Dollybird (9 page)

CHAPTER 13

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By the time
I went to sign for the land the next day, Walter had already found me a woman to go with it. A dollybird. Said he wouldn't give me the land unless I took her with me 'cause he was responsible for my making a go of the homestead, counting on my success to help him keep his job.

“I've heard some of these women are only too happy to become wives,” he said. He sat at his desk and smirked up at me.

“I'm not looking for a wife.”

“Okay. But you have to sign these papers so it's all up to snuff. And there's only a small fee.”

He was a shit of a man.

Walter looked out the dirty window. “Look, you won't make it without a woman. Not with a kid out there.”

“I know.” I wanted to turn and walk out, but it was as though one foot was already snared in a trap. “Somehow I thought I'd just get a homestead. Never figured it all out.”

“Well, figure it out quick. The weather's warming up and others will start asking about that quarter.” He looked at me hard. “I might even have to give it to that bastard Gabe, if you can't decide.” His eyebrows shot up as though I would be solely responsible for this travesty if I made the wrong decision. “This here's the last piece of decent dirt this year. And you need the dollybird.” He shrugged. “But it's your choice.”

“All right. All right. How do I get fixed up with her then?”

“Already done. Just have to sign here. Hope she can handle a miserable young bugger.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I pulled my hat down to cover my face when I stepped out into the street. I'd showed up in this town alone with Casey and right away chose to ignore the sidelong glances, the women whispering as though I didn't know their gossip was about my motherless child. And now this plan, this dollybird. There'd be more talk, the town so small an outsider was their only source of entertainment, proving those from elsewhere could never measure up. Then again, why would this place be any different from Arichat?

I wasn't even sure I cared, the infernal cold winter making me crazy to get out of my shack, out of Ibsen. I wanted land, to be my own boss, crazed and selfish and greedy for expecting anything at all, yet wanting it all the more. Wanting too much was how I lost Taffy. The memories were always lurking, creeping over me like a harbour fog, clouding up every thought until I couldn't move. If I hadn't made her go to Halifax, if we hadn't committed the most mortal of sins.

At the Ceilidh I'd watched the dance and clapped along or sat looking at my scuffed shoes, embarrassed as Taffy's father wished me to be. Until Taffy danced by, her slim white legs flashing. She fixed me with a smile that raced over my skin and fluttered in my stomach; the crowd, her father's glare, all of it gone. She loved me. She was quiet and gentle and sweet and she loved me. My throat ached watching her.

We left without a word to one another, just looked across the room and nodded, time to go, as though we'd agreed to something and there was no going back. Outside near the back porch, we grabbed hands and ran towards the harbour. The wind was loud and driving, a storm coming off the water. We stood looking out over the edge of the rock. It was deep dusk, that time when the black of night hasn't quite come down, but nothing has the shape it takes during the day. Everything was just shadows dancing against the rocks. The waves crashed below, roaring in the darkness.

Taffy was afraid. So was I, if I'm honest.

“This way.” I leaned in close so she could hear, smelled her damp hair, felt her ear against my lips. She looked at me excited, eyes shining, face specked with spray. “There's a cave.” I grabbed her hand tight, pulling her along the edge of the rock.

It wasn't a cave, only a hollowed-out face of stone worn smooth by water and wind and sand. We tumbled in and Taffy looked around, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

“It's beautiful in here,” she sighed. “And what's this?” She pulled an old grey wool blanket from a crevice.

“It's. I...” My face was hot, but my teeth were chattering.

“Were you expecting someone then?” She spread it on the ground and sat down, tucking her legs underneath her and wrapping her skirt around her knees. A proper girl.

I didn't know where to look, what to say, so I finally thumped down next to her. “I've come here since I was a kid. Spent hours watching the waves.”

“With other girls, I imagine.” She flicked her hair out of her eyes to laugh at me.

Just Rebecca, but we were little kids wondering about privates and how they worked, curious and disgusted at the same time.

“I like to get away from the racket at home.” I didn't want to tell her of Da's endless, miserable act of dying. Taffy thought he was charming,
though a little rough around the edges
. She didn't know the half of it.

Taffy shivered and I slid my arm around her. We'd sat the same way on her father's porch swing, rocking while we talked. It was different alone in the storm. There were choices we were making that could change everything. She was tense, waiting for direction, putting me in charge. I wrapped the blanket around us. When she looked up, I kissed her damp forehead, tasted the sea spray, nibbling bit by bit, her eyes, her nose, her cheek and neck, soft and smelling like flowers. Her breasts were small and firm, her cold nipples reaching out to my tongue. She moaned, slipped her hand around the back of my neck and pulled me close, finding my mouth. A warm current ran from her lips to mine and through my gut. I was so hard I could barely move.

“But what will we do?” She was suddenly stiff, her big eyes staring into mine.

For an instant I pulled away and gazed down into her trusting face. She loved me. My chest swelled with the power of it, being a man making anything possible.

“We'll get married,” I whispered into her mouth, “and go away from here and be very, very happy.”

All night we lay wrapped in the scratchy blanket, clothes twisted around us, whispering and touching. Rain pooled in hollows in the rock and the waves beat against the rock below. Toward dawn the wind died and the sky lightened. She started to fidget, pushing fingers through her tangled hair, straightening her skirt and sweater. She seemed to want to be somewhere else. Suddenly she turned on me.

“Dillan, what will we do now?” Her eyes were getting misty, her bottom lip quivering. “I love you, but my father...” She began to cry quietly.

Being the man was suddenly less powerful. I was supposed to make her feel better, but the same doubts had started swatting at my head. “We'll be all right, Taffy.” I helped her up, brushing the hair back from her face and the grit from her skirt, feeling more like a father than a lover. Taking her arm, I walked her out into the dawn. “They don't understand. And your father, well, I'll handle him.”

It was what I had to say, but Mother's voice was ringing in my ears.
Don't do it Dillan. God sees everything. Just pray for strength to fight the temptation.
And Da.
Sure it feels good boy, but you don't want to be saddled with no baby. Just keep your pants on.
I didn't want my father in my head. The water was sparkling in the sun; the wind was only a light breeze now. Rain made everything fresh, colours stronger. Looking down from the rocks, each stone and pebble was clear against the bottom of the harbour, magnified by light on water. We walked home, pretending. But the light made all the difference.

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I wished she was beside me now on this godforsaken prairie, walking this unfriendly street with her head high, saying fog off to all who had doubted. We'd made a mistake, but she didn't deserve what happened, her father cutting her loose, the filth of Halifax, being dead.

Suddenly the frozen ground came up to meet my face. I was a half-mile from home.

“You son of a bitch.”

The familiar voice froze my balls hard, fear making it hard to breathe. I waited for the boots to land.

“You think I don't know what Walter's done? Givin' you my land so I'm left with that piece of shit to the south. Won't grow nothing.”

Slowly I stood to face the man who'd beaten me senseless only months before. Gabe was less bulky now, the skin around his jaw slack, muscles all but gone. His filthy pants were tucked into high-top boots, and his stained coat had buttons missing. He glared at me. His narrowed eyes were like my Da's after a binge, glazed and drunk, his real self somewhere just beyond, eyes that could be slobbering in self-pity or beating you. Gabe stumbled closer and I stepped back.

“You think you're better than me? Like Walter, that bastard.” He swayed slightly.

“No.” I stopped. He didn't recognize me. “I'm just taking the piece he offered.” I shrugged like it was nothing. “There's no need of fighting here. I'm going home.”

“Yeah run away, you little prick.” Gabe laughed a short barking sound. “Like you did from your wife.”

“What?” My neck bristled. I turned slowly, fists clenched.

“Left her behind. Whole town's talking about it.”

“You don't know anything, you drunken ass.”

“Maybe I do and maybe I don't. All I know is you got the land meant for me, and you better watch your back.” Gabe staggered away, turning to shake a dirty finger in the air.

He was a liar like my father, saying anything to make himself bigger, making me feel small.
Gabe
was the bastard, stealing a woman's savings, threatening a girl. He'd beat the shit out of me but somehow managed to make me feel bad all over again, mentioning Taffy like he knew about my guilt. Maybe I got his land, but screw him. If I'd have told what he did, he wouldn't be farming at all. He'd be in jail. I didn't want to consider how that just made me a coward.

I was half froze by the time I got home to find Silas feeding Casey broth and biscuits with cheese. I'd asked Silas to watch the boy so's I could see Walter. Casey smiled through a mouthful of biscuit and waved his empty tin bowl at me.

“There's enough left here for you,” Silas said.

I sat down heavily. Casey was sweet. I loved him. But if I was honest, I was tired of him too, of trying to do everything for him and find money to live.
Just so tired.

“So you got your land then?” Silas asked.

“You ever hear anything about guys taking on a dollybird?”

“A little. Supposed to help them get set up for the wife and kids coming, or just help out if there's no woman around.” He laughed. “Heard of a guy left his wife where she was ‘cause he got to liking the dollybird better.”

“Walter's got one for me. Hell, I don't know if it's a good idea.”

“Well, have you found anyone willing to be your new wife?”

“Ha.”

“Then the dollybird is a good idea.”

I threw my hat on the floor beside the chair and ate some soup. For a while there was only slurping and chewing and Casey grunting as he forced a huge fart. Silas looked at him, laughter in his eyes.

“Do you think it's a sin?” I asked.

“Shittin' at the table?”

I couldn't help but laugh. “No, me taking a woman out there.”

“Suppose it depends on what you plan to do with her.” Silas raised his eyebrows.

“Nothing. But my mother, well, she'd say the temptation'd be too great. That it's a sin even to think about it.” I stuffed the last of the bread into my mouth. “So what happens if she's a looker, and I'm thinking about it all the time and can't do anything about it?”

“I guess you'll go to hell after dying from a hard-on.”

Silas was no help.

“Look,” he said, “If the only thing on your mind when you take her out there is her looking after Casey, how can it be a bad thing? If something happens after you get to know her, you'll have to make your peace with it then.” He stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth. “And you know, God isn't as pigheaded as some mothers can be.”

“Hey.”

“I'm just saying. There's a lot of sinning going on in the world. I don't think the Almighty has time to worry about what
might
happen.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “It'll be fine, Dillan. You gotta trust things will work out. Or you'll spend your whole life slopping someone else's hogs and hauling someone else's shit, thinking you're safe but wishing you were somewhere the hell else.”

“I don't even know her name.”

“The only thing that matters is she's good to Casey.”

Casey had fallen asleep in his chair. He looked up through hooded eyes, smiling at the mention of his name, and drifted away again. I reached to hold him, wanting to hold him through the rest of the winter, to feed cows, dump piss-pots and hold Casey until spring, until we could go home.