Page 88 of The Frozen River

It’s a hard lesson, but it’s best she learn it now.

Dolly falls silent, then falls into step behind me on the narrow path. Ephraim leads the pack. Twice Barnabas looks back at me and—judging by the look on his face—believes he’s being led into the woods as a ritual sacrifice. I can’t say the thought hasn’t crossed my husband’s mind, but mostly I suspect he wants to see if Barnabas has the courage to follow through with his mission.

Mill Pond is a half mile north of the house and sits in the middle of a sprawling meadow. The pond isn’t all that big—only two acres across—but is quite deep in the middle and is the happy home to many hundreds of blueback trout. Cyrus discovered it within a day of our moving to this property eleven years ago, and promptly claimed it as his own. He stands in the center of the pond now, atop two feet of ice, holding a fishing line in each hand. He’s kept the hole open all winter, and its sides are jagged from constant chipping with the hatchet.

Cyrus sees his father first and offers a broad smile. But Barnabas steps into the clearing next. Then me. Followed by Dolly. And the smile melts off his lips. When his eyes sharpen and his fists tighten over the fishing poles, I know he’s understood the reason for this interruption.

Cyrus twists his lips in displeasure.

Mouths some profanity that will never reach the air.

Nods.

Then he pulls both poles from the water and trudges back across the ice. We watch as he collects his fishing paraphernalia—bucket, poles, string, hooks—and strides toward us.

He drops everything at Ephraim’s feet, and then his hands move in a flurry: thumb pointing at himself, flat hand slicing through the air as though to say didn’t, and then fist to the side of his neck in imitation of holding a noose.

“I know,” Ephraim says. “But Barnabas here believes that you did.”

“No. I do not. But arresting you is the job I’ve been given. Dr. Page’s testimony was damning.” He looks to the side and glares at me, as though I should have shared what I knew about the beating long ago. “And the court has ordered that I bring you in.”

Cyrus studies him quietly, then turns to Ephraim and flaps his hand, indicating he’s free to interrogate the boy.

“And where will you take him?” Ephraim asks.

“Vassalboro. He’ll have to appear before Judge Wood. But once he posts bail, he’ll be remanded to the jail yard at Fort Western.”

“And what proof do they have?” Ephraim asks.

“Proof? None so far as I know. Only the testimony of Dr. Page, which was confirmed by at least five other people. So the court will look into the matter.”

His voice is calmer now that he’s had the chance to explain everything, but Barnabas still seems unsettled. He likes Cyrus. I know this for a fact. And he’s not looked Dolly in the eye once.

She, however, hasn’t stopped glaring at him since we arrived at the pond. “You cannot do this!” It’s almost a shout, but not quite. Dolly isn’t the type to descend into hysterics. But she does have a temper, and she’s letting Barnabas see it for the first time.

He winces.

Then takes a deep breath.

Barnabas takes a step toward Cyrus. “I don’t want to do this. Please believe that. But if you fight me, I’ll have to fight you back.”

I think of how handily he subdued James Wall. Barnabas, however, has never seen Cyrus throw a punch.

“When will he stand before Obadiah Wood?” Ephraim asks.

“Tomorrow.”

“And the hearing?”

“At the end of next month. Friday, March twenty-sixth.”

Dolly’s head swivels back and forth as she takes in this conversation between her father and her suitor. And with every second that passes, her brows draw closer together and her cheeks burn hotter.

“No!” she says. “I will not have it. You will not arrest my brother. You said yourself he’s done nothing wrong.”

“I said that I don’t believe that he has.” Barnabas’s voice is nothing but a whisper, and his eyes remain focused on Cyrus. He’s waiting, watching to see if Cyrus will bolt. He is no longer the charming young man who has dined with us several times but rather the efficient, ruthless officer of the court.

“Dolly,” Ephraim warns.