‘Don’t you believe in angels?’ he had said. And she said she only believed in one kind of angel – not angels of people, but angels of places. She said you could almost see them sometimes, hovering just above the earth. And they were very beautiful, so beautiful it could scare you if you let it, much more than any ghost could. ‘What are they made of?’ Elwyn had asked.
‘I don’t know. Different things. Space, mostly. But I think the angels here are also made of dew.’
The dew was heavy that next morning. It soaked into the ground, soaked the rooftops and soaked Elwyn’s trouser legs as he walked once again to the Rhoad house. The dew was as heavy as the air – the day would be a stifling one, but Elwyn refused to be slowed. He could feel his life starting to unravel around him. Aelred in jail, missing letters – these were just the first frayed edges. He walked quickly, a list in his pocket of the things he needed to talk to Rhoad about, and the things to talk to Hestia about. But when he arrived, Rhoad was not in his office. The house was unusually active, the old housekeeper hobbling back and forth.
‘Rhoads are in the sitting room,’ she said, in the same sharp voice she had first used with Elwyn. She was walking a box of silver out of the parlour. ‘You’re to go there right away, not that I see what use you are to them.’
Glass glinted in the morning light. Rhoad, his wife and daughter were well washed and bright at first glance. More closely, beneath her shining hairdo, Letitia wore her usual vague boredom. Hestia didn’t look tired, but she looked serious. The events of the day before were evident on her face as she looked at Elwyn. She seemed eager to speak to him. Only Rhoad had a true brightness to his countenance.
‘Elwyn, take a seat,’ Rhoad said, not looking up as he poured himself a cup of coffee from the silver pot. ‘I have good news.’ Elwyn sat, looking at Hestia. Her mouth was in a tight line, holding back the things she couldn’t say. ‘It seems our polls are on the rise again. The dialogue we’ve cultivated about progress has been a mixed bag, but seeing a Forester in a service role has been very comforting to people, especially the rural population. Emphasising that more Foresters in our society would mean an on-demand workforce seems to be a winning strategy, especially since farmers don’t have enough labour during the harvest season.’
‘How do the Foresters like that message?’ Hestia said, unable to restrain herself.
‘I’ve said it before: politics is storytelling, Hestia,’ Rhoad said. ‘I don’t need to have a story for the Foresters because the Foresters don’t participate much in elections. The farmers, though, count for a lot when it comes to votes. They are normally staunchly conservative. If we get half of them, this election will be ours. That is what I’m going to tell you about. We are going on a campaign tour.’
‘Tour?’ Elwyn said. ‘When?’
‘Tonight. I don’t believe in dallying. We’ll travel by train to St Louis, then by car up through the Hill Country to the Messipi headwaters and back around. A month-long tour. My campaign advisor will be here in an hour to go over the details. You know Walter.’
Elwyn’s mouth went dry. These words would have once thrilled him – travel, a car, being escorted around the country by wealthy, beautiful people. But when he looked into the future, all he could see was Aelred’s face. All he could hear was the bitterness in Aelred’s voice.
‘Mr Rhoad. I need to talk to you. I’m… I’m not sure if the schedule will work for me,’ Elwyn said.
‘Of course it will work,’ Rhoad said, matter-of-factly. ‘This is a campaign and you are assisting me. It is your job. Your uncle has already been informed. He’s an easy man to sway. He will comply.’
Elwyn looked at Hestia again, but she said nothing. Her mouth went tighter.
‘It’s not just my uncle. There’s something else. I need your help. It’s my friend—’ he began.
‘Oh, yes, I know all about you and my daughter visiting your “friend” yesterday. I know you’re troubled by this man’s situation, but I can promise you that is even more reason to distance yourself. He is being charged for a crime, and will receive a trial as all people accused do. Involving yourself will not help him, and it will certainly harm you,’ Rhoad said.
‘But Mr Rhoad, what could harm me more than ignoring my conscience? I only need to stay behind for a few days, until the trial is over. Then I’ll come. It won’t make much difference.’
‘Of course it will make a difference. Don’t you understand?’ Rhoad said. ‘It’s imperative that you not be seen with this man. My future depends on it, not to mention your own. You think these farmers we are counting on want to see pictures of you next to a man they see as the manifestation of all their fears? No. They want to see you out in the fields looking healthy and helpful. That may sound degrading but, make no mistake, politics is degrading.’
‘I can’t go,’ Elwyn said.
‘This tour is built around you, around the message your presence sends,’ Rhoad said. ‘The men at the courthouse have already had to be paid – and not cheaply – to forget the two of you visiting the jail yesterday. We won’t have any more missteps. This campaign is about the future of this country. It is of the utmost importance. You, Elwyn, will be coming on this tour.’
Elwyn said nothing more. Hestia was still quiet. Walter came in, and told them all about the details of the trip: itineraries, fundraising functions, speeches, accommodation. They’d be staying at inns and travelling by car – things Elwyn had so often dreamed of doing. And Elwyn saw that the logic was sound. Aelred said he didn’t want his assistance. Rhoad said Elwyn’s interference would help no one. And Rhoad’s campaign might change things for Foresters.
But logic only went so far; how could Elwyn trust a man who put progress before people? Whim’s father might be facing his death. Elwyn couldn’t leave him behind.
‘I’m having your things sent for,’ Rhoad said. ‘If your aunt and uncle wish to say goodbye in person before we leave, I’ve sent word that they are welcome to come here and do so. Otherwise, the day will be spent in preparation.’
‘Sir, it’s breakfast time,’ the housekeeper said at the door.
‘Excellent,’ Rhoad said. ‘We’ll continue this in the breakfast parlour. Walter will discuss the rest of the details with us as we eat. We have no time to waste.’
But as everyone left the sitting room, Hestia pulled Elwyn down a side hallway and began to run. They ran through the kitchen and out the servants’ door, and Hestia kept on running. Elwyn did not fall behind.
CHAPTER 25
Doubt
BEHIND THE RHOAD HOUSE, away from town and the river, was a wide, pretty stable. It was situated above the acres of rolling pasture where horses grazed. They were raised not for transport or pleasure, but for the prestige of breeding horses that others coveted. It was Letitia’s pet project; Rhoad himself didn’t care for the animals. They belonged in the past. And like a vision of the past, they gleamed in the dewy grass, not turning their heads as Hestia and Elwyn ran towards the stable. Only the goat grazing among them sprang happily to the fence.
‘Not now, Willoughby,’ Hestia said, running inside the stable and down the rows of sweet-smelling doors. At the far corner, they climbed up the ladder that took them to the hayloft. It was dark there. The hot air was thick with the smell of straw dust and the only light came in through cracks in the wood and a small window that looked out over the pastures and valley and the road from the east. They sat down on the hay, panting from the run and the heat.
‘We had to get out of there,’ Hestia said. ‘They’ll have their eye on us until we get to the campaign train. We need to think up a plan.’
‘Do you think we should be here? They’re going to come looking for us.’
‘Oh, let them. What can they do? They need our cooperation on this tour, especially yours.’ Hestia paused, wiping sweat from her brow. Even in the dark, the air was hot and heavy. She chuckled bitterly. ‘A campaign tour. Announced the day after we talk to your friend in jail. Well playe
d.’
‘We could go now, run down to the jailhouse and see if we can talk to Aelred again.’
‘Haven’t you learned anything? Being bold and impulsive doesn’t solve things like this, Elwyn. Don’t you see? We have to think bigger, more long-term. We have to think like my father.’
‘I never want to think like him. Even if I could have everything he had.’
‘It’s all dirty money, anyway.’
‘Only rich people call money dirty,’ Elwyn said.
‘I am serious, Elwyn. Sometimes I think there is something wrong with the money we have. Like it’s cursed. Think about what my father had to do to get it. And what the people had to do to get it before him. And what the people before them had to do and the people before them. The gold itself was dug up in mines from the earth. How many animals’ homes were destroyed getting down to that gold? How many people were displaced or hurt or slaughtered? Pain and injustice doesn’t disappear from the world.’
Through the light slanting from the window, the dust was visible, hanging in the air like thousands of gnats.
‘We’ll be cooperative today. Or seem to be. Then on the campaign train, we’ll get off at the first stop,’ Hestia said. ‘My mother will be in the bar car and my father always works on trains. They won’t notice we’re gone until the next morning when we get to St Louis. We can walk back here, find a lawyer, do what we can for that man in jail. And then we need to figure out why he is there. What systems put him there. This is just the beginning.’
Elwyn turned to the little window and looked out. But now, beyond the horses and Willoughby, way down at the end of the east road, Elwyn saw something strange.
‘What’s that?’ he asked. It looked like there were people approaching in the distance on the east road – many of them, all on foot. ‘Is there a circus or something coming into town?’
‘It doesn’t look like a circus. It looks like…’ Hestia squinted into the distance. ‘It looks like Foresters.’ She seemed to have some hunch, some understanding of what was going on, and she jumped down from the hay and began climbing down the ladder. ‘Come on,’ she said to Elwyn.
He looked out the window and saw that Hestia was right, they were Foresters. A queer feeling filled Elwyn’s stomach, a memory of the scent of woodsmoke. The two of them went out of the stable, then through the pasture, Willoughby at their heels, to the east road. The morning sun shone in their eyes. They didn’t run, but walked in long strides, like they knew they were walking towards their fate.
CHAPTER 26
Change
ELWYN AND HESTIA looked straight ahead, walking steadily, not talking. Willoughby traipsed behind. He didn’t chew on Elwyn’s clothes now – his new, smart things were less appealing. As they neared, they could make out individuals from out of the mass. Someone caught Elwyn’s eye. It was just a glimpse of a person in the distance, there at the front of the crowd. It was the way her hair lay. A way of moving. The shock that moved through him was like lightning. It shot through his body, through his mind and ears.
‘Whim. It’s Whim,’ Elwyn said. Hestia turned to him, confused, but Elwyn hardly noticed. He left Hestia’s side and ran ahead with a speed he never had before. Wind pushed against him; crickets along the roadside jumped out of his way like tiny parting waves.
It was not a short run, but Elwyn didn’t tire. His eyes began to tear. But as he got closer, Elwyn’s gait slowed. Whim looked different. She was at the front of the crowd. The very front. And now and again she turned around to face the people, to call out some message or to lead them in chanting. Her cheeks were flushed, glowing with energy.
Whim was so consumed by what she was doing that she didn’t see Elwyn until he was right there beside her. When she saw him, she didn’t say his name. She looked at him. And if Elwyn felt Whim could see through him before, he felt it all the more now. But her eyes were not so merciful. There was power there, power Elwyn could sense immediately, even before he realised that it was her that the people were following. And, maybe for the first time, Elwyn could read Whim, too. He could see that she knew about her father, and that she had come there to free him.
The two of them stared at each other until Elwyn spoke. ‘I’m coming with you.’
Hestia then arrived at Elwyn’s side. ‘What’s going on?’ she said, catching her breath with her hands on her knees. Whim was quiet for a moment, her face unreadable. The three of them had stopped, but the crowd had a life of its own, set on a course like a river. It moved around them, parting as if for stones. The people’s faces were full of light. ‘Is this another protest? A larger one?’ Elwyn and Whim were still looking at each other. ‘You must be Whim Moone,’ Hestia said, eyeing Whim more carefully. ‘Daughter of Aelred Moone. Elwyn told me you’re like a sister to him.’
‘I’m not his sister,’ Whim said, glancing at Hestia only briefly. ‘Elwyn. I didn’t follow you when you came to Liberty, and there is no reason for you to follow me now,’ she said.
‘Follow you where?’ Hestia said.
‘I am going to take my father back home where he belongs.’
‘Just like that?’ Hestia said.
‘No. We’re not foolish. We’ve read the Liberty papers. They’ve talked about the new safety protocol for violent protests. Everyone is supposed to go into their houses, lock the doors and stay there. It will just be us and the militia and the jail’s guards. We are unarmed, but we are many, and we aren’t afraid.’
‘Even if you get him out of jail, then what?’ Hestia said. ‘Wouldn’t it be better for him to be found innocent by trial? I’m happy to see another protest, but there is a system here, and if you want to change it, you have to change it from the inside.’
‘“Change it from the inside”?’ Whim said. ‘That’s a lot easier when you are not a person living out in the woods. We Foresters have never been on the inside, nor do we want to be. You know who I am? Well, I know who you are, Hestia Rhoad, and I know about your father. He talks about inclusion, but his words are deceiving. Any inclusion is not for our sake, but for the wallets of men like him. We may live in the margins, but at least in these margins we are free. And we have come together to free my father and defend our land according to our own ways, not yours.’
‘Defend our land?’ Elwyn said. ‘Whim, what are you talking about?’
Hestia was looking at Whim cautiously, but Whim was no longer paying Hestia any mind. She only studied Elwyn’s face and then said, ‘Rhoad bought Badfish Creek, Elwyn. All the land around it for miles. We’ve been told to leave.’
‘Bought it? No one can buy a town,’ Elwyn said.
‘He’s building mines. Sand mines. Sand for plate glass that will be used in the cities he wants to build when he opens up the Collective to trade. The genius of it is that he’ll build the plant right there, too. Right where Badfish Creek is. And the people who have been displaced will come back and work in the mines and the factory. Any money he pays out for relocation will be earned back a thousandfold in the cheap labour he’ll wring from us. That’s what happened in Freetown down in the south.’
‘Freetown? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Whim,’ Elwyn said. Hestia’s face had gone red and her eyes darkened.
At that moment, noise rippled through the crowd around them, and they turned. The militiamen were coming over the hill from Liberty. Some were on horseback, but most were on foot. Whim’s eyes went to them, then returned to Elwyn.
‘Why don’t you go home, Elwyn. To your aunt’s house, where you belong.’ She looked once more at her old friend, then turned to the masses of people around her and jogged up to the front of the crowd. As she did, Whim began to sing an old Forester song, back from the days of the Second War. Elwyn had forgotten what a clear voice she had.
Through the wood among the reeds,
We who wrought the lives we please…
Others joined in, and Whim’s voice was lost to Elwyn. He ran after her, but the crowd made it impossible to reach her. The
voices bounced off the sun-dappled hills.
‘Elwyn! I knew you’d join us,’ said a familiar voice from the crowd. It was Caradoc Alfin. Elwyn had been so focused on Whim, he hadn’t noticed anyone else. Looking around now, many of the people were familiar; some of them came in from deep in the woods to shop at Wilder’s store and pick up their mail. Others from Badfish Creek came into focus, too. People Elwyn had known since childhood, their faces nearly as transformed as Whim’s. Caradoc slapped Elwyn on the back. ‘We aren’t going to let them take what’s ours, are we? We will defend our people, defend our land.’
‘Defend our land,’ Elwyn repeated, like a child mimics the words of the people around them.
‘Other people doubted you, said you had forgotten us. Your mam asked that none of us speak to you because she didn’t want you giving up your safety. But I knew it wouldn’t do any good. I knew you’d find out what was going on. Like Whim says, the land has a will, you know, the land speaks.’
Elwyn didn’t know what to say. He heard what his friends said, he saw the purpose in their steps, he felt their energy around him. He felt it pulsing in his own veins. The protesters drew closer to town, step by step, verse by verse of the old song. Elwyn ran ahead towards Whim, his mind too busy to sing. When he reached her side he walked along with her, matching her stride. He didn’t say anything, but kept looking over at her, as if what he needed to understand might be hidden somewhere in her face. But she looked straight ahead. West. Chin lifted to the sun.
Ahead on the road, horses trotted towards them with militiamen darkly dressed. A few were drawing near, while a few dozen more hung back like clouds in the sky. Hestia had joined them at the front of the crowd, followed by Willoughby, who was excited by the people and horses.
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