The Badger Riot

by J. A. Ricketts

  The water in the kettle was still warm from Father’s nighttime lunch. Emily poured it into an enamel pan. From somewhere she got an old cloth – not one of Stepmother’s good face cloths – and sponged my back. I was used to being belted, but this one was the worst yet. It smert – it smert real bad. I wanted to cry, but I was brave.

  Stepmother kept Mecca Ointment up in her cupboard. Emily reached up and got it.

  “No, Emily. Stepmother will beat you if you uses that.” “To hell with her,” my sister answered as she gently applied the soothing ointment to my skin.

  I was so astonished to hear my meek young sister say a word like hell that I almost forgot about me back.

  “You swore on her,” I whispered. “You did! She’ll wash your mouth out with Sunlight Soap for that.”

  “Shh. Be quiet, Cecil, and stay still.” Emily finished me back and put the ointment back in the cupboard. She sat down at the table across from me.

  “Cecil, I have something to tell you. I’m leaving here. I can’t stand it any longer. I have a job as housekeeper to old Mr. Soames.”

  “Wha . . . ? Stepmother is going to let you go? Who’ll look after the kids and do the housework for her?” Suddenly I was frightened all over again.

  “I don’t care about that. I’m going, Cecil, and that’s that.”

  “Emily . . .” I didn’t know how to say it. “Uh . . . you know . . . fellas at the pool hall sez that Mr. Soames is a dirty old man.”

  Suddenly Father’s yell could be heard upstairs. “What’s that light? Is someone up down there?”

  Quickly, Emily blew out the candle. “Hurry, get into your bunk. I’m gone to mine.” And she disappeared like a shadow. I crawled in under the stairs and onto the daybed.

  33

  In the evening of March eleventh, rested, and with Ma’s good supper in me, I walked up the road to the meeting at the IWA house. But more pressing than any meeting was my anxiety over a question.

  Was I responsible for that cop being in the hospital or not? My dream hung over me like a mantle. So strong was it that I only paid half an ear to what was being said at the meeting – me, formerly so passionate for our cause.

  The union boys were there. There was no further news on the fallen policeman, they said. Then they told us that the IWA was accepting defeat. Landon Ladd would make it official later on, but for now we were to consider there was no other option but to go back to work and hope that our sacrifices had not been in vain. It was a hard decision, but we all knew it had to be. We had made our last stand at the picket line, and we well might have won, had it not been for a policeman struck down in the snow and, for all we knew, dead by now. It had taken the heart out of us.

  When we disbanded, I came outside. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jennie going into the Catholic Church across the road. Should I follow her? This might be my chance to get her alone and ask her what had happened after I ran away.

  The church was empty. It was almost dark outside, but the lights weren’t turned on. In the niche of the Sacred Heart, a red light glimmered and some small candles flickered, lit for the souls of the dead.At first I didn’t see her, but I knew she was there. I always knew when Jennie was nearby. Over to the far right, up near the front, I saw her faint outline. I walked up.

  She jumped. “Ralph,” she whispered. “I never heard you come in. How are you? I’ve been worried about you.”

  I sat down beside her. “This is a hard time Jennie, a hard thing for us all to accept. You can pray all you like, but it won’t change the fact that we are finished as a union. We’re wiped out. The men are in a terrible state.”

  “I know, Ralph. I have been with the women. There’s a lot of tears have been shed the past twenty-four hours.”

  The Sacred Heart’s red glow illuminated her face a little. I could smell her more than see her, her special scent that had been with me since I was twelve years old. I couldn’t touch her. I couldn’t even hold her hand. But we could talk as we always had.

  She leaned forward and looked into my eyes. “You were just in my mind, Ralph. I was thinking of what you said when you hit the cop to get him off me. You said you had dreamt it at one time. Did I misunderstand that? Or did you really say it?”

  “I dreamt that scene, Jennie. In it was an older me, an older you and a black figure choking you. Remember the time that I went up Hodges Hill and found the pearls? I spent the night in the little cave where they rest. I think I told you that part, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you did, Ralph.”

  “Well, that was when I had the dream. Grandfather warned me that handling the pearls could make a person dream the future. Perhaps that’s how Grandfather himself knew so many things.”

  Jennie was paying close attention. We were so close that I could see the lashes on her eyelids, her moist lips, feel her breath on my face. I forced myself not to tremble.

  “My God, Ralph, all those years and you never told me.”

  “No, maid. To tell the truth, I thought the black-caped figure was Death coming to get you.” I laughed, a little embarrassed. “It was a police officer’s greatcoat instead.”

  Being so close to Jennie was unsettling my head. I slipped to my knees on the kneeler. My back was to her and she couldn’t see my face. “Jennie, how did you get on after I ran away from you? I’m some ashamed of that, you know. I should’ve stayed. To hell with the consequences.”

  I felt her hand on my shoulder. “Ralph. That was my fault. I was so scared for you. I didn’t want you to go to jail.”

  “We’re not cowards, you know. My family are not cowards.” I couldn’t look at her.

  She patted my back. “Come on, Ralph. Sit back. Let’s get past this and go on. I don’t think you’re a coward. And I am sure no one else thinks so. I shouldn’t have been up there, I suppose. I should’ve been at home like any good housewife, like Missus Suze kept saying all along. She told Tom I was too bold, mixing in men’s affairs.”

  I sat back in the seat. “There’s one thing I haven’t asked you, and you have to tell me straight. Is the cop that’s in the hospital the one I hit or not?”

  I startled her. Her eyes and mouth formed “O’s” together. She sucked in her breath. She reached out . . . she reached out and put her arms around me. I was as still as a little sparrow in the hands of a giant. Except I was no sparrow, I was an eagle, even if I was a beaten one. And Jennie, she was no giant. She was my Amazon Beothuk Woman, bigger than me, yes she was, and the feel of her was some good. And she held me.

  “Ralph. Oh my son, I am some sorry. I never realized . . . oh my God. No b’y, you didn’t. You are not responsible for that. Oh God, I should not have told you to run. Oh Ralph, I am so sorry.” I could tell that she was crying. “Afterwards, it never came to my mind that you weren’t there when the other cop was struck down. How’d you ever get that in your head? Didn’t Tom tell you about it?”

  What could I say? She still had her arms around me, but I had to move sometime. We couldn’t stay like this forever and ever, frozen in time, dust gathering on us, perhaps becoming statues, like St. Theresa and St. Joseph and the Virgin Mary. People would light candles to us in a hundred years’ time, thinking we were holy saints or something. Jesus, what a weird thought! Being in Jennie’s arms had really unhinged my mind.

  It took every bit of my willpower to do it, but I had to move away from her. “Tom didn’t know that I hit the guy to get him off you,” I said. “He was whirled away with the crowd and into the crush. You were on the outskirts, by the snowbank. He never saw us.”

  My heart was pounding in my chest. I got up, walked outside the pew and stood by the Sacred Heart niche. Jesus, in His red robe, His head bowed, His hand pointing to His bleeding heart, was no more sorrowful than I was at that moment. If I stayed in the seat, I was going to put my arms around her, I knew it. By God, when this was over, I was going deep in the country, perhaps to Hodges Hill, and live like a hermit.

  Jennie wiped the tears from her ey
es. “I knelt down by the policeman to see how bad he was. He was groaning a bit, so I knew he wasn’t dead. I kind of cradled him in my arms – I even had a bit of blood on my blouse afterward – and then, another policeman came along yelling at me, until he saw I was a woman. Then Tom got clear and came over too. It was all a big tangle. But the important thing is that he got up and walked away on his own. Actually, he swung back into the fracas, as strong as ever.”

  Jennie sighed and stood up too.

  “Well, thank God,” I said. “You’ve taken some load off my mind, Jennie. None of us ever set out to kill anyone. Or I don’t s’pose we did. I never did, anyway.” Now I needed a smoke after all that. “Let’s go.”

  “No, you go on. I have to stay for a bit. I think I am going to return to my own church, you know. Tom won’t mind. Missus Suze will be furious and go on and on, but I don’t care. Perhaps the pastor and the priest will let me alternate. Anyway, I need to sit and think for awhile.”

  I started down the aisle, toward the door.

  “Ralph.”

  “What?”

  “I hope we’ll always be friends. I hope this doesn’t change anything.”

  “Never, Jennie. Always friends.”

  Then I was outside in the cold evening air, hauling the cigarettes out of my jacket pocket as I walked.

  My sister, Emily, was gone before the week was out. She just disappeared one night while everyone was asleep. She didn’t own much clothes or even a suitcase to put them in. I supposed that she used a paper bag.

  One morning, when I rolled out of the bunk under the stairs, Stepmother was in the kitchen with the five little boys and she was going crazy. The boys were whining for breakfast. The smell of shitty diapers was strong, and she was cursing and screaming at them.

  “Hey, Cecil. Idiot!” she yelled at me. “Where’s your stupid lazy sister gone? She’s supposed to be here to feed them youngsters. That’s her job, what pays for her room and board in this house. No good to check the bedroom,” she said, as I headed toward her room. “Her clothes is gone too.”

  That night, when I crawled into my bunk in the little cubbyhole under the stairs, I felt a lump under my pillow. It was a bit of brown paper tied with string. I opened it. Emily had left me our mother’s blue handkerchief. It was the only thing that we had left from her. When I was ten and Emily eight and our mother died, Father had passed it to us, saying, “Here’s something to remember her by.” It had smelled so nice then. Emily said it was lavender. But the smell had left it over the years. I remembered that Emily and I would take turns holding onto it when Stepmother barred us up in the dark attic. Now, my sister had left it for me.

  If Father cared about Emily’s leaving, he didn’t show it. He told Stepmother to get off her lazy arse and wash the diapers herself, and if she didn’t stop complaining he’d give her the back of his hand. I secretly enjoyed the scared look on her face when he said that.

  Turning to me, he shook his finger in my face. “Now, me laddie-o, since they had the fuss up there in Badger, the strike is over. I’m signing on with Joey’s new union. I’m signing you up too. When the summer cutting starts, you’re going back in the woods and I’ll learn you to be a logger if ’tis the last thing I ever does.”

  With Emily out of the way, Stepmother stepped up her cruelty. She wouldn’t allow me any food. I lived on scraps from the garbage cans of the Cozy Chat and the Brown Derby restaurants. Then she locked me out of the house.

  It was the last straw. My sister was gone, my father wanted me to go in the woods again, there was no one who cared if I lived or died. I couldn’t take anymore. I walked back down toward the pool hall, wondering vaguely where to spend the night. A westbound freight train was pulling into the railway station across the street. I remembered the hobos that I’d seen in Badger who lived their life on the rails. Without thinking much about what I was doing, I sprinted across the street and hoisted myself up into an empty boxcar. Next stop: Port aux Basques.

  34

  The riot happened on a Tuesday. I heard nothing from Ruth and Audrey. I didn’t know what had happened to Richard and his police unit. Ruth never wired or phoned, but arrived late on Thursday night and walked up the road with her suitcase.

  It wasn’t a long walk, but it was winter and it was nighttime. Also, being such a small town, with everyone living in everyone else’s backyard, so to speak, by now they all knew that my son-in-law had clunked me, and they all knew that Ruth was in St. John’s. Therefore, if anyone saw her plodding up Church Road all by herself with her suitcase in the night, they were sure to say, “Ah, Rod Anderson never met his wife at the train. What’s going on with them since his son-in-law nearly killed him?”

  I was asleep. I hadn’t used the bedroom at all since Ruth left. Too much trouble to undress. I’d been crashing on the daybed by the stove. The house was messy, especially the kitchen, where I’d been living practically full-time. Jesus, I had a sore shoulder, sure. You couldn’t expect me to do housework.

  I woke to her standing over me.

  “Rod. Wake up. Wake up.”

  I was a bit stunned and, I suppose, a bit drunk too. I’d taken to having a few shots of rum to ease the pain. The glass and the bottle were still on the table, plus the supper dishes. Over in the sink was a week’s worth of dirty dishes.

  “Ruth. How’d you get here? You never sent a message. I would have met you.” “There was no time to let you know. Besides, I’m capable of looking after myself, Rod.” She surveyed her filthy kitchen that she took so much pride in. “That’s more than I can say for you.”

  Because of my shoulder, I couldn’t hoist myself up off the daybed as I normally would. Daybeds are not very high, and all I could do was roll over onto the floor and get to my knees, and from there, with the aid of a chair, I would get to a standing position.

  Ruth watched me do this. I was still somewhat drunk and perhaps I overdid the groaning just to get a bit of pity from her. If I did, no one will ever know that but me. When I was up and facing her I said, unnecessarily I suppose, “Maid, my shoulder is some bad.”

  She didn’t answer, but turned away and busied herself at the dishes. She planked the rum bottle down in the bottom cupboard and slammed the door.

  “Have you been sleeping in your clothes on that daybed since I left?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “And you saw the doctor about your shoulder?”

  “Well, no. The doctor left town when things got too rough, they say. It’s a long story, but Father Murphy got Missus Annie Drum to look at it.”

  She was wiping off the table. She stopped in mid-wipe, cloth in hand. “Who? Father Murphy? Why Father Murphy? What’s been going on?”

  “Never mind. I’ll tell you tomorrow. ’Tis one o’clock in the morning.”

  She came close to me. I thought we would hug and have a kiss, seeing she’d been away for more than a week. But no. She sidestepped me and sniffed at my underarms.

  “Phew. You smells some bad, my son. Booze, dirt, sweat. First thing is get the bathwater running and then off comes those dirty clothes. Come on.” She bustled off toward the bathroom just off the kitchen. It used to be a pantry in Father’s day.

  “Ruth, no one has a bath at one o’clock in the morning.”

  “You got two choices, Rod. Have a bath and get in our bed with me, or have no bath and sleep in your dirty nest on the daybed.”

  Name of God! She stripped me off and got me into the water. By that time my manhood and my pride were a lost cause.

  I wouldn’t give in and say it to her, but the warm water felt some good on my shoulder. I should’ve thought of it before and had my own bath. All I had thought of was a drop of rum to dull the pain, and I’m not even much of a drinker at the best of times.

  Afterwards, Ruth rubbed my shoulder with liniment and we got into bed. B’y, ’twas some good to have a wife, even if she was an angry one. The atmosphere was so chilly between us that there was no chance of me turning to her in the
bed for a hug. There was a barbwire fence running up and down through the middle of the mattress, and I dared not cross it.

  I slept later than usual and woke to the smell of bacon cooking. My God, I don’t think I’ll ever let Ruth go away again. Bachelor life isn’t for me. I got up, dressed and went downstairs.

  “Good morning, my duckie.” The kitchen was back to the spotless condition that it’d enjoyed before Ruth went to St. John’s. “You must’ve been up early.”

  “I was.” She firmly placed the bacon and eggs in front of me. I wouldn’t say she banged it down, but not far from it. Uh, oh, still mad.

  Well, whether she was mad or not, I enjoyed my breakfast. I think I’d lost ten pounds the past week. I even had to take my belt in a notch.

  When I finished, and was having a smoke with my cup of tea, she sat down at the table so we were eye to eye. “All right now, Rod, let us talk. You’re clean, rested and have a good breakfast into you. I know your shoulder is hurting, but it’s not broken. I couldn’t believe the mess you were in last night. How can a man let himself go like that?”

  What could I say back to her? Nothing. Guilty as charged. So I stayed silent and hid my eyes behind the cigarette smoke.

  Ruth is a sensible woman. I should have remembered that. She didn’t rant on about poor Audrey, poor Richard, poor little girls and bad old Rod. No sir. She said, looking at me with her steadfast blue eyes, “First, let me tell you this. Coming through on the train last night, when we stopped in Gander someone got on board and told everyone the news. The young constable that was struck down, struck down right here in Badger not a hundred yards up the road from this house, has died, Rod. How could something like that happen in a small town like this?”

  The news jolted me. I’d been so immersed in my own affairs that I had given no thought to the policeman who had been hit. “Well, I am sorry to hear that, Ruth. I’m really sorry. What a terrible thing to lose his life over. Poor young lad should never have been out here in the first place.”