Up From Freedom by Wayne Grady

Author:Wayne Grady
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Doubleday Canada
Published: 2018-08-14T07:00:00+00:00

9.

It took them longer to get the skull out than he’d thought it would, and everyone was getting nervous. Moody couldn’t rid his mind of the notion of an army of catchers out there in the woods, moving north, and was anxious to untie and move upriver. But the skull resisted their efforts, refusing to budge even though it was three-quarters exposed, and then the weather joined in. After five dry days came a morning of pelting rain, turning the quarry into a pool of wet clay and gravel, when even stepping off the Pelican was a risk none of them felt like taking. Moody threw the tarpaulin over the quarry while the others brought the parlor inside. It was warmer and cozier, but the noise on the cabin’s flat roof kept them from talking. Moody and Sabetha read, Granville looked out one of the windows at the fidgetous river, and Leason and Sarah sat on the bed, holding hands and looking sideways at each other. Moody studied the family over his book, Mr. Darwin’s account of his voyage aboard the Beagle, when he found the giant sloth and then turned his attention to birds. Sabetha was quiet and watchful, not as absorbed in Jane Austen as she let on. Granville was all surface, like a puppy; he missed his father and wanted to keep busy so as not to think about him. Tamsey was mending one of Moody’s shirts so that Leason could wear it.

But it was Sarah who mystified him. She rarely spoke, rarely had an opinion that she shared with the others, but there was obviously a lot going on behind her placid facade. She was the opposite of Tamsey, who spoke first and only realized afterward that what she had said was true. Sarah thought about what she was going to say for a long time before saying it, and what she said wasn’t always the whole truth.

As he expected, it was Leason and Sarah who broke first. Sarah announced they were going for a walk, never mind the rain, it was dry under the trees. They should check on the horses. Tamsey stuck her finger with the needle and said, “Oh, fine.”

Shortly after the midday meal, cold pork, white bread and black tea, the rain stopped and the sun turned the still-bare branches of the trees into living skeletons against the sky. Granville was out the door and headed down to the quarry before Tamsey could caution him against catchers and panthers, both of which she said came out after a rain. Moody put Darwin down and said he’d go with him.

Leason came, too, so Moody told Tamsey he wouldn’t be long. He’d get the boys started and then return to the boat.

The three of them walked down the towpath, breathing the mineral-rich post-rain spring air. Even with the tarpaulin in place, the unshellacked sections of bone were so soft they had to scrape the claystone away, like dried glue off the shell of a raw egg.

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