Outcasts of River Falls (21 page)

As she hurried to the cabin, her mind kept replaying 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. Be
coming 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

Surpris
e
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 in
teresting 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 ir
ritating 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 ad
mire 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 ex
plained, 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.”

“Oh, pul-ease! If this Highwayman was so bloodthirsty, why didn’t he stab Blake too? No, there’s more to this than the constable is telling. The good thing is that my aunt can contact the Highwayman. In fact, I think she’ll arrange a meeting tonight and I’m going to be there to see if our Robin Hood still has that very special knife.”

Mark tensed. “Your aunt can bring this outlaw in? Who’s your aunt?”

“Belle Tourond. She uses this special red lantern to signal him and they meet in the forest somewhere...”

“A lantern? Where does she live that she can wander into the forest to meet this criminal?”

Kathryn didn’t know why he was asking her all these ridiculous questions. What he should be asking was if she wanted him to come with her tonight, to protect her from wild beasts and if she would permit him to kiss her goodnight later.

“We live in River Falls, well, actually, away from the area where most of the houses are, closer to the river in the cutest little log cabin.”

“She’s one of those road allowance squatters! That’s who you’re calling Ditch People?” His eyebrows shot up. “You said you came from Toronto. That means you’re a, a...”

She was getting impatient with him now. “Yes, yes, I’m an
Easterner
who knows nothing about woodsy things, but Aunt Belle is teaching me.” The afternoon sun made a halo of his brown hair and she thought he was an Adonis. Kathryn smiled at him and she knew her heart was easily
read in that smile. She didn’t care. Mark was a wee bit try
ing, true. He was also funny and strong and so handsome.

“Gotta go.”

With a quick movement he stood and as Mark was now her official beau, sealed with a kiss, she waited for him to help her up. Instead, he sashayed back down the hill without so much as a by-your-leave.