Henry was left standing on the street, wondering if he could have done anything to calm Doctor Smith. Zephaniah Smith. But his thoughts became a cascading jumble of worries: his father’s death, his mother’s frustration with him over farm work, Chadwick and the bank loan to be repaid, people treating him like a boy, his encounter with Burgess and Sullivan, and his attraction to Rama.
Miriama!
The lolling of a church bell somewhere in town woke him from his daydream, and he looked up at the darkening sky. He mounted Duke and trotted off down Bridge Street.
But this was not to be a quiet evening.
As he passed the bank where he worked, Henry was dismayed to see the bulky shape of Mr Lester Chadwick emerge from the darkness.
Henry had no desire to speak to this man, who had put Auction – Mortgagee Sale notices on at least half a dozen settlers’ farmlets as well as his mother’s.
The bank manager caught his eye and Henry had to acknowledge him. “Good evening, sir,” he mumbled.
But Chadwick did not respond. He shoved a bulky collection of keys in his coat pocket and headed off down the street.
Henry trotted on, ahead of Chadwick. Why is it, he fumed, that rude men like Chadwick run the world?
Just when Henry had decided Chadwick was the nastiest man alive, he got a sharp reminder that he was not. Someone else was more to be feared, and that someone was hiding in the shadows at the next street corner.
Protruding into the light were a pair of boots that Henry knew well.
Sullivan! As Henry approached, the boots withdrew into the shadows. What is he doing here? Henry held his breath as he rode past the man hiding in the shadows, just a few yards away. Don’t look at him.
He rounded the next corner into an alleyway and jumped off Duke as fast as he could, dropping the reins. He crept back to the end of the alleyway and peered around.
Chadwick was waddling down the street towards him. And some distance behind, keeping to the shadows, was Sullivan.
He’s going to jump him!
Henry pressed back against the wall, breathing heavily. Should he leap out and warn Chadwick – or climb on his horse and flee? He decided instead to follow both men, while he worked out what to do. His heart was pounding, his hands shaking.
They reached a vacant piece of land – by day, a restful spot for young lovers and children, but by night, full of menace.
The light from a gas lamp threw Chadwick’s elongated shadow over the grass as he marched across the park, muttering to himself. Sullivan hurried after him. Henry followed Sullivan. Should I call out? Will anyone hear?
Chadwick reached his house, a smart brick and timber cottage that would not be out of place in a well-to-do London suburb. He fumbled with his keys and went inside.
Henry, hiding in the shadows across the road, saw Sullivan creep into the bushes by the front door.
A lantern flickered into life in the front room.
Sullivan reached into his jacket.
He’s going to attack him, thought Henry. He looked around for help, but the street was empty. What can I do? Should he try to rouse the neighbours? No time!
Impulsive, desperate, he stepped out onto the street, and walked towards the house, whistling loudly. What are you doing? screamed a voice in his head.
From the corner of his eye he saw Sullivan retreat into the shadows.
Henry bounded up Chadwick’s front steps, lifted his shaking hand to the door, and knocked loudly. Sullivan was only a few feet away. I can hear him breathing.
The door opened, and Chadwick stood there. “Appleton?”
“Evening, sir,” said Henry with a quavering voice. “I have a message from Mister…” As he said these words, he pushed the startled bank manager inside. What am I doing – assaulting my employer? Henry was quite surprised at how much strength he could muster as he shoved the big man ahead of him.
“Outrageous!” spluttered Chadwick. “What is the meaning –”
Henry kicked the door shut behind him and pressed his fingers to his lips. “Sir, I’m sorry, but…” He pulled Chadwick by the sleeve into the lounge.
“Let go of me!” Chadwick protested.
Henry, breathless, whispered hoarsely, “Sir, there’s a man outside your front door – a dangerous man. I think he plans to steal the keys to the bank.”
This news was like a slap across Chadwick’s face. He stopped spluttering and glanced at the bunch of keys on the table. “Good Lord!” He strode to a nearby cupboard and wrenched it open.
Henry’s eyes widened as Chadwick pulled out a double-barrelled shotgun.
A gun!
“It’s loaded,” Chadwick told Henry.
“Loaded?”
“Yes, both barrels,” snapped Chadwick. He put the percussion caps in place and pulled back both hammers, half-cocked. “Ready to go.”
Henry was surprised at the ease with which this portly bank manager, with his soft white fingers, could handle such a lethal weapon. But then, to his delight – and horror – Chadwick thrust it into Henry’s hands.
Henry found himself holding a real weapon – a loaded weapon – and was briefly overwhelmed. I’ve got a gun!
The shotgun was new, shiny and beautifully engineered. Deadly. He ran his fingers over the engraved metalwork, noting the unmistakable manufacturer’s name, stamped on the barrel in an ornate scroll: I. Hollis & Sons.
Chadwick hissed: “Out!” He herded Henry down the hall to the back door, opened it, and pushed him outside. What are you doing?
Henry stumbled down the side path towards the street, holding the shotgun, with Chadwick sheltering behind him. This is crazy! thought Henry. But what could he do?
As they reached the corner of the house, Chadwick yelled, “Come out, whoever you are!”
Henry stumbled down the side path holding the shotgun, with Chadwick sheltering behind him. This is crazy! thought Henry.
Why did he do that? Henry, wide-eyed, pointed the shotgun at the bushes. His finger trembled around the trigger, aware that just a small pressure would send a bullet smashing into the undergrowth.
He waited for any movement. But it seemed Sullivan was no longer there.
Henry was shaking. What if Sullivan had been there? Would I have shot him – or would Sullivan have shot me instead?
“He’s gone, sir,” Henry croaked.
Chadwick peered around him to check. “Are you sure there was someone there, boy?”
Boy? He’s given me a gun, hidden behind me, but still calls me ‘Boy’?
“Positive, Mr Chadwick.” Why am I so polite to this rude man?
Chadwick grunted. He grabbed the shotgun. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” he said, and headed for the back door.
Henry was left alone, not knowing where Sullivan was – maybe waiting in the bushes behind me? But another thought sprang into his head. The auction.
The man who had just used Henry as a shield was the same man who was planning to sell the Appleton farm. So despite his nervousness, Henry grasped the opportunity.
“Sir!” he called out.
Chadwick turned around.
“Sir, please don’t sell our farm!”
Chadwick snorted. “What a time to –”
“Sir – please give us time. We can earn the money –”
Chadwick turned his back on Henry and yelled over his shoulder. “It’s out of my hands.” He stepped inside and slammed the door.
At least I tried, Henry consoled himself. What a horrible man.
Now Henry’s focus returned to his predicament. Somewhere nearby, lurking in the shadows, was the violent man with big boots and a face of rock. Shaking, he looked around at the many shadows that could conceal the big man. Is he out there, waiting to pounce on me?
Henry took a deep breath and ran for his life.