This was the limit for Kathryn. “It sounds very...educational, and messy...followed closely by disgusting.”
Her aunt laughed and Kathryn joined her. The very idea of it. Impossible!
Chapter 6
In Need of a Poisoned Apple
The next morning was glorious – sunny and warm. Kathryn and her aunt were up early, applying the smooth coat of clay to Kathryn’s room. They chatted about the dance, the people of River Falls, then fell into a companionable silence.
Again, Kathryn was very slow, while her aunt swooshed through her wall in record time. Then something surprising happened. Aunt Belle, instead of leaving Kathryn to slog on alone as she’d done with the straw mix, blithely and without a word set to work on the unfinished half of Kathryn’s wall.
“With this heat, we’ll be able to do the whitewashing later today; then you can officially move in. You’ll have a lovely room, Katydid.”
Kathryn didn’t say a word as her aunt picked up the clay buckets and took them outside.
Since her aunt was dealing with the bucket mess, Kathryn decided she would make tea and re-heat some bannock. After much poking and stoking, she got the fire going and had made tea by the time her aunt, who had gone to her tiny room to change, came down the ladder cradling a bundle in her arms.
“I finished these early this morning.” Aunt Belle set the pile of neatly folded dresses on the end of the table and sat for her tea. “Mrs. Prentice, she’s the Sergeant’s wife, wants them delivered today. It should take about twenty minutes to make it to the barracks.”
This puzzled Kathryn. Twenty minutes might take them to the train station, which was halfway to Hopeful – but she didn’t recall an army encampment there. “Are you talking about going to Hopeful?”
“Yes, of course, Katy. To the North West Mounted Police detachment office. Locals call it ‘the barracks’.” Her aunt explained.
“One of the ladies at the dance mentioned it was miles to town and would take an hour with a wagon.”
Her aunt had a devilish look in her eye. “The distance remains the same, but with a good horse and better buggy, I can shorten the time.”
This made no sense – but Kathryn was beginning to get used to her aunt talking in riddles. Running her fingertips over the soft material of the finely stitched dresses, she noted the superior craftsmanship. “This is how you make your living, you mend clothes?”
“Actually, I do more than mending. I design and tailor ladies dresses and I also do millinery work in a pinch. These are my creations.”
“You made these? They’re exquisite!” Kathryn was amazed at the intricate detailing on the bodices. She held up one of the dresses – carefully keeping it from her own muddy clothes – to inspect it more closely. “It’s flawless.” She set the frock back down on the table. “I can’t sew at all. The nuns tried to teach me, and discovered I have two left thumbs.” Kathryn wiggled her fingers to emphasize the point. “I think I’ll spend the day catching up on my reading.” Sir Giles was about to joust for his fair lady as unbeknownst to him, that cad, Sir Robert of Worsley, has rigged the contest with faulty lances! Kathryn could hardly wait to find out what happened next.
Aunt Belle pursed her lips. “Hmm, speaking of reading, that brings up a point. You need to continue with your studies. Do you have any school books with you?”
Kathryn had no intention of going to school anywhere except Toronto, and the next term didn’t start until September. By the time autumn rolled around, she’d be gone from River Falls. She was sure the good Sisters, with their hearts of soft gold, would take her back, and she’d worry about the tuition when that detail came up. Would it matter to them that she was Métis? Unfortunately, Sister Bernadette was a known blabbermouth, so she was sure this bit of tittle tattle was well known. Otherwise, she could pass like her father....
Kathryn thought about living that lie. Her whole life a fabrication – she couldn’t do it. Maybe she wasn’t as strong as her father. Besides, how could she become a lawyer like the indomitable Clara Brett Martin if the first thing she did was lie about her heritage?
“It’s too late in the year to enrol here. I’ll wait until the fall and we can discuss it then.” Kathryn didn’t actually care about what she was sure were inferior schools out here in this wasteland; still, she was a little curious. “What grades are offered at the River Falls School?”
“None, dear.” Aunt Belle shook her head. “We have no proper school. I was talking about home schooling.”
Kathryn raised an eyebrow. “Home schooling?” She wasn’t sure what form of academia was required to become a lawyer, but she was positive that sitting in a kitchen chair reviewing the multiplication tables would not be part of her scholarly studies! “Completely inadequate!”
“Well, that’s how we manage here.” Her aunt busied herself refolding the dress.
“Surely there’s a school in Hopeful?” Kathryn asked.
“Oh, yes. The Carter Academy; and from what I hear, it’s a fine one, quite fancy, with teachers boasting many qualifications and certificates.” Her aunt poured them both more tea. “Unfortunately, Katy, you have to put that out of your head. That’s not for us.”
The tone in her voice alerted Kathryn. “What do you mean, not for us?”
“Us, us – the Road Allowance People! We can’t go to a white school, dear.” She retrieved the plate of bannock from the oven and gave each of them a generous piece along with a dollop of rich, yellow butter.
Kathryn gaped at her aunt, hearing the words, and yet rejecting the meaning. It was crazy; it was ridiculous; it made her angry. “You’re saying I couldn’t go to school because of the colour of my skin!”
Her aunt glanced at her. “Well, not the actual colour dear, you’re as peaches-and-cream as they come...No, you wouldn’t be allowed because your father was Métis.”
This again! Kathryn was beginning to develop a new respect for her father. Despite his precarious position, passing for white in the world, he had always had a wide tolerance for all people. He had remembered that he was himself an outcast because of something he had no control over.
This was 1901, a new century with a new king, new ideas and possibilities and surely, new enlightenment. Not that she would attend, but what if some other child of River Falls wanted a life that was more than living on gophers and doing odd jobs? To be denied, well, anything because of one’s race. Impossible!
Aunt Belle’s sigh shouted resignation even though her voice was a whisper. “You can’t fight this, Katydid. Believe me, I’ve tried. It’s the way of the world, our world here in River Falls at least. I know our best hope for freedom is through education. It’s the key to giving our youngsters a brighter future – which is why we do the best we can with home schooling.” Belle pushed her plate of untouched bannock away.
Kathryn hated injustice. It positively cried out to be remedied and she, Kathryn Marie Tourond, had heard that cry and would take up the torch. She stood, shoving the chair back with a little too much energy. “I shall go clean up, then accompany you to town and we shall see about this school.”
With imagined pennants snapping in the breeze, Kathryn marched to the stove for the hot water she’d need to scour off her own coating of clay which had hardened to something resembling granite. She felt like a noble knight, cleansing his body and soul before riding into battle.
Scrubbed and shining with righteous fervour, Kathryn stepped outside onto the veranda, and stopped abruptly. “This is your usual transportation?”
Her aunt was sitting atop the most amazing contraption in the world. Unlike the heavy Red River cart, this sleek little four-wheeled carriage was lightly built, brightly painted, and looked agile and fun. Kathryn was enthralled at first sight. This must have been how Cinderella felt when she saw her golden coach.
Seeing the look on Kathryn’s face, Aunt Belle smiled conspiratorially. “I see you like her. This little green beauty is a Spider Phaeton and she’s fast. We’ll make it
to Hopeful in no time.”
Of this, Kathryn had no doubt.
Nellie was already hitched up and Aunt Belle was closing a narrow storage box fitted behind the passenger bench. “That’s the dresses all packed away. You ready to go?”
Her aunt had taken the precaution of fastening a long leather belt complete with buckle across the seat which she said would hold them in should they hit a hole or rock. Once they set off, Kathryn was very glad for the safety strap.
The ride was wild! They flew down the road, the horse forgetting it was ready for the glue factory, and instead, speeding the small carriage at amazing velocity through the countryside.
Several times, they came upon other horses, buggies or wagons, which quickly pulled out of the way when they saw who was barrelling down on them at that lightning pace. Her aunt would wave and call greetings that were swept away on the wind as they sped past.
It was outrageous behaviour; completely unladylike...and Kathryn loved it!
When they arrived at the Mounted Police detachment, in an impossibly short span of time, Kathryn was breathless, her hair hanging down from its pins and her clothing in disarray.
“She’s something, isn’t she?” Aunt Belle’s face glowed.
Kathryn was unwilling to admit how exhilarating the ride had been.
“Someday there will be laws governing the speed at which you can travel down a public road, Aunt Belle, and you shall have to reign in your penchant for foolhardy driving.” Kathryn was the tiniest bit disturbed at how much her words sounded like they’d come straight from Sister Bernadette’s reproving repertoire.
“Well, until they do, we’re in for some high times, Katydid!”
Unfastening the safety belt that had held them secure in the careening buggy, her aunt jumped down, then retrieved the dresses from the seat box and took them into the log building marked simply ‘n.w.m.p.’.
Giving her surroundings a critical and judgmental eye, Kathryn decided Hopeful wasn’t exactly a bustling metropolis. Perhaps a better moniker for this backwater whistle-stop would have been Hopeless, considering the packed dirt streets and hitching posts she saw. And from the ample evidence left on the dusty thoroughfare, she could see the hitching posts were a necessity.
On the other hand, it did seem to be quite a mercantile centre if the number of stores lining both sides of the street was any indication. As she watched, a man in a dingy brown uniform crossed the road and came in her direction. Kathryn’s pulse sped up. He was tough and rank, mean and nasty and very familiar. She held her breath. It was Constable Blake.
As he passed, she noticed again the mutilated stub of an ear on the side of his head. Kokum’s words came back to her. This man had shot Gabriel Ducharme down in cold blood. In Toronto, that would make him a murderer; here he was a respected member of the North West Mounted Police. In the dark, Kathryn had not noticed his shabby uniform, nor how in need of repair it was. One of the brass buttons was missing and the left pocket had torn, then been badly stitched together.
Wanting to avoid any further contact, she studiously inspected her fingernails, noting the need for a manicure. Blake continued past her and into the detachment office.
Studying the street, Kathryn noticed as another man, young and tall, strode down the wooden boardwalk swaggering a little, which added an air of confidence. He was dressed rather smartly in a checked shirt and gabardine trousers. There was something about him that was undeniably attractive and, best of all, he was coming straight toward her!
Mindful of the frantic ride, Kathryn hastily pinned her hair back into a semblance of tidiness and straightened her clothes. As they were going to the Carter Academy, she’d chosen her attire with care. She wore a tailored black bombazine skirt with a fitted blouse in a lovely sage green. The blouse had a stiff collar with a lace insert circling her neckline and Kathryn felt she was the height of Eastern sophistication.
As this Galahad moved closer, his face broke into a grin that positively lit his chiselled features. Kathryn smiled primly back, her lashes fluttering only the merest bit. She noticed the light grey of his eyes and the dimples that bracketed his wonderful mouth.
“Beautiful!” The young man pronounced as he stood beside the carriage.
Kathryn blushed at the brashness of this stranger, although she enjoyed the flattery. “Why, thank you, sir,” she replied coquettishly, the smile on her face blossoming. She was about to introduce herself when he reached out and patted the tall wheel of the phaeton.
“When I get some money scraped together, I’m getting me one of these rides.” He whistled softly, and then nodded at Kathryn before going into the office. “Ma’am.”
Kathryn’s face flamed as realization of the true object of his admiration became obvious. “Well, of all the insolent, rude, forward...” she cursed, trying to cover her embarrassment. He must think her vain, indeed, behaving like a smitten schoolgirl. She was mortified and prayed her aunt would finish her business and they could leave before he reappeared.
The instant Aunt Belle climbed back into the wagon, Kathryn handed her the reins. “Next stop, the Carter Academy?” she inquired hastily. Any place would do as long as it was away from here. She never wanted to run into that insolent knave again.
At the mention of the Academy, Aunt Belle’s face filled with sadness. “Katy, dear one, I think we should skip the school. Let’s go home for a nice cup of tea.”
“Nonsense. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” Kathryn reached over and gave the reins a shake of encouragement. Nellie tossed her head, still in coltish mode from their wild ride, and cantered off down the street.
The Carter Academy was very modern. It was two stories and painted a dignified grey with white trim. There were tall mullioned windows, and a shiny brass bell hung in a covered alcove. On each end of the building were doors marked Girls and Boys, which seemed overly formal for this rustic town and better suited to a large city school.
Pulling the carriage to a stop, Belle jumped down and bent to inspect the horse’s hoof. “I think Nellie picked up a stone. Give me a couple of minutes while I fix her up and I’ll go in with you.” She rummaged in the seat box for a hoof pick to remove the rock.
As Kathryn prepared herself for being turned away because she was Métis, her mixed blood started to boil. Impatience overcame prudence as she strode to the front entrance and walked in the glass doors with the gold lettering proclaiming Carter Academy, No Peddlers.
She marched past a polished wooden bench flanked by large aspidistra plants and headed straight for the office marked Head Mistress. Knocking politely, Kathryn waited to be admitted.
An austere woman opened the tall, imposing door. “May I help you?”
Kathryn’s bravado shrivelled as the woman assessed her over half-rimmed spectacles perched on a hawk-like nose.
“I would like to attend your institution and have come to enrol.” Her voice sounded weak, so she straightened her spine and forced herself to meet the woman’s chilly scrutiny.
Taken aback, the teacher hesitated; but, having approved Kathryn’s stylish outfit and well-bred demeanour, swung the door wide. “I’m Miss Weaver, Headmistress of this institution. Come in and we can discuss this matter in a more appropriate venue.”
Kathryn did her best to sound mature and ladylike during the enrolment interview, which was what she imagined a police interrogation must be like. When asked about her academic background, she held her head up a fraction higher. “My marks from Our Lady of Mercy Academy for Young Ladies in Toronto have always been exemplary and I am confident that I can pass the entrance exam for your school.”
This confidence must have been interpreted as a challenge to the Headmistress, whose lips pinched tightly together – much like Sister Bernadette’s when she caught you running in the hall or enjoying your dessert a little too much.
“We’ll see about that.” She went to an ornate oak filing cabinet and retrieved a sheaf of papers. “It so happens that I have a free period. A
s you feel so confident, we could get this part of the process out of the way immediately.”
Kathryn had thrown down the gauntlet and was prepared to do battle. “That would be fine with me.” She accepted the papers and then set to work.
It took her only twenty-five minutes to complete the questions, all of which she was sure she’d answered correctly. It had been rather elementary and she felt a wee bit superior when she returned the quiz to Miss Weaver.
Retrieving a large marking pencil, the Headmistress examined Kathryn’s answers. Several times, the blood-red instrument came down and hovered like an eager axeman’s blade at a beheading, then reprieve was granted and the pencil rose again.
At last, the stern examiner appeared satisfied. She tidied the pages and tapped them lightly with a bony index finger. “Adequate,” she pronounced dourly. “Let me explain how the Academy works.”
She then went over all the benefits of the school. The Carter Academy offered all the classes Kathryn intended to take at Our Lady of Mercy, and several more university preparatory courses she would need when she applied to the Law Society of Upper Canada.
Taking a note out of her pocket, Kathryn gave it to the teacher. “I am particularly interested in obtaining these books. Would your school library have them?” Knowing she was coming here, she’d written out a list of texts she’d need to continue her studies. Aunt Belle had been doubtful even the Carter Academy would have such specialized tomes.
The Headmistress read the list, then handed it back. “Yes, we have all those titles. This is an institution of the highest academic standards and we afford our students every opportunity to excel, which of course means providing them with all the tools they need to succeed.”
Surprised, Kathryn tucked the paper back into her pocket. Perhaps the Carter Academy could fill the gap in her studies until she went back to Toronto. She needn’t fall behind; in fact, she might even surge ahead of her spoilt-rotten, chin-wagging, gossip-mongering classmates. She began to feel excited, picturing herself going to this institution, at least for a short period.
Outcasts of River Falls Page 6
