticoats so they would shine brightly white while on display. The men checked saddles and other leather accouterments for weak spots due to wear and the horses were examined, hooves up. These animals were critical to the circus, they pulled the wagons or provided the backs on which the trick riders rode, and none could be spared.
‘Where do the people live?’ David asked.
‘In the wagons,’ Rees said, pointing to an open door. David peered inside. Rees looked over his son’s shoulder at the bench that doubled as a bed and as seating, at the basin that marked the kitchen and the built-in drawers to one side. A small table had been bolted into the space in front of the bench and a pair of silver candlesticks sat proudly on the scarred wood.
When David pulled his head back, his mouth was pressed into a narrow line. Rees knew that expression from the past; David disapproved. ‘Not much room for sleeping,’ he said.
‘It beats bedding down in a field,’ Rees said sharply, insulted on behalf of his friends.
The wagons were drawn closely together to free a large space in the center. More than one performer was practicing. Rees pointed out the children, some barely out of leading strings, who were already learning to turn somersaults or stand on a pony’s back. One boy, so young he was still in a dress, was being taught to jump through the large hoops called balloons while his older sister stood on a galloping gelding that went round and round the track. Rees could just imagine Simon standing on a horse’s back, eager to practice these tricks, and Nancy and Judah trying to copy their older brother.
‘These children should be in school or learning the ways of a farm,’ David said.
Rees turned to stare at his son. ‘But this is what they are raised to,’ he said.
‘And what happens if they’re hurt?’ David asked.
Ah, Rees thought. David was speaking as a new father. He saw threats everywhere.
‘They are already skilled,’ Rees said, running his eyes over the crowd of children.
A Circle of Dead Girls Page 20