Fury at Troon's Ferry

by Mark Bannerman

  He also warned Angus that he was sure the Lord was calling Leah to San Francisco; the teaching post at college awaited her.

  ‘Do you know, my boy,’ he went on, ‘that the San Francisco Board of Education forbids its teachers to venture into matrimony? They believe that in so doing females place their own feelings above public welfare.’

  ‘That’s not fair!’ Angus exclaimed.

  The reverend did not answer.

  Angus’s heart sank to his boots, but he did not raise the matter for several weeks with Leah because he feared she might give him an answer he did not wish to hear. Then, at last, he could stand the torment no longer.

  ‘Leah,’ he said with trepidation, ‘your daddy said you might go to San Francisco to take up that teaching appointment.’

  ‘Oh, I know,’ she responded. ‘I talked to him about that. I told him I had spoken to the Lord, and He had told me that I wasn’t to do that, that I wasn’t suited to fancy living. The Lord told me my duty was to marry you, Angus, and to make you a good wife.’

  ‘The Lord actually knew about me?’ he gasped, hoping the Lord hadn’t told her too much.

  ‘Sure did,’ she said solemnly. ‘He mentioned you by name.’

  Angus laughed, then he took her in his arms.

  He had the suspicion that sometimes Leah manipulated the Lord. Maybe she’d manipulate him too, but he wouldn’t care.

  The following spring they were married. Leah wore a simple white dress, with a wreath of orange-blossoms as her crown. He wore his new broadcloth suit, white starched shirt and ‘French calf’ boots. Her father conducted the service, bonding them as one flesh, finishing with the warning: What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder!

  Following the ceremony, Angus collected their marriage certificate. It bore a 10-cent internal revenue stamp, thus making the marriage valid.

  With the simple celebration in Pawnee Bend over, husband and wife returned to the ferry-house and he carried her over the threshold and they kissed, amid riotous laughter, and thus embarked upon their new life together. It wasn’t easy, for they both proved feisty by nature. But they each learned the value of laughter, and Leah never once complained about the hardness of life, always finding a quote from the Bible to salve their problems.

  Her ‘woman’s touch’ brought the old house to life, reviving memories of the time when his mother had been alive. She made the most wonderful cheese. ‘Don’t praise me,’ she would laugh. ‘Mary makes the cheese. That nanny-goat is a true darling!’

  In due course she made use of her powers and folks came to the house to benefit from the healing that the warmth of her hands could bring. She hoed the earth, cultivated herbs – nettles for kidney sickness, buckthorn for unblocking obstipation, eucalyptus for colds and a blue herb she gave to women who did not want babies.

  And Angus was as happy as a cow in clover, and would have remained so had not the demons of his past reared up, like a deep dark forest, to strangle his contentment.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  After what could be called nothing less than the ‘cold-blooded murder’ of the two draught-horses, Angus and Leah were beset with grief not only over the loss of two faithful servants, but over the temporary halt of their business and income. Lack of transport across the river caused great concern amongst local folk, many of whom, in fact, contributed to a fund set up to purchase replacement animals. These were impossible to find locally, but news came, carried by a horseback dentist, that a pair of suitable horses were available at Bear Springs, a town to the south. However, they would require training in pulling the ropes.

  Angus, Ed Mullins and the pregnant Leah travelled down to Bear Springs and inspected the animals, which were seven years old. They were muscular Ardennais, with broad faces and hugely crested necks.

  ‘They’ll do us proud,’ Leah pronounced.

  Within a week the pair were back at the ferry and being subjected to intensive instruction.

  Angus had always imagined that he had nothing to fear from Henri Duquemain until the outlaw had served his ten-year sentence, but he realized that five years had elapsed since the trial – and the individuals sentenced with the Frenchman would now have been set free. One of them, he recalled, was the man with the pock-marked face and braided hair – Johnny Kypp. He could not remember much about the other man, apart from the fact that he had a narrow and mean face.

  Angus became convinced that the misfortunes he was experiencing were linked to Johnny Kypp’s release. Firstly there had been the destruction of Leah’s vegetable garden. Then had come the even worse crime of killing the horses and crippling his livelihood. Maybe Kypp was carrying out vengeance on Duquemain’s behalf, or maybe he considered he had his own scores to settle and was as full of hatred as was the Frenchman himself.

  The prospect left Angus totally depressed.

  With Leah close to giving birth, the pain in her back troubling her, coupled with the remoteness of the ferry crossing, he lived with fear, constantly looking over his shoulder, jumping at shadows and listening for unfamiliar sounds at night, unable to relax. He always kept a gun at hand.

  The new horses settled in well. During the warm summer nights Angus, Ed Mullins and another hired man took turns to watch over the grazing animals and keep guard generally, but this wasn’t something that Angus could afford indefinitely. He strove to believe that whoever was responsible for the crimes had now drifted away, never to return, but the threat remained. Would it ever depart?

  As summer faded into fall, the two draught-horses, now fully trained, were locked in the barn at night. Trade at the ferry crossing had resumed. Angus knew that there were still plenty of ways in which he could be victimized.

  In October Leah’s time came.

  ‘If the cow was expecting,’ she said, ‘she’d be rested, but a woman has to cook and clean right up to the last minute.’

  Angus made a sympathetic sound, but she looked at him and smiled. ‘Wouldn’t have it any other way,’ she said.

  The birth was not easy, but she bore it stoically, Angus doing his ham-fisted best to help because the midwife didn’t arrive at the ferry house until after the event.

  It was Angus who cut the cord, and washed the blood from the tiny body and pronounced a joyful: ‘It’s a girl – a wee lassie!’

  Leah was exhausted, but her blue eyes were glowing with pride. ‘Let’s call her Anna, after my mother,’ she murmured.

  Angus nodded. ‘As long as the next one’s called after my father.’

  ‘Next one?’ she gasped. ‘Not yet.’

  Following the birth Angus became even more protective. Anna was the apple of her parents’ eyes, a child with her mother’s fair hair.

  The winter of 1886-87 drew in and snow blocked some of the trails, but the swollen, urgent flow of the river prevented its complete freeze. The ferry kept running except for one week when a blizzard closed down everything.

  But inside the house they were warm and the baby had brought a new dimension of joy to their lives. She was growing more knowing by the day, their own laughter bringing the first inklings of a smile to her tiny face; her little arms waving all ways.

  ‘One day,’ Leah smiled, as she sucked at her breast, ‘she’ll conduct an orchestra!’

  With the weather so severe Angus suspended the overnight guards at the ferry. On several occasions he brought his hogs into the house to save them from freezing.

  One night in February he awoke imagining that he heard their old collie Jack howling. He felt a tightening in his throat and with it fear. The dog usually slept in a small shed adjoining the barn. Angus hoped that his barking would carry warning of any night intruders. But now as he lay in his bed, the sleeping Leah and baby beside him, he strained his ears. He heard the moan of the wind and the creak of the old house. He rose from the bed, slipped across to the window, drew back the thick curtain and peered out. All he could see was the sweep of snow as it scudded through the icy blackness. He must have imagined
the dog’s howl. He returned to the welcome warmth of his blankets. Maybe he’d been dreaming.

  Come next morning, he pulled on his coat and boots. Snow was still falling, the wind having veered from south to north, and he had to struggle through a drift to make his way. He called the dog, but there was no response.

  The door of the shed was partly open. He called the dog again. Suddenly there was a movement, and Jack blundered into the doorway. Something was wrong, yet the animal’s tail gamely wagged from side to side to greet his master. Peering closely, Angus grunted with dismay. The dog’s eyes showed a strange opaqueness that was tinged with the redness of blood. Jack had clearly been rubbing at his pain-filled sockets, and as he started forward he bumped into the shed’s doorframe. He was blind. Angus gathered him up in his arms and struggled through the snow, back to the house.

  Meanwhile, Leah had got the fire started, feeding it with wood, but at Angus’s entry she straightened up.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  He gently rested the dog down on the floor, close to the fire.

  ‘Some devil’s got at him,’ he said. ‘Seems to me, they’ve splashed something in his eyes, maybe acid.’

  Leah cupped Jack’s head in her hands, gazed at his eyes. ‘Who would do such a thing?’

  ‘The same person who killed our horses,’ Angus said.

  The dog lay trustingly as they bathed his eyes with warm water, but it was to no avail. Whatever had been splashed into his eyes had achieved its purpose. The dog would never be able to see again. The sheer spitefulness of the deed was sickening.

  The baby came awake in her cradle, began to cry.

  What would happen next in this terrible cycle of events? Apart from his own, were the lives of Leah and Anna now at risk? He didn’t voice his thoughts. He knew the same fears haunted his wife, for she went to the baby, lifted her from the cradle and held her close.

  Shortly afterwards, the Spencer held ready, Angus ventured outside again, seeking sign of tracks around the shed and elsewhere, but the snow was falling so thickly that any sign had long been obscured. He cursed and shuddered, feeling as bleak as the weather.

  During subsequent days Jack did not adapt well to a sightless life and frequently became disorientated. Angus considered shooting the dog, but Leah would not hear of it. ‘He has been a loyal friend for so many years. Now he needs loyalty from us.’

  On reflection, Angus agreed.

  Meanwhile, he wondered whether it was safe for them to remain at the ferry house. Was the objective of his mysterious enemy to drive him away? He wondered why they had not struck at him directly. It would have been easy enough to shoot at him from the surrounding forest, or even gun him down as he rode the trail to and from town. It was almost as if his enemy was playing with him, a sort of cat-and-mouse game.

  His mind swung again to Johnny Kypp. If Kypp was his persecutor he would have to strike back, but it would be difficult. There was no regularity in the attacks. It could be weeks or months before the next strike — or tomorrow. In between attacks Kypp could be out of the territory, miles away.

  Angus was obliged to adopt a continual siege mentality, forever watching his back and guarding those who were precious to him. Life was becoming intolerable.

  But when he broached the subject of moving away to Leah she looked up from her Bible and would not hear of it.

  ‘You’ve done nothing wrong, Angus. We mustn’t be driven away by evil men. God says we must work out our own salvation, for He works within us.’

  She came to him and slipped her arms around his neck. ‘And I agree with Him,’ she whispered.

  Presently, he knelt and prayed with his wife. Inwardly he promised himself that, if he had to, he would kill to protect his little family.

  The last of the winter dragged away until the ice in the river melted, the snow crusted and thawed, and spring brought greenery and flowers to the land.

  ‘It’s like a dark grave has been opened up,’ Leah exclaimed, ‘opened up to let the Lord’s blessing in.’

  But the tension did not slacken in Angus. He retained a constant vigil, and the strain made him impatient and irritable, sometimes showing a sharpness to Leah and Ed Mullins that was not natural to him. Every time he looked at Jack the dog, seeing him struggle around in his blindness, he was reminded of the wicked forces that had smitten them. Angus had heard that dogs, when they lost their sight, had the ability to find their way by scent – but Jack was not one of these. Had he and Leah not been alert, the poor animal would have fallen into the river more than once.

  But the spring blossomed into summer; Leah had again planted her vegetable-and-herb patch; and there were no further ‘events’.

  ‘Maybe all those evil things,’ Leah said hopefully, ‘are in the past now.’

  Angus smiled. ‘Maybe your prayers have been answered.’

  Slowly they began to believe that their normal lives could resume. They even enjoyed picnics in the meadow and Leah would read aloud from her Bible. Anna was developing sturdy limbs and her gurgling sounds were as near to talking as any babe could get and she loved the dolly that Leah had made for her.

  But the past had not gone away.

  One day, having left Ed Mullins to operate the ferry, Angus was in town and stepped into the saloon to slake his thirst. As he thrust his way through the doors, he almost collided with somebody and for a second Angus found himself gazing into the dark and brooding eyes that he would never forget – nor the pock-marked faced and braided hair. Then the other man glanced away, moving quickly into the street.

  He had encountered Johnny Kypp. Five years in prison had weathered him. His body had filled out; no doubt his muscles had been developed by the hard labour of work gangs, but there was no mistaking him. When Angus gazed after him, he had disappeared into a side-alley.

  Angus didn’t linger over his drink. He was soon on his way back home, praying that Kypp hadn’t already perpetrated some wickedness. He also kept a steady watch on the surrounding terrain, wondering if the outlaw might be lurking somewhere, waiting to ambush him. But he arrived back safely, greatly relieved as he found that nothing untoward had happened during his absence.

  He suspected that Kypp might strike this very night, and he decided to set a trap. Accordingly, come dusk, he left Ed Mullins in the ferry house to safeguard Leah and the baby. Then he set his two valuable horses in the meadow and took up position in a clump of trees close by. Crouching down in the shadow, he had his Spencer ready and remained wide awake, tensing at the crack of every twig or movement of wild creatures. But after long hours of vigilance, nothing of note had occurred, and dawn brought a blanket of silver dew and a pinkish glow in the eastern sky.

  Angus returned his horses to the safety of the barn and Ed Mullins emerged from the house to prepare the animals for their work. The following night, they reversed positions, Ed taking his turn on watch, but again they suffered no intrusion. If Johnny Kypp was intent on further mischief, he was taking his time about it.

  It was twenty-four hours later that events took a frightening turn.

  CHAPTER SIX

  As the moon became hazed over prior to giving way to the first paleness preceding dawn, Angus came to full wakefulness, his grip on his Spencer tightening. He felt his insides quiver. Ed Mullins had taken a well-deserved night off and was in town. Angus cursed himself for having dozed, but lack of sleep over recent nights was really getting to him and he knew that if things continued this way, his daytime alertness would also become dulled.

  While night-time guards were maintained, he had allowed his replacement draught-horses the freedom of grazing. He crouched within his hog-pen, scarcely aware of the sleeping beasts in the shelter behind him. The pen was not the ideal place to spend the night, but it provided cover that was both concealing and protective, and from it he was afforded reasonable vision of his land and buildings.

  It was easier to imagine movement than to see it. More than once he’d raised his rifle, tense and
taut, suspecting some stealthy approach which turned out to be purely in his mind.

  But now he felt certain he heard some small sound, maybe the snapping of an underfoot twig, from alongside the meadow. He strained his eyes into the gloom. He saw nothing untoward until he noticed how the horses had raised their heads and were showing nervousness.

  Then he saw the briefest flurry of movement close in against his barn, and almost immediately the flicker of flame showed. He was on his feet immediately, the rifle into his shoulder. As if in response to his action, a target presented itself — the darting figure of an intruder, showing like a black spider against the lighter shade of the barn’s wall. Angus’s finger tightened on the trigger and the Spencer roared, punching a fiery blast through the gloom. Within a second, retaliation came. The hollow snap of a six-shooter cut through the rifle’s reverberating detonation and lead thudded spitefully into the wooden pen-wall.

  Angus had lost sight of the intruder, but he had seen the orange flame of six-shooter fire and he fired his repeater again, the boom of the gunfire having the horses in the meadow whinnying in fright. His target had disappeared but record of his presence remained as a golden plume erupted from the barn, painting the overhead clouds with a flickering reflection. With little rain of late the barn was tinder-dry and was soon fully ablaze. He was running towards the old building, when the thought struck him that this could easily be a diversion. His enemy might well now be between him and the house.

  With his concern for Leah and Anna mounting, he twisted around, ran desperately up to the house, not caring that he was presenting an easy target. A lantern had flared in the upstairs room, and increased fear lifted panic into his throat.

  He reached the porch, leaping up the steps, relieved that the main door was closed, but he knew that it would be easy for somebody to force their way in from the back of the house. He plunged inside, immediately aware of Anna’s cries. And then, glancing up, he saw Leah peering down at him from the trap-door.