Thaddeus Lewis Mysteries 4-Book Bundle. Janet Kellough
“Oh, I just came from a class meeting there. They’re doing fine.” He realized, suddenly who he was talking to. “That is … as far as I could tell.”
Lewis let the moment pass. There was no point in extending a hand only to employ it immediately in a sharp slap. “Well, maybe we’ll just drop by anyway. There will be a men’s meeting tonight.”
The silence descended again, and Lewis cast about for some topic of conversation that would set his new assistant at ease. He had never minded his solitary travels, enjoyed them in fact, but if he was going to have a companion he would prefer one that didn’t sit glowering and sullen beside him. He seized on the first neutral topic that crossed his mind.
“So tell me, Morgan, have you been running across many of those little pins that the Caddick brothers make? They seem to be everywhere I go.”
“Yes, they certainly are popular. Isaac Simms was telling me this morning that he’s nearly run out of them, but the Caddicks have refused to make any more.”
“This morning?” Lewis was suddenly at full alert. “Where was this?”
“In Brighton. He said he was just passing through on his way east.”
“Did he happen to mention exactly where he was going?”
“He said he was heading to Prince Edward, as he had business in Picton.”
They had been travelling due south, toward the front, but now Lewis abruptly set his horse on a small path that he knew cut eastward through the woods toward the Carrying Place, where the neck of the peninsula met the mainland — the only place nearby that a man with a cart could cross into Prince Edward.
“Where are you going?” Spicer said as he followed. “I thought we were going to Hilton?”
“I need to find Isaac Simms. I’d lost track of him and it’s very important that I intercept him. I’ll explain when we find him.”
They pushed their horses as fast as they dared on the narrow track, Spicer’s sorry nag scrambling to keep up. Had it been full summer, they would have had difficulty getting through, but the sumac and dogwood had not yet had time to crowd the way and they maintained a steady pace. It was not nearly fast enough for Lewis and the time it took seemed to stretch into hours, his impatience chafing at him as they rode.
At last they came within sight of the small settlement that had grown up around the Carrying Place. An ancient Indian portage route had become a road that crossed the narrow neck of land. It was a nuisance for mariners, as it blocked access from the Bay of Quinte to the western end of Lake Ontario, but it did prevent the isthmus from being cut off entirely from land travellers. There was talk of a canal here, with a bridge over it, but like other projects of its kind it remained a thing of the future, to be undertaken when times were better.
They stopped at the inn, both to rest and water their horses and to ask if anyone had seen the peddler. Several had. He had visited the small general store, and had apparently been upset with the shopkeeper because he had no need of any of Simms’s wares.
“He was in a right state, he was,” the man said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Simms like that. Usually he’s a good-natured fellow and happy to share the news, but this time he was downright surly.”
“Do you happen to know if he carried on toward Picton?” Lewis asked.
There was an old man warming himself by the stove, and now he spoke up. “No, he went the other way, toward Trenton. I know, for he nearly rode me down.”
Lewis puzzled over this information as they rode toward the growing town of Trenton. Why would he have told Spicer he was going to Prince Edward, and then abruptly turn another way? Had he been intending to go there all along, and what he had said to Spicer was misdirection? If so, then Lewis would need to be doubly careful, for it would mean that Simms was deliberately covering his tracks. There may have been another reason for this decision though. He knew that the peddler had been increasingly unhappy with his reception in the settlements along the front, and perhaps, after having no luck at the Carrying Place, he had merely decided to go elsewhere, beyond Trenton and north to one of the lesser-populated areas. And then another thought struck him. He had once told Lewis that his mother and sisters lived in Belleville. Was Simms on his way there? But if they went there and he hadn’t been seen, they would have wasted a great deal of time, unless the family could shed some light on where he had gone.
As they rode on they reached the corner where the Carrying Place Road intersected with the Concession Line. They could keep going straight and head north, or turn to the right and follow the well-travelled route through Sidney to Belleville.
“Which way would you go if you were Simms?” he asked Spicer.
“Well, he’s trying to sell his stock, isn’t he? He’d go north if he’s had no luck here.”
Lewis couldn’t argue with Spicer’s logic, and yet for some reason he didn’t spur his horse into a trot, but sat there, considering.
“Let’s just ride east a bit and see if there’s a sign of him,” he said finally. Spicer shrugged and followed. They rode for half an hour, asking along the way, but no one had noticed the peddler.
Just as they were about to turn back, Spicer was hailed by a young woman with dark hair walking along the side of the road beside a tall red-haired boy. “Mr. Spicer,” she called, “Mr. Spicer. I wanted you to know how much I enjoyed the meeting the other day. I feel convinced that my choice to join the Methodists is the right one, and I can only hope that one of these days I’ll find myself filled with the spirit of the Lord.”
“I’m sure you will,” Spicer replied, “and I look forward to rejoicing with you on that day.”
The woman smiled. “I’ve been praying and praying for it. I even bought one of those little books with the Bible passages. I can’t read it of course,” and here she blushed a little, “but I hope that it will help me concentrate my prayers just by holding it, although it does seem to leave an awful mess on my hands.”
Spicer shot the question out before Lewis could even open his mouth. “I’m sure it will help immensely. Where did you buy it?”
“Oh, from Mr. Simms, the peddler,” she said. “He went riding past my house earlier this afternoon. I knew he had them, as I’d seen him with them many times before, so I called to him to stop.” She made a face. “I won’t ever do that again.”
“Why not?” But suddenly Lewis knew why.
“He was in the strangest mood. He seemed almost annoyed when I first stopped him, but then when I said I had to go into the house to get the money, he followed me right in. I had to reach up to the top shelf to get my money box down and when I turned around, he was right behind me. Scared the daylights out of me, I’ll tell you, he was that close. It so surprised me that I sort of gave a little scream and then I realized that his eyes were all sort of funny — glittery and cloudy all at the same time, like he was taken with the drink or something, though I couldn’t smell it on him.”
“What did he do then?”
“Do?” The woman was astonished. “Why, he didn’t do anything.” She gestured toward the boy. “My Bob here was playing out back and he must have heard us, because he came in to see who was there. Mr. Simms just handed over the book I wanted and left. He must not be much of a peddler though, for he very nearly forgot to get the money for it.”
They thanked the woman and rode on, but only after she extracted a promise from Spicer to come and preach again soon. “I’ll bring Mr. Lewis with me next time,” he said, in deference to their new arrangement. Lewis snorted.
But instinct had proved him right and they continued travelling east. Lewis was thankful that the woman didn’t realize how close to danger she had been, for he was fairly certain what would have happened had “her Bob” not come in when he did. The question was, what would Simms do now? It seemed he had wanted