Outcasts of River Falls

by Jacqueline Guest

  Satisfied, Kathryn moved stealthily to the passageway to Constable Blake’s office. Noiselessly, she slipped inside.

  The late afternoon sun slanted through the fly-specked window, giving the room a wan light. Kathryn slid past the only chair in the room, noting the constable’s coat hanging from the back. Hurrying to the cluttered desk, she swiftly rifled folders and pulled open drawers. Nothing. Then she spied a decrepit wooden filing cabinet pushed back into a dark corner. One of the scuffed drawers had a shiny padlock.

  “Oh, really, Constable Dung? This place is like the bottom of an outhouse and you bother to put a new lock on your rubbish file cabinet? How unclever of you.” She rummaged through the desk for the key without success, then as she shoved the papers aside on the impossibly messy top, Kathryn noticed an impression outlined on the desk blotter, as though there were something hard underneath. She lifted the edge of the green mat and almost cheered out loud.

  A brass key glinted invitingly at her. Picking it up, she hurried to the filing cabinet and quickly opened the padlock.

  “Eureka!” she whispered, and then looked down into the drawer. There was the knife. Its distinctive hilt carved with a wolf’s head whose eerie eyes fairly gleamed in the fading light. It was Claude Remy’s blade!

  But – that didn’t make sense.

  And yet... She suddenly identified the peculiar smell lingering in the fetid air of Blake’s office. It was the smell of brain-tanned leather. The smell of Claude Remy and his unforgettable coat!

  Could it be? Was Claude mixed up in this after all? Not as the Highwayman, but as...Cyrus Blake’s partner?

  “Impossible!” Kathryn breathed, but her mind raced. She remembered when Aunt Belle had been accosted by Blake in the alley. Her aunt had warned him that Claude was back from his trap lines and hinted that he was her protector. The constable had laughed and bragged, “I’m not worried about that buck.” Any sensible man would be worried about tangling with Claude Remy, who was volatile and violent – two v words not to be ignored. What if Blake knew he didn’t have to worry because Claude was working for him?

  Unbelievable – yes. Incredible – absolutely. But disappointingly, it had to be true. Claude was Cyrus Blake’s partner. Why, she couldn’t guess, but they were in it together. It was an inside job with outside help – they had done the robbery together, and she bet Blake had promised the big woodsman a cut of the money for his part in the crime. Maybe he’d suggested Claude leave the knife so that it would seem like the Highwayman had done the murder. Everyone knew about the Highwayman and his distinctive white-handled dagger.

  And then a darker thought crossed her mind. If Blake couldn’t catch the actual Highwayman and wanted to hang the wild trapper instead, he could easily prove the knife with the wolf carving was Claude Remy’s. With this knife, Blake owned Claude. The knife tied him to the murder and would ensure his silence.

  A daring idea of how to make it all right began to form, just as Kathryn heard the sound of approaching boot heels. She jumped behind Blake’s open office door and waited until Aunt Belle had engaged the Sergeant in conversation. Then she tiptoed to the desk.

  Scribbling a note on a sheet of paper, she tucked it into a pocket of her dungarees and left the office. Her plan was tenuous at best, but she had to do something. She had to get Claude to show up tomorrow and then she’d trust in his volatile and violent nature to do the right thing.

  Chapter 19

  Unmasked

  Kathryn rode to the Thibault house hoping JP had been truthful when he said he knew everything about everybody. She was counting on it. She also hoped he’d forgiven her for what she had done.

  He was in his usual tree, staring out at the sunset, when she rode up. She felt self-conscious as he watched her tie Nellie to the fence, then walk through the rustling grass to the base of the tree.

  “Greetings, my liege.” She reached out and traced the rough bark with her finger. “Are you speaking to me?”

  JP’s head dropped and at first she thought he was going to ignore her, and then she wondered if he was going to yell. Finally, she saw he was trying to hide a smile.

  “It’s hard to be angry at someone who draws disaster down like a lightning rod.” He jumped out of the tree. “I hear you haven’t exactly been successful in rallying yon troops.”

  Kathryn would have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so dire. “You could say that.” She watched him adjust his trademark hat. “I need your help, JP. You said you knew everything that happens in your kingdom. Was that the truth or were you simply trying to dazzle the local peasant girl?”

  He laughed. “I know much more than I tell. It’s safer that way.”

  She took a deep breath. “Do you know where Claude Remy has his cabin?”

  This stopped him. “You mean out on his trap line?”

  “Wherever you think he may be holed up.”

  “Perhaps. Why would you need that bushman?”

  Kathryn knew the time had come to fill him in on everything. “Sit with me. I have a story and a daring plan to tell you.”

  JP took off his feathery chapeau and sat as she told him everything, including her suspicions.

  “Kathryn, that’s got a slim, closer to no, chance of working.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. And, yes, it will work, but not unless Claude is there for the big reveal. So, we’re back to my original question – can you find him?”

  His disdain was almost comical. “Of course. He’s got a cabin up by Beauvais Lake. Pretty rustic, even by River Falls’ standards.”

  “JP, take me to him, please.” She tried to stop the quiver in her voice. “I have to give him this.” She withdrew the folded sheet of paper from her pant’s pocket. “I have written a note to Monsieur Remy from that secret source of Métis justice we call The Highwayman, who knows all and tells few. Sound familiar?” She nudged JP with her elbow. “It tells Claude he must be at the barracks at ten o’clock tomorrow morning as Constable Blake has made plans to cut Claude out of his share.” She yawned widely. “He’ll know what that means.”

  “When was the last time you slept?” JP asked with more than a note of concern.

  Kathryn heard something different in his voice, something older, more like a man than the boy she’d always thought him and it occurred to her that it had indeed been a long, long time since she’d had any rest. Like a mighty ocean wave, exhaustion washed over her. “As soon as we stealthily deliver the letter, I’ll come back and hit the hay. Promise.”

  She struggled to her feet, stumbling, and JP hastily reached out to catch her, drawing Kathryn to him. He gently wiped a smudge of dirt from her face. “I’ll make you a deal. You get some shut eye and I’ll go play postman to Claude Remy. He’ll never catch me if I’m alone and to tell you the truth, I’m not sure your sleuthing skills are up to mine.”

  She ignored his tease and weighed whether she could indeed endure a trip to Beauvais Lake, wherever that was, then realized she was so tired, she could barely breathe. “You could take Nellie. She’s a good horse.”

  JP smiled down at her, warm and real. “You go get her, and I’ll tell my maman that I won’t be home till late.” He turned her around and gave her a small shove toward Nellie, who was busily feasting on Madame Thibault’s lettuce.

  Kathryn had barely managed to climb into the saddle when JP, wearing his signature hat and sporting a matching scarlet cape, bounded up and leapt onto Nellie, behind Kathryn. His arms skimmed past her waist and his hands covered hers on the reins.

  “Let’s go, old girl.” He laughed as he gave the horse a light kick in the flanks. “And you too, Nellie!”

  Kathryn never heard JP come back that night. In the morning she awoke early to find Nellie in her lean-to, safe and sound. The old mare had been fed, watered and given a brushing. There were some truly amazing people in the world and she knew at least two. The next time she saw him, Kathryn would tell JP he could borrow any book she had. Hastily dressing, she g
rabbed a bite of bannock from the breadbox and went back into her room.

  Kathryn stood over her steamer trunk and gazed down into the neatly arranged case. It was still packed with all her clothes and belongings, ready to go as soon as she had the money to buy a ticket on the next train to Toronto.

  But that was the old Kathryn’s trunk.

  Katydid had a whole new vision.

  She pulled the clothes out and quickly tucked them in the low chiffonier which stood against the white-washed wall of her room. Next, to fill the space and give the trunk weight, she wedged in several pieces of wood crosswise, closed the lid and secured the hasp.

  This had to appear real, which meant she needed to address the trunk. Try as she might, the only address she knew by heart was that of Our Lady of Mercy Academy for Young Ladies. In clear block letters, Kathryn wrote out the address, marking it Attention: Sister Bernadette. She hoped this gift of kindling would keep the blustery nun puzzling while she mumbled her rosary.

  That done, she raced out to the lean-to and gave Nellie an extra cup of oats. “It’s you and me to the rescue, Miss Nellie.” She rubbed the mare’s ears affectionately before going outside to the back of the shed and pulling the Phaeton into the yard. With much cursing, some in Michif which Kathryn was particularly proud of, she managed to hook Nellie to the rig. As though by magic, the old horse started to prance and nicker like a colt ready for a day in a green meadow after a long winter.

  Then Kathryn hauled the trunk out and jammed it into the space behind the bench of the buggy. It didn’t really fit and she used the safety belt to tie it down, hoping the heavy box didn’t bounce loose and end up in splinters on the road. She was in a hurry.

  The last thing she did was to go to her small library where she selected the novel Ivanhoe. Opening the cover, she extracted a thin envelope which contained the last of the money from her father’s estate. She hoped that it would be enough.

  Kathryn was about to put the volume back, then stopped. Her father had told her it was one of his favourites and that it always made him feel like a king in his castle home when he read it. She’d been saving this last gift from her father until she had a castle where she felt at home.

  Looking around, Kathryn took stock of her tiny room, with the quite lovely iron bed and cheery rag rug on the floor, then the rest of the cabin, small and comfortable. The very definition of a home. It may not be the usual towering fortress of rock, but this was now her castle and she was very proud to be the valiant chevalier who would do battle for the fair Queen of River Falls, Mademoiselle Belle Tourond. She hugged the book to her chest, and then placed it carefully on her bedside table, ready to read.

  Donning her aunt’s capote, which she now considered the best apparel of all time, Kathryn raced back to the Phaeton and leapt into the seat. Grabbing the reins, she took a deep breath. The last time she’d held these, she’d almost killed both her and Aunt Belle. Now, she silently thanked her aunt for making her try to drive the buggy. She snapped the reins.

  Nellie took off like a fresh three-year-old at the Kentucky Derby, but this time, Kathryn was ready for her. “That’s enough! There’s no time for this nonsense!” she shouted, and was amazed at the strength in her own voice. She sounded like Aunt Belle and Nellie responded by trotting as nice as you please, not a hoof out of place. Kathryn could have danced a jig. “That’s it! Now we both know who’s boss, there’s no problem.”

  The early morning wind stung her eyes, then she saw the sunrise and it was glorious. The vibrant shades of pink and gold lifted her spirit with joy as the intoxicating smell of the wide-open prairie filled her lungs. This was wonderful country and she felt her heart open to it.

  Kathryn wheeled into the Hopeful train station exhilarated with the new appreciation for the land she was now a part of. Leaping down from the Phaeton, she patted Nellie on the neck. “That was truly amazing, old girl. There’ll be extra goodies in your feed bag tonight!”

  After wrestling the trunk up the steps, she dragged it into the station and over to the counter.

  “I need to ship this out, please.”

  The station master read the label and noted the sender’s name. Instead of her own, Kathryn had written Cyrus Blake. He squinted at her over his thick glasses. His hair was a snow white halo around his head and the pipe sticking out of his pocket had left telltale traces of previous smoking sessions.

  “Yes’m. I’ve seen you before, I believe.”

  Kathryn had no time for socializing, but didn’t want to arouse suspicion. “Yes, I came in on the train a while back. About the trunk, I’m sending it for Constable Blake. He can’t make it in right now.”

  He shot her a dubious look. “That’s right neighbourly of you. Just the trunk? You’re not going too?”

  Kathryn didn’t understand. “Me?”

  “You’re Katy Tourond, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” She didn’t know where this was going.

  “The same young lady who put up such a fuss when you arrived?”

  Kathryn felt her cheeks flame at the memory of how she’d strutted around the station like some prima donna. He must have seen some of her antics. She cleared her throat. “That was a long time ago. I’m a lot older now.”

  “I remember your father when he was a young man...”

  Kathryn tried to control her impatience, but time was ticking by.

  The old station master went on. “A lot of the folks at River Falls thought it wrong when he went east and was passing. But some of us here in Hopeful understood. Being Métis isn’t easy and life on the road allowances is harder still. Your pa was trying to make the best life possible for his family and did what he had to do to make that happen.”

  His deep brown eyes held hers for a long moment and understanding flowed between them.

  “We all do what we must to protect our family,” Kathryn agreed.

  He nodded and then as she watched, he applied the documents which would send the trunk back to Toronto without her. A month ago, this would have made her sink into the depths of depression; now, she thought it a fitting way to break with the past and embrace her bright future.

  “How much do I owe you?” Kathryn asked, opening the envelope with her precious few bills.

  “Funny thing,” he said with a nod. “Today’s a special day. Freight goes for free.”

  Her surprise was written on her face. “Oh, thank you, and I need a receipt with the sender’s name on it.”

  “I just bet you do,” the station master laughed softly as he wrote out the document.

  Kathryn climbed back onto the Phaeton and with only the merest hint from the reins, Nellie obligingly turned and struck out for Hopeful.

  Chapter 20

  Happily Ever After

  Kathryn arrived in Hopeful as the bell at St. Michael’s Church tolled ten o’clock. She tied Nellie up and was surprised to see a crowd of people in front of the jail. Sergeant Prentiss stood on the boardwalk, trying to calm the unruly mob.

  “They killed Ed Meltzer, Sergeant!” One angry man called.

  “She’s as guilty as that no good Highwayman!” Another shouted.

  “Bring her out here, we’ll show her what we do with murdering half breeds!” A helpful citizen suggested.

  Kathryn was disgusted and very frightened. What if this mob rioted and broke into the jail to get Aunt Belle?

  Again the sergeant called for order. “You folks calm down. Nobody’s doing anything crazy, you hear me?”

  Avoiding the scene, Kathryn edged down the alley to the back door leading to the cells. She said a short prayer that the hair pin she’d jammed into the mechanism still held. As she turned the knob, she was rewarded as the back door opened and she saw Aunt Belle sitting on her pallet. Kathryn put her finger to her lips. “Where’s Blake?” she mouthed.

  Aunt Belle pointed toward the front of the building and whispered hoarsely. “At the window.”

  A trickle of sweat ran down her back as Kathryn stealthily made
her way along the narrow hallway that led to the constable’s office. It struck her that if Constable Dung was wearing his jacket, this whole plan could go up in smoke. This fear disappeared when she saw Blake, in his shirt and suspenders, peering out the front window, watching as his boss valiantly tried to control the angry crowd.

  Why wasn’t he out there supporting his fellow officer, she wondered, then realized how foolish the question was. Cyrus Blake wasn’t about to put himself between a mob and Aunt Belle. Kathryn added coward to the long list of character flaws she’d assigned to the despicable constable.

  In his office, she spied his greasy field jacket, still slung over the back of the chair. She slipped the shipping receipt with the station master’s signature verifying the information into a pocket and then returned to the cells.

  Aunt and niece exchanged conspiratorial smiles; then Kathryn left the jail, carefully removing the hair pin from the lock as she went.

  As she walked around to the front of the building, she could hear the clamour of voices and it was much louder than before. Kathryn stood at the back of the angry mob and had never felt so alone. Scanning the crowd, she prayed JP had been successful and that Claude had taken the bait.

  There was the jarring sound of shattering glass as a rock was hurled through the window of the jail.

  Sergeant Prentiss cursed as he saw his constable standing behind the broken window. “Cyrus, get out here, man!”

  Kathryn knew the constable well enough by now that she was sure he would put on his jacket, the one vestige of authority he had, before venturing out.

  Sure enough, moments later, he emerged clad in the jacket now with a grubby lanyard hanging limply, and swaggered forward like he was the salvation of the sergeant and a gift to humanity.

  Kathryn knew the moment had come. The lives of her aunt and the Highwayman hung in the balance. Taking a steadying breath, she called out. “Sergeant Prentiss! I need to talk to you.”

  The crowd turned to stare and she heard a couple of men mutter half-breed and road allowance trash. Pushing rudely past a disgruntled gentleman in a long coat and fancy hat, Kathryn forced her way to the front, then faced the crowd.