SWAINS LOCK (The River Trilogy, book 1) (28 page)

Cy leaned back with his eyes closed and
tried to visualize this segment of the canal. Like other boatmen,
he didn’t like being out on the Log Wall level at night.

“The light started coming up the hill toward
us,” Zimmerman said. “You could see it was getting brighter, moving
uphill and upstream at the same time. There was a glow that was
mostly steady, and then a brighter line that came and went, through
the trees. The glow and the line was both moving in our direction.
When the light was a hundred feet below us on the hillside, the
colors started to change. Green, then orange. Yellow. Red. Then
orange again.”

The lights staged their color progressions
behind Cy’s closed eyes, and Zimmerman paused briefly to catch his
breath. He rubbed a finger across the residual white powder on the
drawer, then drew the finger across his yellowed teeth. He inhaled
sharply through them before continuing.

“The night was warm, with only a little
breeze, but it suddenly felt very cold to me. My skin tightened
from the chill and my heart started to pound in my chest. The mules
was getting agitated now too, ‘cause they could see the flickering
light moving toward us through the woods. It was close enough now.
I started to walk faster and tried to keep the mules pulling. My
lead mule was getting spooked, so I walked in front of her to talk
her down. Trying to get her eyes back on the towpath. She must of
decided it was better not to look, ‘cause she started pulling
straight again. And the second mule, he followed her lead.

“I got back beside them and turned toward
the woods. My heart shot into my throat and I tried to scream, but
I couldn’t make a sound. The glow and the bright line was right on
us now, only twenty feet away in the trees. Moving upstream through
the woods, alongside us. It was a person. A girl, probably about my
own age, fifteen or sixteen, and she was glowing green from head to
foot! I swear, there was green and gold sparks raining from her
hair. She turned to look at me and I could see her blue glowing
eyes. My heart was pounding faster than I ever felt before. Then my
skin froze, ‘cause I saw her walk right through a thick tree as she
tracked us upstream. Like a ghost. Then she passed through another
tree, still looking right at me, and she started to turn orange.
The sparks from her hair were changing color, too, turning red. She
smiled at me and I could see her teeth.

“I closed my eyes ‘cause I was too afraid to
look anymore. Then I was too afraid not to look, so I opened my
eyes again. And she was still walking fast through the trees, but
she had turned back downhill. Moving upstream but back down into
the woods and away from us. I watched as she became a bright line
again, then the line disappeared and there was just a glow. And
then the glow faded below the rim of the hillside and it was dark
again.

“I kept driving that night, on up to Six
Locks, where we switched teams and I come on board. My daddy sent
one of the older hands out to drive the next trick. I never
mentioned it to him or the other hands and they never said anything
about it to me. My daddy was steering and they was sleeping when it
happened, and I don’t think anyone else saw it. To this day I don’t
know what it was, or whether I imagined the girl. But when she
smiled I heard her whisper she would come again to kill me, and I
knowed that night that I was done with the canal.”

Cy opened his eyes, looked at Zimmerman, and
yawned. The heroin was warming his chest, legs, and bones, and
Zimmerman’s story was part of a mosaic unfolding around him. “How
much for the rest?”

Zimmerman peered into the vial. “It’s half
an ounce,” he said softly. “Twenty.”

Cy pulled out his roll of bills and counted.
He peeled off two singles and handed Zimmerman the rest of the
roll. Zimmerman passed him the vial and he put it in his pocket.
They pushed themselves up from the straw tick and started for the
stairs. There would be a reckoning of sorts with the Emorys, Cy
figured, but that was for tomorrow. What was left of tonight was
free of worry, pain, and fear. He followed Zimmerman up the cellar
stairs.

Chapter 22
Swains Lock

Saturday, March 29, 1924

It was after 8:30 on Saturday morning when
Cy’s feet found the floor. Habit guided him to the simple wooden
dresser in his lockhouse bedroom at Swains, where he was relieved
to see his stash of bills. He must have remembered to bring it
upstairs from the kitchen jar last night after returning from Great
Falls. With Pete and Katie around, valuable things needed to be
kept out of sight. Leafing through, he counted fifty-six dollars.
He hobbled over to the chair where he’d thrown last night’s clothes
and withdrew the contents of his coat pockets. Only an empty
tasting flask, two more dollars, and the remainder of Zimmerman’s
vial, which he held up to the light to measure with his eyes. He
opened a dresser drawer and hid the vial inside his pair of clean
socks.

Standing in his underwear, he looked out the
room’s lone window and considered the events of the previous night.
Shit. He’d sold seven pints and then been up in the poker game for
most of the evening – up over ten dollars at one point. His
winnings had evaporated as the game wound down. And in the ensuing
session with Zimmerman, the rest of his money had purchased an
ephemeral reprieve from his pain. So now he had fifty-eight dollars
and owed the Emorys seventy-five. They were half-assed boaters, and
if they’d reached Widewater from Georgetown yesterday, it would
still take them two hours to get through the locks at Great Falls
and cover the distance to Swains. So he still had a little
time.

He looked out the window at the driveway and
the canoe rack beyond it. Pete was playing in the driveway,
spinning the pedals of an upside-down bicycle with his hands. If Cy
was lucky, he thought, he might be able to sell a few pints of
whiskey this morning at Great Falls, but that wouldn’t come close
to yielding the seventeen dollars he needed. It would be a bad idea
to stiff the Emorys on the first run of the season. If he did, his
business with them was finished and there might be more serious
consequences to follow. There were one or two people in the area
who might lend him some money, but none he could tap on such short
notice.

It was a weekend, so the Inn at Great Falls
Tavern would be busy. And within the next hour or so, tourists in
cars would start arriving to visit the Falls. If only he had
something he could sell. What about Katie? Was there a bracelet or
necklace she wouldn’t miss right away? He doubted that she’d
brought anything nice with her from Williamsport. That leaf-pendant
with the strange symbol was a possibility, but she never seemed to
take it off. He noticed that Pete had turned the bicycle right-side
up and was trying to mount it, but his legs weren’t long enough. Cy
snapped out of his musing when he realized he was staring at the
solution. Pete didn’t own a bicycle and neither did anyone else at
Swains. The bicycle was obviously built for an adult. Where had it
come from? That didn’t matter. He dressed hurriedly and limped
downstairs.

Peering into the kitchen, Cy saw Katie
clearing the table. She and Pete usually ate breakfast before he
came downstairs. He put the thought of food aside and slipped out
the front door, headed for the driveway. Pete was kneeling next to
the upside-down bicycle and spinning the front wheel by its spokes.
He looked up when he saw Cy approach.

“I found a bicycle!” His face lit up.

“So I see,” Cy said solemnly. “Where was
it?”

Pete pointed to the canoe rack. “Over
there,” he said. “Leaning against the rack.”

Cy observed with satisfaction that the
bicycle looked almost new. “Pete, that belongs to a grown-up,” he
said. “It ain’t suitable for a kid.”

Pete’s face fell. “I know,” he said softly.
“But I can almost ride it. When I’m bigger…”

“Pete, that bicycle needs to be returned to
its rightful owner. And I know who that is. A friend of mine. I’m
sure he’ll be very happy you found it for him.”

“But then why did he leave it here?”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to leave it here,”
Cy said, putting a hand on the wheel to stop it from spinning. “It
must have been a mistake.” He lifted Pete to his feet and smiled.
“When I take it back to my friend, I bet he might even offer a
reward to the person that found it.”

Pete looked up at Cy but his smile
collapsed.

“So I’m going to tell my friend that you’re
the one who found his bicycle,” Cy said. He righted it and put his
hands on the handlebars. “I’m going to take it to him right now, so
he don’t have to worry about his missing bicycle.” He started
wheeling it across the driveway with Pete following reluctantly. Cy
stopped and bent to address his brother. “Now Pete, I need you to
help Katie keep an eye on the lock. Tell her I’ll be back in an
hour or two, and if anyone comes looking for me, have her tell ‘em
to wait here until I get back. I won’t be long. OK?”

Pete tried to look his brother in the eyes
but his gaze drifted down to rest on the bicycle instead. “OK,” he
mumbled.

Cy wheeled the bike to the lock gates and
carried it across to the towpath, where he mounted it tentatively
and began pedaling toward Great Falls.

***

After hearing the front door close, Katie
looked out the kitchen window and saw Cy circling around to the
driveway. A bit earlier she’d seen Pete excitedly pull the bicycle
out from behind the canoe rack and upend it. She dried the dishes
and swept the kitchen floor. When she was finished she stepped
outside and saw Pete wandering back toward the old green canoe that
was tied-up on the berm. The morning air was still cool and sharp,
but clear skies promised another mild spring day. Cy was nowhere to
be seen and the bicycle had vanished along with him. The morning
was progressing as she expected.

At 9:30 she peered down the canal at an
approaching scow. As it drew closer she could see it wasn’t the
Emorys. It was a repair scow headed upstream, the third of the
morning. When the scow reached Swains, she and Pete helped the crew
lock through. Katie asked them where they were heading and they
said they were going up to Seneca to do maintenance work on Dam 2.
They said the repairs were mostly done around Great Falls, and all
the snow and ice had melted up to Cumberland during last week’s
thaw. So the canal was still supposed to open on April first. That
was Tuesday. Katie asked the scow’s captain if there were more
repair crews following them and he said they were the last one. He
tipped his cap in thanks as his mules pulled the boat out of the
lock. When the scow receded upstream, Katie asked Pete to help her
reset the lock for another light boat.

“But they said they was the last boat,” Pete
said.

“They said they was the last repair boat,”
Katie said. “I think there might be a private boat coming up from
Great Falls sometime soon.” Pete enjoyed turning the lock-keys and
pushing the swing beams, so he didn’t question Katie further and
they reset the lock.

As Pete wandered back over to his moored
canoe, Katie stood on the lock wall and peered hard down the
stretch of canal that was visible from Swains before the waterway
bent out of sight on its way to Great Falls. She couldn’t see a
boat but reason told her it wouldn’t be long before the Emory’s
scow emerged in the distance. She went inside and found an empty
canvas bag in the closet. From the wallet in her purse, she culled
a dollar and two dimes. She headed back out to the driveway and
called Pete over.

“Pete, I need you to run an important errand
for me and Cy,” she said, handing him the canvas bag, the dollar,
and the dimes. “We need some more bread for tomorrow and Monday,
and you and Cy will want a loaf when you start boating on Tuesday.”
Pete was staring at the money in his hand. He was often given
coins, but he wasn’t used to receiving a whole dollar bill. “I need
you to head up to the Crossroads Store at River and Falls,” Katie
continued, “and buy us two loaves of fresh bread. Do you know where
that is?”

Pete nodded and she smiled. “Good.” Getting
to the store only required turning right at the end of the long
Swains driveway and following River Road, but the Falls Road
intersection was over two miles away. And Katie knew he would have
to wait for the day’s second batch of loaves once he arrived, so
the errand would keep him busy until mid-afternoon.

“If there’s a little money left over,” she
said, “you can buy yourself an ice cream.” Pete’s expression
brightened at the notion: ice cream before it was even summer! His
hand closed carefully around the bill and coins. “Take your time
and don’t hurry,” Katie said. “Make sure the bread is still warm
from the oven.”

Pete slung the bag over his shoulder. She
watched him disappear around a driveway bend before going back
inside. In the kitchen she cut and removed four pieces of cornbread
from a pan, then sliced them into top and bottom halves. She pulled
down a jar of strawberry preserves from a nearby shelf. Staring at
her arm holding the jar, she felt a wave of dissolution break over
her, and the arm was no longer her own. Her sense of who and where
she was withdrew, advanced, and ebbed.

She left the kitchen and climbed the stairs
to Cy’s bedroom. The tiny closet was empty except for his canvas
bag. She turned to the dresser and pressed her thumbs into the
bundled socks she found in the top drawer. When she unrolled them,
the glass vial slid from the innermost sock into her hands. She
eyed the white powder inside, nodding in recognition.

The lone window in the bedroom provided a
view of the canal downstream. Holding the vial in her fist, she
crossed to it and gazed down the waterway. No boat was approaching
yet, but the course that had been charted was beyond her power to
change. Its first steps led back downstairs to the kitchen.