Outcast (23 page)

Iona rubbed the scar on her cheek as though she could erase it with her fingers. “Arch was just a little bundle of blood-soaked clothing. I thought I would die when I looked at him.” She stared at Standish. “I hoped I would die, but I couldn't leave Arch to his father. He had a bloody nose and some cuts, and he had lost two of his teeth. They were his baby teeth.”

Another spasm of tears shook Iona's body, but she had to tell the story. “I did what I could for Klaus. I thought Hedrick had killed him.” She stared at the sky, seeing nothing but that night. “Can you imagine a man beating a man lying on his deathbed? Can you imagine that?”

Standish shook his head.

“I carried Arch home. He was moaning all the time, only about half conscious. I washed the blood away and took his clothes off.” She looked up. “I threw away his clothes. I couldn't.…”

Standish nodded.

“I put Arch to bed, but I couldn't sleep, so I made myself some coffee. I was sitting in the kitchen when somebody pounded at the door. I thought it was Hedrick, and I almost ran, but Arch was there, and.…”

Iona stared down at the pond. Arch had caught another fish. He held it above his head, and his mother waved at him. Even at that distance, they could see that Arch was grinning. Standish was surprised that Arch couldn't see that his mother was crying.

“I answered the door. There was somebody there, somebody I had not seen before. He grabbed me by the arm, and.…”

Standish put his hand on her shoulder. “Iona, you don't have to tell me about this, maybe.…”

“Oh, you're very wrong Mr. Standish. I do have to tell you about this. I have to tell someone. I have been alone for so long. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into the yard. He said, ‘Here's the whore, boys. She's all beat up, but she's ours.' They passed me around like a piece of meat. I tried to get away, but they kept saying something about a dollar.”

Iona stared into Standish's face. “Arch came out on the step. He was carrying that shotgun, trying to cock the hammers, but it was so big, and he was so little.… One of the men grabbed the shotgun. He lifted it above his head and said he would kill the ‘whore's whelp.'”

Iona's face was dead. “I let them have me, Mr. Standish. I told them if they would leave Arch alone, I would stop struggling. Just then Klaus stepped into the yard. He tried to stop them, but they beat him to the ground. I was brutalized. I tried to pretend that I wasn't there. I.… Others have come since then, but Arch and I hide. No one has come for some time, but I.…

“That's the reason Arch carries that shotgun. That's the reason.… I can't go to town, Mr. Standish, unless we sneak into the back of Mr. Kennedy's store. I don't want Arch to hear the things they say about me.”

Neither had seen Arch walk up from the ponds, but he saw Standish holding Iona's hands. He dropped his pole and ran to Standish, bending over until his face was just inches away from Standish. “You hurt my Ma, and I will kill you!”

“Arch!”

“I will, Ma.”

“Mr. Standish didn't hurt me. He was telling me a sad story.”

Arch's eyes squinted almost shut. “Don't want to hear any sad stories.” His eyes dropped to the ground. “Could use some help, though, cleaning these fish.”

Standish rose, brushing off his pants. “That's the story I was telling your mother, that nobody lets me clean their fish, anymore. It's enough to make a man weep.”

One of Arch's eyebrows crawled. Standish looked at Iona. She was trying to smile.

Arch said, “I got a mess of 'em, Ma, a mess. We're going to have a great dinner.”

Iona nodded and began picking up the shards of the picnic.

CHAPTER 12

Arch leaned on his elbows, despair written large on his face. “I can't decide. Just can't.”

“What's that, Arch?” Iona asked.

“Can't decide if I like the fish better fried or baked.”

“It is a quandary, isn't it?”

Arch bristled. “No need to talk to me like that, Ma. You tell me not to use swear words, and then you.…”

“Quandary?”

Arch leaped to his feet. “What's the matter with you, talking like that.”

“Arch, quandary isn't a swear word.”

“It ain't?”

Iona shook her head.

“So I can say it whenever I want?”

“Whenever you want.”

“Well, that's a quandary of a thing, ain't it?”

“It sure the quandary is,” Standish nodded.

Iona smiled, a faint smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Arch you have presented us with a feast.”

“A feast fit for a king's court and varlets,” Standish added.

Arch bristled. “Varlet. Ain't but one varlet here.”

“I stand corrected,” Standish said.

“It's a quandary of a thing to have to talk to a varlet, ain't it Ma?”

“Quandary of a thing.”

Iona turned to Standish, willing him to understand. “We of royal blood are faced with many quandaries.”

Standish nodded. “Whether 'tis nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or by opposing to end them.”

Iona jerked. “Are you suggesting, sir, that the answer to our problem is to end them by…ending ourselves?” Her face took on air tragic as any of Shakespeare's plays. “I have thought of that, but I have certain obligations that will not allow it.”

Standish shook his head. “What if it doesn't mean that? What if it means that we can either suffer these slings and arrows or rise up and oppose them.”

Iona was shaking her head violently. “When everyone believes a lie, does it not become the truth? How do we change the truth, Mr. Standish?”

Iona was beginning to gather the plates and silverware from the table. A chill hung over the room and Standish would have sworn that the lights in the room had dimmed.

Iona spoke in a small harsh tones, “Have we become your hobby, Mr. Standish? What do you expect in return for suffering our outrageous fortune. Do you expect the…benefits of my
reality
?”

Standish stood. He whispered, “No, ma'am, the only thing I expect of this is…relief from my own reality.”

Understanding replaced the rage on Iona's face and a long keening wail followed Standish as stepped from and the Belshaw home.

Arch stared at his mother. “Well, ain't that a quandary of a thing. Locoweed is contagious.”

Iona tried to laughed, but her face twisted into tears and sobs tore from her throat.

Iona ran to the door and yelled after the retreating Standish. “Mr. Standish would you give my son and me a ride to town tomorrow?”

Standish stopped. He stood for a long moment before turning toward them. He nodded almost imperceptibly. “Seven,” he said, the sound little more than a whisper, and turned away.

Arch watched Standish disappear into the trees and turned to his mother. “Ma, why the quandary would we go to town? You ain't finished that shirt yet.”

“Perhaps it would be better if you didn't go.”

“You ain't going nowhere with the varlet unless I come along.”

Iona took a long breath. Her words sighing into Arch's ears. “About seven, Arch. We'll have to be ready.”

“Don't think I want any more fish, Ma.”

“Why Arch?”

“It makes people crazy.”

Iona nodded and carried the dishes into the kitchen.

Standish slipped the harness over Hortenzia's back. He considered saddling Sally, too. If Bodmer had sniffed him out, he would have to run. No, he wasn't running anymore.

Questions ran through his head as he hooked Hotensia to the wagon. What would he do when the catcalls came from the boardwalk? He had to protect her, but if they thought he was simply the next in line for her favors, it would hurt more than help her. He had to be sure that Iona wasn't hurt. That was paramount.

Nice day, colors stood out in the soft sun as though they had been splashed with water. It was a good day to die if it came to that. Standish didn't want to die. His desire to survive was stronger than it had been for years, but he had no intention to continue life as a fugitive. Arch and Iona had given him a great gift. He would return that as best he could.

Standish rode on, his mind more on the problem than on his surroundings. As he turned Hortenzi into the Belshaw lane, a frown teased his face and then a soft smile. That might work, if they could get Arch to go along.

The three approached Last Chance in silence and dread. Standish pulled the wagon to a stop at the edge of town. “Arch, there's something your mother and I have to tell you, something that you need to know.”

“You hurt my Ma?” the words came between gritted teeth.

Standish shook his head. He glanced a moment at Iona. She was stiff and pale. “The thing is, your mother is my sister.”

Arch shook his head. “Can't be. If she was your brother, she'd be locoed, too.”

“No, my mother had been off locoweed for sometime before your mother was born.”

“If you're ma's brother, then you're my.…”

“Uncle,” Iona said absently.

“So, I'm related to a varlet,” Arch said, shaking his head. Still, Standish could see a faint grin on Arch's face.

“So what can I expect from an uncle?”

“Not much,” Standish said. “Work, fishing and probably next fall we could go hunting.”

“What about licorice? I would think an uncle would keep his.…” Arch cocked his head and looked at his mother.

“Nephew,” Iona said. Her brows pulled together. She was considering her recent acquisition of a brother.

“Yeah,” Arch said. “I would expect an uncle to keep his nephew stocked up on licorice.”

“Don't know if I can do that.”

“Why not?”

“Mr. Kennedy likely would run out after two days.”

Arch nodded. That was likely.

Standish turned to Iona. “Ready?”

Iona nodded, her lips drawn into a thin line.

Standish snapped the reins across Hortenzia's back, and that was how the Standish/Belshaw family rode into Last Chance.

The apothecary had taken on a new air. One side of the building was solemn still, bright white with dark letters espousing certain cures for gout, rheumatism and other ills. The south side of the building was a tribute to whimsy, with “Soda fountain” written across the large front window in gold letters.

Standish coaxed Hortenzia to the boardwalk bordering the store. He glanced across at Iona. She was stiff, pale beneath her soft green hat. She was wearing a green cotton dress with soft pink roses on it. She was beautiful. Standish could see how Hedrick had been taken with her that day in the cobbler's shop. Her skin was blushed with the sun from their picnic yesterday, and Standish decided he could easily spend a day looking at her.

Arch was rigid. Standish didn't know if he was angry or frightened. He was dressed in a new pair of jeans and shirt. Standish could see the fine stitching that marked Iona's work. Standish climbed down from the wagon. He stepped around to the other side and took Iona's arm, helping her down. Arch jumped, setting off a little puff of dust in the street.

The trio stepped across the boardwalk, pausing while Standish opened the door. The soda fountain was as bright inside as out. A long counter, white as December snow, stood along the north side of the building. The stools were alternately red, white and blue. The back bar was lined with bottles filled with flavors to tease the imagination: pineapple, strawberry, raspberry, chocolate, vanilla, mint, coconut.

Behind the counter was a young woman dressed in a blue skirt, white blouse and red vest. She greeted them with a wide grin.

“May I help you?”

Arch was already on a stool, overcome with the scents mingling in the room and the colors of the bottles on the back bar. Standish and Iona joined him.

Standish's eyes roved over the flavors advertised behind the bar. “I'll take a strawberry soda with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.”

Arch squealed. “They got ice cream?”

“They've got ice cream, all flavors of ice cream.”

Arch's eyes squinted. “What's this flavor stuff?”

The young lady recited her litany of flavors.

Arch swallowed. “You got any huckleberry?”

The young lady frowned. “Sorry, no huckleberry, but I've got some blueberry topping. It's a lot like huckleberry.”

Arch frowned. “Ain't nothing like huckleberry.”

The young lady grinned again. “I suppose not. Maybe you'd like a lot of flavors. How about a banana split?”

Arch turned to his mother, seeking help.

“I think you would love a banana split,” she said.

Archie nodded.

“So we have a strawberry soda with a scoop of ice cream, a banana split, and I'll have.…” Iona's brow furrowed. “I'll have a.…”

“Pineapple milkshake,” Standish spoke as though in prayer. “I had one in Helena. They are.…”

The young lady leaned forward. “People tell me they can't stop smiling a week after they've had one of my pineapple milkshakes.”

Iona beamed. “I'll take a week of smiles.”

The young lady smiled back. “Good choice.”

Arch bristled. “Is a pineapple milkshake better than a banana split?”

The young lady leaned over the counter again. “I'm told that after eating one of my banana splits, my customers have to go back East to see a doctor who helps them stop tittering.”

Arch jumped off the stool. “You can't talk like that in front of my Ma.”

The young lady was taken back. “I don't understand, I.…”

“Us royals got tender ears,” Arch said.

“Royals…?”

Standish spoke in a soft voice. “Which word, Arch?”

Arch's eyes squinted nearly shut. “I can't say a word like that in front of Ma.”

“Maybe you could whisper it in my ear.”