Outcasts of River Falls

by Jacqueline Guest

  At this, her aunt became very animated. Kathryn couldn’t understand why any one would get excited about taking on a mountain of such eye-straining, finger-blistering work.

  Bustling about the cabin, Aunt Belle continued to explain the new project. “I had this idea to fashion a detachable hood for the coat. It would make it very versatile. Left on, the hood would give extra warmth against the cold. Remove the hood, and the coat would become much dressier and appropriate for mass on Sunday and fancy parties. It will be fabulous and very chic.”

  Kathryn wouldn’t argue on that point, mostly because she didn’t care. “Can we take the usual transportation?” She gave her aunt a Cheshire cat smile.

  “Of course! And there may even be time to visit the Apothecary Shop for a licorice stick. It’s a weakness of mine.”

  Kathryn made a face. “I must admit to having several sweet tooths – or is it sweet teeth? – and wouldn’t mind some tasty confection. But not licorice – I detest the stuff. One lick and I have the worst digestive distress you can imagine.” The dreadful root upset her stomach so badly she would have to take a long walk, alone, until it passed.

  The ride was exhilarating. Then Aunt Belle shocked Kathryn by handing over the reins.

  “You may have to take the buggy one day when I’m not around, so you’d better know how to drive it.”

  “Back home, ladies don’t drive carriages. We hire men to do that sort of chore.” Kathryn shied away from the proffered reins.

  “Out here, we don’t hire people, Katy; we’re the people folks hire. Surely you understand that by now.”

  Accepting the challenge, Kathryn tried gingerly shaking the reins: the merest suggestion to Nellie that it would be nice if the old dear could amble slowly, cautiously into town, no rush, they had all the time in the world; then with what Kathryn could only describe as a completely evil sounding whinny, the crazy horse raced off as though the hounds of hell were snapping at her tail.

  Controlling the beast quickly proved to be quite beyond Kathryn’s abilities. They hit a deep rut, causing the buggy to come perilously close to tipping. She shrieked, yanking on the reins as Nellie ran off the road and detoured into the tall grass. Pulling hard, she managed to get both the horse and the buggy back on the road where the Phaeton slewed dangerously back and forth, so violently that Aunt Belle finally had to retake the reins to prevent a total disaster, much to Kathryn’s relief.

  The experience was terrifying and Kathryn wanted nothing more to do with driving the Phaeton, or any other conveyance. One had to know one’s strengths and being a mule skinner for a particularly stubborn jackass was not hers.

  Nellie, contrary beast that she was, knew immediately who was in control and docilely complied with anything Aunt Belle requested without balking, biting or running wild. By the time they tied up the horse in a shaded alley in town, both Aunt Belle and Kathryn were laughing again.

  “Would you deliver these to Sergeant Prentiss at the barracks while I pick up a few provisions?” Her aunt gave Kathryn the bundle of dresses.

  “Of course. I’ll meet you back here in a tick.” Kathryn knew that building well as it came with the fondest of memories. It was where she had first laid eyes on her new suitor, Mark.

  When she entered the detachment, a big man with a clay pipe clamped between his teeth was pinning up a poster on the wall. His brown field jacket was impeccable and the buttons polished to a gleam. The lanyard running down his barrel chest was spotless and Kathryn’s eye was drawn to the well-worn gun holster on his belt.

  “Excuse me; do you know where I can find Sergeant Prentiss?”

  He turned to her. “You found him, ma’am.” It was then Kathryn noticed the four chevrons on his sleeve.

  “Belle Tourond sent me to deliver these dresses. Where would you like them?”

  “My wife’s been expecting those.” The sergeant gave his head a shake as the corner of his mouth opposite the pipe, twitched up into a smile. “There’s a church social on Sunday and she wants her little girls to outshine all the other little girls. Doesn’t seem very Christian to me, but after fifteen years of marriage, I’ve learned not to argue with my commanding officer. You can put them in the storage room in the back.”

  He indicated a hallway at the rear of the office.

  In the passage, Kathryn found two unmarked doors, one on each side, and further along, barring her way, she saw another labelled Cells. Curious, she tiptoed down the hall and opened this one a crack. The three cells were cold and sparse, each with a wooden sleeping platform and a chamber pot. Horrid! There was also an exit to the outside and she wondered if it was through that grave portal that they led the condemned men to the gallows tree. It was a gruesome thought and she hastily returned to the hallway. Wondering which unmarked door was the storage room, she tossed a mental gold doubloon – after all, if one was going to use an imaginary coin, it may as well be a valuable piece – and chose.

  Inside there was a chair and slung over the back was the slovenly brown uniform jacket she remembered seeing on Cyrus Blake. What a difference from Sergeant Prentiss’s spit-and-polish regalia. This had to be Constable Dung’s office.

  The desk was strewn with papers and folders. She sniffed and winced at the fetid odour. There were stubbed-out cigars, empty bean cans, discarded and mouldy food, any or all of which could be the cause of the stink. How could anyone breathe, let alone work in there? Disgusting.

  Trying the door on the opposite side of the hall, Kathryn discovered it was indeed the storage room with labelled boxes of files, rifles locked in a cabinet and a saddle on a wooden sawhorse with a tin of dubbin sitting beside it. Next to this, in a glass fronted cabinet, was Sergeant Prentiss’s dress uniform. The red serge jacket blazed scarlet fire while the shiny spurs sparked like quicksilver on the highly polished knee high boots. Suppressing the urge to snoop into the other items in the cabinet, she wiped the dust off a crate and carefully laid the dresses down.

  Closing the door as she left, Kathryn turned and ran full force into Constable Blake.

  He leered rudely. “What are you doing here? Did you miss me?”

  She stepped back quickly as though this time, she truly had met the Big Bad Wolf with his fangs bared and his breath reeking of rotten meat.

  “I’m delivering a dress order for my aunt,” she stammered.

  “Belle’s with you?” Blake asked eagerly.

  “Yes, she’s waiting for me now, and I’d better not be late.” And with that, Kathryn edged by him, fleeing from the jail. That man was truly unsettling.

  When Kathryn joined Aunt Belle, she didn’t mention her encounter with the constable. She knew it would only upset her aunt. Instead, they discussed the new sewing project, or more accurately, Aunt Belle discussed the project as sewing was another of those domestic things Kathryn had no expertise or interest in.

  As they made their way down the boardwalk, a group of whiskered men in severe black suits came out of a building. The party were talking amongst themselves as Kathryn watched them approach. Instead of parting for the two ladies, as all gentlemen should, the men seemed oblivious to Kathryn and her aunt.

  “I hope Mr. McGraw got in his new shipment of buttons at the mercantile...” Her aunt stepped down off the boardwalk and onto the dirt street, narrowly avoiding dragging the hem of her dress through some fresh horse droppings. Without a pause, she reached up and pulled Kathryn after her. “I’d like something special for the beaver coat.”

  The men walked past with no form of acknowledgment or greeting, secure in their position as kings of the realm.

  Once they’d moved on, Belle climbed back onto the walkway without comment and continued their conversation. “Of course, fancy will cost more but in my opinion, it will be worth it. If this coat is a success, other ladies will order from me and we’ll be in the furrier business.”

  Kathryn was aghast. She stood rooted to the spot, gaping up at her aunt from the dusty street. “Aunt Belle! Those, those...gentleman!
Why did you make us step off the boardwalk?”

  Her aunt’s excitement of a moment before evaporated. “Katy, we don’t want to cause any problems, and it’s expected for us, for the Métis, to give way to those who live in town.”

  “You mean to the white people. That’s utter nonsense. Unacceptable. I deserve the respect that should be shown any lady, no matter what her race. Scurrying into the gutter! Impossible!” Kathryn was furious as she climbed back onto the boardwalk and shook the dirt from her skirt. “When I read Uncle Tom’s Cabin, I was so thankful I lived in Canada where cruel treatment of another human being because of his skin colour didn’t happen. I see now, the sequel to Mrs. Stowe’s novel could easily be written right here in Hopeful!”

  “I don’t like it any more than you do, Katy, but we have to live here. This is life for the Road Allowance People. Accept it.” Without another word, her aunt turned and walked away.

  Kathryn was stunned. Was this how it was for the Ditch People? They would forever be considered outcasts with every one going along like it was the right thing to do? She thought of all the Métis and the years stretching ahead. How would they bear it?

  Silently, she followed her aunt into the mercantile, still dumbfounded by what she’d experienced outside. The most shocking thing had been that no one had thought anything of it. It was business as usual: white men on the boardwalk; Métis in the dirt.

  The injustice of what had happened made the future lawyer in her seethe. Kathryn felt anger, shame, hurt and helplessness all at the same time. Toronto and her privileged life seemed very far away.

  Aunt Belle took forever to choose the right threads, buttons, needles and other assorted frippery, checking each item a thousand times until she was satisfied.

  “There, that should do it. I hope Mr. McGraw will let me put all this on my bill until I’m paid for the work. I don’t have any money right now and there must be over five dollars worth of goods here.” She held up her basket of loot.

  They went to the counter so that Aunt Belle could arrange credit, but before she could say anything, a large woman with a garish purple dress and matching hat decorated with drooping bunches of fat grapes approached.

  The woman gawked at Aunt Belle in her faded yellow dress, moccasins and braids, and her expression turned to one of intense disgust. It reminded Kathryn of the last time she’d stepped in something that was best scraped off her shoe. The rotund woman pushed in front of Aunt Belle and placed her own purchases on the counter.

  After the boardwalk incident, Kathryn couldn’t believe this was happening. Fury flashed white hot as her spine straightened. “Oh, no you don’t. I believe we are next, madam.” She firmly slid the intruder’s basket aside.

  “Well, I never!” The woman squawked indignantly, her face blossoming into the same purple shade as her hideous dress. “You sort are getting way above yourselves. You should be run out of town back to where you belong.” Huffing loudly, she turned to the merchant who was at a loss as to what he should do. “Mr. McGraw, you should restrict the clientele you allow into your establishment. The City Ladies League all agree, these half-breeds should be barred from stores where decent people shop.”

  Kathryn’s temper shot off the scale. “Why you...” She took a menacing step forward, about to really get into it when her aunt laid a silencing hand on her arm.

  “Katy, please, it’s all right, I’ll wait. I have to speak to the proprietor about the details.” She gave Kathryn a pleading look.

  “No, it is absolutely not all right!” Then Kathryn realised she shouldn’t cause any more trouble. Without those supplies Aunt Belle couldn’t sew and that would mean no money to buy food. Reluctantly she gave in, biting back the scathing retort waiting to leap off the tip of her tongue. “I’ll be at the chemist’s.”

  Using every fibre of self control, she left the store before she turned the huge purple grape into a vat of quivering jelly.

  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 reflection 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 mercantile. “Yes. We live...” She motioned vaguely in an unknown 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 another 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 obnoxious taste. She’d had enough of Hopeful’s excit
ement 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 entered 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 toward 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 examine 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.