The Devil's Cold Dish (24 page)

The brightness outside knifed into his eyes and he squeezed them shut a moment before gingerly making his way down the steps. He paused and waited for his body to steady before looking around. Everything looked as usual, untouched. He walked to the crest of the slope that led down to Lydia's hives. From this distance he couldn't be sure but he thought they appeared no different than before. He walked along the hill toward the eastern side of the farm. The weaver's cottage stood in a small hollow and Rees could see the door was open. He crossed the short distance and went inside. Nothing had been touched and after a few seconds out of the painfully bright sunshine he went back outside and closed the door. Then he angled north, toward the pigsty. He could hear them grunting even before he reached the enclosure. When he looked over the fence he saw them at the far end. None of them seemed to be missing.

With a sigh of relief, he started back to the house. But as he approached the dairy he noticed the door was open. He made his way to the small brick structure and peered inside. Lydia would have heated the milk in the panniers with rennet and put the resulting curds into molds. But Rees had hurried her away before she'd had the chance and now the stink of souring milk drove him back outside. And it looked as though a squirrel had already found its way through the open door. Rees closed it. Lydia would have to scrub the dairy again. If she was ever able to return. For the first time Rees considered the possibility that she would never be able to come home. Doing so would put her under the threat of imprisonment and death. He would not live without her and the rest of his family. So what would he do? For all that he had never wanted to stay connected to Dugard or this farm, they had been the constants in his wandering life. The prospect of leaving this familiar world forever sent a shaft of fear into Rees's heart.

He turned and vomited into the grass.

“What the Hell are you doing outside?” David demanded, trotting down the slope.

“Language, David,” Rees said automatically as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“You should be inside, resting. You look terrible,” David said, taking his father by the arm. “Let's go back to the house.”

“I wanted to check on the grounds,” Rees said. But he gladly accepted David's help.

 

Chapter Twenty-two

David helped his father into the kitchen chair at the table and set about making coffee. “Nothing's missing,” he said as he began grinding the beans. Neither spoke while the rattling sound filled the kitchen. As David measured the coffee into the pot, he continued, “It looks as though they went into the barn, the henhouse, the dairy, of course, as well as into the house and the basement.”

Rees nodded and wished he hadn't. Pain rolled forward and throbbed behind his eyes. “But nothing was damaged?”

“No.” David pushed the coffeepot over the fire. “They searched thoroughly but that was all.” He attempted to smile, managing a lopsided effort that didn't fool Rees into believing David was unaffected by the invasion. “They were honest men.”

“Would you look at my loom upstairs?” Although he suspected Sam of breaking it—he might not have participated in the murder of Thomas McIntyre, but he'd wandered about the farm enough to give him access to the loom—Rees knew it was possible one of these other men had done it. He could just see Farley lashing out with a foot. If so, that dirty dog might have taken this recent opportunity to finish the job, destroying the loom beyond any possibility of repair. David nodded and went upstairs. Rees could hear the clatter of footsteps above. David returned a few minutes later.

“Are the pieces pulled together into a pile?” Rees asked.

“Yes.”

Rees exhaled in relief. “No further damage was done.”

David pushed the perking coffee away from the fire. Wrapping a rag around his hand, he poured out a cup and put it on the table in front of his father. Rees put in a large lump of sugar and a dollop of cream. “I'll put the milk down the well to keep cool,” David said and disappeared out the door. Rees took a sip of the hot liquid. Perspiration popped out upon his forehead and, although the coffee was not as strong as he liked, he began to feel better.

He fetched the cheese from the pantry and attempted a trip to Lydia's garden where he picked several ripe cucumbers. He didn't have the energy to do more than that. When David returned they ate their scanty supper. Rees intended to wash the dishes while his son finished up evening chores but fell asleep over the dirty plate before him. He did not wake until the following morning.

By then the sun had been up for hours. David had eaten eggs, his used plate was still on the table, and he'd disappeared outside. Rees dragged himself to his feet and had to clutch at the chair for support. His knees were so stiff they seemed ready to buckle under his weight. Rees shook them and took a few cautious steps. His legs began to come back to life. He realized his headache had diminished to a faint ache. He stirred up the fire and pushed the kettle full of water over it. Besides washing the dishes, he had to soak the dried blood out of his hair.

He put the dishes in the dishpan. As he poured hot water over them he heard a horse galloping up the drive. This time, before he opened the front door, he stopped at the parlor and took down his rifle. Although tempted to load it, he elected instead to carry the powder and shot with him. It was not Farley, as Rees feared, but Caldwell. He dismounted and came running up the steps. His eyes widened with alarm when he took in Rees. But, instead of asking what had happened, he said, “Promise me you didn't murder your brother-in-law.”

“Murder? What are you talking about?”

“I was coming to see you anyway and I met one of my old acquaintances from the Bull and he told me he'd found Sam's body.” Caldwell reached out to grab Rees's arm.

“Wait.” Rees couldn't grasp what Caldwell was saying. “Sam's body? What happened?” He wrested his arm away from Caldwell. “I don't understand. Sam was murdered? No, that's not possible.”

“Yes, Rees, it is. Will you listen? I just saw the body. Sam was found shot to death.” He paused but this time Rees did not speak. “Come on. Don't you want to examine Sam's remains before Farley does? After that, well, it's unlikely you'll have a chance.”

“Very well,” Rees said, following Caldwell down the porch steps. “But when I saw Sam last he was alive.” As though that made a difference.

“Can you get up behind me?” Caldwell put his foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle. “We don't have any time to waste. Sam's body was found on your land and the farmer was heading into town to tell Farley.”

“My land?” Rees stopped and put a hand to his head. It had begun to throb once again. “I didn't kill him.”

“We don't have time for this,” Caldwell said, leaning down and extending his hand. Rees grasped the grubby paw and hauled himself up onto the horse's back behind the saddle. The gelding jumped into a canter so suddenly Rees almost toppled off over the tail. He grabbed Caldwell's jacket and held on.

Caldwell urged the horse down the drive and onto the main road. He went right and they rode north a few miles. The fence here had fallen down in several places. Caldwell chose one of the openings and they trotted into a copse of trees.

“My father let this stretch go wild,” Rees said. “To make a break between our farm and Winthrop's. He was a poor neighbor.”

“The body is somewhere in here,” Caldwell said as he jumped down. Rees dismounted more slowly and stood for a moment looking around him. “There,” Caldwell said, pointing as he moved forward into the trees.

Sam lay sprawled on his back, half covered with the thick vegetation. Rees inspected the scene. It did not look natural. For a moment he couldn't put his finger on what disturbed him. Sam's body had fallen over sideways and Rees could clearly see the gaping hole in his temple. Black powder circled the wound in an ugly halo. He was dressed as Rees remembered and his legs were crooked, just as they would have been if he'd been kneeling. Weeds and last year's leaves covered him up to the chest in a green and brown quilt. But the long grass into which he'd fallen fluffed up around his head so that the body was obvious and Sam's face was recognizable. He'd been positioned so that although it appeared the murderer had tried to hide him, Sam could be instantly seen and recognized.

“Somebody wants it to look as though I killed him,” Rees said in numb disbelief. Caldwell threw Rees a glance in which certainty and surprise that Rees could be so shocked were equally mixed.

“Of course,” Caldwell said.

“I thought Sam might be behind the other murders and the attacks on my farm,” Rees continued. “But if he was, who killed him?”

Caldwell was no longer listening. His head was half turned toward the road. “They're coming,” he said. Now Rees could hear the drumming of hooves on the hard-packed dirt road, still faint but growing louder with each second. “We can't go back to the road.”

“C'mon,” Rees said. “Get your nag and follow me.”

While Caldwell ran to untie his horse, Rees stared at the body on the ground. He knew he might not have another chance to examine it and he wanted to remember as much as he could. Sam had never been a good man but he had not deserved to be murdered and discarded in the woods like garbage. Rees would do his best to find the man who murdered him.

“We're in full view of the road,” Caldwell said. “Let's move.”

With a nod, Rees spun around and set off into the woods where the trees would screen them. Caldwell pulled his horse behind him. They had to travel slowly; the ground was snarled with tree roots and scattered with granite boulders. If the horse tripped and broke an ankle they'd be in real trouble. Clouds of black flies rose up and settled around them.

Rolling his sleeves down to his wrists, Rees paused to orient himself. Many years had passed since he'd gone through this tree break and it looked different. Trees had come down and saplings grown up so everything was unfamiliar. After a second or two, Rees recognized the flat granite slab ahead and to the right and started walking again.

Although they approached the stone wall a few minutes later, they did not reach the gate for another twenty. The rotten boards were glued fast to the ground by years of leaves and vegetation, but one strong kick and the entire structure collapsed upon the ground in a shower of sticks. A flock of birds rose in a flutter of wings to the sky.

Rees and Caldwell came out at the bottom of the pasture behind the barn. Rees began walking up the hill but paused about halfway. He could hear loud, angry voices. Holding up a hand to stop his companion, Rees darted to the scattering of trees across from the house. He crept through the trunks, hiding behind every rock and bush.

David was standing on the porch facing Farley and the posse of men lined up on the ground. Even from the distance, Rees could see how frightened the boy looked. “We want your father,” Farley said. Someone had given him a horse, probably Piggy Hanson, and the new constable now carried himself like a king. Rees realized that they had not stopped to view the body. Instead, while he and Caldwell had been hurrying through the woods, the new constable and his men had come straight here, to the farm.

“He's not here,” David said.

“Where is he?”

David shrugged. Farley glanced at the men on either side of him and they shot off, one heading to the barns, the other going up the stairs into the house. Rees flattened himself to the ground. He didn't dare call out to Caldwell and prayed he had the sense to get under cover. “What do you want him for?” David asked.

“The murder of Sam Prentiss,” Farley said.

David clutched at the porch rail. “I don't believe it,” he said.

“No one's in the house,” said Farley's man, appearing in the doorway behind David.

“Look around back,” Farley said. The men scattered but no one even glanced behind them. Mosquitoes joined the black flies swarming around Rees. He buried his face in his hands. He could feel the stinging bites on his neck and ears but he didn't dare slap at the insects.

The men straggled back to the house. “I told you he wasn't here,” David said as the last one reported his lack of success.

“We'll be back,” Farley said in an ugly tone. He hoisted himself into the saddle. “If you see him, tell him to turn himself in. Magistrate Hanson said anyone can shoot him on sight.”

The men galloped down the drive to the road. But Rees did not immediately rise from his hiding place. He feared one of the posse might take it into his head to try and surprise the fugitive. Besides, Rees's legs were trembling and he wasn't sure they'd support him.

“Rees,” Caldwell called softly. Rees lifted himself to his knees. The other man was standing in front of the house, looking around him. Rees struggled to his feet with the aid of a young tree.

“Get out of sight,” Rees hissed, brushing away the mess of leaves and dirt from the front of his vest. “They'll see you if they return.”

David ran down the steps. “Get the horse into the barn, quick,” he commanded, wresting the reins from Caldwell's hand and drawing the animal away.

“Let's go into the house,” Rees said, climbing over the rocks to the road. He hoped no one came up the drive now; he didn't think he could run. He staggered across the drive and urged Caldwell into the house. Only when Rees had shut the door did he finally take a deep breath. He knew his feeling of safety was an illusion, but for the moment it would do.

“You're going to have to leave town,” Caldwell said as Rees joined him at the kitchen table. “Why don't you go to your wife, wherever she is?”

Rees thought for a moment how pleasant that would be. “No,” he said regretfully.

“You should listen to him,” David said, coming through the back door. “Farley told me they can shoot you on sight. All men's hands will be turned against you.”