Girl in Falling Snow

by F. M. Parker

  Alice kicked off her slippers and pulled on a heavy pair of blue pants and a heavy shirt of the same color. She cinched the pants snugly around her lean waist with a leather belt. Then she drew on thick socks and a pair of leather boots with the tops reaching half way to her knees. The boots were slightly large. “With one more pair of socks, they’ll be a good fit,” she told Matty.

  “We have that. Take off the boots and put these on.”

  Alice removed the boots and pulled on a second pair of socks and again drew on the boots. That makes a good fit,” Alice said.

  “Good. Finish dressing with these.”

  Alice put on the heavy wool coat with a red check design, a matching thick wool cap with ear flaps and a bill, and wool gloves. The garments were only slightly large. “I feel warm and toasty,” she told Matty.

  “You look like you’d be warm. Now while you’re all dressed, go out to the chicken coop and get us some eggs to go with the bacon. The chicken house is on the far left side of the barn.”

  Matty went to the cupboard and retrieved a small basket and handed it to Alice. “Chicken’s don’t lay eggs often when it’s really cold but you should find a few. Hurry for we’ve not got much time.”

  Alice left the house and crossed the porch and went into the yard. With the two dogs frolicking around her, she hastened through the snow toward the barn.

  She entered through the open door that was wide enough for a large wagon load of hay to pass through. The rank smell of horse and cow manure, and the more pleasant odor of hay lay on the quiet air within the barn. She looked into the deep interior, a half lit, gloomy place. The barn had a ground floor and a loft. Five hand-hewed wooden columns evenly spaced ran down the center of the barn. The roof rested upon the tops of the columns and the loft was attached to their sides.

  The main floor of the barn was made of earth packed solid by the tromping of feet and hooves and by rolling wheels, and now frozen in the deep cold. A passageway for a wagon or truck to pass through extended the full length of the barn. A large wagon with iron rimmed wheel sat empty in the far end of the passageway. On the side of the barn opposite the doors were several stalls. Two of the stalls each held a horse. They watched her with large, liquid brown eyes.

  The loft level extended the length of the barn but occupied only half the width. Hay filled a third of the loft. A waist high pile of hay lay on the dirt floor below the edge of the loft floor. A pitchfork was stuck into the hay. Alice thought the hay had been tossed down from the loft in preparation to feed the horses and cows. Two sets of horse harnesses with their leather straps and iron trace chains hung over a low railing near the pile of hay.

  She hastened toward the distant end of the barn and the chicken house. Both horses nickered to her as she passed by them. She unlatched the door of the chicken house and entered. She counted nine hens, all white and very noisy with their clucking and cackling. Attached to the inside wall of the chicken house were four nests to hold the hens while they lay eggs. One nest held a squatting hen. From the other nests, Alice took four eggs and placed them in her basket.

  Above the noise of the clucking hens, Alice heard Cole’s truck drive into the barn. Why was he here? Matty had said that he would be gone two hours. She hastily scanned the chicken house for a second way out. There was none. She was trapped.

  She thought of the knife buried in her coat beneath the coat Matty had given her. The knife had been of no benefit against Cole in the night. She thought it would be of even less use in the daylight where it could be seen. She must get out of the barn and run to Matty.

  She peeked out the door and saw the truck parked in the center of the barn near the pile of hay. Cole climbed out of the truck and began to unload sacks of grain from its bed, lifting the bulging sacks easily and stacking them near the mound of hay.

  Alice had to get out of the barn without Cole seeing her. She stepped quietly out of the chicken house. She intently watched Cole, timing his movements, and each time he had his back toward her, she stole three or four steps along the wall toward the door. When he dropped a sack of grain and turned toward the truck to get another one, she froze against the boards of the wall and became stillness itself. She wished that she could fade into the wooden boards and vanish. Hugging the wall and taking a few steps at a time, she drew ever closer to the open door and the outside world where she could run to Matty.

  She had almost reached the barn door when the nearer horse turned from watching Cole at the truck and saw Alice. It nickered to her. She instantly knew her danger. She bolted for the open doorway.

  Cole glanced over his shoulder at the horse and saw Alice running. He dropped the sack of grain he held and sprinted to head Alice off from the door. He arrived first and spread his long arms out to block the opening.

  Alice tried to halt her all out flight, but failed and slid into Cole. As his arms closed around her, a black shadow fell across her mind and she thought she would faint with fear of the man.

  Chapter Eight

  The Killing

  “Well now, how about finding you way out here,” Cole said and holding Alice tightly against him. He began to chuckle with immense pleasure. He moved his hands to Alice’s shoulders and held her out at arm’s length and stared down at her. “This’s sure my lucky day for there’s no ugly Matty to interfere.”

  He shook his head in a disbelieving manner. “I’ve thought of nothing but you ever since I saw you in that line of girls in Bemiji. And that damn fool Matty wanted me take that ugly one. But I didn’t and now you’re all mine.”

  Through her fright, Alice remembered Matty’s words about Cole’s brother. Struggling to get the words out, she said, “Your brother Oscar won’t like it if you hurt me. You’d better let me go.”

  “To hell with Oscar. I can’t wait. Damn it, I won’t wait.”

  Cole lifted Alice off her feet as easily as lifting a doll, and hugging her tightly to his chest, carried her kicking and thrashing toward the pile of hay.

  “That’s right, girl, fight me. That always makes it sweeter.”

  Cole knelt in the hay and laid Alice down on her back. He straddled her and whispered. “Keep fighting me, girl, keep fighting.”

  He caught Alice’s wrists in one of his hands and stretched her arms overhead. With his free hand, he caressed her face, tracing the outlines of her mouth with his finger tips, running them across her clenched lips, over her cheeks and across her forehead. “My, God, how smooth and soft you are.”

  “Let me go,” Alice pleaded. Cole’s touch upon her face sickened her. “Please let me go.”

  “I see Matty gave you some of her old clothes,” Cole said as he took hold of the buckle of the belt that held Alice’s trousers.

  “No! No! Don’t do that. Please don’t do that.” Alice cried out and squirming and thrashing with all her strength. Her movement brought her fingers into contact with cold iron and she recognized the iron chains of one of the horse harnesses hanging on the railing.

  “You’re going to be a good one.” Cole said coarsely. The belt of Alice’s pants came free of its buckle. He shoved the pants down to her knees. With his attention focused on tearing Alice’s clothing off, his grip on her wrists loosened slightly.

  With terrible fright giving strength to her arms, Alice tore her wrists free of Cole’s grasps. She grabbed hold of a two foot section of the iron harness chain with both hands and lifted it high and brought it down upon Cole’s head with all her might. Cole shuddered at the blow and sank down on top of Alice. He shook his head and pushed upward with his arms. Desperate, Alice hurriedly raised the chain and again struck Cole upon the head, and then again. Cole collapsed upon her.

  Sobbing with fear, Alice caught Cole’s limp, heavy body by the shoulders and managed to shove it partially off her. Scooting on her rump, she tore free. She climbed shakily to her feet, pulled up her pants and buckled the belt. She looked at Cole. Had she killed him?

  Cole gave out a groan and his chest began to rise
and fall. His eyes opened and he stared weakly around. His sight fell upon Alice and recognition of what had happened flooded across his face.

  “I’m going to wring your neck,” he said hoarsely, his face twisting with rage and the sure and certain intent to kill Alice. He rolled to his stomach and struggled to his knees.

  Alice wanted to run, but there was no place to run and be safe from Cole. She reached for the knife in her pocket, but then halted as her eyes fell upon the pitchfork sticking in the pile of hay. The pitchfork with its strong wooden handle and five long sharp steel tines would make a better weapon. She leapt for the pitchfork and grabbed it up. Gripping the pitchfork handle fiercely, she aimed the tines at Cole and rushed at him.

  Cole saw Alice and the pitchfork bearing down upon him. He came to his feet and turned to jump aside. Still half weak from the blows of the chain, he failed to move quickly enough. The slender tines penetrated his muscular side.

  Cole gasped at the vast explosion of pain. He swiveled his head and saw the pitchfork imbedded in his side. His eyes jumped along the handle to Alice staring at him with fear filled eyes and clutching the pitchfork with both hands. He twisted and reached for the pitchfork to pull it from his body. His movement swung the pitchfork handle and it struck Alice in the ribs and almost off her feet. She clung tightly to the pitchfork, knowing that if she let go Cole would spring upon her and even badly wounded could still kill her.

  She dug her feet into the barn floor, gathered all her strength and gave the pitchfork a powerful thrust. The curved steel tines penetrated deeper, punching a curved path upward inside Cole’s ribcage. Two of the slender tines punctured Cole’s lungs. One tine pierced his throbbing heart. Its powerful beat weakened and fluttered erratically.

  Cole sank to his knees. He turned his head and stared over his shoulders with an expression of terror. His eyes found Alice. “You’ve killed me, you little bitch,” Cole muttered with bloody bubbles from his punctured lungs bursting on his lips. His heart stopped its beat and he fell and lay in the dirt of the barn floor

  Alice felt the vibration from Cole’s quivering, dying body running along the pitchfork handle and she hurriedly released her hold upon it. She began to shiver as the enormity of what she had done overwhelmed her. She sank weakly down to sit upon the ground. She had killed a man. But she was still alive.

  “Oh, my God,” Matty called out from the doorway of the barn. She hastened to Alice. “I saw part of what happened. And I can imagine the rest of it.” She knelt and put her arms around the trembling Alice.

  Alice leaned into Matty’s arms. “He said he was going to kill me.”

  “He meant it too and deserved to die,” Matty said and hugged Alice tightly.

  After a time, Alice controlled her trembling body and spoke in a whisper to Matty. “Shouldn’t we tell somebody what happened? Tell exactly what Cole tried to do to me?”

  Matty released her hug of Alice and drew back to look into her face. ”Who would we tell that’d save you? Not Oscar. He’d finish what Cole started. You’re in terrible danger and you’ve got to get away from here as fast as you can.”

  “Yes, Matty, I’d like to go a long, long way from here. I could go back to England except I don’t have any money.”

  “I have some but not enough. And anyway Oscar could catch you before you got out of the country.”

  “How about going to another state?”

  “That won’t work. Oscar would just get the law in the other state to find you and bring you back here. That’d put you in Oscar’s hands.” Matty fell silent, the possibilities of Alice’s escaping from Oscar running through her mind. Then she spoke, “You’ve got to go to Canada. Other orphans have done that and were never seen or heard of again.”

  “How far away is Canada?”

  “About a hundred miles straight north. There’s one road, State Route 72 that runs all the way. But you couldn’t use it for that’s the first place Oscar will look for you, if he couldn’t find you around here. The distance would be much further than a hundred miles, what with most of the way through deep woods with thickets and fallen trees and lakes. It could be a hundred and twenty miles, or even more. The further north you go the fewer the farms and the more woods, and so there’s less chance of finding shelter. You’ll have to camp in the woods most every night”

  Matty clasped Alice’s hands that were folded in her lap. “I think Canada would be best for you. The Mounties don’t like Oscar for the way he comes into their country and arrests men and drags them back across the border without getting their permission. So they wouldn’t do much to help Oscar. You can hide there. Are you game to give it a try?”

  “If you think that’s best, then I’ll go.”

  “It’s damn cold and the snow is deep. You’ll have to walk every step of the way.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “It’ll take several days of tough hiking. And that’s if you don’t get lost.”

  “I’ll walk until I find a safe place, no matter how far and how tough. And I’ll stay out of peoples’ sight.”

  “You’ll need blankets and food and other things. I can outfit you with things I have at the house.”

  Alice pointed at Cole’s corpse, its eyes open and staring and seeing nothing. “What about him?”

  “I’ll take care of Cole.”

  Chapter Nine

  The Forest Of Snow

  Alice walked north through the snow covered forest of huge trees. The cold was intense with the wind in her face. Every step through the ankle deep snow was an effort, and she was weary to the core. She leaned heavily on the stout walking staff she had cut from the stem of an oak sapling with her knife. Her hand, though gloved, felt frozen around the staff. Every breath of the frigid air burned her throat.

  The winter sun was low in the southwestern sky. In the deep forest with each tree crowding its neighbors for space, most of the feeble light of the dying day was blocked and shadows shortened vision to but a few yards. Alice admitted to herself that she was afraid in the dark forest and was even more afraid of the blackness of the night that was but a short time away.

  She anguished over the killing that she had been forced to do to save her life. Yet glad that she had been strong enough to accomplish the deed. Would she escape from Sheriff Taggert? Matty had told her that he was a cruel and vindictive man and he must surely be racing after her. Just keep walking, she told herself.

  Without the compass Matty had given her, she would have been lost in the cold, silent, vastness of the forest with no sense at all of where the north bearing lay that would take her to Canada. Matty had prepared Alice for the journey. Into an old backpack that Cole had brought home with him from the time when he was a soldier in the last war, she had loaded two blankets, several cans of food, the last batch of nearly a dozen biscuits she had baked, less one that Alice had taken and hungrily eaten, a hatchet, rope, twine, matches, a piece of canvas, and a small pan. She had hung the compass around Alice’s neck.

  “Do you know how to use a compass,” Matty had asked.

  Alice nodded yes. “My father showed me how to hold it level and use the needle to find different directions.”

  “Good, just followed the needle north. Hide your tracks when you can. Now you’ll have to cross the Red Lakes Indian Reservation. Don’t let them catch you on their land for I don’t know how they would treat you. You’ll know when you reach Canada for the border is the Rainy River. Find a bridge to cross and keep going north.”

  Lastly, Matty searched and found a burlap sack that had once held feed grain for the livestock. From one, she cut broad strips of cloth and wrapped them around Alice’s boots and lower legs and tied all firmly in place with cord. She told Alice that the coarse burlap fabric would help keep her feet dry and warm. The remainder of the burlap sack went into the pack.

  Matty had given Alice a tight hug, a few dollars, and then helped her hoist the heavy pack onto her shoulders. Alice had begun the long trek north, cr
ossing farm fields for the first few miles and then entering the forest.

  She had walked steadily through the day with only a few rest periods, and a biscuit for lunch. Now it was getting late and she had to find a spot to camp before dark.

  She pulled the compass out of the front of her coat and sighted along the needle and checked the north bearing. She moved off along the compass course.

  Minutes later, she broke from the woods and into an open area of four or five acres. A three strand barbed wire fence ran around the border of the land, with sections of the wire sagging from rotting posts. A small log cabin stood in the middle of the snow covered clearing. Alice checked the cabin. looking for any smoke coming from the chimney. As cold as it was, there should be a fire if somebody lived there.

  After a few minutes of observing the cabin, she decided it was empty and moved into the field. The cabin would be a good place to spend the night for it would offer shelter and make a great difference in keeping warm as opposed to sleeping in the open.

  The closer Alice came to the cabin the more certain she was that it was abandoned. Her spirits lifted. She had learned months ago just how important a roof over her head really was to give a degree of safety

  Alice hurried to the door that stood half open. She halted and stared down at tracks in the snow. Large tracks, resembling house cat tracks but many times larger, were visible showing the animal going into the cabin and coming out.

  Alice stared at the tracks. Were they made by the big cats the Americans called panthers? Dare she invade the animal’s lair? The freshest tracks appeared to be those coming out and that gave her courage and she shoved the door open and entered.

  The cabin was small, a single room filled with the dark shadows of coming night. A loft was close overhead. About half of it had collapsed onto the cabin floor. A hand made table and two stools were in the center of the space. A fireplace made of stone occupied most of one end of the room. A tiny window with a single pane of unbroken glass was in the front wall. The bones of rabbits, squirrels and birds of several sizes littered the floor made of hand hewn lumber. The big cat had brought its kills back to the cabin to eat. She looked in more detail at the panther’s tracks and saw them in the dust on top of the table. There they were close together where the animal had gathered itself and made a long jump up into the loft. It must sleep up there, thought Alice. Tonight, she would take possession of the panther’s cabin.