The Devil's Cold Dish (23 page)

“And you?” Rees's stomach began to churn and he was no longer sure he could eat breakfast.

“I've known you since we were babies.” Susannah met his eyes with honesty and directness. “I know you too well to believe Lydia, or any woman, could bewitch you. And Lydia, if she's a witch I'm a spotted cow. But someone hates you, Will. Make no mistake about that. Hates you enough to go after you and yours. The rest of this,” she waved her arms, “is fear. So I suppose the question is: who hates you so much?”

“Well, Piggy Hanson doesn't love me,” Rees said, forcing a smile.

“Yes. And he'll take this opportunity to hurt you. But do you really see him creeping around your farm in the middle of the night?”

“I know. I was wondering about Sam.”

“Sam?” Susannah's voice squeaked. “No. That's impossible. The strategy against you requires a devious mind. Sam had that but, even before his injury, he didn't possess the patience to see something like this through. And now?” She shook her head decidedly. “Not Sam. Although I don't want to cast aspersions on a member of your family, I'd sooner believe Caroline is behind it.”

“He could be playacting,” Rees said.

Susannah shook her head and Rees could see she didn't believe it. “He'd be the best actor in the world,” she said. “I'll bring out your breakfast.” She turned in a whirl of her yellow skirts, and walked quickly back to the kitchen.

Rees wished he had not agreed to breakfast. He did not feel comfortable here, in the coffeehouse or Dugard, anymore. He'd always felt like an outsider, even as a boy. Unlike his peers, who seemed mostly content to stay in Dugard, frequently on the very farms where they'd grown up or within five miles of them, Rees had always yearned for something different. Something more. From his earliest days he remembered his mother telling him that the grass was not always greener on the other side of the fence. Rees had never believed her. Every journey out of town had shown him that Dugard was not the world. It wasn't even a large part of the world. Starting with the war, Rees had traveled far away from this tiny corner in the District of Maine. Not just to Boston, but also to New York City and Trenton, New Jersey. At the conclusion of the war, he'd traveled to Philadelphia and out to Pittsburgh and everywhere in between.

With each journey out and the subsequent arrival home, Dugard seemed smaller, more closed off, and more smothering. Magistrate Hanson had been right, Rees conceded reluctantly. He didn't want to live here. He never had. And now someone was punishing him for that.

He ate as quickly as he could, barely tasting the food Susannah put before him, and unable to say afterward what had been on the plate. When he was done, he tossed a few coins on the table and left.

He would not be visiting Dugard very often in the future.

 

Chapter Twenty-one

He drove directly to his sister's farm, driving faster and faster with impotent anger. He didn't know what to do. And anger was so much easier for him to accept than the fear that threatened to overtake him. It was Caroline's fault, even if she had had nothing to do with the murders or the accusations leveled at Lydia by Farley. Caroline had started it with her initial rumor that Lydia was a witch.

Realizing suddenly that Hannibal was galloping, Rees slowed. Breathing hard, Hannibal dropped into a trot. He was covered with dust. And so was Rees, a fine brown coat from the dry roads.

They finished the journey at a more reasonable pace, arriving at Caroline's derelict farm close to noon. As Rees prepared to turn into the lane leading to the drive, a smart carriage with yellow wheels rattled toward him at a rapid clip. When the coachman turned toward Dugard, the carriage lurched and almost swung into Hannibal. He danced sideways and Rees had to struggle to bring the horse under control. He didn't want to see his wagon overturned. By the time he'd pulled Hannibal to a stop, the fine equipage was barreling down the road toward town. But Rees knew who was inside the carriage; one glance had been enough for him to identify Magistrate Cornelius Hanson, his balding head bent over something on his lap. Piggy hadn't even looked up and so had no idea his coach had almost driven Rees off the road. It was doubtful Piggy would have cared anyway.

Trembling, Rees urged Hannibal into the lane. This track led only to the drive into Caroline's barnyard and ended there. Piggy Hanson must have been visiting her. The question was why?

Rees pulled up to the rail and jumped down from the wagon. Since Amos was running around in the pasture behind the barn Rees knew David was already here helping Charlie. Rees leaped over the rotting front steps and went into the house without even a knock to announce himself. Caroline was in the kitchen washing dishes. She was humming.

“What did Piggy want?” Rees asked. She jumped, uttering a little scream.

“Why, Will, I didn't hear you come in.”

“I asked you a question.”

She smiled, her lips curling. “Just a friendly visit. I do have friends, you know, unlike you.” Rees stared at his sister. She looked happy, as though she were a child promised a much-desired treat.

“I don't want you or Sam at my farm ever again,” he said. “Especially not Sam.”

“Why, Will, surely you don't believe he will hurt you.”

Rees looked over her head at the back door. Sam was standing there, smiling and listening. “And not without a specific invitation,” Rees said firmly.

Caro laughed. Rees wondered how many months it had been since he'd heard that sound. “You don't want me to visit? Very well. I won't. It doesn't matter. I don't want to live there anyway. I don't want to live on any farm,” she admitted in a burst of candor. “I think it's time I move to Boston.”

“What do you mean by that?” Rees asked in a sharp voice. She laughed again. Although she did not reply, Rees knew as clearly as if she had shouted at him that the magistrate had promised Caroline something. Rees was very afraid that something might be his farm. But she had just said she didn't want to
live
there. Did that mean she wanted to sell it and move to Boston?

“Where is Sam?' Caroline glanced around as though she thought he might be behind her. Rees looked through the door. There was no one there. In those few seconds, Sam had disappeared. “I suppose he wandered off. Again. I vow, he needs a keeper.”

“Are you sure he has not improved?” Rees asked. “I wonder if his appearance and behavior are not all a sham.”

Caroline burst into shrill laughter that was touched with hysteria. “Are you mad? Or are you just attempting to ease your own guilt? Of course Sam is not shamming. He can barely dress himself.” Caroline turned her back on her brother.

“But everything will be better soon,” she murmured, so softly Rees had trouble hearing her. “Go away, Will. I am not speaking to you anymore.”

“Caro, turn around.” But Rees knew his sister would not speak to him again; he recognized her behavior from his youth. Until Caroline decided to unbend, Rees would be invisible. As a boy he would sometimes allow his temper to get the best of him and he would punch her. A number of whippings at his father's hands for hitting a girl had cured him of that, but now, as frustration rose into a boil, Rees was tempted to spin her around to face him and demand answers. Of course, that wouldn't succeed either. She might look at him but with no more interest than if he were a wall. Muttering a curse, Rees turned and stamped out of the house.

He climbed up into the wagon. He was so furious he almost jumped back down and went inside. He needed answers. Why had Piggy Hanson visited his sister? Had he promised her Rees's farm? What had she really meant by her comment about moving to Boston? Was she, as Rees suspected, planning to sell his farm? He stared past the house to the fields beyond. This alliance between his sister and Piggy Hanson filled Rees with dread.

In the distance Sam was stumping through the cornfield with determined purpose. Was he playacting? Caroline had sounded genuinely shocked at the thought, but perhaps she was lying. She lied all the time to get what she wanted. Did she know what Sam had been up to? Was she Sam's accomplice? Or was
she
controlling Sam? Rees shuddered. He'd been so convinced that Caroline, despite her many flaws, could not be a murderer. But now he was no longer so certain.

*   *   *

He tried to put aside the anxious thoughts that went nowhere as he drove home. A host of chores waited for him, from checking the dairy and the cheese making Lydia had left behind to the wheat and cornfields. He also wanted to start on the repairs to his loom. Although he had no weaving jobs right now, he hoped to begin again this fall. He didn't want to be caught with a broken loom. Putting it back together might take only a few hours but he didn't know that for certain, and anyway he knew that many hours could be spent trying to resolve the unexpected problem. It was better to start early.

After tending to Hannibal he went into the kitchen to clean up from breakfast. He'd only just begun when he heard the sound of horses' hooves on the drive; too many horses to be David and Charlie. He hurried out to the front porch. As he'd feared it was not his son but Farley. There were fewer men riding at his back today. The McIntyre boys were missing—so Rees's visit with Elijah had done some good—but Farley still had five men with him.

“What do you want?” Rees shouted.

Farley dismounted and came to the bottom step. As he put his foot upon the first one, his hand clutched the amulet at his throat. “We come for the witch,” he said.

“There is no witch,” Rees said, folding his arms across his chest. He heard Farley's companions getting down from their nags but didn't remove his attention from their leader.

“You know what I mean. We're here for your wife.”

“My wife is gone, visiting family.”

“So I heard.” Farley's lips stretched, baring his yellow teeth. “But you could be lying. She's probably here, hiding. We're going to search.”

“No, you're not,” Rees said. “You searched once. That's enough.”

“So, she is here,” Farley said in triumph. He came up another step. Rees heard the thud of footsteps and two men moved behind Farley.

“She is not here,” Rees said. “Get off my property.”

“The magistrate gave me permission to search for the witch,” Farley said. “I'm constable now, charged with keeping the peace. Two men have been murdered. I will search your house.” He clutched the amulet around his neck so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“I told you, she's visiting family. And she had nothing to do with the murders.”

“That will be decided in a court of law. Now, stand aside.”

Rees shifted his stance and clenched his fists. “Don't come any closer. I told you to get off my land.”

“Even if she ain't here, the magistrate said she could be tried in absent—absent something and convicted. And if she's convicted, all your property is forfeit. Everything: the land, the livestock, the clothes you're standing up in. So, it'd be better all around if she goes to jail nice and easy until she's brought up before the judge.”

Rees shook his head. He didn't trust Hanson to treat Lydia fairly. Why, he might leave her in jail for months. Or confirm her guilt with the water test; if Lydia survived drowning she would be hanged as a witch anyway. “I told you she isn't here,” he repeated, taking an involuntary step forward.

Too late he heard the whisper of a shoe behind him. One of the men had crept around the house and come in through the back door. Before Rees could turn, something smashed into his head and darkness descended.

*   *   *

He came to choking and gasping in a flood of cold water. David slowly came into focus above him. “What happened?” the boy asked.

Rees put his hand on the back of his head. He felt a swelling goose egg and his fingers came away red. “How long was I out?” he asked in a hoarse voice. The wound was already closing and drying blood had stiffened his hair into spikes.

“Don't know. I just got home. I saw you lying here.” David put his arm under his father's shoulders and helped him into a sitting position. Rees groaned and the world spun around him. As the farm righted itself Rees carefully looked at the sky. The sun was dropping toward the western horizon; he'd been unconscious for hours. “How do you feel?” David looked down, his face pallid with worry. “You don't look very good.”

“I have the worst headache.” It felt like someone was striking at his head over and over with a hammer.

“Can you stand?”

Rees tried but every attempt resulted in the shakes and such dizziness he collapsed again. David tried to lift him but wasn't strong enough to take his father's weight. Finally Rees struggled to his hands and knees, and with many pauses to rest, he crawled into the kitchen. The wooden boards of the porch were stained a deep rusty brown with his blood.

David helped Rees into a chair. “Will you tell me what happened?”

“It was Farley,” Rees said. “Him and his hired ruffians from the Bull. They came looking for Lydia. I refused to let them in.”

“But Lydia isn't here,” David said, sounding perplexed.

“I told them that. Repeatedly.” Rees coughed, the vibration sending waves of pain through his skull. “We've got to check, make sure nothing was stolen.”

David nodded and said, almost to himself, “I wondered why all the doors were open.”

“Are the horses…?” Rees sat up in sudden worry, clapping a hand to his throbbing head.

“I didn't count them,” David said, “but there are horses in the pasture. I'll take a look now. And check on the rest of the livestock.” He hared out the back door. Rees sat at the table for a few seconds more and then slowly, very slowly rose to his feet. The shakiness was beginning to fade and although the headache continued to pound in his head, he felt marginally better. He filled a basin with water and used one of Lydia's rags to wipe the back of his head. He gasped as his clumsy fingers touched the wound and pain surged through him. The rag came away red. He couldn't force himself to touch the swelling again. He tore one of the rags into strips and bound it loosely around his head. Then he made his way cautiously to the back door.