by James Walker
Hanging from a branch was a round object, bright white with a halo of light around it. Wispy streamers wafted away from the core, dancing about as the breeze struck them through the leaves. I was mesmerized by the floating orb. It looked like a piece of cloud that had caught in the trees. I also wondered what all the hullabaloo was about. Why was everyone so disconcerted by such an object of beauty? I turned to ask my Uncle that very question, but it died on my lips when I saw his expression.
He had taken off his hat and stuck it on his cane, which he leaned against the trunk of the tree. Using both hands, he shielded his eyes from the sun’s glare. He slowly lowered his eyes and then his shoulders sagged and his face grew long.
“Is it empty?” He barked out, without looking up.
“No”
“Please bring it down”, still not looking up, he grabbed his hat and cane and turned to walk a few steps away.
I was surprised that my uncle would risk one of his men so cavalierly. The branches that led to the orb were much thinner than the one the man stood on. When I really looked, the object was actually in the next tree, a large pine.
Without hesitation, the man swung himself around the trunk and inched out towards his goal. When it was obvious that the branch had thinned too much to bear his weight, he simply whipped off his belt and used it to catch the top of the tree and draw it near. Putting the belt end between his teeth, he took hold of the bundle with one hand and used the knife to cut it free. As soon as he had it, he began to clamber down the tree, cradling the white bundle in his arm.
I stepped back to join my uncle and gave Frank room to jump down. He was more than halfway now. “Do you know what that is?” I asked.
He looked down at me with sad eyes, “I fear it is swaddling, Frohman.”
I had little time to process that statement as the man jumped down from the lowest branch, landing lightly on his feet. He held the bundle out in both arms towards my Uncle like he was offering a sacrifice in a pagan ceremony.
If I were going to put this scene in a play, Frank, was exactly who I would cast in the role. He was medium sized with dark eyes, jet black hair, and dark weathered skin. He wasn’t a negro -- as his hair was straight, nor was he Spanish, European, or Asian. I realized he was must be an Indian.
Uncle Will looked around and spied a flat boulder, about waist high, to our left and pointed with his cane. Frank took the bundle over and laid it gently, almost reverently, on the flat top. Uncle Will stepped over to it and the other men gathered around in a loose circle. Up close, I saw it was a white cloth, wound around something that was still hidden in the folds. The wispy tendrils I saw floating in the wind were tattered ends, like you would find on a flag that had flown in the elements for a long while. Leaning his cane against the rock, William gently tugged at the folds of cloth until he revealed a sight that made my heart leap into my throat.
Nestled deep within the cloth, was the tiny round face of a baby. Or at least, what was once a child. The face was nearly black from exposure, the eyes squeezed tightly shut, tiny nose sunken in, and the mouth was stretched wide open over rotting gums in a rictus of pain. I could feel that muffin I just ate flip over in my stomach.
Uncle Will looked sick at first, but he kept his composure as he turned to Ollie, standing next to him. “Send someone to the house. Use the telephone to call the Chief Inspector and ask him to come as quickly as possible.” In a quieter voice he added, “Not Andrew. He needs time to get his breath back.”
Ollie nodded and looked around. He fixed his look on a younger, lanky man. “Go, Matt. Ask for Chief Inspector Rowan and tell him Mr. Gillette needs him here.”
Matt didn’t look happy with the assignment, but he handed his shovel to the man next to him and started towards the path back to the castle, until William called to him.
“Matt, please tell Inspector Rowan that there has been a murder and ask him to bring the doctor if he is availible.”
“New doc or the old?” Matt asked in return.
“Dr. Blum. He is still the medical examiner for the county, if I am not mistaken.”
Without another word, Matt turned and headed down the path and was quickly out of sight. Uncle Will said nothing more for the moment; he just stared up at the tree-top with a pensive air about him. I took a look around the circle of men, who were waiting for my Uncle to speak again and then I asked the question that was on everyone’s mind.
“Murder? Where do you get murder from?” Trying not to sound callous, I added, “Babies get abandoned all the time, Uncle Will.”
“Not on my property, they certainly do not!” He snapped, irritated. Then he gave me a half smile to take the sting out of his tone. “Besides, the Inspector needs a little incentive from time to time.” Before I could ask, he added. “I want the doctor to see the child before we disturb the scene any further.”
That made sense. If the doctor determined the child was already dead before it was put in the tree…well…it was just a piss poor way to treat the deceased, but leaving a live baby would be a different story altogether. That led to my next question.
“How the hell did it get up in that tree anyways?” I addressed the question to my Uncle, but I looked around at all the men. They either shook their heads or mumbled thier ignorance. Uncle Will looked to his foreman.
Ollie shook his head sadly. “I haven’t the foggiest, Mr. Gillette. I doubt we would have even seen it, since our line runs that way.” He pointed in a direction that ran about thirty yards perpendicularly to the tree the where child floated. “Frank found it.”
Everyone turned to look at Frank, who had drifted away from the circle and found a seat on a fallen tree. He got up and walked back over. Without preamble, he said, “We cut a tree down over there this morning.” He pointed to a spot about five yards before the cleared path ended. The stump was still visible. “There was a Magpie nest in it and I saw many of these cotton threads woven into it. These birds will use whatever they can find in the area to build their nests and I wondered how they came across cotton threads when no one ever came out here. The nearest people are those at the castle and that is too far for a magpie to rummage.” he shrugged. “When Mr. Ollie told us to take a break, I took a look around and found the cloth high in the tree.”
“Do you have a theory how the babe was placed there?” William asked.
Frank shook his head. “I have thought hard about it but can see no way. But I have not searched the area. This much I know-anyone big enough to carry that weight to the top of the tree could not get through the branches-and they wouldn’t support them if they did. I suppose they could have put it there the same way as I took it down, but I keep asking myself why?” He smiled slyly, “Except that white men are crazy!”
Some of the men acted as if they didn’t like the remark, though it had the feel of an old joke amongst them to me. No one took offence, at least. Frank certainly had respect with the crew. Frank looked sadly at the bundle and then he spoke, “I didn’t know what it was until I climbed the tree next to it. At first, when I saw it blocking the sun with its ghostly tatters, I thought it was one of the tree spirits like my grandmother used to tell me stories about when I was young.
William nodded sagely. “Perhaps it was a spirit that led you to the child.”
“Perhaps” was the only reply he got.
I had no desire to see this turn into a revival, so I asked the questions. “So, setting aside how the child got up there for now, just where did the person who brought it come from? Why leave a baby out in the middle of this God-forsaken wilderness? I mean not to be crude, but why not just sink it in the river? That’s just a few hundred yards from here.”
William gave me a long look and replied. “The last question will have to wait for more data, but I believe we can look into the first two, while we await the authorities.”
He turned to Frank, “If you would please do me the service of looking for any sign of where our abandoners came from?”
Frank shrugged, “
Sure. There’s really only one way they could have come from.” Without further ado, he headed across the cleared path and towards the river.
“Why only one direction?” I asked my Uncle as the Indian headed down the slope.
William stepped up next to me and pointed with his cane to the densely wooded area between his castle and the main road off in the distance.
“This whole area is thick with briars and prickers.” He saw the confusion on my face and explained. “Prickers are what the locals call low growing vines that sport long razor- sharp thorns. Think of them as angry brambles. There are acres out there that would rip a man to shreds if he tried to cross them.”
He stepped in front of me and pointed to a direction that was mostly in line with the cleared path. “Approximately fifty yards in that direction is a large chasm that is too big to cross. That leaves only access from the river or my home-and I assure that was not the route.” William turned to his foreman. “Ollie, you may take the men back. I fear work is done for the day. By the time the police have come and gone, I doubt there will be time to resume.” He looked over to his crew and announced. “You may all have the rest of the day off.” The men looked a bit disappointed, until he added, “With pay-of course.”
The men thanked him in a jumbled chorus, some even adding condolences. They wasted no time getting their things and before you could blink, my Uncle and I were alone.
He looked around for a minute then declared, “We will begin to investigate your first question while we wait for Frank and or the Inspector. Whoever comes first!” With that, he started over to the tree the child was found in. I followed behind and was even more confused as I stood at the base of the pine and looked up. I could barely see the remainder of the cloth which was attached to a high branch. Uncle Will started to walk around the tree slowly, fighting his way through the thick foliage. He stopped when he reached the opposite side and scanned the area around him. He looked my way and waved me over to join him.
Strangely, the branches on the back of the tree were not nearly as full as the side we came up on. It was like the Christmas tree that you put close to a wall. From about halfway up the tree, the branches were sparse and broken. Only the smaller limbs and new growth remained. There was even some scarring on the trunk itself. In fact, the area looked as if an angry giant had stomped his way through here, leaving crushed brush and a huge tree toppled. Uncle Will bent over to examine the felled tree and looked back at the object of our attention. He stood and nodded to me in a satisfied way as he headed back to where we left the child. There is your first question answered, young Frohman. We can make a reasonable deduction as to how the babe was placed so high in the tree.”
“Come again?” I challenged him.
He stopped and looked at me as if I were a dolt. Then a light seemed to go off in his head and he smiled. “Ah! You would not know about the snow. That’s what made it all possible.”
“What snow? What does snow have to do with anything?” I was afraid the discovery was starting to unhinge him a bit.
He continued walking through the foliage and I followed him until we came to the rock where we left the child. “Six weeks ago, we had a freak nor’easter come through here and it dumped almost a foot of snow. Fortunately, the weather began to warm up shortly afterwards and the thick blanket disappeared within a week. Think about what you observed back there and add the factoring weight of wet snow and I am sure the solution will reveal itself to you.”
I mulled it over a moment and disagreed. “Um…no it won’t.”
He laughed and shook his head. “So like your father! You see all the parts, yet you refuse to put them together. In any case,” he went on before I could object, “I think I hear Frank coming. Now we shall get the answer to your second question. Where did the culprits come from?”
A little miffed, I said petulantly, “What makes you think he found anything? Snow or no snow!”
“Frank is a full-blooded Mohegan. He belongs to a local tribe that makes their home in a town up the road called Uncasville. The town was named for their chief.
“Frank is also one of the best trackers around. Someone once told me that ‘Frank can track a fly back to where it hatched’. He will know something. He has never failed me in the past.”
I had to grin when a thought popped into my head. “So, what is he? One of your Baker Street Irregulars?”
William laughed at that. “Hardly, but it’s good to have a competent woodsman around when you live out in the country.”
Frank suddenly appeared in the cleared path and he walked directly over to William. Handing him a fist sized round stone with red markings, he said, “One man. Came by boat. Slow in, fast out.”
I guess I was expecting more, but my Uncle was satisfied. Still, I had to pipe up. “That’s it? What the hell does that mean?”
Frank swiveled his head to give me a flinty stare, but Uncle Will just ignored my outburst.
He crossed his hands over his chest and raised one hand to tap a finger against his lips slowly. Finally, he said, “January tenth was the storm, so he must have left the child sometime between the eleventh and the thirteenth or fourteenth.”
Frank grinned from ear to ear. “Excellent, Mr. Gillette. You know about the tree.” He laughed, “We’ll make an Indian tracker of you yet.”
Now I was just getting frustrated with these two and their crazy talk. “How could he tell all that if there was snow on the ground and what is going on with the tree?” I demanded of my Uncle.
William just sighed heavily and addressed Frank. “If you would care to explain the first, I will handle the second part.”
Frank shrugged and said, “There was keel paint on the river rocks a few feet from shore where he grounded the boat. Then I found boot prints in the mud along the bank and marks on a tree where he tied up. Two parallel groves, horizontal. Probably from ropes for a light anchor around the trunk. Nearby, a few feet into the river, there were two sets of prints; solid even prints towards the land and messy and uneven coming back. Thus, a boat landed here, and one man carried the child to the tree and returned empty-handed.”
That shut me up and Uncle Will put another stitch in my lip. “As for the tree and how the child ended up at the top- Remember I told you we had a fierce Nor’easter. The strong winds must have toppled that elm tree at an angle that landed it on the pine. The pine is slender and more supple, so, it bent under the weight of the elm until its top was close to the ground. The snow and freezing temperatures kept the elm in place- until the rapid thaw. Then it slid down the trunk, tearing off the lower branches, allowing the pine to straighten up and raise the child skyward.”
I kept my mouth shut as they discussed what type of boat it could be. Uncle Will was estimating the draft from how close to the shore the rock was found.
“I believe we should be on the lookout for something between twenty and thirty feet. Engine, not sail, I should think. A small working boat with substantial weight.”
“Why’s that?” I blurted.
The angle of the paint marks. Frank said it came straight into shore. There were high winds all that week and it would have been near impossible to tack in on a sail boat. Then there would be the ice factor.”
“Ice?”
“Of course. Though we had a mild winter the only time the river was safe to traverse was during the holiday season however there was still a thick sheath of ice built up along the shoreline. A vessel would have to be sturdy and heavy, to break through the ice and scrape along the river bed.” With that, he tossed me the rock Frank had handed to him.
I looked at it carefully and he was right. There was no mistaking the sheen of marine paint. I had seen plenty of it, scraping barnacles and repainting the bottom of boats under my Grandfather’s critical eye. It was thick and ground into the smooth surface of the rock, so I had to believe Uncle Will was on the right track.
“Well,” I mused, “If it was a working boat, I would guess it was a fisherman.
That means…”
“Nothing!” my Uncle cut me off. “Idle speculation without data will only lead to erroneous conclusions! Kindly limit your observations to facts Collin!”
His tone alone was rude enough to start a bar fight and talking down to me like I was a child still rankled me. I had to grit my teeth, so as to not stick my tongue out at him.
‘La di da!’ I thought to myself. Though I had seen glimpses of this side of him, years ago, I didn’t realize just how obnoxious he could be when he was in this mode. Just to be petulant, I was about to crack wise, but again, he cut me off.
“Please, Frohman. Spare me the inane conversation and let me think! I want to have the facts in order before the authorities arrive!”
Frank took his former seat on the fallen tree and said nothing. Miffed, I stomped over to a nearby stump and took a seat, fuming at being rebuffed.
In a kinder tone, William called out softly. “Don’t pout, Frohman. It’s unbecoming in a business tycoon.” The corners of his lips twitched, and then he went back to his silent contemplation.
7
After a few minutes, I cooled off and settled in for the wait. I glanced over at Frank, but he looked to be in a trance deeper than my Uncle’s. In my mind, I could see someone grounding his boat on the shore then carrying the babe up the path. I could envision a shadowy figure, struggling through the deep snow and howling winds to thrust the child into snow covered branches. I could follow Uncle Will’s explanation of how the pine tree righted itself and carried the bundle aloft. What I could not grasp was why.
Why come out all this way to nowhere to tie a baby to a tree branch? I jumped up to tell William what had occurred, but he wasn’t in his place. I looked around and the Indian was gone too. I heard rustling in the trees and my eyes went upwards to see Frank back in the branches and climbing like a squirrel. Uncle Will was at the base of the tree watching, and I had the feeling I was lagging sadly behind.
“I suppose you sent him up to check out the knot?”
