Wishful Seeing (17 page)

“Caroline!” he called suddenly in a harsh voice. “I don't know what you have in that satchel, but you can't keep it safe all by yourself. Open the door now!” It was much the same voice he had used with the dog. It had much the same effect. The door opened a crack.

“Do you know who I am?” Thaddeus asked.

“You're the preacher who talked the most and won,” she said.

It was an unflattering summation of his performance at The Great Debate, but at least she remembered him. “That's right,” he said. “Your mother sent me to get you. Come on.”

He turned and walked back to the buggy, as if there were no question that Caroline would do exactly as she was told. He motioned Martha to follow. He climbed up and took the reins, but before Martha could claim her seat, Caroline emerged from the cabin, clutching the leather satchel she had rescued.

“Wait,” she said. Then she walked over to them, a scowl on her face. “What about Digger?”

“He can come, too.”

She whistled, and the dog leaped into the back of the cart, with only a growl or two directed at the recumbent James Small.

“Digger, go sit,” Thaddeus said. The dog subsided and Caroline climbed in beside him.

“How do you do that?” Martha asked.

“It's just a matter of using the right tone of voice,” Thaddeus said as he flicked the reins. “Maybe you should practise on James.”

 

 

Small refused to be taken into Sully and insisted that he was recovered enough to ride all the way to Cobourg. Thaddeus wasn't so sure, since his assistant hadn't noticed yet that his horse was missing, but then he decided that Small was a grown man and could make his own choices. Besides, returning to Cobourg was infinitely more convenient for everyone else. And having managed to get Caroline Howell into the cart, Thaddeus was determined not to let her out of it until Ashby had a chance to talk to her. Unfortunately, they were now badly overloaded, and Thaddeus could only hope that the horse was up to the challenge of pulling them such a distance.

The dog growled and barked as they reached the end of the laneway, but fell silent again when they were hailed by the same old man Thaddeus had encountered on his first visit to the Howell farm.

“Why, it's the preacher!” the old man said. “You travel this road nearly as much as I do.”

“You go by often?” Thaddeus asked.

“Near every day.”

“I wonder if you could do something for me? There's a poor old bossy at the Howells' that's been left on its own. Could you or one of the neighbours see to her? I'd do it myself, but I've got an injured man to get home.”

He turned to gesture at James Small, and realized that Caroline was nowhere to be seen. She couldn't have jumped out, he decided, or the dog would have gone with her.

“I'd be happy to look after it,” the old man said, his eyes flicking over the dog. “There's no one at the farm? To look after the livestock, I mean?”

“There's not much livestock — only the cow and a few chickens,” Thaddeus said. “I don't know whether there's anybody there or not. I just know that the cow needs to be milked and I didn't have time to do it.”

The man nodded. “Don't worry, I'll see to it.”

“Thank you. What's your name, sir, in case we meet again?”

The man hesitated for a moment before he replied. “Dafoe. Albert Dafoe.”

Palmers and Plews and Dafoes.
That family always was thick as thieves, according to Patience Gordon. Someone had been watching the Howell farm after all.

Thaddeus nodded at the man and drove on.

As soon as they left him behind, Martha said, “You can come out now, Caroline.”

Thaddeus glanced back to see the girl emerge from under the seat of the buggy. She had crawled in behind Small and pulled the satchel after her, dragging one of the quilts over her so she couldn't be seen. She offered no explanation, just plunked the satchel down beside the dog and sat on it again.

It was a long, slow drive home. Small, in spite of his bravado, moaned loudly whenever the wheels went over a nasty rut in the road, which was often. On the steeper slopes, everyone but Small had to climb out of the cart and walk while Thaddeus led the horse to the top. Once or twice Martha ventured a remark in Caroline's general direction, but there was never a response other than a nod of the head, and after a while she gave up. That was fine with Thaddeus. He didn't want to discuss what had happened when he didn't know how closely Small was listening.

The sun had already set when they turned into the manse laneway. Martha jumped down and ran next door to the Smalls to get some help in getting James to his own house. She returned with his mother and two of his brothers, the boys lifting James bodily out of the cart while his mother clucked and fussed around him. Caroline had still not moved from her place on the satchel.

Martha held out her hand. “Are you hungry? I am. Let's go find something to eat.”

Caroline ignored the outstretched hand, but she stood up and grabbed the satchel, whistled for Digger, then climbed down to follow Martha into the kitchen. Thaddeus was hungry, too, but his meal would have to wait. He had still to return the horse and cart to the stable, and he needed to find Ashby to bring him up to date on the events of the day. He took the tired horse back to the livery, then walked to the Globe Hotel. The smell of spirits and strong tobacco struck him as soon as he walked in. Every head turned in his direction and he was suddenly aware of his rumpled coat and the mud on his boots.

He found Ashby settled in a comfortable chair, with a glass of brandy in one hand and a cigar in the other, chatting with two similarly supplied gentlemen. Ashby, ever polite, rose as soon as he saw Thaddeus and gestured toward the chair.

“Mr. Lewis! What a pleasure. Do sit down.”

“Thank you, no. It's been an interesting day.”

“Our little pigeon has flown into the net?”

“Yes,” Thaddeus said, “but she could fly right out again at a moment's notice. You should come first thing in the morning.”

“I can come right now if you like.”

“No. It's been a long day. She's tired and hungry. A good night's sleep will do her a world of good. Tomorrow will be better. I promised you'd take her to see her mother.”

Ashby's eyes slid sideways to the two men he had been sitting with. He downed his drink and stubbed out his cigar. “Gentlemen.” He nodded at them. “Come, Mr. Lewis, I'll walk you to the door.”

They stepped out into the night. As quickly as he could, Thaddeus related what had happened at the Howell farm.

“I'm sure George Howell was there,” he said at the end of it.

“I see. And are you planning to do anything with that information?”

“I don't think so. I didn't see him myself. I only heard that he might be there. There was some evidence that he might have been, but I have no idea where he is now, so what good would it do?”

Ashby nodded. “Did you talk to the girl?”

“No. I figured that was better left to you. Besides, I was a little busy.”

“Fair enough,” Ashby said. “I think it wise if we keep her whereabouts as private as possible for the moment, don't you?”

“I don't intend to tell anyone,” Thaddeus said, “but several people know — my assistant and his family, for example.” He also wasn't sure whether or not the old man had seen Caroline before she scooted under the seat.

“Ah, yes, the unfortunate Mr. Small.”

“Mind you, he may not remember it. He's been a little odd since he got hit on the head. Even so, I don't see how we can keep it secret for long.”

“All I need is time to question her before it occurs to the constable that she might have something to say.”

“I expect we can manage to keep her hidden until tomorrow morning,” Thaddeus said. “Oh … and when you come into the house, keep an eye out for the dog. He's a bit aggressive, but Caroline wouldn't have come without him.”

As predicted, Ashby's knock the next morning set off a frantic round of barking from Digger. Martha ordered the dog to go and sit, and she was surprised when he obeyed her. He seemed to have accepted that she and Thaddeus posed no danger to Caroline, but he continued to growl and mutter at anyone else he saw.

“She's in the kitchen,” Martha said when she answered the door. “It might be friendlier if you talked to her there. Follow me.”

Caroline was just finishing her second helping of toast. She'd already devoured a bowl of porridge and several glasses of milk. She seemed half-starved, an impression that wasn't helped by the fact that she had nearly grown out of the dress she wore. Her wrists stuck out far past the cuffs, and the skirt was too short, even for a twelve year old. The dress was filthy, as well, and torn from the cave-in.
I'll have to find her something else as soon as I can,
Martha thought.
She looks like a ragamuffin.

Ashby parked himself across the table from the girl, but pointedly refrained from looking at her. “Is there tea?” he asked.

“Of course. Would you like breakfast as well?” Martha asked.

“Couldn't eat another morsel,” he replied. “The Globe's food isn't a patch on yours, but they are generous with the servings.” He took a long time over his mug, slowly stirring in sugar and dribbling in milk. He seemed tired, Martha thought, his usual polish worn a little thin. The harsh morning light that streamed through the windows emphasized the dark shadows under his eyes.

Caroline regarded him warily as she chewed the last crusts of her toast.

Finally, Ashby turned to her and spoke. “Do you know where your mother is, Caroline?”

“In gaol.”

“Do you know why?”

Her face was stubborn. “Papa said not to talk to anybody about that.”

“I understand that,” Ashby said. “Did Mr. Lewis tell you why I'm here?”

“To help Mama.”

Having evidently decided that Ashby was no threat at present, Digger flopped down in the corner by the stove. He stared at them all for a moment, and then, just slightly, wagged his tail before he laid his head on his paws and closed his eyes.

“That's a nice dog you've got there,” Ashby remarked.

“He looks after me.”

“And you look after him, too. Mr. Lewis told me you rescued him yesterday.”

She nodded. “Mr. Lewis helped. And the other man, too. And Martha.”

“We're all here to help, Caroline. Why don't you tell me what happened and I'll figure out what I can do to sort it out.”

“Papa said not to.”

“Do you know what a barrister is?”

She shook her head.

“That's what I am. I'm somebody who tries to help people in trouble. But do you know what's really great about being a barrister? When people tell me things, I don't have to tell anyone else. Barristers are really good at keeping secrets.”

Caroline's eyes slid over to Martha and Thaddeus.

“And nobody else has to hear, either.”

“Even if somebody did something wrong?”

“Especially if somebody did something wrong. I can't figure out how to help until I know what happened.”

“Papa said don't talk to anybody.”

Ashby gave up, rather soon in Martha's opinion. “You're a good girl, Caroline, to do what your Papa said. Let's go see what your Mama says, all right? Are you finished with your breakfast?”

She nodded, but looked at Thaddeus, a question in her eyes.

“Would you like me to go with you and Mr. Ashby?” he asked. “I can wait outside while you see your mother, and then I can bring you back here to Martha. Would that be all right?”

She nodded again and slid off the chair to retrieve the shoes she had left at the back door.

Martha wasn't at all pleased at the notion of being left alone with the dog, but Digger seemed reasonably content to sit by the stove after Caroline had commanded him to stay. His eyes followed Martha as she cleared the breakfast dishes and carried them to the sink. There was a burnt bit of toast on one of the plates, and she was about to dispose of it when she realized that Digger had probably not been fed since the previous day. Most dogs lived on scraps, but if Caroline's half-starved appearance was anything to go by, it was unlikely that there had been many scraps in the Howell household. She rummaged in the pantry, looking for something that she could feed the dog that wouldn't be missed by the household. There wasn't much, but she tore a slice of bread into bits and doused it with milk. It was enough to satisfy the dog's hunger for now, she figured, but surely she could find something that would make it a little more palatable. She did have a small barrel of oysters she'd bought at a good price. She could spoon up a few of them for Digger, she decided, along with a few spoonfuls of the oily liquid they sat in.

She set the dish down in front of the dog. He wagged his tail and looked up at her. “It's all right boy, go ahead, eat.”

He devoured it all before she had time to fill a bowl of water for him. He drank deeply, sighed, then turned around four or five times before he settled himself once again by the stove.

Martha washed the dishes, then sponged down the dress she'd worn the day before. It was in a sorry state, covered in dust, wrinkled, and torn along the hem. She'd let it dry, then mend and iron it. She really should sprinkle it with salt and set it to soak, but she still had to look at the passenger lists Ashby wanted her to go through. The trial would begin in a couple of days, and he would need the information as soon as Martha could provide it. She found some paper and a pen and spread the ledgers out on the dining room table, where she would have plenty of room.

The writing in them varied from spidery copperplate to an almost illegible scrawl, long columns marching down the pages. Martha found that she could scan the lists more quickly if she used her finger to scroll down them. She found George Howell's name on the third page of the first ledger she looked at. As she continued to work, she realized that there were several other names that recurred with regularity. Ashby hadn't instructed her to do so, but she began making a note of these names as well as their destinations, just in case the information should prove useful.

She set the work aside when the clock neared eleven. Her eyes were tired and it was time to start cooking their noonday dinner. When she went into the kitchen, Digger jumped up and scratched at the back door, but she didn't dare let him out.

Ten minutes later, Thaddeus and Caroline came in. Digger jumped and spun with joy at Caroline's return, his tail wagging furiously.

“Maybe you should take him out to the backyard,” Martha said to her. “He's been inside all morning. I'll call you when dinner's ready.”

She nodded and led the dog outside.

“I'd like to head off right after I eat,” Thaddeus said. “I need to cover as many meetings as I can before the trial starts. James couldn't have picked a worse time to get himself injured.”

“What will you do if he's not able to take over when the trial starts?” she asked.

“The lay ministers will have to fill in. They've done it before, they can do it again. Will you be all right here with Caroline if I don't come back tonight?”