Simply Dead Read online

  He did not know where he was. He could feel the rise and fall of the track but otherwise had no sense of location. Even the thick woods that pressed in on both sides had almost completely disappeared into the flying snow.

  Then he caught the scent of wood smoke. Although he could not identify the direction from which it emanated or even estimate the distance, at least he knew a human habitation lay nearby.

  The mule knew it too. He plunged forward, almost pulling the reins from Rees’s grasp. He hurried after his mount, terrified that if he lost hold of the leathers he would be alone out here. His boots slipped and skidded in the snow and if it were not for the mule, who kept pressing forward, he would have landed face-first several times. Besides keeping Rees on his feet, the mule’s forward momentum carried the man forward as well. Presently, Rees sensed the ground leveling out. From the white wall ahead the shadowy form of a porch, steps, and a cabin behind them solidified into view.

  TWENTY

  Breathing a prayer of relief, Rees looped the reins around the porch rail. He had arrived at the Wootten cabin. They might greet him with a rifle but right now Rees didn’t care. He stumbled up the steps and to the door. He needed to get inside, he and the mule both lest they freeze to death. He pounded on the door with one gloved, but still very cold, fist. After only a few anxious moments, the door opened. The young man in the opening looked at Rees and motioned him inside, saying as he did so, ‘What are you doing up here?’

  ‘I have a mule outside,’ Rees said.

  The air within the cabin smelled of damp soil, of wood smoke and bacon, and of unwashed people. He looked at the two boys, recognizing the young man who had opened the door as Jem. Jake was seated in front of the fire, whittling an ornately carved bowl. He looked up and Rees saw the flare of recognition in the boy’s eyes. He knew who Rees was.

  He looked at the beaten earth floor and decided not to remove his boots. As he unwound his scarf a shower of snow fell to the ground. His hat and coat followed, adding more moisture to the wet patch by the door. Jem took each article of clothing as Rees removed it and slung it over a peg on the wall. Jake put the bowl by the hearth and stood up.

  ‘I’ll put the mule in the barn,’ he said, brushing by Rees as he went to the pegs. Rees saw the yellowish fading bruises on Jake’s face before he shrouded himself in a hooded cape and disappeared outside into the whirling snow.

  ‘Warm yourself by the fire,’ Jem invited.

  ‘Where are your parents?’ Rees asked. He was not eager to meet Mr Wootten, not after their first encounter had ended so badly.

  ‘My father left early this morning,’ Jem said. Although his expression was illuminated only by the firelight, Rees sensed that the boy was as reluctant to see his father as Rees was himself. And he knew by the bruises he’d seen on Jake’s face that Mr Wootten was as violent with his boys as he was with others.

  ‘And your mother?’

  ‘My mother is sleeping.’ Jem gestured to a door in the wall next to the fireplace. A door had been cut into the wall. Rees guessed that at some point the Woottens had built another room onto the cabin.

  He looked around at this small, one-roomed cabin. A table made of planks, the bark just barely scraped away, sat a few feet from the fireplace. There was a bench on either side. Some wooden bowls, carefully carved with incised decorations around the rims, still sat on the table, left over from the most recent meal, Rees guessed.

  In one corner, positioned so that the light from the nearest window fell upon it, was a hoop maker. Barrel hoops of all sizes, all expertly scraped white, leaned against the wall. Rees wondered which of the men in this family made the hoops. He couldn’t imagine Wootten Senior spending long hours on the bench leaning over the scraper, patiently working the wooden splints into hoops. He guessed it was Jake who made the hoops. With spring, these hoops would be brought down the hill and sold, most likely providing the majority of cash this family received.

  Rees squatted by the hearth and extended his hands toward the flames. He did not want to kneel in the cold dirt and the hearth was grimy with soot and grease.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Jem asked. ‘We don’t get many visitors.’

  ‘When do you think your father might return?’ Rees asked, his teeth still chattering from the cold. Right now he felt as though he might never feel warm again.

  Jem shrugged. ‘Don’t know.’

  ‘But you better be gone when he comes home,’ Jake said, coming through the door. ‘My father don’t like trespassers.’

  Jem turned a look of surprise on his brother. ‘He’s company,’ he said in a reproving tone. ‘Mother says—’

  ‘He’s a spy for the constable,’ Jake said. Raising his eyes, he added challengingly, ‘That’s right, isn’t it? You come up from town?’

  ‘I saw you, you know, when you attacked my daughter,’ Rees said, rising to his feet. He didn’t think the boys would jump him but he wanted to be ready, just in case.

  Jake’s eyes shifted away from Rees’s and he mumbled, ‘I didn’t attack her. I thought she was Hortense. We didn’t mean no harm to you or your daughter.’

  ‘Hortense has been taken away by her mother,’ Rees said. ‘To Quebec.’

  ‘I know that now,’ Jake said, his mouth quivering. He looked away but not before Rees, to his surprise, saw the tears forming in those dark eyes.

  ‘She said if her mother knew—’ Jem began.

  ‘Hush,’ Jake ordered his brother, turning on him.

  ‘Hortense said her mother wouldn’t approve,’ Rees said. ‘She told me that.’

  ‘She told you that?’ Jake repeated, his voice rising into a question.

  ‘Yes. She said that the two of you developed tender feelings for one another,’ Rees said, examining the young man standing before him. Jake’s shaggy black hair hung lank and uncombed over the collar of his buckskin jacket and a dark beard shadowed his chin. Rees guessed the boy was illiterate and knew nothing outside of the mountains in which he’d grown up. No wonder then that Bernadette would not want to see her daughter married to this young man.

  But Jake’s eyes were fringed with thick dark lashes and despite the bruises on his face he seemed gentle. ‘Hortense must have been very frightened when you abducted her from the cart,’ Rees said.

  ‘No—’ Jake began.

  ‘How long did it take before she began to respond to you?’

  ‘She wasn’t scared of me.’

  ‘But you took her,’ Rees said. ‘And you stole her horse.’

  Jake looked down. ‘Yes, we did do that. But I already know’d her. I saw her one time when she was visiting the Bennetts.’

  ‘You already knew her?’ Rees repeated, recalling Mrs Bennett’s description of Hortense and the unexpected turn she’d made to the left.

  Jake nodded. ‘Yes. I told you. I saw her once when she visited the Bennetts. So I kept an eye out for her. Next time I saw her I spoke to her.’

  ‘She knew you,’ Rees said. Jake nodded again. ‘You were meeting?’ Hortense had kept that fact to herself.

  ‘When my father wanted us to get help to look after Mother,’ Jem said, speaking for the first time, ‘Jake thought Hortense would—’

  Jake hissed at him to be quiet.

  ‘Did she know you were going to take her?’ Rees asked.

  ‘Well.’ Jake’s gaze shifted to the floor. ‘I kept watch for her. I knew that when Mrs Bennett started birthing her baby, Hortense would come. And she did.’ Jake’s response did not answer Rees’s question. But he knew it already. Hortense and Jake had arranged the false kidnapping between them.

  ‘I see,’ Rees said. His tone sent the blood into Jake’s face and he burst into speech.

  ‘She told me her mother wouldn’t approve of me. So I thought, well, if Hortense really got to know me that wouldn’t matter … and when she did she liked me.’ Jake’s voice lifted with pride.

  ‘But she fled from this house, barefoot and without a cloak, in the middle of a
snowstorm,’ Rees said. ‘If she liked you so much what happened?’

  ‘That was because Father—’ Jem began, stopping when Jake told him to shut his mouth.

  Rees nodded in understanding. No doubt both parents objected to this connection. He himself could not imagine a more mismatched pair.

  ‘Hortense does love me,’ Jake said. ‘She does. We were planning to run away together. But I couldn’t find her once she returned to the flatlands. I kept searching for her.’ Jake looked up to meet Rees’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry if I scared your daughter. I just thought – I hoped it was Hortense.’

  ‘All right,’ Rees said. He believed the boy. Desperate to find the girl he loved, Jake had not been thinking clearly.

  The thud of footsteps on the porch sent Jake to his feet. ‘Father,’ gasped Jem. Even in the dim and flickering firelight Rees could see Jem’s cheeks go pale. ‘He can’t find Mr Rees here.’

  ‘The loft,’ Jake said, grabbing Rees by the elbow and jerking him toward the ladder.

  Once Rees would have stood and fought, despite standing in the other man’s house. But the events in Dugard had burned some of that combativeness out of him and he allowed Jem to hurry him to the ladder. He paused only to point and say, ‘My coat.’

  Jem fetched coat, hat and scarf and hurled it at Rees. He quickly climbed the ladder into the loft. As soon as he pulled his leg up into the opening Jem pulled away the ladder.

  Rees realized he would have to remain on his hands and knees. He could not stand upright in this space. The ridgepole that held up the roof was no higher than shoulder height and anyway the smoked meats – ham and bacon mostly – occupied almost all the center of the attic. The eaves pitched down at a steep angle. Cracks between the wooden shingles permitted snow to sift into the loft; the floor was dusted with the white powder. At either end of the pole, two windows filled with greased paper let in a faint light. Very faint. He realized the sun was going down and soon even the dim illumination coming through the thick clouds would be gone.

  Although smoke from the fireplace below penetrated the loft, the air was bitterly cold. The only heat coming into this room emanated from the fireplace chimney and it was barely noticeable. Rees put on his coat and huddled as close to the stones and daub as he could.

  Not more than a few seconds passed before Mr Wootten, stamping and blowing, came through the cabin door. ‘How is Mother?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s sleeping,’ Jake said. Rees wondered if Mr Wootten could hear the slight tremor in the boy’s voice.

  ‘Good. Where’d that mule in the barn come from?’

  Rees could imagine the terrified expressions on the boys’ faces as the silence went on and on. ‘Answer me.’ Wootten’s voice rose. ‘Did that girl come back, Jake?’

  ‘N-no.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me, boy.’ The meaty sound of a fist striking flesh was clearly audible even in the loft. Rees looked around frantically. He had to get out of here.

  ‘Someone came up from below.’ Jem’s voice rose and broke with a squeak.

  ‘Who? Who came up?’

  ‘Just a traveler. Someone lost.’ Even at this point, Jake tried to lie and protect Rees. But Wootten didn’t accept the explanation.

  ‘Who is it?’ The sounds of slaps and punches punctuated the words. ‘Who are you hiding?’

  ‘Mr Rees,’ screamed Jem. Rees didn’t blame the boy, understanding that Jem was trying to protect his brother.

  ‘Where’s the ladder. Git me that ladder.’ Another slap. ‘Don’t ever lie to me again, boy.’

  By then Rees had kicked out one of the windows and was squeezing his big body through the opening. A thicket of evergreens edged the back of the cabin but were too far away for him to jump to. He lowered himself from the window ledge and hung by his hands for a few minutes before he dropped to the ground. Although he twisted his weak ankle, the snow cushioned his fall and he was able to walk. At a hobbling run, he headed right. He could barely see the shed through the thickly falling snow. But he needed that mule. Rees knew he wouldn’t make it very far at all on foot in the snowy and rapidly darkening woods.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Only two horses, an old cob and the mare stolen from the midwife’s buggy, shared the barn with the mule. Rees looked around. His rifle, the shot bag and powder horn were neatly hung upon a nail, but in the rapidly darkening shadows he could not immediately see the saddle he’d rented from the livery. He did not dare take the time necessary to search for it. Wootten would be on him as soon as he realized Rees had escaped through the window. Although he could not be sure the other man would shoot him, he did not want to take the chance. Wootten clearly did not like visitors. So Rees put an old rope bridle on the mule – the first one he found – and threw the saddle blanket over the shaggy back. Then he took his rifle, his shot bag and the powder horn from the nail and mounted.

  Without the saddle, the rifle had to be carried and was awkward in Rees’s grasp. But he was afraid to leave it behind – and leave himself weaponless if Wootten threatened him. He kicked the mule in the side and they went out into the snow. The cold wind bit through Rees’s greatcoat.

  He headed in the direction in which he believed the path lay. As he crossed the yard, Wootten barreled out of the door. At least Rees assumed the shadowy figure moving from the cabin was Wootten. The combination of twilight and the thick whirling snow made objects just a few feet away invisible. He saw only the motion.

  ‘Hey. Hey you!’ Wootten shouted, his baritone distorted and muffled by the snow. ‘Stop.’

  Rees kicked the mule’s side once again and the mule obediently broke into a bouncy trot. As they started down the track, a gunshot sounded from behind them. Rees could not tell where the bullet had gone but he did not believe it had come anywhere near him. Wootten had fired blindly. The mule, however, jumped forward into a ragged trot.

  Traveling through the spinning curtains of snow felt like being enclosed in a white cocoon: silent, private and safe, especially after the mule settled into a fast walk. Rees, however, knew the sensation of security was an illusion but he didn’t dare travel any faster than they were already going. He could occasionally see the woods on either side when the white lacy shroud gyrating around him parted but otherwise he was relying entirely on the senses of his mount.

  The howl of a wolf, taken up and repeated by others in the pack, sounded nearby. Rees felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and stand straight up.

  Now the mule began flat out running, his legs thrashing through the snow. The clots of cold white flung up by his hooves smacked into Rees with muted pops. He hung on with all his strength. But his rifle, clutched to his chest with one arm, shifted and as he struggled to adjust his grip the mule shied. Rees slid off and found himself spread-eagled on his back in the snow. And the mule, relieved of his burden, shot off at top speed and disappeared into the white maelstrom.

  Rees heard Mr Wootten shouting. Clutching his rifle, he stumbled into the pines edging the track. Oh, how his ankle, the one injured a year ago, ached. He hesitated. He did not know where he was and could barely see a foot in front of his face. Rather than haring off into the woods, lost in a storm and hunted by the wolves, it would be better for him to stay close to the road and follow it to civilization. But for now, he had to hide from the man pursuing him.

  The howls of the wolves rang through the forest, much, much closer. It wasn’t common for a wolf pack to attack a grown man, especially if he carried a gun. But the past few years with their bad winters had seen a surge in wolf attacks. And Rees knew that if he were on foot and lost he would be easy prey. Another howl shivered through the trees, this one sounding barely yards from where he stood. Terror decided him. He crept under the largest of the pines and began to climb. His left ankle was a blaze of pain. Rees found himself climbing with his right and dragging the re-injured limb behind him.

  The lower branches were bare but as he climbed he found himself pushing through thick green boughs. Most of t
hem bent away but some of them broke and the snap sounded like a cannon shot to his ears. He paused, breathless. He didn’t want Wootten to hear him climbing clumsily into the upper branches. Besides, as the tree limbs grew narrower they began bending under Rees’s weight.

  His hands were so cold he couldn’t feel the tips of his fingers.

  He parted the green screen and peered down at the road. He could see very little through the falling snow. But he thought the flakes were not coming down so thickly now; he hoped the snow would stop soon.

  The creak of leather and jingle of a harness alerted Rees to the Woottens’ arrival. The golden glimmer of a lantern penetrated the blowing snow, twinkling like stars, as Wootten rode around the curve. He was speaking, although blowing snow muffled his words and Rees couldn’t understand what the other man was saying. Rees guessed at least Jake, but probably both boys, accompanied their father. A gunshot suddenly reverberated through the woods. Rees jumped and almost fell off his branch.

  ‘Did you get ’em?’ Jem’s voice rose high and excited. ‘Did you get the wolf?’

  ‘Think so. You boys drag the carcass to the edge of the road and cover it with branches. We’ll get it on our way back. The pelt will fetch a good bit of cash money.’

  Through the screen of needles, Rees peered down at the track. He caught glimpses of movement as the boys obeyed their father. A gust of wind caught the snow and pulled it back, just as though a giant hand drew back a curtain, and he had a clear view of the men and horses beneath him. At that moment Jake looked up and for a long few seconds he and Rees stared at one another. He wondered how quickly he could load his gun, but before he moved Jake looked away. The snow fell back across the scene, obscuring the people below. Had Jake not seen him, Rees wondered. Or had Jake chosen to say nothing?

  The faint tinny clatter of bridle rings began to move away. Without the reflection of the lantern, the road and the forest went dark. Breathing a sigh of relief, Rees leaned his forehead against the bark of the trunk.