Chapter Twenty-Nine

THE FIRST SECTION:
Coleman watched Richard shake more hands that afternoon than he had ever seen anyone shake hands before. As he watched the mayor smile and thank every funeral attendee on his and her way out, he wondered just how much Richard was going to benefit politically from Emily’s death. Richard was only elected this past fall for a term of two years, so there was still time to find a good candidate and turn things around. But with Emily’s death and Richard’s handshaking, there was a tremendous amount of sympathy going his way that would not be soon forgotten. He watched the crowd stream past him, each person offering their condolences, hugging him, patting him on the shoulders and handing him flowers. He even overheard Richard claim that he would place the flowers in front of the mayor’s office so that everyone could see his and her generosity. It made Coleman sick.
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Edward walked up to his son and watched the crowd with him for a few moments. Neither said a word to each other until Edward mentioned that there would be better days ahead before he walked off. Coleman was left alone to scan the crowd, and in his scanning he noticed Reginald standing nearby. Next to him was the priest that had come out of the jailhouse with Coleman just the other day. Except this time he did not look like a priest. Instead, he was dressed in a dark overcoat much like his own. That is odd, he thought to himself. Today was the funeral of an important figure in town and this priest was wearing normal clothes. Neither of the two men stuck around for very long. In fact, neither even bothered to shake Richard’s hand, or at least Coleman did not see them in line. Still, he had made it a point to watch how Richard reacted to the crowd after the funeral, just in case he saw something peculiar. This certainly was classified as irregular and so he decided to follow the two men just out of curiosity.

It was difficult to keep up with them at first, as both were quick walkers. But they also seemed to be in a hurry and Coleman found himself almost jogging just to keep up. While they were walking through the town’s main streets, Coleman found the pedestrians and traffic were both a burden and safe-keeping measure. On the one hand, they blocked his forward progression and limited his ability to keep up while the two men easily passed through the crowd as though they were being let through and he was not. On the other hand, at least one of them kept a firm eye behind them at all times. He was certain that neither one had laid eyes on him or else they would have made some sort of eye contact. But Coleman was worried that the two men were heading toward the river; where there were fewer and fewer people to hide behind. A few people were walking toward the burial site, but that was not going to be until much later in the day. Richard wanted the site to be lit by candles when Emily was lowered into her grave, and it would not turn dark for another three or four hours at least. He had to find a way to keep up with the men without being seen. The only way he could think of was to walk along the rugged hunting trails that lined the opposite side of the river. There were several problems with that approach beyond the fact that he was not dressed to go running around in heavy brush. The first problem was the trails did not follow the road precisely, often going away from the road for yards at a time. The second problem was trying to walk through the heavy brush at the same pace that the priest and Reginald were walking on the open and flat road. Finally, he was concerned about the commotion that he would make if he moved too swiftly through the bushes and trees. They would certainly hear me coming a mile away, Coleman noted. But he had no choice and so did his best to follow at a safe distance without losing them.

Along the way, he could sometimes hear the two men’s voices as they carried on what seemed to be a lively conversation. The exchanges were random and often changed from one topic to the next without any seeming transition. One moment they were talking about women and the next about drinks before curiously switching to whom they believed owned the fastest ships in the North Atlantic. The conversation was so fluid that it almost seemed they were long-time friends who had not missed a moment of time with each other. This surprised Coleman as he had never before seen Reginald with anyone whom he did not already know. It was even more curious to him that this priest had never been seen in Charlton before. It was not unusual to have business contacts in other cities or towns, though Coleman relied on his father’s more often than his own. Still, there was no explanation as to why this man, who was once dressed as a priest, would be in Charlton at this time and in such good company with Reginald.

Coleman pressed on through the woods as quickly and quietly as he could. There was one nervous moment when he overheard Reginald note that the wildlife was rather active that day. Each of the men peered in Coleman’s direction, presumably in search of the beast that happened to be walking alongside of them. But they never saw the beast, and that made Coleman relax and a little more careful than he had been. At last, the men reached the spot of the old dam and stopped. There was another man also there and Coleman knew of him. He was a local trader who was also skilled in road building. Coleman had not seen the trader in years and by looking at the man’s weathered face, it was a surprise that he was still alive. At first there did not seem to be any connection between Reginald, the priest and the trader, but the three began talking and pointing at the dam. Coleman could not hear what they were saying very well so he decided to move a little closer. The brush was very thin where the road met the forest on the other side of the river, so Coleman quietly climbed about half-way up a nearby tree and used the leaves and branches for cover. He could hear much better from his new vantage point.

“This is where the river came down through,” the trader said. “You can see where the old river went over there before the dam was built. Once the dam was put up, the water flowed more rapidly through this gulley here.”

“Was that intentional?” the priest asked.

“It was,” answered the trader. “We needed a powerful current to spin the blade. It wasn’t very powerful really. We were barely able to keep up with demand, had to let the water build up at certain times of the day before we could work, so we usually let it build up at night and let it run over during the day. Mondays were our best days because no one worked on Sundays.”
“And then what happened?” the priest asked.

“What happened?” The trader responded, “Someone came and blew the thing up. That’s what happened.”

“How did they do that?” Reginald pressed further. “Was it thick enough to walk across? Did they shoot at it until broke? Was it ready to fall a part to begin with? What happened?”

The trader thought for a minute before posing his answer, “Well, someone could have walked across had they been real careful, but I don’t know how they could have got the powder across at the same time. We know the dam was blown up on the far side over there and the rush of the water took care of most of the rest. You can see where there are some remnants left on this side here. But they took a pile of gunpowder and lit it up.”

“And the water rushed down to the flats and caught everyone digging for clams by surprise,” Reginald replied.

“Yea,” the trader returned, “except they weren’t fishermen down there. It was innocent people digging for a picnic. The mayor’s wife got caught in the flow.”

“Got stuck in the mud,” the priest confirmed. “Did you ever catch who did it?”

“Came close,” the trader said. “We were on his heels for a bit. Problem was we didn’t know who it was. One fellow who was looking with us saw a man running along that ridge up there, but he didn’t get a very good view. A bunch of us ran up after him figuring that person was responsible. We were going to string him up for that. But we got up to the ridge and there was no one up there but the Calloway boy, and he was with us.”

“Are you sure about that?” the priest asked. “Are you sure he was with you.”

The trader thought again before giving his answer, “No. It never occurred to us that he could have been the person who blew it up. We just took him at his word. The thought never crossed my mind that it could have been him until just now. I still don’t believe it though. Just no proof that’s all. It’s not like I know him all that well.”

“Is there anyone else in town that was also in that party?” the priest continued to ask.

“No,” the trader responded. “I mean, maybe, but I don’t remember everyone who was there. It was somewhat hectic. Those I do remember are all gone. They’re traders like me, some of them went west. A few are working the Saint Lawrence.”

“Is that legal?” Reginald asked.

The trader smiled but did not offer a response.

Coleman had heard enough. He was starting to get nervous about being caught and he decided to work his way down the tree as quietly as he could. While he was down-climbing, he could not figure out what that conversation had to do with anything at all. So the boy’s father is responsible for killing Richard’s wife, he thought to himself. So what? The man is going to hang anyway. It was then that a thought struck Coleman in the strangest way. Here he had been all this time standing off to the side at the funeral while everyone gave their condolences to Richard, chasing Reginald and the mystery man through the woods and looking for ghosts from crimes that happened twenty years before, and not once did he remember that his wife was the one they were burying later that night. The whole world has been taken from me, he thought as he froze mid-way down the tree. He had completely forgotten how important this day should have been to him. I should have been there with Richard accept all of those condolences. I should have been more involved in funeral and choosing the burial site. “I shouldn’t be here wasting my time listening to these men talk about local history,” he said aloud.

The three men by the dam turned around to see Coleman suspended half-way up tree.

“Who is that?” the trader asked.

“That’s the guilty man,” the priest stated as he pointed at a white-faced Coleman.

“The Calloway boy?” the trader asked.

Coleman leaped from the tree and ran as fast as he could back toward the town. He did not look back to see that the others were not following him. Instead he raced all the way back home where he barricaded himself in the first room he came to when he decided to stop running. His breathing was heavy and slid down the door until he sat on the floor trying to catch his breath. When he finally did, he looked around him and became confused. He did not recognize the room at first, but as he noticed the familiar bed frame, wardrobe closet and curtains, it became clear that he had run straight to Emily’s bedroom.

“Coleman?” a voice asked from inside the room.