The Devil's Cold Dish (29 page)

He awoke late that afternoon to the sound of Augustus tiptoeing into the kitchen. Rees rolled his head, trying to loosen his stiff neck, and said, “Why didn't you wake me up? I need to leave.” He looked at the napkin-covered plate sitting on the table in front of him.

“When my apprentice came over with my dinner, he told me Farley's men were guarding the bridge. I didn't see the point in waking you up after that. Better you slip out of town after dark. Maybe head south.”

Rees removed the napkin from the plate. The beef gravy had congealed into a shiny brown puddle and the meat was cold but he eyed the food hungrily.

“Go ahead,” Augustus said. “I left it for you. I got another plate from my mother. I told her I was especially hungry.”

Rees began to eat rapidly. Augustus's mother was a wonderful cook and even cold, the food was delicious. As the cobwebs of sleep began to clear from his brain, Rees said, “There won't be much traffic after dark and I'll stand out. It would be better to travel when there are other people.” He paused. “I'd guess Farley has men stationed on the south road too. That would normally be the route I'd take home. In fact, if he's smart, he'll have men at every road.”

Augustus sat heavily in the chair across from Rees. “So you can't leave then. You'll have to remain with me until they give up the search.”

“No.” Rees shook his head. “Every extra hour I stay here I put you into danger. Besides, if I'm to discover the twisted mind behind this, I need to have more freedom. There's got to be a way for me to slip out.” If his feet were better, he knew he could creep out after dark and walk the ten or so miles home. But they weren't and he doubted he'd get ten yards. Anyway, Farley almost certainly had men watching the farm in case Rees tried to seek refuge there. And he wouldn't risk putting David in danger.

“Well, you can't wear Henry's hat,” Augustus said. “He's been whining to anyone who will listen that the horse thief took his favorite straw hat.” Rees took it off and examined it in surprise. Frayed with much wear, the brim bore a greasy smudge from frequent handling. “But, the good news is, he described the thief as a black man.”

“What?” Rees looked up in dawning hope. But further thought dashed his tentative excitement. “But Farley and several of those men know me.”

“Yes,” Augustus agreed. “And you are memorable.” He hesitated and said again, “I think you would be safest if you stayed here. You have nowhere else to go.”

Rees nodded his head in acknowledgement, although he'd thought of a possible sanctuary. He didn't want to confide in Augustus; the less he knew the safer he would be. Instead he said, “Maybe I have to make myself so visible no one really sees me.”

“Huh?” Augustus looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“My old Indian friend, Philip, told me once that sometimes, before attacking a white settlement, one of the braves would pour whiskey down his chest and reel into town. While he lay in a doorway, counting all the guns, the people who passed saw only what they expected: a drunken Indian. I need to do something similar.”

“It's too risky,” Augustus said, shaking his head. “Especially if one of those men is someone who knows you well.”

Rees acknowledged the truth of that. “I'll need another hat. And some soot.”

While Rees dragged one hand over the sooty bricks of the fireplace and used the black to darken his hair and eyebrows, Augustus ran upstairs for another hat. When he returned to the kitchen, he stopped stock still in amazement. “What do you think?” Rees asked, turning around so that Augustus could see him completely.

“You look very different,” Augustus admitted as Rees used some ashes to streak his face and clothing.

“Do you have any whiskey?”

Augustus nodded at the jug on the mantel. Rees swirled the whisky in his mouth before swallowing it. He poured a liberal amount over his chest. “God, you stink,” Augustus remarked tactlessly.

“Good.” Rees put on the moccasins and clapped the new hat on his head.

Since it was too big, the brim sagged over his eyebrows. It was newer than the one Rees had borrowed from Henry and a slightly darker color. Rees hoped this would be enough.

“If you're set on this dangerous course,” Augustus said, sounding as though he still hoped Rees would reconsider, “I'll saddle the mare.”

“I'll accompany you to the stables,” Rees said although every instinct urged him to stay in hiding. But he would have to test his disguise sometime and there were only one or two men in the yard by the smithy. He picked up the whiskey jug and followed Augustus down the stairs, trying to change his limping into a convincing stagger.

No one paid them any mind and they made it to the stables without comment. As Augustus went for a saddle, Rees inspected the old horse. She was a nondescript brown and had been used hard but she seemed biddable enough. “I want the saddle back,” Augustus said. “Remember that.”

Rees turned and clasped the young man's hand, clapping him on one shoulder at the same time. “I won't forget this, Augie,” he said.

“Just stay alive,” Augustus said, his face creased with worry. “I wish you wouldn't do this.”

“I must,” Rees said. With a heavy sigh, Augustus tied a bag of cornmeal and a bag of oatmeal at the back of the saddle.

Rees mounted. His heart was pounding like a runaway horse. Taking a deep breath, he rode out into the sunshine.

 

Chapter Twenty-seven

When he approached the gate, the men standing by it moved out of his way. Their eyes passed over him and they looked quickly away. They saw exactly what Rees wanted, a drunken laborer on an old horse.

Rees began to sing tunelessly, an old army song that he barely remembered the words to. The few ladies nearby looked away, disgusted, as did most of the men. Those that did notice him laughed and went on their way. In fact, everyone he passed tried to avoid looking at him.

But the real test, passing the three bruisers watching the road from the shade of an old maple, was still to come. Sweat began running down the back of Rees's shirt and he was so breathless the lyrics came out in puffs. “… my girl … back in derry-o…”

“Where you goin', old man?” One of the men, his bored expression lighting up with malicious glee, sauntered over toward Rees. He caught the horse's bridle. A shiver of fear went down Rees's spine.

“Hey,” he said, his word coming out in a croak.

“You goin' ta give us a drink?” one of his partners asked, joining his companion. “Maybe we should toss you into the stables to sober up.” He laughed again. Rees's legs felt boneless and he feared for a moment that he would slide right off the mare's back and land in a heap on the road.

“Leave the sot alone. He ain't the one we're looking for,” said the third, barely looking at Rees.

The first speaker wrested Rees's jug from him and drank the last of the whiskey. “Ah, it's all gone.” He threw the jug to the side of the road where it smashed. Rees put all of his fear into a scream that would have done a woman proud. The boys began laughing.

“Get outta here.” The second speaker slapped the rump of Rees's old horse and she jumped forward so suddenly he almost fell off. “Can you ride, old man? Can you ride?” The two boys doubled over with their amusement. But Rees didn't care. He let the old mare gallop as long as she could. He was out of Dugard and riding south.

*   *   *

Rees planned to turn into the abandoned Winthrop property and hide in the empty shack. With its reputation as haunted and its proximity to both his farm and to town, Rees thought it was the best he could hope for as a hiding place. But when he approached the lane leading into the overgrown plot, he was still riding among a crowd of farmers. He didn't want anyone to even wonder about the abandoned farm so Rees continued on his way, maintaining his persona with snatches of drunken-sounding songs.

He was glad he hadn't intended to go home to his farm. Several men were congregated at the end, passing a whiskey jug from hand to hand and watching the travelers pass them without interest. Rees rode by without glancing over.

When he went round the next bend, and was out of sight of the men, he slowed his old mare into an even more leisurely walk. The wagons and horses rapidly increased the distance between them, leaving him behind. As soon as he saw no one behind him, and the pack in front of him was a significant distance ahead, Rees urged his horse off the highway and into the thicket. Dismounting, he pulled the mare deep into the vegetation. Although the last golden rays of sun still illuminated the road, it was already dark within the trees.

Rees guided the mare forward. They were on his farm—well, he had to start thinking of it as David's now—and circling around at the bottom of the hill. The trees thinned and Rees paused. He didn't see anyone but that didn't mean one of Farley's men wasn't at the top of the hill watching for him. It would be dark soon and Rees could wait for that extra hour. He stroked the mare's nose but she did not seem disposed to whinny. She began nibbling at the bushes, seemingly content to wait in silence. Rees sat down, awkwardly since his legs were stiff from riding, and leaned his back against the tree. He found these enforced pauses almost as difficult as the running. At least then he had the sense he had control over his life instead of waiting for something terrible to happen.

Through the leaves screening him from the meadow, he could just see the tops of the bee skeps. And how were the few remaining colonies faring, without Lydia there? He yawned and straightened out his legs. The shadows extended across the wildflower-spotted meadow and began creeping up the slope to the house. Rees wondered what David was doing right now. Were these ruffians tormenting him? Rees couldn't see the house and except for the lowing of the cattle and the relentless crowing of the roosters, all was silent. But wait, Rees saw movement. He snapped instantly to alertness and went on his knees to peer through the branches. Someone was walking at the top of the hill and Rees did not think it was either David or Charlie. The man walked into a patch of sun and there was a quick sharp flash as the light reflected from a metal barrel. Rees exhaled his breath in a faint hiss; he had been right to be cautious.

It took almost another hour for the light to disappear from the sky and Rees thought it was one of the longest hours he could remember. The mosquitoes came out in clouds, whining about his head and drawing blood with little stings. Rees rose to his feet and untied the horse's reins from the branch. He began picking his way cautiously through the narrow band of trees, mostly oak and maple. He promised himself that if he survived this, he would plant a row of evergreens. They would provide much more cover.

By the time he circled around the southern end of the property and began climbing the rise that led to the dairy and the pigsty, the sky was completely dark. The stars were out and the moon was beginning to rise. Rees could hardly see where he was going and was moving forward on memory and smell. He paused at the end of the pigpen and looked toward the house. He could see the faint glow of a candle. As he climbed the shallow rise, the boy sitting within the golden glow came into view. David's hair glittered like copper and for a moment Rees considered walking across the yard to the house and slipping inside. He longed to reach out and embrace his son, one last time. But he didn't dare. He knew at least a few of Farley's men were still about and Rees would only endanger someone he loved so very much. With a sigh, he moved on. He would find the one behind this scheme, that he swore. And when he did, well, he didn't know what he would do but it would be terrible.

Once Rees was in the cornfield he moved more quickly. Some of the corn had already been harvested, the stalks cut to stubble, so the walking was somewhat easier. The mare's hooves made a faint sound on the soft dirt. Rees sped up, knowing the wall separating the two properties lay just ahead.

Suddenly someone by the barn pushed back the shutter on a lantern and light spilled across the field. “Who's there?” a voice quavered. It sounded like a young boy. Rees froze.

“See somethin'?” That was a man. The lantern was suddenly held high. “Nothin'. You're just spooked. I told Mr. Farley Rees wasn't likely to come back here. He'd be a fool to. And he ain't a fool.”

The shutter shot over the opening with a bang and the fields were plunged again into darkness. Rees slowly, carefully eased his way right, toward the wheat field, and away from the barn, drawing the mare behind him. He paused after the first few steps and listened but he heard only the pounding of his heart. He pulled the mare forward and they went on, faster this time.

He urged her over the stone wall at the end and paused to orient himself. He had arrived deep within the orchard; Winthrop's shack was a good distance to the west. But the waxing moon rode high in the sky, and it illuminated the aisles between the rows of fruit trees in a faint silvery light. Rees groaned. More walking. His calf and thigh muscles ached and every step was agony. He knew some of the cuts and scrapes on his feet had reopened. He could feel the crawl of blood across his skin. But it was almost over. And the longer he stood here, the longer it would take him to reach the end of his journey. He forced himself to walk forward; one foot in front of the other; that was how he would finally arrive at Winthrop's shabby little cabin.

One foot in front of the other, he repeated it to himself over and over as he plodded wearily through the trees. One foot in front of the other. It was a shock to see the dark bulk of the cabin looming up before him and know he had finally reached his destination.

Since Winthrop's paddock was as tumbledown as the cabin—Rees vaguely recalled Winthrop owning an old cob with knobby knees and a swayback—Rees unsaddled his mare and pegged her out. He did not believe she would try to run; she was wheezing with weariness. First thing tomorrow he would have to find Winthrop's well and give the poor old horse water. But for now Rees was too tired to think of anything at all except rest. The final few steps seemed impossible. Rees shoved open the door, staggered into the cabin, and dropped both saddle and saddlebags on the floor. Then he lay down, rested his head on one of the bags, and dropped into sleep.