After she’d changed out of her damp clothes, they spent the next hour discussing the merits of each book, until finally, her visitor chose the very one Kathryn was going to read next. It was on her ‘Personal Favourite List’ and considering what was going on in River Falls at the moment, she had thought to re-read it to refresh her memory on heroes of yore.
“I might have known.” She gave him her copy of The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood of Great Renown in Nottinghamshire.
JP hefted the large volume. “This should keep me going for a while. It weighs a ton!”
“The weight is not important, it’s the content.” Kathryn sniffed derisively.
He opened the book to the last page. “With 987 pages, it’s heavy on content!” He continued to eye her other books greedily. “And can I have that one next?” He indicated her cherished copy of Ivanhoe.
This one she wouldn’t part with. It had been the last book her father had given her and she’d been saving it, waiting until the time was right. She had yet to start and wanted to be the first to read it. “Let’s see how you do with the one you have.”
Kathryn watched as JP left, waving and laughing as he swept her a gallant bow before disappearing into the trees. She wondered how long it would take him to finish a book the size of The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood. Surely, long enough that she would have the money for her train fare home which meant she’d have to retrieve the book before she left.
She’d been giving it thought, and wondered if she could get a position as a clerk in a store for a short period; or perhaps, Aunt Belle could teach her some sewing tricks. Unfortunately, any of these ideas required extremely long hours for very little pay. The prospect of staying over the winter was terrifying. There was no way she would be here for Christmas. Maybe she should say a prayer to Saint Jude, the patron saint of lost causes.
For the rest of the day, Kathryn wondered and worried on how she would come up with the money she’d need. There didn’t seem to be a solution and by the time they’d finished supper, she had a pounding headache.
“What’s wrong, Katydid?” Aunt Belle asked concerned.
“My head is throbbing. Maybe I’ll turn in early.” She really did feel awful.
“I have just the thing. You get ready for bed and I’ll bring you something that will help.”
Kathryn retired to her room and when her aunt came in with a bitter tasting draught, she made a face.
“It will help you sleep,” her aunt explained.
Kathryn couldn’t argue and downed the entire glass. Moments later, her eyelids felt so heavy, she blew out her light and fell into a deep sleep.
The next morning, Kathryn was startled to see JP running up the path towards the cabin. Surely, he hadn’t read that book in one night! Now, that would be a mighty feat fit for a knight of the realm.
“I must speak to your aunt immediately.” JP said breathlessly.
“She’s still working on the hen pen.” Kathryn could tell by his face that something was terribly wrong.
They found Aunt Belle in the shed busily nailing down the last of the chicken wire.
“Have you heard the news, Mademoiselle Belle?” JP asked as soon as her aunt put down the hammer.
Belle pulled off her work gloves. “What news?”
“Kokum sent me to deliver this.” The young man removed his hat then withdrew a piece of paper tucked inside. “Last night, the bank was robbed and the guard stabbed and killed. Blake and Edward Meltzer, he’s the murdered man, were guarding a payroll for the Crowsnest Coal Mine, over seventy thousand dollars, when they were attacked. It was the biggest payroll the bank had ever had.” JP took a deep breath before going on. “Blake says it was the Highwayman and he’s organized a posse to hunt him down.”
Aunt Belle read the notice. “This is not true! Murderer? Bank robber? All lies! What proof do they have?”
“Everyone knows the Bandit de Grand Chemin carries a knife with a fancy ivory hilt. It was that knife that killed the guard. Constable Dung says he wrestled it away from the Highwayman before he was knocked out.” JP shook his head.
Kathryn took the paper from her aunt and read it. It was a wanted poster, like they used to put up in the wild west back when Wyatt Earp and Billy the Kid roamed the range.
$5,000 Reward
Paid for the capture of the
Murderer and Bank Robber
known as
The Highwayman
DEAD OR ALIVE
Union Bank, Hopeful, Alberta
Dead or Alive! Kathryn re-read the notice. Could they do this? Was this legal, even out here in no man’s land?
“Kokum said she truly hopes the Highwayman knows that he’s being hunted and that he’s gone to ground and stays hidden.” JP smoothed the raven feather on his hat. “Do you have any message for her?”
“Tell her...” Aunt Belle shot a quick look at Kathryn. “Tell her I’ll come by for tea later.” Without another word, she gathered her tools and returned to the cabin.
“She’s very upset.” Kathryn watched her aunt retreat.
“Everyone in River Falls knows The Highwayman is no murderer, nor did he rob the bank, and they’ll swear to it. That won’t stop the white man from hanging him for it anyway. He’s convenient and with that price on his head, he won’t last long.” The disgust in JP’s voice was unmistakable.
“That is a lot of money and they have the knife.” Kathryn was mesmerized by the paper with all those zeros.
“Trumped-up evidence. There are lots of knives with ivory grips around.” JP was defiant even though they both knew this wasn’t true. He struck the side of the shed with his fist. “This makes me so angry. We can’t fight the white man. Constable Dung loves a good funeral, and this one’s going to top his list.”
“If he’s a constable, then he’s supposed to arrest the suspects so they can have a fair trial.” Kathryn protested.
JP scoffed. “It depends on what colour your skin is. The whites want to stop anyone who helps the Road Allowance People. The bankers and fine city fathers, who complain our Highwayman is a thorn in their sides, now have him pegged for murder and robbery – and Dung has provided them with the evidence to justify the rope. Plus they’re dangling a fortune in reward money.”
Kathryn had to think. “None of this makes sense, JP. Why would the Highwayman commit murder? Every other time he’s pulled off a...” she didn’t want to say crime, “transgression, he went out of his way not to use violence. Now, he does this terrible thing knowing he’d be hunted forever. How can he continue to help the Métis if he’s running from the law? It would be like poking a hornet’s nest. And the knife – if the Highwayman knocked out Constable Dung, why would he leave it behind?” She paced up and down. “And isn’t it a bit convenient that Cyrus Blake is the only witness left since the poor guard ended up dead? The Highwayman guilty...impossible! Aunt Belle will have to warn him tonight.”
JP raised his brows. “Your aunt will have to warn him tonight?”
Kathryn realized she’d let slip a detail better kept to herself. Fortunately, JP was not about to run to the authorities with any information that would help capture the Highwayman. He could be a valuable ally if she took him into her confidence.
“JP, I believe Aunt Belle is in contact with the Highwayman. I’ve seen her leave the cabin at night with a red-shrouded lantern and the next day, some injustice against the Métis has mysteriously been righted. I can’t think it’s a coincidence.”
“Talk like that could be dangerous, mon amie.”
Kathryn lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid of Constable Dung.”
“I didn’t mean for you.” JP made a subtle hand movement indicating the cabin. “You should fermes ta bouche about such things.”
It may have been meant as a warning, but it sure sounded like an insult to her. He was so infuriating. “I must go to my aunt.” She left the lean-to without another word.
As she hurried to the cabin, her mind kept replayi
ng the same thing:
$5,000.00...
$5,000.00...
FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS!
With that kind of money, she could go back to Toronto, finish her schooling and go on to university. Becoming a lawyer would magically change from a dream into reality. This was fairy godmother territory.
What was she thinking? There was no way she could ever do something so traitorous. But if she could be swayed so easily by the promise of that gigantic reward, imagine how many people, maybe even in River Falls, would be happy to turn in the Highwayman.
She could easily see how someone as rough and ready as Claude Remy could rob a bank, especially a white man’s bank, with no problem. She knew how he felt about whites. Was he capable of murder? Yes. He could do it, but would he do it, that was the question. This went way beyond filching a couple of cans of paint or a few books. If he had done something so wrong, so revolting, then he deserved to go to jail. The law was the law.
Chapter 15
Surprise First
After seeing to Aunt Belle, Kathryn went to sit on the side of the hill above the river to figure things out. Was the Highwayman, hero to the Métis and mystery man of legend, a bank robber and murderer?
All the wonderful deeds she’d heard attributed to him would lead her to say – impossible! He only bent the law to ensure that justice was done for the Métis who were being treated as second- or even third-class citizens. Right?
And didn’t the fact that Claude Remy had little problem bending the law of the land show that he had no scruples when it came to disobeying the rules? And wasn’t he strange and a little scary in the first place? And didn’t everything on her list overwhelmingly point to him being the Highwayman?
But being the Highwayman didn’t automatically mean he was guilty of the robbery too.
All this dithering was dismissed when she considered the biggest, most important part of this puzzle. Constable Dung. If ever there was a skunk that stunk, it was Cyrus Blake.
The death of the guard was tragic and also very convenient for Blake. A little bell went off in her head. What if he’d driven off the robber and then decided to take the money for himself? Or perhaps there’d been no one else involved at all.
What if Cyrus Blake had killed the guard, stolen and hidden the money, then put the blame on the Highwayman? That sounded more likely. Blake, she was sure, would have no trouble killing someone in cold blood. He’d done it to Gabriel Ducharme. If she were a betting sort of young lady, she’d put money on that bigot being the guilty party in all this mess.
The lawyer in her addressed the court. What about the evidence, m’lord? Consider the knife, the very distinctive, carved-antler knife. That was the fly in the ointment. It was proof Claude had been at the scene of the crime. She had to find out if he still had his knife and if he didn’t, should she turn him in?
Kathryn thought again of the five thousand dollars. No one wanted to see an innocent man go to jail for something he didn’t do. On the other hand, a guilty man should receive the full weight of the law and if she helped, shouldn’t she be rewarded?
If Claude didn’t have that knife, was that proof enough for her to turn him in and collect the reward? Could she sleep at night if she did?
Despite the warm sunshine, Kathryn shivered. She felt miserable. She wanted her old life back, one where she knew what to do and if she didn’t, she could ask her father, who always had the answers. Swiping at her stinging eyes, she focused on her predicament.
Kokum said she hoped the Highwayman knew he was being hunted and would take precautions. Kathryn was sure Aunt Belle would act tonight to ensure he was warned using the mysterious red lantern as the signal for a meeting.
Claude had disappeared and everyone assumed he’d gone back to his trap lines, or to that hidden cabin in the woods, but with the aid of that lantern, Kathryn was sure he would magically reappear tonight.
“Fancy stumbling over you here, Just Plain Kathryn.”
Kathryn jumped, then lifting her head, sneezed as the bright sun dazzled her, sending swirling black dots across her field of vision. She shaded her eyes and saw Mark towering above her. “Oh, it’s you.” Her tone was dismal.
“You really know how to make a fella feel welcome.” He sat beside her and picked a long piece of prairie grass, sticking it between his teeth.
“I guess that was a little rude, I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind.” She didn’t know what to say, she didn’t know what to do. One thing she did know – having Mark here was the best thing that had happened all day.
“When I got grief, I found the best way to deal with it is to get some whiskey and forget my worries.”
Kathryn was appalled. “You drink whisky? You’re only seventeen!” His face told her she’d said the wrong thing and was relegated to the category of idiot – again. “I mean, no, I think I’ll pass.”
Mark spit the stalk out. “Hey, I heard something interesting from a friend of mine. He said Alberta is really going to be put on the map this summer. The first steam car is coming this way. A gent by the name of Billy Cochrane has this Locomobile he’s driving around and he’s coming to Calgary. That little beauty develops twelve horse power and can reach the unbelievable speed of forty miles-per-hour! Imagine it. That’s the vehicle for me.”
“I thought you wanted a Phaeton.” Kathryn decided the fickleness of young men was astounding and, more irritating than that, why wasn’t he more sympathetic about her problems?
“That buggy is a mighty fine ride until you put it up against a horseless carriage. Woo wee! That’s the way of the future, girl.”
His enthusiasm was mind boggling and again, irritating. Kathryn drew her legs up and tucked her skirt tight around them, the chill still lingering from the cool grass. She rested her head on her knees. “I don’t feel like talking about horseless carriages.”
“You really are out of sorts. Maybe I can help.”
He moved closer and put his arm around her. Kathryn’s head flew up. She tried to control any further reaction, wanting him to think she was a woman of the world and used to gentlemen embracing her. He tightened his hold and she could practically feel the iron in his arms. No boy had ever had his arm around her before. She wasn’t counting wrestling with JP because he was such a child.
Then without warning, Mark leaned over and kissed her...on the lips!
If he hadn’t been holding her so tightly, Kathryn was sure she would have floated up into the clouds. The word swoon danced in her brain and she understood how a lady could actually faint from the thrill of such a momentous event. She settled closer into his encircling arm basking in the afterglow and sighed contentedly.
Her first kiss – that meant something. His affection was obvious. Kathryn thought of all her terrible troubles. Maybe she should share her burden with Mark. After all, he was older, with the wisdom that came with age and he was so strong and...he had kissed her. Surely, she could trust him now? And it would be such a blessing to share her burden. She made a decision. “I have a problem. If I tell you, I need you to promise to keep it our secret. It must remain between us.”
“I won’t say a word, honest injun.” He promised.
Kathryn winced at the trite reference. Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea after all. She didn’t want Aunt Belle or the River Falls people to be limelighted, but then she looked into his eyes, limpid pools she could dive into.
To be honest, Mark’s eyes were actually more limp than limpid – a dull shade of gray like a cloudy January sky – and yet, she still felt like jumping into their fathomless depths.
“It’s about the bank robbery. I saw the poster for the capture of the Highwayman. I’ve heard how he helps people and I think that’s wonderful and brave, but if he’s a murderer and a thief, then he should go to jail.” Her shoulders slumped dejectedly and her buoyant mood sank. “I guess I don’t want Robin Hood to turn out to have feet of clay.”
“Feet of clay? That’s not possible, even in the circus.�
�� Mark was incredulous.
Kathryn stopped; a little stunned at his words and then smiled indulgently. Her new beau was so charmingly naive about so many things. “No silly. Feet of clay is an expression that means he’s not some special hero, helping the helpless, only an ordinary man like the rest of us – able to slip, to be human and, in his case, maybe rob a bank.”
Mark squirmed uncomfortably. “That part about you being an ordinary man like the rest of us, that’s another of your expressions, right. You ain’t no guy?”
Disconcerted, Kathryn gave him her most indulgent womanly smile, this one perhaps a little more forced than the last. “Mark, dear heart, what I’m saying is that I admire the Highwayman for helping the Ditch People and I don’t want him to be the guilty one.” Pretending to be arranging her skirts better, she inched closer. “I don’t believe he would do something so wrong. It doesn’t make sense.”
“How can you know anything about that desperado and who are these Ditch People? Honestly, girl, sometimes you talk crazy and I can’t make heads or tails out of it.”
“You don’t understand, Mark. I know who the Highwayman is.”
He squinted down at her, disbelief written on his face. “You can’t possibly know something like that. You only moved to town a few weeks ago and you probably don’t have much to do with his kind.”
Kathryn tried to qualify her statement. “Well, maybe not know know. I am pretty sure who he is, though, and if I can find him, I could see if he still has his knife which would refute the evidence Constable Dung has.” She explained, thinking out loud.
“Constable Dung?”
He seemed to be having trouble keeping up with her train of thought, in fact, he sounded like he wasn’t even standing on the platform! She tried again. “Cyrus Blake – that slimy, low down, no good, shifty, disgusting...”
“Whoa, there little filly. Constable Blake? He tried to save Ed and then fought the thief. Took his knife and got mashed up for his trouble. And to add insult to the whole thing, Cyrus was working on his day off to help guard that payroll.”
Outcasts of River Falls Page 14