They were almost home when another question occurred to him. “How did you persuade the girl to come and talk to me?” he asked. “The girl at Simms’s house?”
Spicer looked sheepish. “I told her I was a preacher and that I knew she was in possession of knowledge that could prevent a crime. And … I sort of told her that she would end up in hell if she didn’t come forward with it.”
“Morgan! That’s just the sort of thing you’ve got to stop doing!”
But then he let it go. If it hadn’t been for Morgan Spicer he would probably never have found Simms. We are sometimes given strange tools to further our work, he thought. Who am I to argue with that?
VII
Lewis should have returned to the Brighton Circuit right away, but he felt bruised and unsettled and decided to give himself a day with his family before setting off. Betsy was surprised when he turned up with Spicer in tow, and gasped when she saw the bruising on the side of his face where Simms’s punch had landed. She quickly made a compress for it, and bathed Spicer’s skinned knuckles — the result of the flying tackle that had brought Simms down during the initial chase.
Spicer was reserved with her at first, but she made little comment as she washed his wounds, and slowly he overcame his shyness, helped in a large part by Martha, who was pleased to have a new target for her charms. She kept the young man quite occupied with trying to guess what it was she was hiding in her hand. He seemed scarcely to know what to make of this, but gamely guessed incorrectly for some time, until Lewis intervened and sent the little girl to play with Henry instead.
It was only when Minta appeared in the doorway that he was able to relate what had happened. He was reluctant to talk about it; he needed time to absorb it himself. But if anyone had a right to know, it was Seth, and he knew that Minta would break the news to him gently, and be there to temper his reaction. Besides, he knew that Betsy was bursting to ask, but was waiting until he was ready.
When he finished, Minta only nodded. “Should I keep Martha with me?”
“No,” Lewis said before Betsy could reply. “Thank you, but I think I need her here.” On this day of answers he would find comfort in this most physical reminder of his dead daughter.
There was not much conversation after that; Spicer sat and stared into the fire. Lewis did little more than pace the kitchen until Betsy dished up plates of stew and bade them sit. Slowly the horror of the day began to seep away from him, sped by food, the warmth of the kitchen, and the pleasure of being fussed over.
He offered to listen to Martha’s prayers and put her to bed that night. He watched as the little chestnut head bowed over the chubby folded hands, then she climbed into her cot and he covered her carefully with the quilt.
“Grandpa?”
“Yes, my sweet.”
“Seth said you caught a bad man.”
“Yes, I guess I did. Me and Mr. Spicer.”
“Was there only one?”
Lewis was slow in his reply. He knew what she was asking — were there more bad men who would come and do something awful in the night? Was there a bad man even now under her bed, or in the outhouse, waiting to leap out as soon as everyone’s back was turned?
“Listen to me very carefully, Martha. It’s not often that men are as bad as this one. Most men, and women too, have only a little badness in them, like when you won’t do your chores, or when you tease Henry, or when you have thoughts that aren’t very nice.” She giggled at this. “But the badness is always there, in everybody, and you have to work hard not to let it out, and not to act on it. And you have to take the blame when you fail, and you’ve done something wrong. You have to make up for it. This man was very bad, indeed, and now he has to take the blame for what he did. He couldn’t control the badness that was in him, and it kept coming out. But, thank the Lord, I do believe that there was only one of him. And you don’t have to worry about him, because he’s safely locked away.”
“Why would God let him be so bad?”
It was the question Lewis had asked himself as he paced the kitchen.
“We don’t really know why God lets bad things happen. I’m sure there’s a reason, but we just don’t know what it is. All we can do is try not to be bad ourselves and ask for His help in doing it.”
“And that’s why I say my prayers every night? So God can help me do what I know is right?”
“Yes, that’s exactly why.” But even as he said it, he wondered again how God could let such a creature as Simms exist. He would pay the price for his evil, that much was clear, but what of the innocent women? They had done nothing to call this down upon themselves. Sarah had found the Lord before she died, and had counted on Him to protect her from evil. Rachel had been groping toward the same understanding. He knew nothing of the beliefs of the other women, but surely they must have led largely blameless lives. There were too many innocents in this world, too many twisted, lifeless bodies left as ransom for the actions of others, in spite of the rituals they surrounded themselves with. How could this be when God was supposed to have a plan for us all?
“I just hope God is listening,” Martha said.
He sat with her until she drifted off to sleep, marvelling at the intelligence of children, and how they seemed able to cut through so neatly to the heart of a matter.
Part VI
Belleville 1842
I
Far from remaining in an unsettled frame of mind, Lewis was strangely content as he headed west two days later. Betsy seemed very happy in the Jessup’s half-house, although from what he could see, she spent more time in Minta’s kitchen than in her own. Minta seemed just as pleased with the arrangement and Lewis thought again of his daughter-in-law, and wondered how she and Will were getting along. Unlike Nabby, Minta merely smiled when Betsy was too abrupt, and would answer with a meek, “Yes, ma’am” while the corners of her mouth dimpled, and then Betsy would realize that she had spoken too forcefully, and soften her approach. It had taken very little time for the two women to establish the ground rules.
Martha and Henry were thriving in this environment, and with the sharing of the household labour between them, Minta and Betsy both had more time with the children. Betsy had decided to begin their education, and Martha proved quick at picking up her sums and could already read a few words. Henry, anxious to imitate Martha in all things, repeated her answers, although he was still far too young to make genuine sense of it.
“Never mind, he’ll make all the more out of it when he does start to understand,” Betsy said. Lewis noticed that Spicer listened attentively when the children demonstrated their abilities. Spicer and Simms, he thought, neither of them knew what a happy family was, but they had chosen very different ways to deal with it. He couldn’t claim the same ignorance, and again his thoughts turned to Will.
News of the murder and of the murderer’s apprehension had spread quickly. Everyone seemed to know that he had had something to do with it, but Lewis refused to answer any of the many questions he was asked as he made his rounds.
“Wait until the trial,” was all he would say. “You’ll hear everything then.”
He had expected Spicer to make much of his role in the affair, for it was known that he, too, had been a part of it, but to his surprise the boy merely echoed the words, “Wait until the trial.” Lewis was amazed. For once in his life, Spicer really had done something important, and might have been forgiven had he crowed a little. He was gratified