LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

Wellington and Bloomfield. He would have been able to find his way to a house easily enough from there.

      If he had somehow crossed the road without being seen, he would then have been halted by the open water of the lake. It was true that at one end of this lake there was a vast reedy marsh, and if Nathan had wandered into this wild area and fallen, his body would probably never be found. But the marsh was well to the east. It was a possibility, but not very probable.

      Lewis wasn’t sure how far the creek ran in the opposite direction, but if they followed it north he knew they would reach the road that divided the lakeshore lots from the farms on the next concession. There were pockets of woods on all these lots, but none of them were large, not big enough to swallow up a man. The inland concession was more sparsely settled, the farmhouses farther apart; even so, someone would surely have noticed Nate Elliott if he had wandered through the trees and come out on the road.

      Better to look in the thickest part of the woods, he decided, and so they headed south.

      There were no signs along the creek. Occasionally, they would climb the bank and cast about in the surrounding bush for any sort of trail, broken branches, or trampled grass. They found nothing.

      “This is getting us nowhere,” Lewis said. They had followed the stream to where its course had been diverted to empty into a small pond behind the Elliott barn. “The sun will be setting soon. We’d better rejoin the others and see if they’ve had any better luck.”

      They hadn’t. Most of the other searchers had returned to the clearing by that time, as well, but not even Lem Jackson, who was the best tracker in the district, had been able to pick up a trail.

      “Looks like a horse came through here and headed off north,” he said. “But we hit that ridge of hard rock that juts up and I couldn’t make out where it went from there. There’s no tellin’ how long ago it was either.”

      “Well, we’d best leave it for today,” Constable Williams said. “If we can’t find a man in broad daylight, our chances will be next to nothing in the pitch black.”

      It was the right decision, but a difficult one. The risk of one of the searchers being injured by a misstep or losing his way in the dark was great and no one wanted to lose another man in pursuit of the first. But the cold north wind promised another heavy frost that night and they all knew that if Nate Elliott was still alive, he probably wouldn’t be by morning. Lewis could sense the spirits of the crowd plummeting, and they muttered as they began to shuffle down the path that led home.

      Lewis glanced at the brother of the missing man to see how he was taking the news. Reuben’s features were crumpled into a mask of despair. “We can’t leave him out here another night!” he cried.

      “I’m sorry, Reuben, but we can’t risk it,” the constable told him solemnly.

      “But what am I going to tell my father? Nate has only just come back again after all these years and now he’s gone again. Pa’s going to want to know why we’re not out looking for him.”

      The others edged away, uncertain how to react. It was Lewis who hurried his pace to fall into step beside Reuben. His years as a minister had given him experience in offering comfort where hope was scarce.

      “Perhaps he’s found shelter somewhere,” he suggested as they walked. “It’s possible that he came to while you were gone and wandered off in a stupor. He may have stumbled upon an old cabin somewhere and decided to hole up until he felt strong enough to walk out. Or maybe he drifted into someone’s farmyard and they’re looking after him even as we speak. For all we know, we could hear he’s been found when we get back to the village.”

      Reuben was unconvinced. “I know he’s gone, I just know it,” he kept saying, his voice hoarse from a day of shouting his brother’s name. “Wolves got him, or a bear maybe.”

      It had been many years since the bigger beasts like wolves or bears ran thick in the settled Prince Edward District. Lewis couldn’t take this suggestion very seriously, and dismissed it as hysteria on Reuben’s part. He knew that it was important to keep the man talking, however, and so he asked, “How long has your brother been away?”

      “He left nearly twenty years ago and hasn’t been back since. I know my father is dying, and it was his one wish that he see his son again before he goes. I finally tracked Nate down in New York and persuaded him to come home. He’s only been here a few days … and now this has happened.”

      “Don’t worry, we’ll look again tomorrow.”

      Reuben shook his head. “Tomorrow’s going to be too late. He’s already gone.”

      Upon their return, there was no news in Wellington that would prove him wrong. No one had reported seeing Nate, no one had welcomed a dazed stranger, and no one offered any clue as to what had happened to the missing man. The searchers promised to meet again the next morning before turning away to head home.

      Chapter Two

      The woman pulled her cloak a little closer around her neck, but no clothing seemed able to protect her from the insidious damp that seeped into everything, even the bench she sat on, which still felt clammy underneath her after so many hours. Her neck was stiff and sore and her legs hurt from bracing herself against the roll of the vessel. She hadn’t expected the constant climbing and slamming as the steamer fought its way through the choppy water, nor the bitter cold that gripped the cabin in spite of the small stove that puffed away in the middle of the room. Even when she managed to ignore her discomfort long enough to doze a little, the steamer whistle would startle her awake whenever they approached another squalid little lake port, where she would straighten herself up in her seat as other passengers departed or boarded.

      After the porter announced that Wellington was the next stop, she was ready for the shriek of the whistle and jumped only a little as it signalled the ship’s approach. She had never been so glad to see the end of a journey.

      For her son’s sake, she had tried to make their travels seem like an adventure, and when they first set off he had been intrigued by the passing sights along the Hudson River and the wonder of watching the mules pulling the ship through the canal. This had soon palled, however, and he had become bored and whiney. They were both relieved when they finally disembarked and made their connection to Niagara Falls. Here their spirits had been revived by the sight of the great cascades of water rushing over the cliff to the whirlpool below, and she had taken off her hat and leaned as far as she dared over the railing so the spray could wash her face clean.

      Her exhilaration had quickly worn off when she discovered that accommodation in the resort town was expensive, even for the tiniest of rooms. She and her husband had divided what was left of their money before they split up. There wasn’t nearly as much as there should have been — they had both spent lavishly in the mistaken belief that the flow of income would never end. She knew it would be unwise to try to augment her purse here in this border town — it would draw far too much attention and there were many Americans at the hotel. Niagara Falls was a popular destination for New Yorkers looking for a change of scene, and any one of them could give her whereabouts away with a casual comment once they returned home. Better to bide her time until they were all together again. Then they would test the winds of circumstance and set a course for their next destination.

      Day after day she waited, as the money drained away. After a week, she decided that she could wait no longer. She was told that there was a fairly reliable coach service that would take them on to Wellington, but that there would be several time-wasting stops along the way. She was also informed that if the road was muddy, the passengers were expected to get out and walk. She found this an unappealing prospect.

      The steamer was more expensive, but if they went by coach she would have to pay for an inn wherever they stopped, with no prospect of finding any customers during the short overnight stays. Besides, she didn’t think she could abide the jostling of a coach for so many miles.

      Ultimately, she decided that it was faster and cheaper to go by water. She briefly considered neglecting to settle her hotel bill,

Скачать книгу