The House

By Dawn Natelle

Sorry for taking so long to get this chapter out. I needed some down time. The next chapter will be out sooner. Happy Thanksgiving to the Yanks: Dawn.

The House – Red

Red stood at the back of the variety store, with his winter hood pulled tight around his neck. In February, in Canada, a parka is not rare. His basket contained two loaves of WonderBread, four packages of sandwich meat, a jar of mayo, four bottles of water, and a SaraLee frozen cake. Walking to the front, he also added a half dozen granola bars.

“That will be $42.63,” the pretty young blonde cashier said as she packed everything into two plastic bags. Red had been looking around to the back of the empty store while she rang him up, but then he pulled a seven-inch jackknife from his pocket, and said: “Open da till, bitch. Dis be a hol’up.” His plan was to use a Black accent to put off identification. He pointed the knife at the girl, who stumbled backwards a few steps, complete fear on her face.

Red waved the knife and made the girl open the till, and he reached in and grabbed the cash. There were only $65 in bills, since the store used a drop-box for large bills. Cursing, Red grabbed the loonies and toonies from the coin slots, pocketing another $30. Then he grabbed the groceries and ran to the door. As he ran out he glanced back to see the girl was on the floor, huddled behind the counter, weeping uncontrollably.

Red ran out the door. He was lucky: a snowplow had just cleaned one side of the street, and the pavement was nearly bare. He darted out onto the road, leaving no footprints, and jogged along for almost a mile. There was next to no traffic. The snow was coming down hard, and no sane person would be driving unless it was an emergency. The snow was also benefitting him, since it was covering his tracks.

At a certain spot he darted off the road. He looked back, and saw two cruisers finally arriving at the store. The girl certainly hadn’t called them immediately. Fortunately both cars had arrived from the other direction. If they had come from this way they probably would have noted the boy in the parka carrying bags that clearly showed the logo of the store that had been robbed.

There was a small drainage ditch that ran underneath the four-lane street, and Red hopped down to the culvert under the road. There was a metal grating that fenced the culvert off from people entering, but a week ago Red had found that the 50-year-old metal was rusty and easily snapped. He pulled the grate out and slipped inside.

The culvert was warmer than the outside temperature, warmed a bit by the earth. It was not warm by any means, just not fatally cold. There was a nook with a platform on it, and it clearly had been used before by another homeless person. There were old and smelly blankets there. The two cleanest went over Red, and four others underneath kept the cold from coming up, once his body heat had warmed the cubby a bit.

He opened and quickly drained one of the bottles of water. He set the bottle aside: he could refill it in the washroom of the nearby public library branch. He then made two large sandwiches with the bread and luncheon meat he had ‘purchased’. Those, and another bottle of water, filled the stomach that had not eaten for three days. He finally hacked into the cake, still frozen, and managed to melt heavenly bits inside his mouth. He curled up and went to sleep for the night.

It was not an easy night. He had dreams about the robbery. In one he had stabbed the girl, and stood and watched as blood had spread across her pale yellow uniform tunic. In another, a policeman came into the store, and saw him with the knife, and shot him, with a searing pain in his chest until he woke up in a sweat. He vowed to never rob a store again, and went back to a fitful sleep, interrupted by both cold and dreams.

The next morning he had a simple breakfast, and then went to the library. He was a regular there, making use of the Internet computers as much as possible. The women working there would nod to him, but seldom came close. He realized that it was due to the rather bad body odor he carried. He tried to keep clean in the library washroom, washing his face and under his arms, but he knew that wearing the same clothes for two months meant that he sported an unhealthy odor.

Online he searched for a place to go. For several days he came up blank as his small stash of food dwindled, as did his cash. Finally he hit the jackpot: there was a First Nations hostel in Ottawa that might take him in. He sent an email to see if he qualified. Just before noon he filled his water bottles and went back to his underground lair where he made another lunch.

It was four more days until he got a reply to his email. They said that they had two levels of support. One was only a place to sleep and shower. The other allowed daytime access. He would have to start at the first level and try to work up to the higher level. At least he would be able to shower, and sleep somewhere warm. He left that day feeling good, although he no longer had any food, other than three slices of baloney.

He had a bit of cash left from the robbery, so he went to a variety store he had been using: not the one he had robbed. He managed to buy another loaf of bread and some Kraft cheese. No dessert this time. He had enjoyed the cake, but it was gone.

The following day he looked up the bus and train sites on the Internet. He quickly discounted the train: it was far beyond the money he had left. And even the bus was more expensive than he could afford, over $60.

He decided to make up sandwiches with the rest of his bread and cheese and head to the bus station. He would get a ticket for as far as he could, and hitch the rest of the way in. At the station he booked a ticket to Actinolite, less than half way. Apparently the bus tickets were not proportionate to the distance travelled. He waited for the bus, and got on, taking a seat at the back.

The bus was not full, and Red found that none of the other passengers sat near him. His B.O. problem, he eventually realized. The bus stopped at every small town along the route, usually only for a few seconds as no one got on or got off. Then the bus driver announced that there would be a 10-minute stop at the next station, and gave a recommendation for the sandwiches served there.

The driver made Red get off at that stop: killing the boy’s hope of sneaking another few stops in. He went and stood on the side of the road, putting his thumb out as each car went by. He didn’t start to walk because once the cars were outside of the little village, they would speed up and be less likely to stop.

The bus left, and a half hour later a single woman came out. She walked down the road towards Ottawa, but he saw that she turned into a lane not far along. Red strolled down until he was at the spot she turned, and could see a big house, with several barns and outbuildings. Perhaps one of those would be warm enough to sleep in. It was now dark, and he knew there was little chance of getting a ride.

--------

Inside the house the evening meal was served as soon as Willow arrived. It was roast venison: Hawk had made a kill while hunting with Grey. The entire household was finishing up when there was a commotion out in the barns. Rabbit was barking furiously.

Hawk and Grey were first dressed and out. The noise seemed to be coming from the stable. George and Dary were not far behind, with the girl concerned about her birds, and George worried about the horses.

Inside the stable they found Rabbit still barking. “Help” came a voice from a corner stall. Pierre had a young boy pinned up against the edge of the stall.

“Eggs, two!” Dary claimed accusingly as she entered the stable, and found two eggs smashed on the floor.

“Sorry,” the boy said. “I was hoping to eat them, but then the dog attacked, and I dropped them getting into this stall. Then the horse just pushed me up against the wall and I can’t move.”

“Let’s see now,” Grey said, stroking Pierre’s nose. Slowly the horse eased up, and the boy was able to slide out. Rabbit had stopped barking when the cavalry had arrived, but still was growling at the boy, who seemed scared of him. “Who are you, and why are you in our stable.”

“I am Red Eagleclaw, and I came here hoping it would be warmer to sleep in. Then I heard the chickens, and thought I could sneak some eggs. That got the dog angry, and I wound up in the stall,” Red said. “I was hitching to Ottawa, I got as far as here on the bus, but now I am stuck. And no one picks up riders after dark.”

“No one picks up people as rank as you,” Hawk said. “When was the last time you showered?”

“A long time ago,” Red said. Dary had gone into the coop to check for more eggs, and got five. She wanted to make sure no more were broken, and took them in her basket and headed to the house. “Who is she?” Red asked. “She’s pretty.”

“She will appreciate the compliment,” Grey said, “but only if you get yourself cleaned up a bit. Come into the house. We’ll let you shower, and get you some clean clothes. I’m sure Daisy will fix up a meal for you, and let you stay for a night or two.”

The boy showered, and Sun took his clothes to the laundry in the basement and tried to wash them, but they pretty much disintegrated in the wash. The boy was only about 15, and he was Grey’s height, although much slimmer. Never-the-less Sun found some of Grey’s older clothes from their time in the camp, and felt that a few safety pins would allow him to wear them.

After a while a clean Red came out of the shower and tried on the clothes. As suspected they were quite baggy on him, and Sun had pin the shirt together, while an old belt allowed the trousers to stay up. Red was more than a little frightened by the huge woman towering over him, but managed to stay calm: this seemed to be the first good thing that had happened to him since his mother died three years ago.

As promised, there was a warm plate of roast venison, which he had never eaten before, as well as potatoes, carrots, and corn. A huge glass of milk tasted so good after nearly a year without. He ate as though the food might disappear, and Daisy looked on with pride. She loved seeing people eating her food.

After he was finished, he took the dishes to the kitchen and washed them, impressing Daisy even more: “You just earned yourself a breakfast tomorrow,” she promised.

Shortly thereafter Grey led him through the busy Great Room to a smaller room with a bed and blankets. “I know it is early, but we are getting up early tomorrow,” Grey told him as he left him in the room. In less than five minutes, the boy was asleep.

It was still dark when they rose, although not so early. It stayed dark late in the winter and it was nearly six. Grey allowed him to get dressed. He looked Ojibwe in the deerskins Sun had found for him, and Grey had a similar, newer set on. Grey pulled out two pairs of snowshoes, and in the light from the porch showed Red how to put them on and walk in them. The boy took a few headers into the snow, but then seemed to get the hang of it, and Grey led him north towards the Grove.

They passed through the Grove to the river and arrived just as dawn was breaking. The wildlife come to the river to find water wherever they could with the river mostly frozen. Grey went onto the ice and broke through in a few places, and then went back to Red. Almost at once the animals that had fled at Grey’s approach returned, and found water. The two stood for an hour, watching nature in its wonders.

“That was amazing,” Red said as they finally walked back. Grey took him into the majestic Grove and explained the different trees to the boy, both in the Grove and surrounding pine forest. He explained how he was the caretaker of the Grove and the forest, and what he did. They got to the campsite, and Red looked into the wigwams and the lodge, finally getting some of the clear, ice-cold spring water.

“That is wonderful,” Red said. “I have been drinking water a lot lately, but never as good as that.”

“I know you were promised a breakfast, but you will have to get that tomorrow,” Grey said. “But here is some venison jerky. It will keep the hunger away. Do you know how to make a fire?”

“I don’t know any of this Ojibwe stuff,” Red said. “I am Mohawk, and I lived with an uncle until about a year ago. He didn’t go for any of this heritage stuff, but I love it. Can you show me how to make a fire? The First Nation’s way?”

Grey did, and they soon had a roaring fire warming the lodge as they sat on stumps and talked. Red opened up, and told Grey his whole story, including the robbery.

“You won’t tell, will you?” Red pleaded.

“It will be hard not to,” Grey said. “We have an OPP officer living in the house: the woman who sat next to Dary in the Great Hall. I think you saw them with the babies as you followed me to your room.”

“I saw Dary. She is so pretty,” Red said. “I guess she wouldn’t want to have anything to do with a criminal.”

“She is a pretty special little girl,” Grey said. “She won’t like what you have done, but if you confess and take your punishment, she might become a friend.”

“I should confess. I feel better already, just telling you. I have nightmares most of the time: not last night, sleeping in a clean bed was just too perfect. But I suspect they will come back. What can I do?”

“Well, the first thing you need is a lawyer, and we happen to have a pretty good one in the house. Confess everything to him, and listen to what he says. Then we tell Cindy, the cop. She will arrest you, and take you to the station. You are going to have to spend some time in jail, but hopefully it will be in Madoc, and not Peterborough.”

“How long in jail?”

“I don’t know, but John will. If you are lucky we will be able to bail you out and you can come back here until the trial.”

“I don’t want a trial. I’m guilty. I put that poor clerk through hell. I will plead guilty,” Red said.

“Wait ‘til you speak with John before you make up your mind. He might think it is better to plead not guilty, and then make a deal or something.”

They put out the fire and walked back to the house, arriving just in time for lunch. After eating, the boy spent nearly two hours with John. They invited Grey in then, and John explained that the boy would appear at the Madoc Provincial Court for a hearing in two days.

Cindy was on day shift, and came home at 4 p.m. John immediately called her in and explained the situation. Cindy agreed to let the boy spend the night at the house before taking him in, since she didn’t want to go back and fill out all the paperwork that night. She did insist on the boy’s room being locked from the outside, and Grey put a padlock on it before supper, and nailed the window shut.

The next morning, after getting his promised breakfast from Daisy, Cindy drove him to Madoc, where he was put into one of the holding cells for court the next day.