"I don't believe any story like that, Roth." Old Tad was plain with his words. "Sailors are known to be awful liars. 'Never believe nothin' a sailor says' is my advice."
"You ever see it, Doug?"
"Nope, but I heard it I lots of times."
"Uh huh." Chip's tone annoyed Carter.
"Look Chip, a man don't have to walk on the moon to know it's there and he doesn't have to taste bread to know what it is if he's got a nose and eyes. Porpoise have rescued people and that a fact!"
"Whatever you say, Carter! By the way did I ever tell you about the Blackfoot medicine man that could turn himself into a buffalo bull? Now I never saw it, but I met a lot of Indians who had heard about it. Why ....
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The European interlude had gone poorly for Jonathan Starling. The ocean crossing had been stormy, with passengers of no interest and only rum for companionship.
Paris had proven a disappointment. The Parisians had demonstrated immunity to his southern charm and, mostly out of boredom, he had instigated a brutality that forced him to flee before an outraged authority. He crossed the Pyrenees into Spain, cursing his ill fortune and searching for blame.
To Starling's mind the cause of his rejection and decreasing fortune appeared each time he looked in his mirror. Then the result of Shadow's blow taunted him, making his less than perfect nose and slightly depressed cheekbone seem grotesque malformations. Unrequited rage sickened his soul and neither drink nor an increasingly ugly disposition brought relief.
Faced with diminishing funds, he sought ways of improving his income. Somehow the old surety was lacking, and the more intense his effort, the less success he encountered. Where women had once sought his handsome and dashing appearance they now found younger, less damaged blades, and men who would once have enjoyed his wit and opinion were dismayed enough by his drinking and unrelieved rancor to avoid his company. The longer he stewed, the more he sought solace within a bottle and by summer, the heady wines and harsher Spanish spirits had begun to thicken his waist and soften the once firm jawline.
Jonathan Starling hated his self-imposed expatriation and longed for the war to end. Then, he told himself, things would be as they once were. At home his fortunes would renew, and among familiar sights and sounds, sharpness of spirit and body would return.
Until then, he would endure, brood, and blame. Never would he forget the one who had caused these lost seasons and perhaps the black gods of hatred would still deliver Shadow into his hands. Stranger things had occurred and Starling took some satisfaction in imagining the cruelties he would inflict if that opportunity appeared.
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Chapter 16
Hella said, "Yes!"
Chip didn't know for sure what had prompted her but he told Carter she probably thought the approaching winter would be more comfortable in a house than on a canal boat. Carter pooh-poohed the idea but all of a sudden got interested in finishing his place.
They dug both wells, boarding the sides as they went down, and hired a stone mason and his helper to lay up the permanent walls. Chip got into a small torrent at twenty feet but Carter's well went down thirty-five before they got enough water to quit. Both wells were sweet, though the water was hard. Just to annoy, Chip sniffed at Carter's and muttered, "A lot of sulfur in there." He was pleased to hear Carter asking other people if they smelled any sulfur stink.
The war dragged down all of their spirits as it seemed impossible that the south could go on, but Lee continued, and for a time had an army threatening Washington. Grant sent Sheridan to end that threat and included orders to once and for all destroy the lush Shenandoah Valley that fed the Confederate armies.
Little Phil complied with a will and burned the valley, drove off the stock, and removed the slaves so farming would never again feed the enemy.
Surely that massive loss would make clear the hopelessness of the Southern cause, but though Grant squeezed him ever tighter, Lee hung on.
Fall was Tinker's favorite season and they planned to marry amid the bright autumn foliage with as simple a wedding as possible. In preparation, they moved in furnishings and half emptied the Shuler cabin. Old Tad was prepared to settle into his new room. He would have his own outside door and from his window he could look into the deep woods he preferred. Increasingly frail, he already rocked away the hours. It was as though having Tinker spoken for allowed him to ease the drivers that had kept him plugging along. Once or twice he spoke of some day moving to town where he could gab with other old timers, but he never did.
Then, one cool fall day old Tad disappeared. He took a stick he had been using to lean on and told Tinker he thought he would go west along the ridge. Tinker watched him go, judging that he looked a bit stronger than usual.
She didn't really miss him until noontime passed. She called from the porch a time or two and when he didn't answer, she walked into the woods hallooing more urgently. Chip heard her from down by the new house and when she kept calling, he put aside his work and went on up.
Tinker was more than a little worried and Chip could share it. Tad hadn't gone much beyond hearing most of the summer and he hadn't missed a meal in many a month.
Chip picked up his tracks near the house and started fast along them. Tad was following regular woods paths and the only clear marks he left were the indents of his walking stick. A good distance out Chip came across the stick leaning against a rock and he could see where Tad had sat and rested awhile.
After that, Chip couldn't be sure. The paths were too beaten in to show much and hunters used them enough to confuse any sign he found. It looked as though Tad might have turned down onto the valley road, but he couldn't be certain. He went a way along each path that branched off, calling and looking close, but he found nothing.
Genuinely disturbed, he went back to the cabin and got organized for a real search. He sent Tinker off for help in one direction while he went the other. By midafternoon he had a dozen men and boys to fan out and drive the ridge. Tinker and a friend rode along the roads asking people they met and stopping at every farm in expectation that someone would have seen old Tad passing.
There was enough daylight and they hunted carefully. Chip expected they would find the old man dead along some path, but that didn't happen either. The women rode into Millerstown but Tad was not there. Chip ended the drive at Cocolamus Creek, wondering if it held a dark secret.
As the only thing left to try, they drove back east along the north side of Turkey Ridge but again turned up nothing.
It was a long night sitting up, listening for every sound, and going out occasionally to call. By morning Tinker was done in, but Chip went out again, starting all over and trying to think out Tad's actions.
Occasionally joined by other searchers, he spent all day at it. He considered that Tad could have turned around and gone east, but found no more in that direction. Tinker rode into Liverpool, but Tad had not been seen.
When night forced him to quit, Chip was scouting along Wildcat Ridge in a quest he feared was hopeless. Tad was gone, as though God had reached down and snapped him up. All of his possessions were in place and they found no hint that he had not expected to return from just another ordinary walk.
It was a good distance to Cocolamus Creek, but Chip believed Tad must have drowned in it. It didn't seem possible to have missed his body on the ridge, and the lack of circling buzzards over the next week bore him out on that at least.
Drowned people usually showed up somewhere downstream, but Tad never did and his disappearance remained a mystery.
A few hinted that Tad had always been a wandering man and with Tinker about to be married, he had just chosen to go off to some new place. Neither Chip nor Tinker believed that. Tad was dead alright, but where and how they could not discover.
Carter, who had been away through most of it, went searching around on his own. Chip figured Roth couldn't find a dead skunk until he tripped over it, but they appreciated his concern. Chip even went around checki
ng the wells in the vicinity, but finally had to give up. They mourned the old man the best they could and went on with their lives.
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There was a certain resentment among some people of Pfoutz Valley and the towns at either river that irregularly surfaced a little. Chip understood it well enough and tried his best to lay it to rest. The trouble was that two outsiders had come in and bought up good valley land, paid cash, and then put up pretty fancy houses and barns.
The resentment was a bit of natural wariness toward strangers coupled with a touch of envy. For the most part, the people were not proud of their feelings and disguised them. Infrequently, however, slightly bitter words leaked and a confrontation arose.
An occasion that such people did not foster but chose to enjoy, occurred during a Liverpool celebration.
Chip had brought Tinker to see the doings, which promised to be special with local militia and war veterans parading.
Many people knew Hella Wolfe of course. For years her blond beauty had caught attention along the rivers but her attendance with the earringed friend of Chip Shatto was not approved of. Again, it was as though a stranger was trying to carry off something that belonged to the community. After all, wasn't there a local man good enough without her having to turn to someone rumored to be a notorious pirate?
People came in from all up and down the Susquehanna as well as over from Millerstown and a good time was being enjoyed.
Trouble began with a group of men ferried over from Halifax. With the jug making regular rounds, the Halifax party became boisterous and then resentful of the disapproving glares and only half-muffled objections from spectators.
Other drinkers became equally irritated by the Halifax contingent and seeds for a free-for-all battle were sown.
Among the Halifaxers was a monster of a man; a man so large he loomed head and shoulders above the crowd. They called him "Tiny" and Chip caught his last name as Doyle. The giant brooded in his drinking and when his eyes fell on anyone, they glowered balefully enough to make worries start.
Chip felt well out of any forthcoming storm. He and Carter kept away from the drinkers and paid attention to the parading and the feasting that followed.
Still, they were drawn into it.
The Halifaxers came reeling up Race Street and burst noisily into the crowd picnicking on the square and visiting along Market Street. They howled and hooted, being annoying but still unchallenged. Then one of them saw Hella's blond figure and thumped his friend mightily while howling like a wolf and making pawing motions with his feet. His companions urged him on and he started for Hella in a rush, arms outstretched and a drunken smirk stretching his features. Carter Roth grimly set himself to end the man's charge more suddenly than it began.
The Halifax man never got that far for en route he had to pass Chip Shatto. From where he sat, Chip extended a foot, catching the drunk's ankles, and the man sprawled awkwardly among the picnickers. Carter urged Hella into a group of lady onlookers and stepped forward to see what developed.
There was mingled laughter and anger over the man's fall, depending on who's belongings had been disturbed.
The drunk sat up dazed, unsure of what had happened. Chip rose just in case and some of the Halifaxers closed in to collect their fallen companion.
The butt of ribald and uncomplimentary comments from all sides, the Halifax men withdrew to mutter among themselves and to cast hard looks at Chip and Carter.
Choosing a new place well away from the scowling group, Chip looked across at them, "You reckon they'll come again, Carter?"
"Well, they're working up a mad at somebody and seeing they're looking your way, I could expect it."
"My way? Hell, it's your fight. I was just helping out."
"You did good, too, Chip. When that big one they call Tiny comes back from wherever he is, he'll come stompin' for you. I'm plannin' on returning your favor."
Surprised, Chip bit." You're standing up against that monster?"
"Against him? You must be mad, Shatto. I just meant I'd hold your hat and coat while you beat him up." The girls doubled with laughter but Chip's smile was a little weak.
Later the ladies listened to a band perform and the men gravitated toward the canal front. They were seated on heavy oak bollards watching the water when the Halifaxers again surged noisily into view. They caught sight of Chip and Carter and became suddenly silent before huddling to mutter among themselves.
Chip said, "Oh oh" and got up. Carter was right with him and they turned away as though not noticing and walked off across the dock.
Other groups of men saw what was developing but they stood aside, perhaps half anticipating the two outsiders getting a good licking.
Carter snuck a glance behind. "They aren't forgetting us, Chip."
Chip groaned, "How old are you, Carter?"
"What? Why the same age as you, of course."
"Well, isn't that old enough not to be getting us into these kinds of scrapes?"
"Damn it, Chip. I didn't do one solitary thing to.... Oh man, here they come!"
"Maybe we should take to the water. Then they'd laugh and leave us alone."
"Sure and everybody'd laugh the rest of our lives. Guess you'll have to lick 'em, Chip."
Chip shot him a mean look. "And you'll be just watching, I suppose." He turned and headed back straight at the Halifaxers who came to a surprised but ungiving halt.
Carter caught up in a pair of steps and Chip walked right up to the angry men.
"Now boys, you've been glaring at us most of the day an' one of you tried attacking a lady right in front of everybody. If you've got a complaint let's hear it clear and out front, the way men are supposed to talk."
It caught them a little off step. They hadn't intended explaining anything; they just wanted to fight. For an uncomfortable minute no one found anything sensible, but someone had to say something, so one grumbled, "We just don't like your looks!" He tried to sound mean and dangerous but everybody shifted a little, knowing he was only sounding shallow.
Chip looked surprised and glancing over at Carter said, "Well, you've got a point. I don't think he looks like much with that ring in his ear and all, but a man's got a right to be ugly."
One of the drunks snickered and another lost his mad, grinning a little.
Carter bristled and began, "Damn it, Chip...." But the flustered Halifax speaker was trying to regain some sort of ground. Flushed red and still aggressive he snorted, "Not him! You, stupid!"
Quick as a wink Carter hopped into it. "Now that's telling him!" The spokesman looked a little confused as Roth continued. "Look at that black hair and those black eyes. Why he even dresses like a fool in a black suit.
Just smell him." Carter sniffed suspiciously at Chip.
"Only bathes once a week and soaks himself in witch hazel. You're right. He is ugly and stupid." He watched the red rise around Chip's ears, but he had caused more diversion among the Halifaxers who recognized that he had described most of them as well as Chip and himself. Being unable to get anything started, even their speaker was nonplussed.
Carter thought he might have defused it, but a volcanic-like rumble began at the group's rear and when they got their attention to it, Tiny Doyle was getting his massive fists up and saying, "Well I come to fight!" He leaned forward and the crowd parted to let him through.
Chip said, "Take him, Carter!" and helped by stepping back a pace.
Carter had time for only one "Oh no!" before Doyle arrived, moving like a downhill freight train. Figuring the first punch was worth at least five later on, Roth leaned back and swung from his heels.
His fist landed perfectly—squarely in Doyle's face—and it brought the giant to a halt—to grin and snort blood from his nose. Carter hesitated in amazement and the monster trampled him underfoot on his way to Chip.
Seeing Carter disappear under Tiny Doyle's charge was illuminating and Chip eased out of the man's path and slugged him under the heart with all his strength
as he went by. The blow sounded like hammering on a hollow tree, but Doyle ignored it and came steaming back.
People were yelling with excitement and the Halifax men were cheering on their champion. Someone was yelling "Fight! Fight!" and the crowd grew remarkably. Chip hungered for the long knife in his boot, but it wasn't that kind of a battle. They were lucky the Halifaxers were letting their man handle the two of them, but slicing up the monster wouldn't be deemed fair play. Chip had little time to consider the real fairness of it because Doyle was coming again.
Carter was back on his feet, dust covered and torn a little, but apparently unhurt by Doyle's bull-like charge. Chip danced around just staying beyond Doyle's reach while Carter appeared satisfied to holler, "That's it, Chip! Lick him good!" Calling out was a mistake as it caught Doyle's attention and he went at Roth making him dance while Chip took a rest and watched with labored interest.
Carter got caught and was bashed flat but rolled away before Chip had to get back into it. Doyle abandoned his search for Roth, who had slithered under some timbers and broken boat parts. He turned again to Chip, puffing a little, but still ready. Chip guessed it was time to get serious about things and settled himself to do battle. Doyle saw it and came forward more slowly, his huge fists pawing as though he carried a mallet at the end of each arm.
Chip saw Carter's head appear from among the junk behind Doyle and then closed his concentration on punching the giant into a pudding bag before Doyle did it to him.
"Tiny Doyle! You stop right now!" The female demand halted the giant in his tracks and he stood silent as Hella Wolfe, braids flying and golden features aflame with righteous anger, surged through the crowd.
Carter's eyes widened into plates and Chip guessed he looked about as foolish. Hella rushed up to the man-monster and reached up to jerk one of his elephantine ears as she might a child's.
Chip Shatto (Perry County Series) Page 14
