She said “I know, Solomon. Didn’t you bring Wolf and Ring?”
Solomon dropped Noor’s hand and started to bounce and to wave his arms. “Ring’s going to have puppies! Puppies! Do you want a puppy, Noor? Daddy, can Noor have a puppy?”
Noor turned to Fundy, still smiling, and with the little finger of her left hand wiped away the droplet of spit. But Fundy seemed not to have heard. He was still glaring at Tyrell. He said “Did you touch my son, nigger?”
There were murmurs of outrage. Someone said, more disgusted than angry “Go on home, Fundy.”
Fundy appeared to be restraining himself with difficulty. He said, trembling “Noah put his curse on the sons of Ham. This means all niggers. Now, I come here to offer to fight together. I come to be an enemy unto thine enemies, and an adversary unto thine adversaries. But a son of Ham has touched my son, see. A nigger has lifted his black hand against my Solomon. Who is a just a poor simple retarded boy. Frost” Fundy called with passion “cast this nigger out into the wilderness. Cast him out now. Cast him out from this farm, so we can make a common cause. For he is a blight on your community and a hindrance to our salvation.”
Frost said “You better go home now, Abraham.”
Tyrell said “You want to see me lift my black hand? All right. But the next time you see me lift my hand, it will be the last thing you see in this life.”
Daniel Charlie placed a hand on Tyrell’s arm.
Solomon said “Can she, Daddy? Can she have a puppy?”
Fundy sagged. He looked beaten, old. He stood there blinking, as if he had forgotten why he had come. Then he gave a twitch, and a light returned to his eyes. He said “Are those bows and arrows? Frost, are you getting’ ready to fight?”
Noor took Fundy’s arm and turned him. She said “Tell me, Abraham. Tell me while I walk you back to your place. Exactly what do you want? I’m listenin’. I’m a good listener. Not like the others.” She said “No, Solomon, you walk on the other side of your daddy. That’s right. That’s a good boy.”
Fundy half turned once and called “Are you, Frost? Are you gettin’ ready?”
The three of them walked into the fog, toward the black targets, Noor holding Fundy’s arm, Solomon on the other side of his father, twisting and craning to see around him, finally lunging a few steps ahead and turning to walk backwards.
Frost heard “…puppies!” He heard “…enemies… sons of Ham…” He saw Fundy shake his head sadly. Above the renewed clamour of his people he also heard a slurred but heated voice, from behind him, under the bridge “I’ll get you, Frost! You ain’t… You ain’t… big as you think. Give me my god damn hooch back. Bastard! Where’s my bottle? Where’d I put my bottle? Frost, did you take…? God damn you, Frost!”
Frost went to Tyrell and patted a shoulder and said “Never mind, Tyrell, never mind.”
The voice under the bridge was quiet for a minute. Then it was singing “…was a jolly, happy soul….”
21
Wing said “The smell of freshwater is the loneliest smell in the world. I’ve smelled it all my life.”
They were squatting in drizzle on the narrow bank of the river, a few feet from the skeleton of the half-finished water wheel. The tide was running, and the current was swollen and fast.
Wing said “My grandfather’s grandfather caught a sturgeon upriver from here. Hundred and fifty pounds.”
Frost said “Daniel Charlie has told me similar stories. Maybe they’ll come back.”
“Naw, the water’s changed. Nothin’ lives in it now.”
“Amber says she saw a fish beside her barge.”
Wing snorted “I wonder what kind of fish that would be.”
There was a whistle. They looked up and saw Will on the bridge. Puppy was beside him, with her front paws on the railing. Will waved, and they waved back, and the boy and the dog moved out of sight away from the railing. Frost and Wing both looked downriver. Only two soldiers were to be seen on the crest of Fundy’s Bridge.
Wing said “It must be like Fundy said. They’re down at his end.” He stood and said “Jesus, here comes a big branch.” Frost stood too, but the branch, thick and forked, swept past twenty feet out. It caught against one of the piers of piled stones, but then spun away. Wing said “Could’ve had some firewood. Or at least somethin’ for the Christmas bonfire. But you don’t like Christmas, do you?”
Frost looked down and kicked at the dirt of the bank with a sandal. He said “I like a fire, though.”
Wing said “I’m kind of off the holiday season too. After what’s happened. But once we’re rid of Langley I could become a Christmas person again. Once we’ve made him see the error of his ways. With a sword through his liver. Hopefully my sword. Yes, a sword through the liver could definitely lead to Deck the Halls and mulled wine.”
The grey heavy water rushed on without a sound. The branch was already out of sight. The drizzle made a far-flung whisper. The men squatted again and watched the river. In a while Frost said “We better go in.”
“Yeah.”
They rose and had gone a few steps when another whistle, louder, came from the bridge. This time it was Deas. He signaled that they should look east. There was a noise, a clank of metal. From the shadow of the bridge, where the River Trail passed under it, two people emerged. They were tall and thin. They wore identical wool ponchos and kilts and leather sandals. They were bareheaded, and their dark hair hung to their waists. At this distance the only difference between them was the beard of one. They each had hold of a shaft of a two-wheeled cart and were straining to pull it forward along the uneven trail.
Wing said “The Parts Gang has arrived. Mr. and Mrs. at least. What are they doin’ out on a day like this?”
Frost said “They must need food.”
Frost and Wing walked toward the pair, who looked up and saw them coming but kept pulling their load forward. When they were close they set the shafts down and waited.
Frost and Wing shook the hands of the man and woman and each of them said “Hello BC. Hello Wind.”
BC nodded a greeting. The woman looked at the ground and showed no expression. This close, there was no longer much resemblance between the two, other than their height and the wet dark hair. The woman was gaunt and had tired, resigned eyes, but there was a little colour in her cheeks, and she had full lips. One of those lips was split and swollen, and she had a bruise around one eye. Although there was no grey in his thin hair the man seemed much older than the woman. He was not wrinkled, but above his beard the yellowish skin of his face hugged his skull. It was as if the skin had shrunk. His moustache, soaked with rain and snot, hung over his lips. When he finally opened his slit of a mouth to speak, there were no teeth.
“I brung your sheet metal, Frost. Where do you want it?”
“Here’s good.”
Without looking, BC gave the woman a push with one hand. She stepped over her shaft and began unloading.
BC said “I got eight pieces. Hoods, trunk lids and doors. Like you ordered. Not much rust.” He had a weak, hoarse voice. He made eye contact with neither Frost nor Wing.
Wing said “You look like shit, BC. What are you doin’ out in the rain?”
BC shrugged, sniffed, spat.
Frost’s eyes narrowed slightly. He studied the man’s face.
There was a crash of metal. One half of a car door fell from the woman’s hands. She grabbed the thin, rust-eaten edge of the other half before it hit the ground. She placed the rescued half-door carefully on the growing pile of sheet metal.