Outcasts of River Falls (20 page)

When the small building started to rock, Kathryn knew she had no choice. Taking a deep breath, she burst out of the door and ran for the stream, remembering too late that grizzlies hunted salmon in rivers and it was a nice day for paddling.

The sound of raucous laughter made her stop. She turned to see JP doubled over with hysterics.

“You should see your face!” he howled, clutching his sides.

Kathryn felt the heat in her cheeks. “You rat, JP!
Come here and we’ll see how my fist looks in
your
face!”
She dashed after him, determined to drown him like a ro
dent in a gunny sack!

He ran behind a large pine, dodging her flailing fists as he deftly leapt onto a log that extended into the river. Not about to be foiled, Kathryn rushed forward, hoping to send the annoying boy flying into the stream.

She miscalculated her momentum, and too late realized
she couldn’t stop. The impact sent them both arcing gracefully, even artfully, into the frigid water.

The shock made her gasp. “I can’t breathe!” she squeaked.

He slapped her on the back, a little too hard she thought, which freed her paralysed lungs and she sucked in a huge lungful of air.

Struggling with her soggy skirt, Kathryn dragged herself out of the water and sat with a squish. “You idiot! What were you thinking? You scare me half to death and then you try to drown me!”

JP retrieved his bright red hat from the safety of the branch where he’d stowed it and placed it on his head. “For the record, it was
you
who tried to drown me.” He adjusted his chapeau a quarter inch to the left. “Thinking about it, I guess I did need a bath.” Satisfied, he came to sit beside her.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” She shook her blouse to release the water, acutely aware of the way it clung to her and caused the chemise underneath to be seen plainly through the now transparent white cotton.

“I came to borrow the promised book. If I remember rightly, that was part of our deal.” There was a challenge in his eye.

“And you couldn’t have come to the door like a normal human being?” She squeezed her braid, draining more water.

“I did! Didn’t you hear me scratching?” He was positively gleeful.

This was too much. Kathryn pulled back her fist and socked him on the arm – hard.

“Ow!” He grabbed his shoulder. “That’s my old war wound. Bit of shrapnel from the Crimea.”

She snorted. “You’re holding up well for your age.”

They sat in mutual silence until pitiful won out and Kathryn relented. “Fine, truce. You can have the book.” There was a detail from a while ago that still bothered her and this annoying boy may be able to help. “JP,
you once
told me you knew things about all your subjects, is that true?”

“Verily, I say unto you, I know enough to get more than one of our fine citizens in some rather hot water.”

She pursed her lips. “Can you tell me, if a man keeps his knife on his left side, is he right- or left-handed?”

JP jumped to his feet, brandishing a stout branch. “If one must deal with evil foes, one should carry a sword and be prepared to use it at a moment’s notice. If one is right handed, he would carry his blade thus...” He slid the tree limb into his belt on the left side.

Claude had had his knife on the
right
side – so he
was
left handed! She clapped her hands, sensing victory.

“But...”
JP paused for effect. “If one carries a knife, one carries it on the side one is most adept with. If you are wrong-handed, you carry it on the left, which always leads to frustration as knives and their sheaths are set up for right-handed folks, which most are.”

This was not what she wanted to hear. This would mean Claude was right-handed...unless it was a ruse. Had Claude deliberately worn his knife on the opposite side to throw pursuers off with misinformation? That would be very devious and clever, and though she could believe Claude was devious, it was a stretch to consider him clever.

“And now, fair maiden, about my book...”

She came back from her wool gathering. “JP, it’s
my
book; don’t forget that I need it back.” It was going with her when she left. “But I think a knight of your renown can be trusted. Come on, I’ll show you what I have.”

They walked, joking and teasing each other, back to the cabin, where Aunt Belle was now busily hammering inside Nellie’s lean-to.

“She’s making a coop for April, May and June,” Kathryn said excitedly.

JP’s face was a study in bewilderment.

“We have three new chickens and I named them so we could keep track of who was whom,” she explained.

He dusted his wonderful hat, then replacing it, tipped the brim to a jaunty angle. “So will you eat them in order of the months they were named after?”

Kathryn took a swat at him which he easily avoided. “They’ll be ‘egg only’ fowl, thank you very much.”

After she’d changed out of her damp clothes, they spent the next hour discussing the merits of each book, until finally, her visitor chose the very one Kathryn was going to read next. It was on her ‘Personal Favourite List’ and considering what was going on in River Falls at the moment, she had thought to re-read it to refresh her memory on heroes of yore.

“I might have known.” She gave him her copy of
The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood of Great Renown in Nottinghamshire.

JP hefted the large volume. “This should keep me going for a while. It weighs a ton!”

“The weight is not important, it’s the content.” Kathryn sniffed derisively.

He opened the book to the last page. “With 987 pages, it’s
heavy
on content!” He continued to eye her other books greedily. “And can I have that one next?” He indicated her cherished copy of
Ivanhoe
.

This one she wouldn’t part with. It had been the last book her father had given her and she’d been saving it, waiting until the time was right. She had yet to start and wanted to be the first to read it. “Let’s see how you do with the one you have.”

Kathryn watched as JP left, waving and laughing as he swept her a gallant bow before disappearing into the trees. She wondered how long it would take him to finish a book the size of
The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood.
Surely, long enough that she would have the money for her train fare home which meant she’d have to retrieve the book before she left.

She’d been giving it thought, and wondered if she could get a position as a clerk in a store for a short period; or perhaps, Aunt Belle could teach her some sewing tricks. Unfortunately, any of these ideas required extremely long hours for very little pay. The prospect of staying over the winter was terrifying. There was no way she would be here for Christmas. Maybe she should say a prayer to Saint Jude, the patron saint of lost causes.

For the rest of the day, Kathryn wondered and worried on how she would come up with the money she’d need. There didn’t seem to be a solution and by the time they’d finished supper, she had a pounding headache.

“What’s wrong, Katydid?” Aunt Belle asked concerned.

“My head is throbbing. Maybe I’ll turn in early.” She really did feel awful.

“I have just the thing. You get ready for bed and I’ll bring you something that will help.”

Kathryn retired to her room and when her aunt came in with a bitter tasting draught, she made a face.

“It will help you sleep,” her aunt explained.

Kathryn couldn’t argue and downed the entire glass. Moments later, her eyelids felt so heavy, she blew out her light and fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning,
Kathryn was startled to see JP running up the path towards the cabin. Surely, he hadn’t read that book in one night! Now, that would be a mighty feat fit for a knight of the realm.

“I must speak to your aunt immediately.” JP said breathlessly.

“She’s still working on the hen pen.” Kathryn could tell by his face that something was terribly wrong.

They found Aunt Belle in the shed busily nailing down the last of the chicken wire.

“Have you heard the news, Mademoiselle Belle?” JP asked as soon as her aunt put down the hammer.

Belle pulled off her work gloves. “What news?”

“Kokum sent me to deliver this.” The young man re
moved
his hat then withdrew a piece of paper tucked inside. “Last
night, the bank was robbed and the guard stabbed and killed. Blake and Edward Meltzer, he’s the murdered man, were guarding a payroll for the Crowsnest Coal Mine, over seventy thousand dollars, when they were attacked. It was the biggest payroll the bank had ever had.”
JP took a deep breath before going on. “Blake says it was the Highwayman
and he’s organized a posse to hunt him down.”

Aunt Belle read the notice. “This is not true! Murderer? Bank robber? All lies! What proof do they have?”

“Everyone knows the
Bandit de Grand Chemin
carries a knife with a fancy ivory hilt. It was that knife that killed the guard. Constable Dung says he wrestled it away from the Highwayman before he was knocked out.” JP shook his head.

Kathryn took the paper from her aunt and read it. It was a wanted poster, like they used to put up in the wild west back when Wyatt Earp and Billy the Kid roamed the range.

$5,000 Reward

Paid for the capture of the

Murderer and Bank Robber

known as

The Highwayman

DEAD OR ALIVE

Union Bank, Hopeful, Alberta

Dead or Alive! Kathryn re-read the notice. Could they do this? Was this legal, even out here in no man’s land?

“Kokum said she truly hopes the Highwayman knows that he’s being hunted and that he’s gone to ground and stays hidden.” JP smoothed the raven feather on his hat. “Do you have any message for her?”

“Tell her...” Aunt Belle shot a quick look at Kathryn. “Tell her I’ll come by for tea later.”
Without another word, she gathered her tools and returned to the cabin.

“She’s very upset.” Kathryn watched her aunt retreat.

“Everyone in River Falls knows The Highwayman is no murderer, nor did he rob the bank, and they’ll swear to it. That won’t stop the white man from hanging him for it anyway. He’s convenient and with that price on his head, he won’t last long.” The disgust in JP’s voice was unmistakable.

“That is a lot of money and they have the knife.” Kathryn was mesmerized by the paper with all those zeros.

“Trumped-up evidence. There are lots of knives with ivory grips around.”
JP was defiant even though they both knew this wasn’t true. He struck the side of the shed with his fist. “This makes me so angry. We can’t fight the white man. Constable Dung loves a good funeral, and this one’s going to top his list.”

“If he’s a constable, then he’s supposed to arrest the suspects so they can have a fair trial.” Kathryn protested.

JP scoffed. “It depends on what colour your skin is. The whites want to stop anyone who helps the Road Allowance People. The bankers and fine city fathers, who complain our Highwayman is a thorn in their sides, now have him pegged for murder and robbery – and Dung has provided them with the evidence to justify the rope. Plus they’re dangling a fortune in reward money.”

Kathryn had to think. “None of this makes sense, JP. Why would the Highwayman commit murder? Every other time he’s pulled off a...” she didn’t want to say
crime,
“transgression, he went out of his way not to use violence. Now, he does this terrible thing knowing he’d be hunted forever. How can he continue to help the Métis if he’s running from the law? It would be like poking a hornet’s nest. And the knife – if the Highwayman knocked out Constable Dung, why would he leave it behind?” She paced up and down. “And isn’t it a bit convenient that Cyrus Blake is the only witness left since the poor guard ended up dead? The Highwayman guilty...impossible! Aunt Belle will have to warn him tonight.”

JP raised his brows.
“Your aunt will have to warn him tonight?”

Kathryn realized she’d let slip a detail better kept
to herself. Fortunately, JP was not about to run to the
authorities with any information that would help capture the Highwayman. He could be a valuable ally if she took him into her confidence.

“JP, I believe Aunt Belle is in contact with the Highwayman. I’ve seen her leave the cabin at night with a red-shrouded lantern and the next day, some injustice against the Métis has mysteriously been righted. I can’t think it’s a coincidence.”

“Talk like that could be dangerous,
mon amie.”

Kathryn lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid of Constable Dung.”

“I didn’t mean for you.” JP made a subtle hand movement indicating the cabin. “You should
fermes ta bouche
about such things.”

It may have been meant as a warning, but it sure sounded like an insult to her. He was so infuriating. “I must go to my aunt.” She left the lean-to without another word.