Horse With No Name Read online

  Millie made a noise that sounded like 'Pwwaa' and her startled eyes darted around the table. "Surely you don't mean that! Who would voluntarily remain a spinster?" She laughed at the absurdity of it all.

  "Not everyone can be as lucky as Betty and Christopher and find true love," Julia said as she touched her friend's arm. "Besides what's wrong with wanting a career?"

  "Nothing in the least," Millie countered, "as long as it’s temporary and a woman quickly finds her place in her home and with her children." She looked at Cranna with an expression that suggested Julia had just bought a one-way ticket to the home for the mentally infirm. "Besides, where does 'love' fit in with all this? A marriage is a partnership, a business if you like. Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell know that full well. They literally run a business together. And I'm sure they'll be producing children very soon, as well."

  Millie smiled benevolently at Betty, unaware she'd just wounded her guest, who was unable to have children, and very sad about it.

  Julia reached for Betty's hand under the table and squeezed it.

  Much to Julia's relief, Millie turned her attention elsewhere for the rest of the meal. She was not so lucky with Mr. Cranna. He chatted to her about Scotland and his travels that took him through the Panama Canal and up to San Francisco. When, for the third time, Betty had to kick her gently under the table because she'd drifted off and had missed a cue from Cranna to ask a question, Julia reluctantly dragged her mind away from the puzzle of Mr. Hunter.

  "Tell me about San Francisco," she said, taking pity on the tall, awkward man.

  He looked so genuinely pleased to have Julia's attention that she felt guilty about the way she'd treated him thus far.

  "The architecture is something to see, Miss Thom. I stayed for one night at the Palace Hotel, and oh my,” his eyes widened at the memory, "you can see the building for miles around. It's taller than you can even imagine. And inside, right in the middle of the building, at the very top, there's a huge skylight that floods the building with light. It is so perfectly impressive. Each hotel room has its own bathroom." He stopped and waited for Julia's reaction.

  "Amazing," she said, mustering the polite interest her mother had instilled in her, "you were so lucky to have spent a night there."

  "Well," Cranna almost wriggled in his seat with pleasure, "one night was all I could afford, but I couldn't leave town without at least experiencing it."

  By the time desert and coffee were served, Julia knew as much about San Francisco as if she'd been there herself. To her dismay, Millie orchestrated things so that Cranna was able to position himself beside Julia in the parlor after the meal. He continued their conversation by detailing for her the horrors of oceanic travel and the seasickness he never got over until he was on dry land again. Julia felt her nearly-inedible supper roiling in her stomach at his descriptions and eventually had to ask him to stop, fearing she might throw up on Millie Jones' Persian rug. ("From Persia," as Millie had pointed out.)

  "I'm so sorry, Miss Thom. I've been prattling on. You must find me boring in the extreme."

  "Oh no, Mr. Cranna," Julia lied. "The picture you paint of your voyage is fascinating." She hoped she didn't sound too insincere.

  "Tell me," Cranna said, "what do you enjoy most about teaching?"

  Julia was amused that Cranna had enough self-awareness to notice that his conversation partner was in need of some attention. "It's challenging. Especially teaching such varied ages. But I love it."

  "How old are they?" He seemed genuinely interested.

  "The youngest is seven, and the eldest is fourteen."

  "They must adore you."

  "Not when I make them do math sums."

  Cranna continued asking her questions about her work and her life in Horse. He tried to hide his shock when he learned that she lived alone.

  "I thought you lived with the Mitchells."

  "No. They're good friends but I live on my own. In a little house the school board provides for me."

  "Really?" He thought about this for a moment. "I can't see it."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean I can't imagine it. A woman living on her own."

  "You don't have to imagine it, Mr. Cranna. It's happening."

  Roy Meddy glowered at Julia throughout the meal from his seat across the table. He said very little to his wife who was on one side of him, or to Mayor Billy who was on the other. Esther Meddy and the mayor seemed to be passionately debating something. Millie had to shush them several times when the debate became heated. Julia hadn’t caught the subject, but when the mayor and Mrs. Meddy continued their politely veiled argument in the parlor after dinner, she saw that whatever it was it meant a tremendous amount to both of them.

  Cranna excused himself momentarily from Julia’s side, and like a shot Roy Meddy was at her elbow.

  “Did you figure out how that little sissy Hunter managed to cheat at the poker game?” he stage whispered.

  Julia took her time answering, eyeing the baker coolly. “I’m not sure I understand, Mr. Meddy. That’s not my concern. What I’m trying to find out is who beat Mr. Hunter.”

  “I’ll tell you this.” Meddy lowered his voice even further. “When you find out who that little turd really is, then you’ll have the answer to who put the boots to him.”

  “What on earth do you mean, Mr. Meddy?”

  “Just that. And I’ll also tell you this…” However, Meddy was interrupted by his wife, who pulled herself away from the mayor and came across the parlor floor to her husband’s side.

  “We must go, Roy,” she said, barely glancing at Julia. “Morning comes far too early.”

  When they left, Julia was still puzzling over what Meddy meant about finding out who Hunter was.

  "That odious woman makes my head ache." Betty struggled pulling on her gloves and finally gave up and shoved them in her pocket, taking her husband's arm. "And that food! I'm starving, Christopher. I hope we have some of that soup left because I'll need it when we get home. I could hardly choke down whatever that meal was supposed to be."

  "I think it was roast pork with potatoes and greens."

  "More like roast arse." Betty was never as rude as when she'd just spent time with Millie Jones.

  Julia chuckled. "How does she manage to insult everyone at the table in the span of two minutes?"

  "Cranna emerged unscathed," Christopher pointed out.

  "I don't know," Julia countered, "the implication was that any man who was attracted to me had to be touched in the head. I do think the intention, however, was to get Cranna to like me. Implying that he was too stupid to run the other way."

  "Good luck with that," Betty said.

  "Hey!"

  "I didn't mean you're not immeasurably attractive, my darling." Betty reached across her husband and patted her friend's arm. "And thank you, by the way, for pulling the spotlight off me after that 'when you and Christopher have children' comment."

  "My pleasure."

  "What I meant was that Cranna didn't stand a chance. You're so preoccupied with this issue with James Hunter that you hardly heard a word anyone said."

  "I made an effort to listen to Mr. Cranna and his tales of travel. You'd think he was the only person to ever cross the Atlantic," Julia huffed.

  "He seems a decent sort," Christopher said.

  Julia relented, lowering her voice, "Oh, he was fine. I'm just grumpy because I'm hungry and preoccupied." That was when she asked, "What if Alan Cecil didn't do it?" She followed with, “Also, Roy Meddy said the strangest thing tonight. He made a comment about ‘figuring out who Hunter really is’.”

  “What do you think he meant?” Betty asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  Christopher was holding a lantern and guiding their way down the dark street.

  “He still denies hurting Hunter. I’m not entirely sure I believe him though. What’s your assessment of him, Betty?”

  Betty thought for a few moments and then said, "He is an angr
y man, that's for sure. I've not yet had an encounter with him when he didn't seem like he was at the boiling point. Although I might act that way too if I was married to his wife.”

  "But do you think he could be physically violent?" Julia asked.

  "There's no way to know really, is there? If you push almost anyone far enough, they'll resort to violence. Especially if they're trying to defend themselves."

  "Whoever attacked Hunter wasn't acting defensively. At least, that’s the way it looks to me.”

  Both women were quiet, thinking some more.

  "What do you think, Christopher?" Julia asked.

  Christopher glanced down at Julia. He seemed slightly startled to be included in the conversation. "Me? Oh, goodness. I have no idea."

  Julia tried to jostle an opinion out of him, "Humor me, Christopher. Do you think Roy Meddy could be violent?"

  "Well, now," he waffled a bit, "I don't like to think anyone could beat someone else up."

  "But it happened. Do you think Meddy has it in him to attack someone like Hunter?"

  "I don't think so. I can't see him doing that."

  "But do you think it's possible?" Julia continued to press him.

  "Well, I…you see, I think..." Christopher burbled a bit without saying anything.

  Betty spoke up, "You won't be able to get him to commit, Julia. My husband can't think ill of anyone."

  Julia detected a note of frost in Betty's voice. She suspected the couple had not completely resolved their argument about the store's financial position.

  The trio turned at a corner and stepped up onto the sidewalk that ran in front of the shops in the Mitchell's General Store's block.

  When they reached the store's front door, Betty turned to Julia. "Are you coming in for some soup?"

  "Yes, please. I'm ravenous. How did Mayor Jones get so fat on that woman's food?"

  "Love is blind," Christopher said and opened the general store's door for them. "And also without taste buds, apparently."

  ***

  "Julia, this makes me very nervous."

  "Try to stay calm, Betty. We'll be out of here in two minutes."

  “Why are we even doing this?” Betty glanced around her nervously.

  “That thing Roy Meddy said last night won’t leave me alone. I need to check something.”

  "What if he catches us?"

  “Dr. Parker? We'll just say we were waiting for him. You'll tell him Christopher has a cough you're worried about."

  "But he doesn't."

  "He's cured. It's a miracle."

  Julia stood at Dr. Parker's filing cabinet, swiftly flipping through the patient files in the top drawer. Each name was written on the edge of the file in Dr. Parker's small, precise printing. She had to squint to see many of the names but recognized almost every one.

  Betty was standing in the doorway that led from the front hall of the house to the office, watching the street through a front window, her face screwed up with anxiety. "Oh, this is terrible," she muttered to herself, "terrible. How did I let you talk me into this?"

  "Because you're a good friend and you like a little adventure as much as the next gal," Julia said. "Admit it."

  Betty was silent, not willing to admit her friend was right. She might be morally compromised by helping Julia break into the doctor's office, but part of her was thrilled with the danger. This was a part of her she didn't like to show to anyone, nor admit to.

  "Here he comes. He's just leaving Finnegan's."

  Julia closed the drawer and opened the one below it.

  "What are you doing?" Betty glanced at her friend. "Didn't you hear me? He's coming."

  "We've got a few minutes. Calm down."

  "Gracious, Julia, you're giving me a heart attack."

  "Well then, we're in the right place."

  The clock in Parker's living room ticked loudly, no doubt grating Betty Mitchell's nerves. "He's crossing the street now, by our store. Oh! He's stopped to talk to Pastor Thoreson."

  "I'm done anyway. Let's go." Julia picked up her small beaded handbag off Parker's desk and strode toward the door, her expression preoccupied.

  Betty fairly scurried down the hallway, launching herself at the front door's knob. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

  "No."

  "Oh," Betty's face fell. "That's too bad."

  "Actually, it’s the absence of the file I was looking for that tells me something." She followed Betty through the open door and closed it swiftly behind her.

  Twenty-six

  Julia woke to the sound of shouting. Her head jerked off her pillow, and she sat in the dark, confused for several seconds, not sure where she was. She had been dreaming of home, of her parents. Her mind slowly caught up and she remembered that she was in her new bedroom in Horse. She could still smell the scent of her father's tobacco.

  The shouting was outside.

  She got up, wrapped the blanket from her bed around her shoulders, and went to the front room. Pulling the curtain aside, she looked out and saw two men running past on the street, lanterns in their hands. Something was wrong.

  Julia got dressed as quickly as she could, pulling on an old cotton dress she used when she was cleaning, forgoing her corset and covering herself up with her thick wool coat. She pulled on her riding boots, which were close at hand, and left her hair hanging loosely down her back.

  Closing her front door behind her, she ran out onto the street. As soon as she was halfway down her front walk, she could smell it.

  Fire.

  To a small town in an outback place there is nothing as terrifying as fire. The weather could be dealt with in many ways; it was possible to hunker down in snowstorms and slog through the muddy streets during the rains. The heat of the summer could be managed with shade and liquids. Horse was fortunate to be situated right beside a lake, which provided transportation, as well as drinking and washing water.

  But fire was the one element that struck terror into every citizen's heart. It had the potential to sweep through a place, turning it to ash before almost anything could be done. It was like a beast that could not be fought back, ravenous and raging. Just four years earlier, many lives had been lost and countless buildings destroyed in Vancouver, when city workers lost control of a brush fire.

  Julia ran toward the orange glow that lit up the night. The smell of burning wood filled her nostrils. As she got closer she could hear the wood crackling, like a giant camp fire. She ran to the end of her street and turned left, huddled in her coat. She could hear shouting over the noise of the burn; men's voices, frantic and loud.

  It was James Hunter's house, she realized as she got close. The roof was ablaze and fire and smoke were pouring out of the front windows. A chain of men was using buckets and anything else handy to pull water from the lake and douse the flames. Julia immediately saw they wouldn't be able to save the house. Their objective now would be to prevent the fire from spreading. On one side of Hunter's home was an empty lot, which was a saving grace. On the other was the Carson family home.

  Mrs. Carson and her two small boys were standing in their front yard, watching in horror.

  Julia saw Merrick, Walt, Christopher Mitchell and Pastor Thoreson all in the bucket chain, faces fierce with concentration.

  A voice came from behind her. "Where's Mr. Hunter?" It was Betty.

  Julia turned and wrapped one of her arms around her friend. "Is he in the chain?"

  They both looked down the line but couldn't see the home owner.

  "He's not inside, is he?" Betty voiced Julia's thought.

  The two women looked around at the crowd of women that was gathered. Every available man was pitching in.

  Julia broke away from Betty and approached Mrs. Carson, raising her voice over the crackling of the fire. "Have you seen Mr. Hunter?"

  The woman shook her head and pulled one of her boys closer to her.

  Frantic now, Julia and Betty walked down the chain of water-bearers, staring into every fa
ce. When they reached the lake, they turned to one another, bleakness in their eyes.

  "Come on." Julia grabbed Betty's hand and they ran back to near the top of the chain. Merrick and Walt were beside one another shifting buckets and pots, anything that would hold water, up the line toward the house.

  "Have you seen Hunter?" Julia continued to hold Betty's hand.

  Merrick shook his head and grabbed a bucket with a rope handle being passed to him. "No," he said. "Have you?"

  "No."

  The crackling of the fire got louder. The heat coming off it reached all the way back to where Julia and Betty stood. There was a crash from the house, and a plume of sparks rose up in the dark sky, disappearing almost as soon as Julia turned her head at the noise.

  "Get back, will you?" Merrick asked. He was curt with them, but then added, "Please."

  Julia and Betty curled into one another and moved away from the chain, Julia's eyes fruitlessly scanning the orange dark all around them.

  It was then that she spotted Hunter. He was standing two houses away, leaning against a fence, a hopeless expression on his face. He was wearing a long nightshirt that almost reached his ankles, and nothing else. His feet were bare.

  Julia squeezed Betty's hand and pointed. They both began to run to where Hunter stood. Julia's gaze was caught momentarily when the bright orange light from the fire showed Hunter in silhouette in his nightshirt. She unbuttoned her coat as she ran and pulled her arms out of the sleeves. When she reached Hunter she threw the coat around him, pulling it tight.

  "Mr. Hunter, you should come with us."

  The man turned to Julia but his eyes were glassy. She wasn't sure he recognized her.

  "James? It's Betty Mitchell and Julia Thom. We're going to take you away from this. Come on. There's no need to watch."

  Together Betty and Julia slowly turned Hunter and began to walk with him, their backs to the blaze. Hunter crept along, his bare feet seemingly oblivious to the cold.

  Twenty-seven