“No, nothing like that. She just sat there and waited for me to brush it off.”
“You mean she let you touch her?”
“Yes, obviously.”
“What did she feel like?”
“What did she feel like? Jesus!” Hal threw a double handful of hay in John’s direction. “She feels soft, like a girl feels. Or wouldn’t you know?”
John reddened at the gibe and threw hay back at Hal. “Never mind about what I do or don’t know. If she let you do that, I’ll bet she likes you. Really.”
“You should be careful what you bet on, John Slade. You’re making a lot out of very little.”
“I am not,” John persisted. “You don’t expect her to come right out and tell you, do you? If she let you touch her, she likes you. Why else would she do that? You think about it, Hal. She likes you. Give it a little time, if you can get the time, and you’ll see.”
Hal did think about it. He thought about it all through the dinner Mrs. Slade had left for him in the kitchen while he studiously ignored Mary’s attempts to get his attention. He was still thinking about it when he went to sleep. In the process, he forgot all about Bel and the beaver pelts.
11
Wagon Wheels
THE MOMENT HAL woke up the next morning, he knew something was wrong. Since one of his many jobs was to build up the fires in the morning, he had trained himself to wake up before dawn, well before anyone else in the inn began to stir. At that hour, the only sounds would be an occasional crackle transmitted up a flue or, out in the halls, the creak of someone tossing in bed. There would be no light, save for the small oil lamp he carried.
This morning was different. Hal sat on the side of his bed, trying to identify what was disturbing him. He was hearing voices, faint and indistinct, but they were present. The inn was solidly built. If those voices were on the main floor, a very loud argument was in progress.
From the hallway came a hint of light. It was not much, but compared to the pitch dark he was used to at that hour, it was there.
Hal pulled his clothes on without bothering with his oil lamp. A pre-dawn argument was likely to be serious, even dangerous. Visions of Hayry at the dinner, his blade just starting to show above its sheath, flickered in his mind. Curiosity won out, however, or, maybe, it was the fear of not knowing what was happening. He crossed the hall and headed down the stairs, careful to be quiet himself. The light was coming from the front room and, indeed, the voices were loud. One of them was Slade’s. Hal stopped trying to move quietly. It seemed safer, just then, to be noisy and not risk surprising anyone.
He was noisy enough that the voices fell silent when he got close to the front room. When he entered, he found himself the focus of three angry stares. Slade was there, very red in the face. Gustavus was with him, booted and cloaked, a pistol in his belt, and equally red in the face. Standing next to Gustavus was Captain Hayry holding a sheathed sword. His face was white with fury.
“What are you doing here, boy?” Hayry snapped at him.
Hal felt his stomach curl into a tight knot. The expression on Hayry’s face and the tone of his voice made him want to head back to the stairs. He stayed where he was, though, partly because he could not see how to explain turning tail to Slade and partly because trying to walk away from Hayry seemed like a bad idea. Instead, he swallowed hard and hoped he sounded resolute.
“I have to get the fires going early. That’s my job. I should be the one asking you why you’re here at this hour.”
Hayry spat out an oath. He gripped the sword hilt even tighter, although he did not draw the weapon. “I won’t be answering any questions from the like of you. What I want to know is just how long you’ve been up and about.”
The question took Hal by surprise. “I just got up now,” he said. “Why is that important?”
Slade answered the question. “The wheel spokes on Gustavus’ wagons were smashed during the night. That’s the problem.”
“That’s our problem, you mean,” Hayry said. “For you it’s more days of our coin while we wait for repairs.”
To everyone’s surprise, including his own, Hal burst out laughing. “You think we smashed the wheels to keep you here to make more money off you?”
“You find the idea funny?” Hayry sounded offended.
“I find it ridiculous.” Hal tried to ignore the way Hayry was playing with his sword. The idea was absurd.
Gustavus put a restraining hand on Hayry’s sword arm. “Maybe, Captain, we should find out why he thinks it’s so ridiculous.” Gustavus kept his tone moderate, just as he had at the dinner, but his face said that Hal’s reason had better be good.
“It’s simple,” Hal said. “Keeping you here is no good for us.” Silently, Gustavus signaled for him to continue. “We were short of fodder when we heard you were coming. I had to deal for more in a hurry. Our supplies are still tight and you have a lot of horses. If you stay longer, we’ll need to buy more. That won’t be easy and it’ll cost.”
“Of course,” Hayry growled, “and whatever it costs you, it will cost us even more.”
“No,” Slade said. “The prices I set are per day and they are what you were told when you arrived. I won’t change them on you in the middle. If I get caught short on supplies, it’s my loss. My reputation is worth a lot more than whatever I’ll lose on you.”
“All right.” Gustavus seemed to be thinking it over. “I can believe you, Mr. Slade. You and your Mr. Christianson make sense. It still leaves me with the question of who is responsible.”
“I don’t understand something,” Hal said. “Aren’t the wagons guarded?”
“Aye, of course they’re guarded. We had two sentries at the wagons. We found one with his throat cut. We can’t find the other at all. Our vigilant Guard, of course, keeps intruders from entering the town at night, but there is no sign of any of them. I doubt that is because they were killed.” Hayry spat on the floor. Slade glowered at the stain but said nothing.
The casual way Hayry spoke of murder chilled Hal more than the events. The captain seemed more concerned about his wagon wheels than a dead guard, or two. For that matter, Slade’s primary concern seemed to be getting his room cleared.
“Listen,” Slade said, “Captain Hayry, why don’t you take Hal with you and have a look at the damage now that it’s getting light. Hal will know who in town can work on it and get it fixed as soon as possible. Gustavus, this whole matter grieves me terribly, and not only because we value your trade. However, we are unlikely to solve the crime standing here in this room. Hal and your captain can handle the matter of the repairs, so I would suggest, if you please, that we should go and speak with Captain Tewes of the Guards.”
Gustavus was not happy with the mention of Tewes, but there was no logical alternative to speaking with him and sending Hayry to do that would have been worse. So, Hal went out with Hayry. The sun was up, although it would have been hard to prove since the sky was covered with a continuous sheet of gray cloud.
“Damn,” Hayry said. “More snow. Just what we need.”
Hal agreed, silently. The light wind out of the west had a raw, wet feel to it.
“Come on,” Hayry said. “I’ll show you the wagons.” The field where they had been placed was a few minutes’ walk on the road north from the inn. As they walked, Hayry spat intermittently into the ditch along the roadside. After one such expectoration, he said, “Look, I’m sorry for what I said at the inn. You made sense and I didn’t.”
At the unexpected apology, Hal stopped walking. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I have to,” Hayry replied. “Reputations are important and making false accusations is as bad as deserving the accusation.” He put his hands on his hips and looked at Hal. “You haven’t been a servant long, have you? And don’t give me some fancy name for what you do.”
Hal swallowed hard. “I’ve only been here a couple of months. Anyway, I’m paid for what I do.”
Hayry ignored the last sentenc
e. “And before you came here?” he asked.
“I don’t really remember. I was hurt, out across the Delaware.”
“Yes, yes. I heard that. Well, whatever you used to do, Hal Christianson, I’ll wager it wasn’t being a servant. You’re too forward, too quick to speak your mind. I’d suggest that you find something to do that’s more in line with your nature. You weren’t planning to stay with Slade permanently, were you?”
“No.” Hal shook his head. “Only a few months, well maybe to spring, and he knows that. I just need to earn enough to go on to Nieuw Amsterdam.”
“Nieuw Amsterdam is it?” Hayry arched one eyebrow. “It used to be a grand city for a young man to earn his fortune, back before the Provis ruined it.” He shrugged. “Maybe it still is. I’m not the person to judge.” A gust of wind chilled them both and had Hayry slapping his hands around his sides. “Come on, let’s look at these benighted wagons before we freeze solid!”
The field holding the wagons was connected to the road by a wide path through low bushes. Tall pine and oak framed the field on two sides, while on the third was a stretch of brush before a small stream. Past the stream, the buildings of Gap west of the inn were visible. It was a good campsite, with easy access to the road and to water for those who could not stay at the inn. The woods behind the field, however, would give cover to anyone who wanted to attack the campsite. The idea was reinforced by the sight of soldiers patrolling in pairs. Too late.
Hayry called one of the guards over and they walked around the wagons. The damage was essentially as it had been described: the spokes of one or more of the wheels on each wagon had been broken. On one of the wagons, enough spokes were gone that two wheels had collapsed, dropping the wagon to its side.
“The problem is,” Hayry said, “that none of them will stand up to travel. If we try to pull loaded wagons on those wheels they’ll break down, and they won’t go far before they do.”
“How much was stolen?” Hal asked.
Hayry looked at the guard, who looked confused. “Nothing, Kapten,” the guard said. “At least, we haven’t found anything missing yet. It’s just the wheels.”
“Just the wheels,” Hayry repeated. “Kill two guards, just to break wheels. Damned if I understand this.”
Hal shared his puzzlement, but he also felt relief. From the moment he heard what had happened, he’d been worried that ten Eyck and Bel were involved. If that was the case, he would be partly responsible because he had never mentioned the story of the beaver pelts. It did not seem reasonable, though, for those two to have vandalized the wagons without stealing anything. No, meaningless mischief did not seem to be their style.
A man in Gap named Jan den Ouden built and repaired wheels. Hal had only heard of him, contrary to Slade’s assurances, but that was the only person he could think of who could fix Gustavus’ wagons. With Hayry’s agreement, they walked back into Gap to find the man’s shop. By that time, the sun was fully up and people were starting to fill the streets, although the sky was no less gray. A sign decorated with a wagon identified den Ouden’s shop. Den Ouden, however, was not one of the early risers. Hayry’s pounding on his door brought his wife to the entryway.
“What do you want? We’re closed,” she snapped. She was a thin woman whose gray dress matched her face. “You’re Hal Christianson from Slade’s. I’ve seen you in town. You know we don’t open before noon because you know, or you should, that I can’t get that drunken sot to work any earlier. So you know better than to come here at this hour. What do you want?”
Hal had seen guard dogs that were more welcoming. “I need to have Meneer den Ouden look at some broken wagon wheels.”
“After what I told you, you have the nerve to say that?” She put one hand on the door as though she was going to slam it in Hal’s face.
“Wait, Mevrouw den Ouden,” said Hayry. His voice was forceful enough to bring her to a halt with the door still open. “We need to speak with your husband and I suggest that, unless you want more trouble than this is worth, you should get him.”
The pinched expression on her face did not change. “Threats, is it?” she said. “God damn no-good Swedish busybodies coming up here for no good reason in the middle of winter. Wait here. I’ll get him.” Then she did slam the door in their faces.
Hal and Hayry looked at each other, struggling not to laugh.
“You know, Hal,” Hayry said, “if I was married to that, I’d drink too much too. In fact, I doubt I’d be rousable even after noon.”
Den Ouden, when he finally came to the door, was a withered husk of a man whose face suggested a corn cob that had been pecked over by a hen. He listened unsympathetically to Hayry’s description of the damage, then said he could do nothing until he saw the wagons.
“That’s fine,” said Hayry. “Let’s go.”
“Go? It’s cold. I just got up.”
“It won’t be cold if you put boots and a coat on, and since you’re up, I don’t see what difference it makes whether you go when you just get up or an hour later.”
Den Ouden did not seem swayed by this reasoning until Hayry turned so that his sword was visible, stroked the hilt gently and smiled. That got den Ouden’s attention.
“I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
Since they were not invited inside, Hal and Hayry stood in front of the door waiting for den Ouden to come back. In fact, given their experience of his wife, they might have stayed outside regardless. When den Ouden reappeared he opened the door just a crack, peering out as though he were hoping that the two of them had vanished. Seeing them still there, he gave a little sigh and stepped out.
“Good.” Hayry clapped den Ouden on the shoulder. “Come on now, the air will do you good.”
“I’m coming, I said. Just, please, don’t jostle my head and don’t shout.”
The trip back to the wagons took considerably longer because den Ouden shuffled along at half the pace either Hal or Hayry could have managed. Hayry kept trying, in fact, to urge him along faster, but the only result was that Den Ouden would skip ahead for a few steps, then resume his plodding. At least by the time they reached the wagons, he appeared to have woken up, although his disposition remained as sour as ever.
Den Ouden walked around the crippled wagons and inspected the broken wheels. He pointed at the wagon Hal was leaning against and the one next to it. “These two wagons, the wheels are pretty sound. I can replace the broken spokes and they’ll be all right. The others, though, you’d do better if I put on new wheels. I could try to fix them, but I won’t guarantee they’ll hold.”
“Then we will have the new wheels,” Hayry said.
“I don’t have them already made up in the shop. I’ll have to make them.”
“Then make them.”
“That’ll take time.”
“How much time?” There was irritation in Hayry’s voice. Hal marveled that Gustavus’ captain had held his temper as long as he had.
Oblivious to Hayry’s tone, den Ouden shrugged. “Three days, maybe four.”
“Make it two,” Hayry growled.
“Maybe.” Den Ouden shrugged again.
“All right, Meneer Maybe,” said Hayry, “I’ll take your terms, since I have no choice. But no more than three days. Understood?”
Den Ouden looked up at the sky before he answered. “Well, it’ll depend on the weather.”
There was a sharp intake of breath from Hayry. Hal glanced at Hayry’s face and saw his lips pressed into a thin line. If the captain lost his temper, it would delay the repairs even more. To stave off the coming explosion, Hal said, “If we’ve settled the repair of the wagons, Meneer Den Ouden, do you know how someone could do this?”
“Anybody with a sledge and some cloth over the head of a pry bar. Maybe not even a pry bar, if your men are sound sleepers.”
“Any idea who would do it?” Hal wasn’t really expecting an answer. He just asked the question because he could see Hayry bridling at the comment about his men sleep
ing.
Den Ouden took his time answering, though. He stood there, leaning against the wagon and scratching at his thinning hair. Finally he said, “Actually, I might know.”
“What?” Hal and Hayry exclaimed simultaneously.
“I said maybe. Maybe these wheels will be a little expensive.”
Hal could see Hayry gritting his teeth. “If the wheels are worth it, we’ll pay your price.”
Den Ouden took his time before continuing. “My ’prentice told me two days ago that one of the farm boys was talking to him about wheels. He wanted to know how to build them, how many spokes they needed, how to figure the load they’d carry. I thought the boy wanted to build something to use on his farm. That’s why I got so angry with my ‘prentice, because if we tell everybody how to build wheels, no one will come to us, right? Anyway, he was awful interested in what holds wheels together and now you show me this.”
“Do you know the farm boy’s name, or will it be necessary to visit your ’prentice?” Hayry asked.
“I know the name,” den Ouden answered. “It’s Billy Johnson. His father has a farm off the road about two miles south of town.”
Without a word of thanks Hayry turned around and said, “Let’s go, Hal.”
“Where?”
“I need to see Gustavus. Now.” Then he shouted over his shoulder. “You can start on the wheels, den Ouden. Just see to it that they’re done on time.”
Hal doubted that he would ever be fond of horseback riding, but as they walked back to the inn, he thought there were ways a horse could be convenient. At the inn, Gustavus was seated in an armchair next to the fireplace in the front room. An untouched cup of tea rested on a little table next to him. Slade was there also, standing at the other end of the fireplace mantel and looking, if possible, even more ill at ease than he had earlier in the morning. The fact that he paid no attention to the puddles collecting around Gustavus’ boots told Hal just how upset he was. Three of the Provi guards stood around them. One of them was Tewes, his uniform no cleaner than the last time Hal had seen him. At least he did not look drunk.
Accidental Warrior: The Unlikely Tale of Bloody Hal Page 11