Horse With No Name Page 11

  "No one suspicious there. None of Piling's drovers come into town much. He doesn't pay them enough. Besides, two of them limp. One from a foot he broke recently falling off his horse, and the other from an old knee injury. You didn't notice your two fellows limping did you? You would have told me that."

  Julia didn't like Merrick calling them 'her fellows' but she let it pass. Her mind brought up an image from the night of the dance, the men walking on either side of her. "No," she said, "I'm certain neither of them limped."

  Walt joined them then, coming in from outside smelling of fresh air and earth, and Julia was grateful for the distraction. His hair was slicked down with water and he had on a clean shirt and a vest and jacket she hadn't seen before. "You look all spiffed up, Mr. Sheehan."

  Walt grunted and glanced around the room. "Anything to drink around here?"

  "Here," Julia said, thrusting the bottle of cider into his hands, grateful for an excuse to be rid of it. The cider was pleasant, but she really didn't need any reason for the town to consider her a woman of loose morals.

  Walt nodded to her and took the bottle, tipping it back and drinking at least half in one long pull. "Ah," he said, wiping his mouth on his hand, "that's the stuff."

  Anne Thoreson appeared out of nowhere at Julia's elbow. "Constable Merrick, I must pull you away now. We're ready to begin the pie tasting."

  "You're a judge?" Julia and Walt said to Merrick simultaneously.

  "Don't knock it," Merrick said as Mrs. Thoreson pulled him away.

  "He'll be sorry if he doesn't pick wee Mrs. Jones' pie," Walt said under his breath. He always called Millie 'wee Mrs. Jones', even to her face. She loved it and blushed like a schoolgirl, not realizing he was being ironic.

  For Julia, the rest of the afternoon passed in a whirl of conversation and good food. The volume in the room crept up until it was nearly impossible to talk to anyone without shouting. But she was having a wonderful time. She got to meet several couples from ranches around the town who she had not encountered until that day. Betty and Christopher seemed to be patching things up; at least they were talking to one another again, though if that was only for public consumption, Julia couldn't be sure. And it was Betty's strawberry-rhubarb pie that won the contest. Julia didn't even know her friend had entered. Although in hindsight, it wasn't entirely surprising. Hers was the best pie Julia had ever tasted, better even than Ella the Cook's at home.

  Lily Cecil had entered the contest as well, with the apple pie she so often made for the hotel restaurant. She came in third. Alan Cecil happened to be standing near Julia when the winners were announced. Lily accepted her prize of a new pie plate and approached her husband. Julia congratulated her as she went past.

  "Thank you, Miss Thom," Lily said.

  "You should be proud of yourself." Julia thought the young woman looked quite disappointed and tried to cheer her up. "You came in ahead of four other ladies."

  "You're right," Lilly nodded, but she didn't look as though she agreed with Julia.

  As Lily reached her husband, Julia heard him say, "That was a surprise. I didn't expect you to even make the top five."

  Julia's eyes flared at this, but she forced herself to bite her tongue. She turned away and found Gerald Anker and a woman approaching her.

  "Miss Thom. Have you met my wife?" Anker said.

  Julia and the woman nodded at one another.

  Anker continued, "Sabine, this is Miss Thom, the schoolteacher."

  Mrs. Anker was a petite woman with small features and a serious expression. And, it turned out, a thick German accent. "Pleased to be meeting you Miss Thom," she said. "Did you have a pie in the contest?"

  "No, did you?"

  Mrs. Anker shook her head. "No, I'm a terrible baker."

  "Now, dear, your bread is delicious," Anker said, smiling at his wife with indulgence.

  She patted his arm with a gloved hand, "You're being generous, mein Bärchen. It is not a skill I've perfected, Miss Thom. I'd rather be sewing. The kitchen does not interest me."

  "Amen," Julia said, making Mrs. Anker laugh.

  "Did you get a pumpkin, Miss Thom?" Anker asked her.

  "A pumpkin?"

  "We've brought one for everyone," the red-faced man clasped his hands behind his back and rolled on the balls of his feet. "Our crop was generous this year. Be sure you take one from the wagon outside when you go home. Take two, in fact." He winked at her.

  Sabine Anker tapped his arm again. "Stop with your flirting, Gerard. She doesn't need attention from an old man like you," she said with a teasing tone.

  "Miss Thom doesn't mind, Liebling." He winked at her.

  Julia glanced across the room and saw James Hunter talking to Dr. Parker. The injured man's arm was still in its sling, and Hunter was being protective of it, keeping his body turned away from the crowd so that it didn't get jostled. Julia was surprised to see the clockmaker at the event. He seemed to avoid any such public gatherings.

  She excused herself and walked over to talk to the two men.

  "Mr. Hunter, you must not be able to eat anything with that broken wing of yours. Can I get you something?"

  Both Hunter and Dr. Parker looked startled when she arrived, as though they were talking about something inappropriate. Julia wondered if they'd been talking about her, because they both slammed their mouths shut as soon as she got within earshot.

  "I'm fine, Miss Thom," Hunter finally said.

  The men looked at their shoes or over Julia's shoulder. She tried again, "Dr. Parker, did you know there's a pumpkin for you outside? The Ankers brought enough for everyone."

  Parker looked at her absently and nodded, though she didn't think he'd heard what she'd said.

  "Excuse me," he said and moved off, leaving Julia looking at the side of Hunter's face.

  "I'd better go as well, Miss Thom," Hunter said. "On second thought, I would like to try to have a slice of some of the loaves that are available. That's something I can eat with one hand."

  He moved away, still shielding his arm and Julia was left standing by herself wondering what she'd done to offend both men.

  Nineteen

  Sunday afternoons were Julia's favorite time of the week. They were a time of freedom, in stark contrast to how they'd been when she lived with her parents. At home in New Westminster, Sundays had always meant visits with Mrs. Thom's friends and other people she wanted to impress. Julia got dragged along from an early age and had learned to sit quietly in her Sunday dresses, sip tea, and find new ways to tune out the gossip. Her father was always excused from these visits, which infuriated Julia. If she had to be tortured thusly, she wanted him to share the burden. But he cleverly used the excuse that after church he needed to prepare for the cases coming in the next week, and retreated to his study. What he actually did there was drink port, smoke his pipe and nap in his big, leather wing-backed chair.

  Sundays in Horse were gloriously different. After church, Julia used the time to go for long rides with Stanley, something she knew would come to a halt fairly soon, once the snow arrived. As soon as she could politely manage, she excused herself from the crowd at the school and made her way to the livery. Gerard Anker pressed a pumpkin into her hands as she left and, not wanting to waste more of the day taking it home, she took it with her to the stables.

  When she and Stanley returned from an afternoon of exploring the surrounding hills, she found Walt and Merrick in their usual Sunday afternoon spot; sitting in front of the livery, sleeves rolled up, drinking Walt's homemade whisky from tin cups. The dogs were lying in the dirt and thumping their tails as Julia walked past.

  When Stanley was groomed and bedded down with fresh straw and a scoop of oats in his bucket, Julia picked up a chair from just inside the barn doors and took it outside to join the men. Walt handed her a tin cup as she sat down. Her stomach was rumbling, and she was looking forward to a dinner of soup and fresh buns that Betty had given her, but she took the cup anyway, feeling reckless and invigor
ated after her ride.

  She took a sip of the whisky and shivered as it went down.

  "Where'd you get that hat?" Merrick asked her. He seemed more relaxed than Julia had seen him before.

  "My father gave it to me. To keep the sun off my face when I ride."

  "You know it's a man's hat, right?"

  It was the black, wide-brimmed hat of the type a drover would wear. Julia liked it because the crown wasn't too high. She thought she looked dangerous in it, which pleased her. Also, because it was a man's hat, it fit her head, which was enormous. Her mother always complained that she could never find hats for church that fit Julia.

  "Lemme see it." Merrick put his cup down on the ground beside his chair and held his hand out.

  Julia looked at Walt. "Is he drunk?"

  "I am not," Merrick answered, and leaned forward with his arm outstretched.

  Walt nodded at her. "A little bit," he said quietly, smiling.

  Merrick took Julia's hat from her hand and put it on his head, where it fit perfectly. He looked at her out from under the brim. "Do I look like you now? Do I look like a schoolteacher?" He looked over at Walt, "What do you think? Could I be Miss Thom at school tomorrow?"

  Walt squinted at him. “Say something scholarly.”

  Merrick's eyes turned back to Julia, "If you're going to do my job, I could do yours. We could swoop."

  Julia smiled at him. "I think you mean swap."

  "Swamp," Merrick muttered to himself.

  Walt stood, set his tin mug on his chair and walked into the livery.

  Merrick watched him go and then commented, “Nature calls, I expect.”

  With Walt gone, it was just the two of them. Julia tried to remember the last time she’d been alone with Merrick when they weren’t arguing. She met his eyes and smiled at him, feeling a little self-conscious. He looked really good in her hat, she had to admit. The brim threw his eyes into shadow and made him look a little bit dangerous. She liked this.

  A thought crossed Merrick’s mind. Julia saw it as clearly as if the shadow of a cloud had passed over his face. He looked away for a moment, and Julia imagined she could see him considering whether to share his thought with her. When he looked back at her, his blue-green eyes looked at her so directly she nearly had to look away.

  “I did enjoy the dance the other night, you know.” The whisky had clearly loosened his tongue. He stopped for a moment, having reached the cliff’s edge, and then rushed on. “With you, I mean. The dance with you. Not just the dance in general.” He made a swirling motion with his free hand.

  This was completely unexpected. After she had hurt him unintentionally by trying to let him off the hook at the dance she assumed he thought negatively of the event. Around her, Julia felt the world become very still. Merrick’s vulnerability surprised her, and she also noticed she felt a rush of pleasurable fear. He was waiting for her to respond. She felt a nearly crushing pressure not to hurt him again.

  Their eyes were still meeting, and Julia was about to speak, when Walt appeared again from the livery entrance. “Who wants more grog?” he asked.

  Merrick had been leaning forward, and now he sat up again and held his mug out toward Walt. “Just a bit.”

  Kicking herself, Julia held out her cup, just for something to do. Walt filled it and then for an instant turned away to set the jug down behind his chair. Merrick wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at his boots. But quick as a snake strike she reached out and tapped him on his knee.

  His head jerked up and he met her eyes.

  “Me, too,” she said quietly. And then again, “Me, too, Merrick.”

  The constable’s mouth lifted just slightly at the corners and relief flooded through Julia’s arms and torso.

  Walt lowered himself into his seat and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Are you going to join us at next week’s poker game?” He looked at Julia and grinned. “I liked it that you ruffled Mayor Billy’s feathers.”

  For the next few moments the three friends relived the game, though Julia declined to commit to joining the men on the following Thursday night.

  After awhile, Julia felt Merrick watching her again. She turned and met his eyes as he asked, "Is this where you wanted to be?"

  She tilted her head. "At the livery?"

  "No. I mean here in the middle of nowhere. Is this what you pictured for yourself when you were a child? Being a schoolteacher, alone, in a town the size of my right boot? Is that what you wanted?"

  Julia looked at Walt. "Why is he so philosophical all of a sudden?"

  Walt shrugged. "Probably the grog."

  She looked back to Merrick. "No. It isn't," she said, answering his question.

  "Me, neither. I am the son of a farmer. Didja know that?"

  “You've mentioned it."

  "Well, I have. I mean, I am. I never in a million years thought I'd end up all the way across this country. In this beautiful place." He looked out across the rooftops of the stores across the street, into the hills that surrounded Horse.

  Julia grinned at Walt. "I think you better cut him off."

  Walt grinned back. "I already have."

  "Now listen," Merrick continued. "I asked you a question. What did you imagine you'd be doing when you grew up?"

  The afternoon light was fading and soon they'd have to go inside, out of the chill. There were some cotton wool clouds drifting lazily above them. Julia was pleased that they didn't look like the type that carried snow. She stretched her legs out and crossed her boots at the ankle. Merrick was watching her, waiting for an answer. The fact that he was a little tipsy amused her. She hadn't seen him this way before. He was usually a man in tight command of his emotions and his thoughts. She liked him more for the fact that he was being a little sloppy today. The fresh air and the whisky were having their effect on her as well; she decided to reward his pointed and inexplicable interest in her with the truth.

  "I wanted to be a lawyer," she said and watched for his reaction.

  He nodded slowly, bobbing his head up and down as though he didn't quite have control over the motion. She braced herself, waiting for him to laugh at the idea, as everyone did.

  Finally he said, "You'd make a great lawyer."

  Julia felt herself flush with pleasure and surprise. "Thank you."

  "I mean it." He looked at Walt. "Wouldn't she? She'd be great at that."

  Walt nodded. "Absolutely."

  Merrick's eyes swam back to her. "You'd be fantastic as a lawyer. You're whip smart. You'd run circles around everyone. And you'd look great in a pin-striped suit."

  Julia snorted, feeling shy and triumphant all at once.

  "And," Merrick continued, "temperamentally you're perfectly suited for it. You can be a real pushy asshole."

  Julia burst out laughing. A hearty belly laugh that flooded her with good feelings.

  "I like this new, painfully honest you, Merrick," she said when she caught her breath. "I think we should keep you drunk all the time."

  ***

  Monday morning, Julia felt groggy and had a hard time waking up. Her head hurt and her mouth felt like it was full of cotton wool. She had stayed with Walt and Merrick, chatting and sipping whisky for far too long the day before. She hadn't wanted the day to end after the two men had treated her crushed dream with such respect. Drinking whisky on an empty stomach hadn't done her any favors.

  She got dressed and shuffled out to the kitchen. Forcing down her porridge, she wondered how she would manage her pupils in the state she was in. Perhaps another nature walk was in order.

  She pulled on her hat and gloves and gathered together the books she wanted for that day's lessons. Every time she changed elevation - went from sitting to standing, or from standing to bending over - her head swam and she thought she might bring up the breakfast that had just gone down.

  Boots buttoned, hat in place, stomach under control for the moment, she pulled open the front door of her house. As she went to step through i
t, something caught her eye. She turned, startled and looked at the open door, now beside her left shoulder. As quickly as she could, she stepped outside and vomited violently in her front garden.

  There was a large hunting knife, with a blade at least eight inches long, stuck by its tip into her front door. Blood had dripped all over Julia's front step and down the length of the door because the knife blade was running through a small brown rabbit.

  Twenty

  Merrick stood on Julia's front walk with his hands on his hips. He scowled at her front door.

  Julia had left the rabbit and gone to find him. She was going to be late opening the school.

  The blood on the doorstep was congealing; it looked like pudding from where Julia stood. The rabbit's head was hanging at an odd angle, its ears laying along its back. She felt very sad for the poor little beast and wanted to take him down right away, but knew she had to let Merrick do his job. At least the animal wasn't suffering. It had clearly been dead awhile.

  Merrick didn't take his eyes off the front door. "And you're sure you didn't hear anything in the night?"

  "Positive," Julia said. She didn't add that the whisky had pushed her into a deep sleep from which she was surprised to have risen. Her head still hurt. She glanced at the pile of vomit in her front garden, embarrassed to have Merrick see it. If he had noticed it, he hadn't mentioned it.

  "Do you recognize the knife?"

  Julia shook her head. "No."

  "The men who threatened you at the dance had a knife."

  It wasn't a question, but Julia answered anyway. "Yes."

  "Does it look the same?"

  Julia peered at her front door, looking at the blade and handle and trying not to see the rabbit. She tried comparing it to the fleeting impressions from the night of the dance. "I can't tell," she finally said, "This one looks bigger, but I can't say for sure."