The Double Hook by Sheila Watson Read Free Book Online Page A

and me waiting.
    What do you want? the girl said. What are you telling me for? What can I do?
    She pulled herself free and went to the door. But outside was night. Outside was Kip. Outside was floorless, roofless, wall-less.
    Let me stop, she said. I’ve no place to go.
    Greta crossed the room.
    Go away, she said. Go away and leave us in peace. Don’t ask me. Don’t put the blame on me. There’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing I can say. Go yourself while there’s still time.
    The girl did not move from the doorway.
    He’ll kill me too, Greta said. He’ll shove me down for standing in his way.
    Then they heard James’s voice rising in the barn. They heard a cry. They heard Kip’s voice: You bastard, James. They heard James’s voice. They heard his words: If you were God Almighty, if you’d as many eyes as a spider I’d get them all.
    They heard a bucket overturn and animals move in their stalls.
    Then they heard James’s voice again: Miserable shrew, smell me out if you can.
    Now Greta and the girl stood watching in the doorway.
    James came out of the barn alone. He came one hand swinging the lantern, the other trailing the rawhide whip he used to break his horses. He came out of the barn and up the rise towards them.
    James, Greta said.
    He lifted his whip. It reached out towards her, tearing through the flowers of her housecoat, leaving a line on her flesh. Then as the thong unloosed its sweep it coiled with a jerk about Lenchen’s knees.
    Not long after they heard him ride off through the gate.
14
    Ara heard and woke. William had raised himself on his elbow and was looking down on her in the thin morning light.
    I’m sure, he said, I heard the beat of a horse’s hooves.
    It’s probably Kip, Ara said. Just looking round.
    He’ll look once too often, William said. But he lay down and reached out his arm towards her.
    Angel heard. Got up. Went to the window. Saw only the dust raised by something which had disappeared. Turning saw Theophil and the children asleep on the mattress.
    He’d no right to turn Kip out, she thought. He’s gone off perhaps, and now I’ll never hear the things he sees.
    The Widow heard. It’s the boy, she thought, going off again.
    But the boy was stirring in the kitchen below. Knocking the stove wood into place with the lifter.
    She put her hand over her eyes.
    Dear God, she thought. How easy death would be if there was death and nothing more.
    Felix Prosper slept. He dreamed that Angel was riding through his gate on a sleek ass. He was pulling the scratchy white surplice over his uncombed head. It was early and the ground was wet with dew.
    I mustn’t forget, he thought. I mustn’t forget.
    He saw a coyote standing near the creek. He wanted to follow it into the hills. He felt its rough smell on his tongue.
    He turned away from the creek and went to the gate. He could feel the surplice straining at his armpits like a garment which had shrunk in a storm. He reached up his hand.
    Dignum et justum est
, he said as he helped Angel down.

THREE
l
    H einrich too had heard the beat of hooves. He wrenched a stick of wood into place in the stove. Stood watching the flicker of light on the board ceiling. Stood trying to think that he’d heard nothing. That it was a morning like every other morning he’d known.
    He went to the shelf and took down three cups. He put the pan on the stove and cut bacon and bread. He heard his mother moving about. He went to the foot of the stairs.
    Can’t you smell the bacon? he called.
    His mother came down and sat at the table.
    He gave her her plate. Seeing as he gave it to her her thin grey hair pulled tight from the crown of her head.
    The Widow pushed back her plate.
    I’m afraid, she said. What is said is said. I couldn’t pick up the shame again, she said.
    A man needn’t hang himself because he’s put his neck through a noose in the dark, Heinrich said. What will you do if I bring the girl back?
    Dear God, the Widow said. Dear