Horse With No Name (15 page)

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 invigorated 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 it, 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."

Merrick nodded and then glanced at her. "Stay
there." He walked closer to the front door, looking down, examining
the ground for footprints, Julia guessed. He searched on both sides
of the walkway. If the well-trod ground revealed anything to him,
he didn't say.

When he was finished he went to the door and,
grasping the knife in his left hand by its large wooden handle,
pulled. The knife resisted for a moment and then came away, the
rabbit with it. Merrick pointed the knife down at the ground and
the animal slid off. He held it by its back legs and turned to look
at Julia.