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And the Winners Are...
Sarah Waldrop
1st Place,
Young Writers Category - Local Divison
CHAPTER 3
The stranger remained as much of an enigma to the townspeople as when he arrived - and indeed, the circumstances of that arrival were still mysterious (and somewhat suspect to most). This, of course, served only to heighten the general fascination with Mr. Newman (as he called himself).
The only one who could break his supercilious facade for even a moment was Mary Gray. Her innocent naiveté seemed to amuse him greatly.
Mr. Newman's account of himself, as related to Mary, did nothing to ease the townspeople's suspicions. "I, my dear," he told her, "am something of a journeyman. Some might call me an entrepreneur -or a jack-of-all-trades. Quite simply, I will go in for something if I can see a gain in it, and I avoid losses whenever possible."
"Why, then..." stammered Mary, somewhat at a loss herself, "what...what brings you here, Mr. Newman? Surely you didn't aim to end up in Deer Lick?"
The stranger's face darkened. "Sometimes a loss or two is unavoidable. But no matter - that's a tale for another time."
Mr. Newman proved to be well-traveled indeed, amazing the simple farm girl with stories of far-away lands and incredible sights. Of especial interest was his collection of "souvenirs," as he called them: strange and wonderful objects from across the globe, whether useful, beautiful - or even dangerous.
"Do you see this vial here?" Mr. Newman asked an attentive Mary. "It is full of a substance which, if inhaled, can bring deep sleep to any insomniac. But once ingested, it will kill quickly, silently, and without a trace. It is found only on a small island in the Pacific, and none but myself know how to make it."
"Oh, my!" gasped Mary "I never did hear of such a thing!" Mr. Newman only smiled.
Mary was not the only one in Deer Lick to take an interest in the newcomer. Foremost among the curious was none other than David Gray.
John Gray knew from the town gossips that his estranged brother was just itching to get a look at his mysterious houseguest. He himself felt rather afraid of the stranger. "It's just not canny," he thought, "no, not canny at all. Ain't nobody just drops in like that, not tellin' who they really are or what they come for. Besides, he seems just a mite too fond o' Mary for my taste."
Imagine old John's surprise when one day a messenger arrived from his brother Dave - and his further astonishment when the messenger announced that he came not to .John but to Mr. Newman. "Beggin' your pardon, sir, but there's a Dave Gray in town, real important man, what would be right pleased if'n you might come to supper at his place tomorrow evenin'. He do like to welcome anybody new in town, ye know."
Mr. Newman's smile was knowing as he glanced at John. "Why, yes, that would be fine. From what I've heard of him..." John glowered. "..he sounds like a delightful fellow," finished Mr. Newman.
The next day, the town was abuzz. Somehow it hadn't taken long for all to learn that the stranger was to dine with mean old Dave Gray that night. One man in particular seemed on edge: Hugh Gregory.
Mr. Gregory had been quite taken aback at John Gray's sudden pronouncement that no Gregory would ever marry his daughter. Of course, in short order he learned that Dave Gray was at the back of it all, and the air between them was even more constrained than before as he left his apartment each morning. On this day, Mr. Gray's "hello" seemed even more gloating than usual, and Hugh's heretofore calm temper flared.
The angry exchange between the two men was soon repeated around the town. It was told how the younger man ended by jabbing his finger right in Mr. Gray's face and proclaiming, "I told you you'd meddle with me one too many times some day, and I meant it. You'll just see." The gossips told each other, "But still that old donkey just smiled! Just laughed 'im off - now what can a body make o' that?"
When the incident reached the ears of John Gray, his vague uneasiness congealed into a certainty: "Old coots off his rocker, Sally, an' no two ways about it?' he cried to his wife "This time he'll hear it from my own mouth -yessir, I aim t' tell him once an' fer all to keep his crooked nose out of my family's business!" And sure enough, he clapped his hat on his head and tramped straightaway to his brother's storefront in a fine rage. Mary, having heard the whole thing from the doorway, shrunk away to her room, trembling.
Even the frosty weather couldn't cool John's temper. By the time he reached Dave's residence, the whole town had seen him scowling darkly and muttering violently to himself. They heard him, too, when he burst into his brother's upstairs room and shouted, "You old bat! Why don't you keep your sticky fingers in yer own pie where they belong?"
But his wind was sucked out of him the next moment when the old man calmly smiled and replied, "Johnny boy! Haven't seen you in a coon's age." He grinned slyly, then added, "Hear your girl's gettin' herself hitched one of these days - somethin' about that Gregory boy, was it?"
John stammered out, "I- she- no, ain't nobody of them Gregory's- I'd never allow..."
Dave cut him off with a laugh. "John, you stubborn ox, you really thought I wouldn't hear of it?" At his brother's renewed protestations, Dave curtly stopped him, "Well you're a fool then. It's why we ain't real close no more. Can't stand fools. But mos'ly you're a fool fer thinkin' it'd change my mind."
John was shocked to realize that his brother's voice had become soft and his expression faraway. "It's been twelve year since Maggie died, John. Y' know we never had no kids. I always remember she said to me, she said: 'Dave, first thing I'm gonna do, I'll have me a pretty little girl an' name her after your ma.' Well, the good Lord took her before she could...so I s'pose Mary's the closest thing I got to that little girl. And when the lawman come to make me a will, I got to thinkin' about that little girl and how things might could be diff'rent if Maggie was still here..." John was shocked to see his brother's eyes almost moist as his voice trailed off. The next moment he began again. "Well, mebbe I'm just ready to see Maggie again. And I know I ain't exactly been a saint, but I just figgered I could do this thing for my family 'fore I go."
John could do nothing but stare, his mouth gaping like a hooked fish. As he searched for a reply, some of the old contrariness came back into Dave's eyes. "What're you standing around like a stuck pig for? I got comp'ny comin' -go on, git!"
John turned on his heel and marched straight back home, unable to think of anything better to do. As he pondered this new development on the way, his guest was just knocking at Dave's polished front window, a strangely anticipatory smile on his face.
The next morning, the good people of Deer Lick could barely contain their excitement. David Gray was not known for his ability to keep secrets, and surely he would have some juicy tidbits of new information about the stranger in their midst to drop casually by the stove at the general store. The hours wore on, David did not emerge, and the citizens could no longer curb their impatience.
Nr. Jenkins the milkman finally knocked on the front door, but received no answer. Accompanied by a bevy of onlookers, he plodded up the stairs. To their astonishment, they found David Gray still in bed, looking oddly peaceful - and stone dead.
There never was such an uproar in the long history of Deer Lick. The coroner's conclusion, a natural death, satisfied no one. After all, they said, how could a man with so much vinegar in him just up and die? Some felt he took his own life, but others said no, he was much too contrary to die when it would be most beneficial to everyone concerned.
This very circumstance - that several townspeople connected to Mary Gray, the sole beneficiary of the will, had much to gain by Dave Gray's death and had even been seen threatening him in the days before, set many tongues to wagging. Hugh Gregory and John Gray were immediately summoned, tried, and convicted in the minds of many.
Even more perplexing was the role of the stranger. Mr. Newman had indeed been the last to see Dave Gray alive, and by nature all the people of Deer Lick were suspicious of strangers, especially those who arrived in such an inexplicable manner. Nearly all agreed that, if the murder was not his idea to begin with, he must have had something to do with it.
Possibly the only ones in the town who sided with no one were Mary Gray and her mother. Sarah was reduced to weeping and trembling by the situation, which was simply too much for her uncomplicated mind to bear. And as for her daughter?
"Poor dear," clucked the old women over their embroidery, "her father and her love suspicious, and that other one what has a stake in it a-livin' in her own house! Nope, I don't envy her the old man's money none - not with all this about it."
Mary herself did not know what to think. Her father stayed in the fields much of the time and avoided her gaze when he was home, and by tacit understanding her sometime fiancee no longer came calling. While she knew that they stayed away only to keep any skepticism from falling on her, Mary still felt more isolated than ever before.
The stranger was not blind to Mary's distress. Daily, he saw the youthful look that had so charmed him fading from her eyes, replaced by one of sorrow and trouble. His own cool, distant affect began to show chinks.
It was in this mood of pensive dismay that Mary was gazing out her window one evening when she heard a commotion nearing the house. When the front door slammed, she ran downstairs to investigate. To her amazement, she saw the entire town arrayed around her father, Hugh, and the constable - who held a very calm Mr. Newman by the arm.
"Why, Pa- Hugh- whatever's the matter?" she gasped.
"Now don't you worry your pretty head about it missy, we've caught the feller behind your uncle's - well - you know. And if I don't say so meself, I don't doubt but the court'll put 'im away for it - mebbe forever."
"Mr. Newman!" Mary was aghast. John looked equally stunned. "But how... I mean, the coroner said.., what's all this about now?"
"Twas a good bit o' work to figure it thataway, I tell you for sure," bragged the constable, clearly quite pleased to be doing his duty so well. "It got around how he had potions or summat, in those suitcases there, 'long with lots of other heathen things, what would kill a man straightaway without a sign. You recollect, he had plenty of chances that night at dinner to slip some in Dave's soup or the like. Yessir, we had our eye on him good since that come up. And just now we found him walking along that road there, like he was leavin' town, with all his things on him. So to make things short, we grabbed him and took him in, and what do you know?" The whole assembly leaned forward breathlessly as the constable paused dramatically. "He admitted the whole darned thing!"
Such news! The murmurs rose to a crescendo as all pushed forward for a better look at the murderer. Only John Gray and Hugh Gregory remained withdrawn, and Mary, her face ashen, cast glances at all three men. When her eyes met the newly discovered criminal's, what she saw there made her catch her breath and run from the house.
She raced as far as a secluded grove of willows on the edge of the farm and then dropped into the snow, panting. Her mind still ran, though, in desperate circles that always came back to the same place.
Mary sat silently in the cold, staring over the fields long after the hubbub of the prisoner being taken away had died down. She gazed into the distance until a voice behind her made her jump and shriek.
"This is not the weather for a young lady to be out. If you're not careful, you might catch cold."
It was Mr. Newman, looking just as unaffected and unruffled as ever. Even in her shock, Mary realized that she had not heard any footsteps behind her, and there were no tracks in the snow. "But you.., they took you to the jail... how did...but how?" she stammered.
The stranger shook his head. "Some questions, my dear, are best left unanswered." Seeing her puzzled look, he sighed, then said, "You know that I am not guilty, don't you?" Mary gulped, then nodded.
"I saw it in your face, back there in the house." He continued dryly, "I am sure you will be curious as to why I would admit to such a thing." She nodded again, and he said, "I know as well as you that these people cannot leave well enough alone. The old man's where he wants to be, and he got the last laugh, just as he planned. But these fellows won't stop until they decide on a culprit. Then where would you be? Your father, or your love, convicted of murder for your sake."
It was all too true, and just what she had feared. But there was more still.
"I knew a girl once, one much like you. I haven't seen her in a long while, but I am sure she would remember me always. You're the first in all the years since then to remind me of her. Somehow, I couldn't go on my way thinking of you in this predicament. And you needn't worry: I have a way of always landing on my feet. They'll not catch me, not if they search the whole countryside." He smiled. "Well then. I suppose that's all. I'll be going now - good fortune to you, Mary."
"Mr. Newman, wait!" she cried. He turned back expectantly.
"Yes?"
"Who...well, what really happened to- my uncle?" she asked.
"As I said, my dear, some questions are best left unanswered," he replied. Just then she heard footsteps. She turned to see Hugh running towards her. "Mary!" he called. "Mary, we've got to get back. Something's happened -he's disappeared! Just up and vanished!"
"But Hugh, you can see for yourself..." she turned to see a blank expanse of white horizon.
"See what, Mary?"
She smiled a little to herself. "Oh, nothing." She blushed a little, then slipped her hand into Hugh's. "You're right, darling - I think we ought to go home."