Chapter 7 #2
“What in the gods’ names are you doing here?
” Tucker Hoode repeated, having now reached them.
He clapped his hands on his trousers to slough off the dirt, rubbed a handkerchief across his ruddy cheeks, and was angling to see Ruben more clearly.
The group rotated a bit, keeping Ruben still slightly out of reach.
“Why aren’t you at Eagle Heights, Uncle?
And, good gods, look at you! You’re dressed like a monk.
Did you join a cult? Who are these people you’re with?
” He made to grab Ruben, and Mrs. Chrysler stepped quickly in the way.
“Good evening, young man,” she began in ingratiating tones. “I’m Mrs.—”
“I don’t know what you’re selling, lady, but I don’t want it,” he said, trying to reach around her for the hapless Ruben.
Mrs. Chrysler’s face clouded over. “Now wait just a moment,” she boomed in her most resonant mother-tone.
Tucker rocked his weight back onto his rear foot in surprise, and Mrs. Chrysler continued: “I’m sure you were raised better”—she emphasized the last word with an accusatory lift of an eyebrow—“than to speak in such a way to a pair of ladies you have just met. Weren’t you? ”
The ruddy-bearded scarecrow gasped for words and looked to Katherine, apparently trying to find some help in her face. None was available.
“Well?!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I thought you were. Now, I am Mrs. Chrysler. This is Miss Winterhaven. We are not in a cult. Your uncle did not join a monastery. We are merely here—or rather, Ruben is here, to visit you, as—he has made clear—you have not been to visit him in quite some time.”
“Ever,” Ruben said.
The scarecrow eyed her crossly. “A visit? I didn’t think there was any love lost between us, Uncle.”
Ruben drew further away from him. That much was true, Katherine guessed.
“So, why didn’t I get a letter or something telling me about this visit?” the large man said.
“I am not responsible for the postal service, young man,” Mrs. Chrysler sniffed. “I cannot account for lost mail.”
“Well, this really isn’t a convenient time, you know,” said Tucker Hoode, gesticulating angrily at the fields. “Although I don’t suppose I could expect you to remember that potato harvest is the family’s busiest season, Uncle.”
Ruben’s bushy brows wrinkled further, and he writhed visibly under his cowl.
“Well, if that is the case, we won’t trouble you for very long,” Katherine said. “Clearly, you have no manners, so perhaps a short visit is best after all. Now, you have all of Ruben’s belongings, don’t you?”
“What of it?”
“He wants some of them.”
“What’s this?”
“Y-yes, Tuck,” Ruben finally ventured. He tried to draw himself up to his full wobbly height. It wasn’t very effective. “I want some of my things.”
Tucker Hoode guffawed loudly. “That’s rich.
That’s really rich, Uncle. I take you in, put you up, find you a decent home, and you come all the way back here with these…
” He trailed off, catching the look in Mrs. Chrysler’s eye.
“… people, years later, to come and get your stuff? Who are these people, Uncle Ruben? I should think Eagle Heights would send someone younger to escort you on a sanctioned visit, don’t you? ”
“I’ve had just about enough of your rudeness, young man,” Mrs. Chrysler said. “What exactly are you implying?”
“I’m implying,” Tucker Hoode began with gritted teeth, “that you want my uncle’s things… for what reason, though, I have no idea… and that you’re not who you say you are. Clearly, you’re taking advantage of him. Like so many other people have.”
“I’ve… I’ve been released from Eagle Heights, all right?” Ruben said.
“Released? They can’t release you without my say so, and I certainly haven’t said so.”
“Can’t we discuss this inside, like civilized people?” Katherine said. “We’re here. Doesn’t matter who we are. Ruben wants some of his things. It’s as simple as that.”
Silence filled the space between them, and the man regarded them with a brooding scowl.
He dragged his gingham handkerchief across his forehead again, mashed it into a side pocket of his trousers, and looked back into the fields, where his family were heaving bags and barrows in the dwindling light and trundling toward a large stone barn.
He seemed, finally, to reach some sort of decision and stepped back, opening an arm in a “right-this-way” gesture.
“That’s more like it,” Mrs. Chrysler said. “After you, thank you.”
In his thick overalls and heavy boots, Tucker Hoode padded his way down the lane, followed by the cluster of visitors and their animal companions.
I thought things were going to get pretty heated there for a moment, Mr. Scruffles said as they trotted their way through the dust.
They might still, Tilly said, flicking her tail uncertainly.
Nevertheless, Ember said. Seems like the big man must care about his uncle at least a little bit, to be so concerned… Right?
Tilly bristled. Got a funny way of showing it, she said.
The man in question opened the door of the farmhouse and they all followed him over the threshold. The air inside was pleasantly warm and smelled faintly of cinnamon and cloves. Assorted furnishings and floor rugs were arranged neatly inside, looking homemade and inviting.
“Can I get anyone some tea?” the farmer growled.
“None for me, thank you,” Katherine answered primly. “We won’t be here long.”
“But that was very polite of you to ask,” Mrs. Chrysler said approvingly, apparently spotting an opportunity for some positive reinforcement.
Tucker Hoode scowled. “Care to sit down, then?” he asked gruffly.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Mrs. Chrysler settled herself in a rocker and set her bag down with a thump.
“It’ll be dark soon,” Tucker said, after a pause. “Are you sure you don’t want that tea?”
“Afraid not,” Katherine said. “We don’t mind the dark. So, if we could get to the matter at hand—”
“Why don’t you stay the night,” the man said cagily, “and we’ll send for someone from Eagle Heights to come get you in the morning?”
“Hmph. Not going to happen,” Mrs. Chrysler assured him.
“The village is miles away. You can’t possibly get there before dark.”
“Stop stalling, Mr. Hoode,” Katherine said. “Ruben’s things—where do you keep them?”
“Now, why don’t we all have a sit down and talk this over…”
“No, Tuck,” Ruben finally spoke up. “You never came to visit me, you never gave me a choice in the first place. The least you could do is give me back my things.”
Katherine eyed the old man’s nephew closely. Tucker Hoode stood in the middle of the room with his arms folded across his chest. A ticking clock on the mantelpiece punctuated a widening silence, and Katherine got the sense that a trap was being set.
“You’re waiting for your family to come in, aren’t you?” she asked.
No answer.
“He’s waiting to outnumber us, Imogene,” she said. “Crowd us into staying. Not let us get away.”
“As if I need to outnumber you to keep you here,” Tucker scoffed.
But his eyes lifted hopefully when he heard a door creak nearby, and he grinned smugly.
His face fell when the entrant padded over and became visible: a morose, threadbare old cat, whose coat had probably once been a chocolate brown. Possibly. He was missing an ear, too.
“Oh, poor dear,” Katherine said. “He’s got a skin condition, or something awful. Hello, sweetie.” She proffered a finger for a sniff, and the elderly cat approached it gingerly.
“That’s Mouser. Used to be good at catching vermin, but he’s pretty useless now.” Tucker aimed a kick in the old cat’s direction and it shrank back.
Katherine felt the heat rise in her cheeks.
“Oh no,” Mrs. Chrysler muttered, adjusting her dress and coming to her feet. “Now you’ve done it.”
Tucker scoffed. “Done what?”
“I can’t abide rudeness, lad. But my friend here… Well, let’s say she won’t go easy on you now.”
Katherine took a deep breath, retracted her hand from Mouser, and straightened to her full potential.
Imogene may have always had the muscle, she reflected, but she herself had always had the more imposing stature, and sometimes height beat might.
She approached Tucker now and stood close to his face, looking down into his eyes like an enraged, snowcapped mountain.
“Ruben’s things,” she said in a low voice. “Now.”
The man’s resolve appeared to waver a moment under that tempestuous glare, but he recovered quickly and angrily set his jaw. “You scheming hag,” he said. “You cowed him into coming here, didn’t you?” He pointed hysterically behind her at Ruben. “He hasn’t got anything of value!”
“A ‘hag’ am I?” Katherine thundered. Tilly was on her shoulder in a moment, brandishing unsheathed claws and hissing threateningly.
“I knew it!” the man screamed. “I’m not afraid of witches!” But he shrieked in fear as Tilly suddenly disappeared, leaving only a puffed purple tail behind, and the unseen menace began swatting at his scalp.
He flailed hopelessly to dislodge her and grabbed Katherine by the arm.
“Don’t you even!” In a flash, Mrs. Chrysler stood beside them, deftly drawing the sewing scissors from her blouse.
She brandished them so that the evening light glinted on their edge, and Tilly jumped to the floor.
Tucker Hoode froze where he stood, and Mrs. Chrysler made a dimple in his throat with the tip of her weapon.
A moment passed in silence, and then Tucker Hoode inquired, more calmly than might have been expected: “Are those child’s safety scissors, madam?”
“What makes you think that?” Mrs. Chrysler added more pressure.
“It doesn’t feel very sharp. And I believe I saw little yellow ducks all over them.”
“Safety scissors or no, nothing’s safe in my hands, my lad, I assure you,” Mrs. Chrysler said. She clipped off the point of his beard to show she meant business, then pressed the blunt scissor tip a bit harder against his neck.
Katherine sighed. “If I may, Imogene?”
“Certainly.”