Outcasts of River Falls (23 page)

Kathryn sank to her knees, rocking back and forth. If she’d been a minute earlier.... If she’d shouted.... Her heart ached at the thought of Aunt Belle in that monster’s clutches. This was a nightmare and she felt terrified as Blake’s deadly threat rang in her ears. Could it happen? Would they hang Aunt Belle? In this savage land, anything was possible.

There was no sign of her hero. He had escaped – to where she could only guess. If she were the Highwayman, she’d hide until she could form a battle plan to get both him and Aunt Belle out of danger. The logical place Claude Remy would choose was that secret cabin of his. The problem was Kathryn had no idea where that was or how to find it.

Chapter 17

Who
Fights
the
Battle
Now?

The sun was struggling over the horizon as Kathryn stumbled down the road toward Kokum’s house. She needed help and the wise elder, as leader of the community, was the logical one to take charge. Kokum would have to gather all the people of River Falls then go save Aunt Belle from the hangman’s noose. Kathryn knew there was strength in numbers.

Her mind flashed to her aunt languishing in that cell, completely at the mercy of that twisted constable and she
shuddered. Something had to be done and quickly. She be
lieved Blake’s threat of hanging was real.

An article she’d read recently in one of Aunt Belle’s newspapers crept into her brain. It had reported the execution of Black Jack Ketchum, a notorious member of the Hole in the Wall Gang, and how when they’d hanged him, something had gone wrong and he’d been decapitated. His head had
been pulled right off his body. Kathryn’s flesh crawled.

At the old woman’s cabin, JP sat morosely tossing pebbles into the dirt. “Is Kokum here?” she asked anxiously.

“Oui.
Inside.” He answered without looking up.

Kathryn hesitated. JP appeared miserable to her, even the jaunty black feather in his hat hung loosely. Whatever the problem, she had no time for it now. Quickly moving past him to the door, she knocked, and then barged in. The elder was sitting in a chair near the window, embroidering.

“Kokum, something terrible has happened....” She went over the events of the night before. The frail old woman turned deathly white and Kathryn was afraid she was having a heart attack. “JP! Get Kokum some tea,
now!”
The authority in her voice must have alerted the young man to the urgency of the situation as he hurried into the cabin, saw the elder, and hastened to bring the healing draught.

When the hasty tea was finished, Kathryn continued. “Constable Blake is behind the bank robbery, I’m sure of it. The Highwayman is simply a convenient scapegoat. Now he’s saying Aunt Belle was an accomplice. We must gather everyone and go to the barracks to save her.”

Kokum slowly shook her head and Kathryn saw a hundred years of sadness written on her ancient face. “My child, that is not our way. If we interfere it will lead to more bloodshed. The white man will do what he wants and we cannot stop him. Demanding the impossible will only bring more trouble down on us.”

Kathryn stared, speechless. This was not the response she had expected from the feisty elder. “Didn’t you hear me? Blake threatened to hang Aunt Belle!
Hang her!
You are the leader of River Falls. If we stand together, we can be a voice
that will be heard. They can’t ignore all of us and we can
demand a fair trial for Aunt Belle. We must do this, Kokum.”

The old woman’s resignation was something Kathryn could not and would not accept. She straightened, feeling
older and more sure of herself than ever in her life. “I be
lieve in the Rule of Law, for everyone. There shouldn’t be one set of laws for the whites and another for us. I don’t want to be treated as some sort of leper, shunned as though I were unclean. You docilely accept this terrible way of life as though it were normal. You live in tarpaper shacks that can be burned down at any moment; your children can barely read or write because they can’t go to some ridiculous
whites only
school; you allow yourselves to be cheated and robbed, young girls attacked, all so you don’t
bring more trouble down on yourselves!
Well, I’ve got news for you, Kokum. It’s already here! And I for one am not willing to let those jackals tear Aunt Belle apart!”

Kathryn left without another word. She was furious. Kokum was the matriarch of this community, but when it came time to fight for one of their own, she turned into a feeble, weak old woman afraid to face the storm.

JP followed her outside, still moping as though he’d lost his best friend. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, what’s wrong with you?” Kathryn demanded.

“How could you do it, Kathryn?”

Something in his tone made her stop in her tracks. “What are you talking about? Do what?”

“I saw you yesterday, with Mark Prentiss. You were kissing him.” He closed the distance between them. “Did you know Constable Dung is his uncle? Then last night, the Highwayman is almost caught in a trap, and you happened to be there. Isn’t it lucky that you were the only Métis not arrested? Did you go to gloat when the hero of the
Ditch People
was taken down?” He’d worked himself into an angry lather.

Kathryn’s mouth went dry. “Mark
Prentiss,
he’s the sergeant’s son?” What had she done? She’d told him all about the secret signal and that Aunt Belle was going to warn the Highwayman.

The rider who had hung back in the darkness, it had been Mark. She groaned. “Oh, no! This is all my fault. I told Mark about the signal because I thought he...” she faltered, “I thought he liked me. I trusted him.”

Then she remembered how he’d reacted when she’d told him that Belle Tourond was her aunt. His sudden cool attitude and his parting words how he was counting on meeting her again soon. He must have run straight to his uncle and told him everything.

JP stepped closer. “You come here, upset everyone with your, your...
books
, then you cut the heart out of our community. Do you have any idea how much the Highwayman meant to every Métis? It wasn’t simply the things he did to help our people; he was a symbol – one of hope, hope that we could change things, that it was possible to fight peaceably, without guns, and win. And now, thanks to you, that hope is gone.”

His cheeks were wet with tears now, and this was somehow worse than the anger. He walked away, leaving her numb. It was true. She was at fault. She hadn’t done it out of malice; no, it was way worse than that. She’d done it because she’d been foolish – utterly, recklessly foolish...over a boy.

And Kathryn realized that losing JP’s friendship meant much more to her than losing Mark Prentiss. This Métis boy was a true friend, a friend you could laugh with, tease, and talk about books with, someone who cared about you. And now she’d lost him.

She thought of her papa. If her father had caused something as catastrophic as this mess, Kathryn knew he wouldn’t lie down and accept defeat. Her father, who’d been so strong and brave, who had taught her justice and to stand up for what was right, he would wade valiantly into the fray.

But he was gone, forever, and so was her dear sweet mother. Gone, dead...a page turned in her mind, and she felt a hot tear squeeze out of the corner of her eye, then another.

It was as though a dam burst and she couldn’t stop it. Kathryn let the tears fall and as they did, her grief fell from her also. Along with it, the hidden anger at her parents for leaving her was washed away until all that remained was a sense of peace and acceptance. She had been loved and Kathryn would always have that to carry in her heart.

She wiped her sleeve across her snotty nose. If it took a battle to make this right, then she’d give them one. She would fight for Aunt Belle, the one person who loved her unconditionally. Kathryn was a Tourond, and she wasn’t going to give up so easily!

Kathryn’s fatigue was burned away
by her anger. She raced for Aunt Belle’s trying to come up with a plan as she went. The sun was up and that meant even tired constables would soon be at their work.

Taking the veranda stairs in one leap, Kathryn hurried inside the cabin and then stopped, trying to order her thoughts. What to do first? She looked down at her torn and dirty dress and the smallest of smiles appeared on her lips as she recalled her aunt’s words from what seemed a lifetime ago. It seemed she again had on a frilly rig which wasn’t practical for the task at hand. She needed something more suitable. Kathryn went to the ladder leading to the loft.

She’d never been in Aunt Belle’s bedroom and immediately noticed the bed. The posts were four sturdy logs connected with wooden poles and rawhide interlacing formed the sleeping platform. On top of this was the mattress, if one could call it that – a canvas bag filled with fresh hay. Her quilt was made of patchwork unlike anything Kathryn had ever seen before. It was tiny diamond shapes cut from many different hides of various colours and textures, sewn together in an intricate mosaic that was stunning. A true piece of art.

Kathryn thought of her own bed, with a real mattress and feather duvet, which if she were to be honest, was more comfortable than her bed back at school. Why had Aunt Belle given her the smart iron bedstead with the nice mattress and kept this crude canvas bag for herself? There was a lot about her aunt that she didn’t understand.

Kathryn felt a little uncomfortable snooping through her aunt’s wardrobe but she wanted the denim jeans and coat she’d seen Aunt Belle wearing while riding so skilfully.

If the good townsfolk of Hopeful wanted to treat the Métis as outcasts, then she’d act like one, right down to the clothes she wore. The blue jeans and capote were strange attire for a woman. They were also much more practical, not to mention more comfortable, than a long dress and shawl.

Once she’d changed, she ran for the stable to tackle her second challenge – saddling old Nellie. As she struggled with the bridle and other horsey gear, her mind ran over the events of last night remembering the fabulous knife she’d seen the Highwayman wearing. If Constable Dung had a knife as proof, it was a fake. Claude still had his fancy antler carved weapon in his possession.

Kathryn was now positive Blake was lying and the rea
son had to be profit – seventy thousand dollars profit. The townspeople would want someone to pay and if two Ditch People were conveniently offered up, then silenced permanently, everyone would think justice was served and that the money had been buried in the bush, lost to the bankers. It would become part of the history of the town, then forgotten along with her aunt and the Highwayman. What a perfect plan!

So perfect, in fact, that Blake was sure to speed things up if he could.

She pulled on Nellie’s cinch one last time, then buckled it. Clambering into the saddle on the large horse was no mean feat in itself but finally seated, Katherine set out to talk to each and every Métis family in the district. She would convince them that together they could do something remarkable- they could save Aunt Belle.

Kathryn’s high spirits were soon tested as family after family said the same thing: they were barely scraping by now and they weren’t about to cause more trouble. They were all very sad that Belle had been caught up in this, but they’d known the miraculous boon of the Highwayman couldn’t last forever. Nothing good for the Métis ever lasted long.

By the time Kathryn finished her rounds, frustration had replaced her high spirits. The Métis had had years of hard lessons from life on the road allowances; still that was no excuse for abandoning Aunt Belle. She was one of their own and she needed them.

If it were left up to the Ditch People, her aunt would die. Kathryn had to stop that from happening by any means, fair or foul. She went over all she knew and kept coming back to one inescapable solution: Blake was the mastermind behind the robbery and murder, and it was up to Kathryn to set a trap for him before her aunt paid the price.

She needed to talk to Aunt Belle. With a nudge of her heels, Kathryn and Nellie started the long trip to Hopeful.