The Devil's Cold Dish (28 page)

“I know.”

“Then why are you here?” Potter's voice was sharp. “You're endangering my family.”

Rees had hoped for a friendlier welcome. The food in his mouth suddenly seemed too much to swallow and he struggled for a few seconds. When he could speak he said, “Piggy is avenging himself on me.”

“For the Widow Penney and others?”

“Probably. He's hated me since childhood. I suspect Molly Bowditch has a lot to do with this.” Unwillingly he thought of his sister but he said nothing about her.

“Possibly. Although gossip has it that Molly will be marrying that Virginian, Drummond, and moving away.” Rees said nothing. “If it makes you feel any better, I believe Drummond is a liar and a thief.”

“It doesn't,” Rees said. A future for Molly, no matter how uncertain, was still better than Nate's fate. She certainly had reason to hate Rees and if she had come after him with a loaded pistol Rees would have been unsurprised. But she didn't seem cunning enough for the scheme that had been laid against Rees, and besides, she did not have the strength to pick up a man and tie him to a beam. “She and Piggy Hanson have been friends for many years,” he said at last.

Recalled by the mention of the magistrate's name to their current problem, Potter threw a glance out the window. “I can't provide a refuge for you here. That will put my entire family into danger. Between Farley threatening to arrest every woman he suspects of witchcraft and Hanson blaming you for the murders…” His words trailed away. He couldn't meet Rees's gaze. “I hope you understand.”

“You've known me all my life,” Rees said. “Do you really believe Lydia is a witch? And I'm a murderer?”

“Of course not,” Potter said, too quickly. “But you do have a terrible temper and the relationship between you and Sam was never good.”

“I see,” Rees said. And he did see. Potter had not been convinced of Rees's innocence for all he'd freed him from the charges.

“Farley's threatening to hang Caldwell,” Potter said. Rees could not repress his horrified gasp. “Farley's sure our former constable had something to do with your disappearance. Caldwell did, didn't he?” Potter slapped his desk. “I must say this for Caldwell. He's loyal. He continues to swear he had nothing to do with you and was only visiting his mother.” He paused and added, “Susannah Anderson is making sure he's fed.”

Rees wanted to stop by and thank her but didn't dare. He would be putting her family at risk too and he didn't want to repay a kindness with an injury. Not again. “I stopped here for a definite purpose,” he said. “Farley told me the magistrate could try Lydia of witchcraft and enact a sentence, even if she weren't here. Is this true?”

Potter sighed. “It is. But it hasn't been done very often and you would think in this enlightened age we could behave with more reason.” He hesitated and when he spoke again he sounded glum. “Piggy doesn't like your wife very much. He's told me more than once she does not behave as a proper woman should. You know, beaten down and docile like his wife. So, if you are convicted of murder and she is tried and hanged as a witch, your farm will be forfeit.”

“But David should inherit it,” Rees said, although this was nothing more than what he expected.

“He would under normal circumstances, but the farm is forfeit before inheritance laws come into effect.”

“Then he must buy it,” Rees said. “Will you do that for me? Write up a contract in which I sell my land to him.” Rees turned out his pockets and the coins bounced upon the desk. “Date it a month ago or so.”

“I'll have to secure his signature,” Potter said. He rose to his feet and walked around the office. “But I suppose I can do that.” He paused and looked at Rees. “You do understand this is skirting the edges of the law.”

“And taking everything I would leave to him isn't?” Rees asked in a bitter tone. “Especially on trumped-up charges?”

Potter eyed him for a moment and then nodded. “Very well. I'll do it. But don't come here anymore.”

Rees stared at his old friend. If pressed, Rees would have admitted to disappointment, but actually he was too hurt to speak. How could someone who knew him so well treat him so coldly? “I won't,” Rees said at last, holding on to the front of the desk while he stood. The hour's rest had not done his feet any good. They stung now worse than ever.

Potter looked at Rees's stance and then down at the bloody feet. “Dear Lord.” He looked at Rees with more sympathy. “You won't get a town block on those. Let me find something.” He disappeared from the office and Rees sat down again. He finished all the crumbs on his plate and drank the last drop of coffee in the pot. No telling when he'd drink coffee again.

He had just put his cup back into the saucer when Potter returned. “Try these,” he said, handing over a pair of moccasins. Rees gratefully slipped his feet inside. They were a trifle small, but the fur inside offered some protection to his scrapes and blisters. He walked around the office a few times. He was still limping but it was better.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Go through the stables,” Potter said. “That way none of my neighbors will see you.” With a nod, Rees turned. Potter grasped his elbow. “Good luck, Will. I will be praying for you.”

Rees crept down the stairs and padded to the back door. He could hear the Potter family, still at breakfast. He went out, closing the back door silently behind him and scuttled across the yard and into the stables.

 

Chapter Twenty-six

Rees had never been inside the stables before and was surprised by the number and quality of Potter's horseflesh. Rees hadn't realized how fond of horses Potter was. If he were willing to sell one or two, Mrs. Potter could have the house outside of town that she wanted. A large opening, wide and high enough for a carriage, opened onto Maple Street. Rees walked behind the stalls and peered cautiously through the open door.

In the short time he had spent inside Potter's office the streets had become much busier. Rees's heart sank; there was no way now for him to cross Wheeler's Lane without being seen by somebody. Unless … Rees took the battered straw hat worn by Potter's groom and clapped it on his head. Then he bridled the horse nearest the door, a small mare fit for a lady, and with one hand clamped firmly on the bridle and the other in his pocket he pulled the horse outside. He kept his head lowered and his eyes fixed upon the ground; just a servant bringing his master's horse somewhere.

“Wait. Where you goin' with that horse?” The groom's shout from the stable behind Rees startled him into a run. “Stop. Thief.” Other men took up the cry and now everyone was looking directly at Rees.

Normally he would have paused. He had no intention of stealing the horse but this time he couldn't afford to be recognized.

He dropped the bridle and slapped the mare on her flank. She jumped and took off, running south on the lane. As Rees had hoped, Potter's groom and most of the others ran after her. But there were a few who turned toward Rees. He ran toward the blacksmith. If he could just reach the fence and climb over it, he would be in the alley that ran parallel to Water Street. But his sore feet slowed him down and he knew he wouldn't make it.

“Hey, you. Here.” Augustus opened the door into the smithy and gestured. Rees raced toward him. As he passed through the door, the blacksmith jerked Rees inside and shut it behind him. “Quick. Up to the loft.” Rees went up the ladder as fast as he was able and crouched behind a stack of old tools. Augustus knocked down the ladder and went to the forge. Barely a minute later the door burst open and two men panted inside.

“Where is he? Where's the thief?”

“No one's come in here,” Augustus said.

“We saw him.”

“You calling me a liar?” A pause. Rees peeked around the stack of iron implements in front of him. The two white men crowded Augustus. Although free, he was taking a big risk. Rees felt afraid for the boy. Augustus swung his hammer and smiled, his teeth very white in his brown face. “But I did see someone go through the gate down there, into the yard. He ran for the back fence. Big man, right? I thought it was Mr. Potter's groom.”

The two men ran through the big opening into the yard and headed for the back fence. Augustus stoked up the fire as though preparing for the day's work but Rees could see the tension in his well-muscled arms. After a few minutes that seemed to Rees like hours, the two men walked back through the yard. “He got away,” said the heavier of the two.

“You wouldn't mind us looking around a bit, would you?”

“Go ahead and then get out. I told you what I saw.” Augustus began pounding on a horseshoe with deafening clangs.

The men briefly poked around the smithy and then returned to the yard. They disappeared to the back. Rees guessed they were planning on searching the stables at the back; that was what he would have done. Augustus kept up his relentless hammering until Rees's head began to pound in rhythm. Finally, as the shoe went into the water with a hiss, there was blessed silence.

“They're gone,” Augustus said softly. “But I suggest you stay there a bit longer, just in case they come back.”

Forgetting Augustus couldn't see him, Rees nodded. His thudding heart was gradually returning to normal and he was desperate to urinate. Finally he heard the ladder going up. “We've got to get you inside,” Augustus said. “You aren't safe here.”

Rees came out from his hiding place and cautiously descended the ladder. Now that his body was calming down, he felt his feet and wanted to scream with the pain. When he looked down at the moccasins, he saw blood seeping through the leather. Augustus saw it too. “Come on,” he said. He looked through the door and, seeing nobody, he hustled Rees along the outside of the wall to the house behind it. With his inheritance from Nate Bowditch, he had purchased the smithy from the former owner. “My apprentice just went to the Contented Rooster to fetch my dinner. He'll be returning soon. And the fewer who know of your presence, the better.” He pushed Rees up the steps into the kitchen.

No fire burned on the hearth and the sink was empty. Rees guessed Augustus took all of his meals at the coffeehouse. Since his mother worked as the cook there, the arrangement made sense.

Augustus pulled up two chairs and sat down in one. He gestured Rees into the one opposite. “Give me your foot,” he said.

Rees obeyed and as Augustus gently slipped off the moccasin, Rees asked, “Why are you doing this? I'm a fugitive, to be shot on sight. And now, I suppose, a horse thief as well.”

“How can you ask?” Augustus said. “I know something about being a fugitive.” He raised his eyes to Rees who, the previous summer, had hidden Augustus at the farm.

“You aren't afraid you might be protecting a murderer?” Rees asked. “Or that the magistrate will punish you if he discovers you've helped me?” The hurt and bitterness at what he felt was Potter's disloyalty colored his voice.

Augustus shook his head. “You proved I didn't murder my father. And you took me in so the slave takers did not capture me and bring me south. All that I have,” and he gestured around him, “is due to you.”

Some of the ache in Rees's heart eased. “I won't forget this,” he said and was embarrassed by the break in his voice.

“Your feet are badly injured,” Augustus said after a moment's silence. “I'll put some of my mother's salve on them and wrap them, but the best thing for you to do would be to stay off them for a day or two.”

“I can't stay here,” Rees said. “Every second I remain puts you in danger.”

“I have a place where you'll be safe for a few days. They'll be looking for you. It won't take the magistrate and new constable long to figure out you were in town and tried to steal a horse.” While he worked, his long-fingered hands spread salve over Rees's wounded feet and wrapped linen strips around them. Despite the calluses from his profession, his hands were surprisingly gentle.

“You are very skilled at this,” Rees said.

“I've had a lot of practice, especially with feet battered by long walks.”

Rees looked at him. Augustus met Rees's gaze with a level stare of his own.

“People traveling north, I would guess,” Rees said. He thought of the little boy he'd seen at the Bowditch farm and wondered.

Augustus did not respond to the implied question, saying instead, “If you insist on leaving, I have a horse I can lend you. She's old, been worked cruel, but I think she'll get you around if you don't push her too hard. And best of all, I acquired her in trade from a man just passing through so no one will recognize her. As long as you keep your face hidden under a hat and make sure no one sees that fiery hair of yours, you should be safe leaving town.”

Rees nodded hesitantly. What would he do with a horse? And what was safe? Right now he had no place to stay. He certainly couldn't return to his farm; Farley and his men would be watching it constantly. Rees had no money, no food, nothing, so how could he even care for a horse?

“You can't walk far on those feet of yours,” Augustus said, seeing Rees's uncertainty. “You can either stay here or take the horse.” He paused. Rees still didn't speak. “Look, I'm close to the bridge. You can slip over. Return the mare when you no longer need her.” Rising to his feet, he continued, “I have some cornmeal and a bit of oatmeal I can give you. Nothing more, I'm afraid.” He grinned. “I don't cook much. Most of my meals come from the Contented Rooster.”

“Augie. Augie.” A boy's shrill treble sounded from the yard outside.

“Oh, that's my apprentice.” Augustus hurried through the back door and Rees heard the mutter of conversation. It faded as though the two young men were walking away from the house. Now, with a few minutes of safety and quiet, Rees pondered his options. Although he would prefer to shelter in a building with a roof, that was not as important as isolation. He needed a place where people did not go and, offhand, he couldn't think of anything that was still close to town. With the pain in his feet soothed and his belly full, Rees found his eyes drooping. The uncomfortable night before with its broken slumber began to tell and although he tried to stay awake, his eyes finally closed for good.