Outcasts of River Falls (17 page)

Chapter 13

Truth
Lies
and
Licorice

The bell over the door to the Apothecary Shop jangled violently as Kathryn stormed in. She grumbled scathing retorts to herself as she surveyed the orderly store for the penny candy display case. Taking her time, she inspected the rows of sweet treats, and finally, the tempting confections worked their magic. Her anger eased, and she marvelled at what any girl knowledgeable in the best delicious delights would have to rate as a first class selection.

She’d brought a small amount of coin with her, remnants from her train ride which seemed a million years ago now. As she searched the jars of available treats it occurred
to her that she might not be served. A quick peek at her re
flection in a wall mirror and she realised there would be no problem. Her smartly styled navy and white dress, in an expensive fabric, bespoke upper class. Plus her pale complexion and blonde hair, gathered at the nape with the grosgrain ribbon her aunt had given her, assured that she did indeed, look a young lady of acceptable lineage.

Spotting the pharmacist, Kathryn cleared her throat politely. “Excuse me, sir.”

The proprietor dropped his pestle into a salve he was compounding. “What can I do for you, miss?”

“How much are your licorice sticks?”

“Penny each. It’s a
penny
candy counter.”

His tone was friendly and Kathryn relaxed. “May I ask why you have a candy counter in a chemist’s shop?”

He walked over to the display and pulled a piece of the vile root her aunt loved out of its jar, offering it to her. “Why, everyone knows a little sugar is the best medicine for most ills. I haven’t seen you before. Is your family new to town?”

Kathryn thought of what had happened in the mer
cantile. “Yes. We live...” She motioned vaguely in an un
known direction. “Over there.”

At that moment, the bell tinkled again and Kathryn turned, expecting her aunt, instead, she was captured by mesmerizing grey eyes.

“Hello again, Just Plain Kathryn.”

“Good afternoon, Mark. How nice to see you.” She touched a strand of hair that had come loose while she’d been doing her raging.

“Here for a sweet treat?” He nodded at the licorice stick she held.

“Actually, this is for...” Kathryn hesitated, and then opted for the easy way out. “Yes, yes, that’s right. It’s mine.”

Mark reached into his vest pocket. “Please allow me.” He flipped the pharmacist a bright copper penny.

“Why, thank you. How gallant.” Elated, Kathryn giggled. She’d never been bought candy before and even though it was technically for Aunt Belle, she would record receiving this piece of loathsome confection as a life first.

“Not that you need any sweetening up,” he added.

Mark shuffled his feet and Kathryn took this as an
other very good sign. He was as nervous as she.

“Well, go ahead...”

“Go ahead...?” She smiled coyly, hoping to hide her confusion.

“Go ahead and have a chew. Don’t wait on ceremony with me. I know how much you ladies like your candy.”

Kathryn’s smile faded as her stomach gurgled. Mark continued to wait expectantly. She suppressed a shudder and tentatively nibbled on the end of the dried root. “Mmmmm.”

He watched her with pleasure.

Kathryn continued to gnaw on the tough twig, saliva pooling in her mouth as she felt her gorge rise and her lower regions rumble. What was it about this accursed stuff that made her body react so violently?

The cause didn’t matter; the effect did. She had to leave, before something unforgettable happened, something of the mortifying type of unforgettable.

“I’d love to stay and chat, regretfully I must dash. I hope to see you again soon.” Holding up the disgusting stick, she forced another fractured smile. “And thank you for this. It’s so...yummy,” she lied brightly. Turning, she fled the store.

Once safely outside, Kathryn breathed a sigh of relief
as she spit into the dirt, trying to rid her mouth of the ob
noxious taste. She’d had enough of Hopeful’s excitement for one day and decided to wait for her aunt at the Phaeton.

Walking down the boardwalk, she spied Aunt Belle across the street also on her way back to Nellie and the
buggy. Kathryn was about to call out when, as her aunt en
tered the alley, she abruptly stopped.

Squinting, Kathryn wondered what the problem was and then she saw him. There in the shadows, Constable Cyrus Blake stood with his horse, waiting. He was like a nasty troll hiding under a bridge.

Fearful, Kathryn hurriedly crossed the rutted road to
ward what she knew would turn into a bad altercation. She rushed down the wooden walk but before she could make it to the lane, Kathryn caught sight of Mark exiting the apothecary’s. She certainly didn’t want him coming to her assistance. She felt terrible as the true reason for this became clear.

Kathryn didn’t want to have to explain why she was
defending a road allowance woman. She pretended to ex
amine the hats in a milliner’s window, praying Mark would not come over to continue their visit. With relief, she followed his reflection in the glass as he walked away in the opposite direction.

Apprehension made her heart beat faster as Kathryn willed herself forward, toward the alley and the shrouded shadows where at this very second, her aunt could be in terrible peril, but she found she couldn’t move. Fear of what was waiting and, she shivered,
who
was waiting with her aunt had turned her feet to stone.

There was also something else; something she didn’t want to acknowledge and Kathryn pushed it from her mind.

Her imagination painted a dire picture of Aunt Belle facing down that thug alone. Kathryn put herself in the same situation, cornered and in need of help, then forced herself onward. The earth spun slower on its axis and her steps crawled though she knew every second counted.

Constable Blake’s back was to Kathryn as she stepped into the gloom. Pausing, she listened to what was transpiring between her aunt and the troll. It was not going well and she desperately wished some daring champion would materialise right now. The Highwayman immediately came to mind and she glanced over her shoulder, but the sunny street was deserted. No masked salvation would be riding in on a dark horse.

“You must have a lot of time on your hands out there alone in the woods. I could mosey by and keep you company. I know where you live...” Blake’s tone was insinuating and insulting. “And now that you have that pretty little girl living with you, it would be worth my while to pay you both a visit, kinda two for the price of one.”

Kathryn held her breath. She knew her aunt used good common sense and infinite patience in her dealings with the citizenry of Hopeful; however, Blake and his outrageous disrespect coupled with the unmistakable threats to both of them was something else entirely.

Heart thumping, Kathryn took a hesitant step deeper into the alley. Blake’s hulking form made a tempting target and she wished she had a weapon. A large gun perhaps, but her hands were shaking so badly, maybe a stout club where aim wasn’t such a big factor would be better.

Belle’s voice was strong when she answered. “I get along fine, especially now that Claude Remy is back from his trap lines. You remember Claude. He’s a big man with the short temper.”

Blake laughed out loud. “I’m not worried about that buck.”

He moved closer and from her vantage point, Kathryn saw her aunt forced further into the alley, a stack of large
wooden crates blocking the scene from watchful eyes. Fi
nally, Aunt Belle was backed against the wall, literally.

Blake stretched out his arms, pressing the bricks on ei
ther side of Aunt Belle and blocking any escape.

“Maybe we should get better acquainted right now and I can meet your niece later.”

Kathryn didn’t know what to do. Paralyzed, she wondered if anyone would actually help her if she called out or would they think another half-breed was simply getting what she deserved.

At that second, Aunt Belle slipped under the arm of the constable and out of his grasp. She reached into a small paper bag; then, as fast as lightning, she pulled her fist out, stepped forward, and blew a black dust into the muzzle of Blake’s horse.

Immediately, the animal sneezed, reared up on its hind legs and whinnied loudly. Blake grabbed for the reins. Straining, he struggled to stay on his feet as the horse pulled and bucked violently.

A large man brushed past Kathryn, running to help the constable.

“What’s going on here, Cyrus?” Sergeant Prentiss demanded.

“Nothin,’ Sergeant. My horse don’t like the smell of this half-breed is all.”

The sergeant’s voice was like flint. “Then I suggest you take your finicky horse someplace else. You’re late for work and my supper’s waiting. Better get to it.”

Relief freeing her, Kathryn hurried after the Sergeant. She felt sick at not coming to Aunt Belle’s rescue. And what if it had been the other way around? Kathryn could never imagine Belle Tourond being afraid to help anyone in trouble. “Are you hurt?” she asked in a small voice.

Aunt Belle shook her head, smiling tremulously. “I’ll be fine, thanks to Sergeant Prentiss.”

“I’m sorry about this, Belle. Cyrus is a mite hotheaded,” the sergeant explained.

“Cyrus is an idiot!” Belle retorted, stiffening her spine and standing tall.

Yet Kathryn could see that her aunt was slightly un
steady on her feet. “Aunt Belle, we should go home and have a hot cup of tea.”

Her aunt gratefully agreed. “I think that sounds wonderful.”

“This is your niece, Belle? I wondered who was delivering those dresses, but this young lady raced out of the barracks before I had a chance to ask.” Sergeant Prentiss looked puzzled. “I didn’t realize you had any kin.”

“My brother from down east, he passed away recently and his daughter Kathryn has come to live with me.”

The sergeant tipped his Stetson at Kathryn. “Welcome to Hopeful, miss. Your aunt is one fine seamstress. My wife’s got a mighty long list of frocks she’ll be ordering from Belle so I expect you’ll be making more deliveries in the future.” He straightened. “And speaking of work, I’d best get back and make sure my constable’s there. Again, I apologise for Cyrus’ behaviour.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Ladies.”

The late afternoon ride back
to River Falls was a quiet one. Ripples of shimmering heat rose from the hot prairie and the air had a wonderful warm grass smell that Kathryn was beginning to find quite intoxicating. Her aunt, stoic as ever, sat tall and proud as she drove the little Phaeton home; even Nellie sensed something was amiss and was on her best behaviour.

As she stared at the passing fields, Kathryn went over and over the encounter with Blake. She refused to think of what the nasty brute might have done to her aunt. How terrible to have to worry about being attacked by the very person charged with protecting you! It outraged Kathryn but in the light of her new understanding of the Métis situation, she knew it was futile. Some Clara Brett Barton she was. Defender of the weak? Advocate for the helpless? Hardly! The first time she was put to the test, she had failed – and failed spectacularly.

It was then Kathryn remembered the other troubling thought that had slowed her steps and she cringed at the memory. The stark truth was she simply hadn’t been able to face more grinding abuse of any kind. The dreadful session with the bigoted tyrant at the Carter Academy, then
the incident on the boardwalk with the arrogant city fa
thers and the infuriating session with the ignorant purple prune in the mercantile had drained her to the point of breaking. Given the chance, she’d happily shove a few of these ignorant peasants into the castle moat.

It had also made her understand why her father had to get away from this. It was impossible to rise above the water if your head was always being held under.

How did the other Road Allowance Métis deal with this day after day and stay so happy? They did indeed need a champion.

And at that instant, the Highwayman, who ever he may be, became Kathryn’s biggest hero, her noblest knight and staunchest defender of the less fortunate. He was more than all those put together and she cheered his exploits. The Highwayman was a hero in the truest sense of the word!