the watch salesman Joshua Smith.” He paused, nodded to Selmer, who quickly translated, speaking softly into Thea’s ear.
Judge Mayfair continued, “Mister Smith fled Gunflint for Duluth, where, on March the sixth, he set fire to the Rathbone sisters’ lodge rooms. The consequences of that blaze resulted in the Parsons Block burning to the ground.” Selmer translated as the judge spoke. “The Meining Hardware Company lost its entire inventory as well as its storefront; Crowley Electric likewise lost everything; the lodge rooms of the Knights of Pythias were destroyed. In all, some forty-five thousand dollars in damages.”
The magistrate shook his solemn head. “The watch salesman Joshua Smith managed to flee Duluth for Port Arthur, Ontario, where he took employment in a hotel livery. Ten days ago he was found unlawfully entering a dry goods store. When the authorities searched his boardinghouse room, they found several hundred dollars in currency and several hundred more in stolen goods. It seems Smith is in the habit of taking that which don’t belong to him.”
Now Mayfair stopped talking to read a document on his desk. Thea, more confused than ever, looked between Selmer and Hosea, neither of whom replied to her questioning look.
Curtis Mayfair set the document back on the blotter. “Miss Eide, Joshua Smith is being extradited. The North-West Mounted Police are in the process of delivering Smith to federal authorities in Duluth, where he’ll be tried for arson and grand larceny, among other things. But before they deliver him, they thought enough to stop and collect the hundred-dollar reward we’ve offered for his capture.
“I figured, as long as we have to pay the reward, we may as well get our money’s worth and charge him for his crimes up at the Burnt Wood Camp.” He paused a moment to let Selmer catch up, then put his spectacles back on and looked firmly at Thea. “Miss Eide, I hope I can rely on your testimony this afternoon in our case against the watch salesman Joshua Smith.”
The magistrate studied Thea for a long moment. When she did not respond — how could she? What was being asked of her? — Mayfair simply turned to the constable, nodded, and sat back in his chair.
Thea kept her eyes on the door as though the building would crumble if the weight of her stare weren’t on it. When Joshua Smith came through — his head hanging low, his eyes covered with greasy and unkempt hair, his shoulders slouched, his hands in the pockets of his worn dungarees, his dirty boots unlaced and shuffling across the floor as though weighted with stones — Thea saw a different man than the one who’d violated her. Smith was gaunt and twitchy. The constable pushed him into a chair opposite Thea, where he collapsed with his chin on his chest.
Her impulse was to fly, to raise her shawl like wings and catch a breeze to carry her home. He hadn’t even noticed her sitting there. Seemed not even to know where he was.
“Your honor,” the constable began, he was standing behind Smith, his big hands on the fugitive’s jutting shoulders, “this is our man.” He hit Smith on the ear. “Identify yourself, you goddamned vulture.”
Smith had looked up with the slap, his sight landing on Thea. Immediately he sat upright, he pushed his hair from his eyes. He looked from Thea to the magistrate and back to Thea. The constable hit him again.
“I said identify yourself.”
“I’m Joshua Smith,” he stammered.
Mayfair spoke. “Mister Smith, do you know why you’re sitting in my chambers?”
“Sir?” Smith said.
“From the look on your face, you’ve got some idea.”
Smith finally turned his attention away from Thea. He looked at Mayfair. “Sir?” he repeated.
“Enough already with the pleasantries. I asked if you know why you’re here.”
“I reckon it’s got something to do with the cook here.”
“‘The cook here’? Are you crazy, boy? You’re in the custody of an international police regiment. You’re being extradited. Do you know what that means? You’re being taken to Duluth, where you’ll stand trial for crimes that are going to land your skinny ass in the penitentiary for twenty years. The ‘cook here’ is the very least of your problems.”
Smith shrank into himself. “Sir, then what am I doing here?”
“That’s more like it.” Mayfair removed his glasses. “You’re here to give an accounting of what happened up on the Burnt Wood last March. You’re being charged with despoiling Thea Eide. You’re being charged with animal endangerment. Do you catch my drift, Joshua Smith?”
Smith nodded solemnly.
“I’d like you to tell what happened on the night of March the first of this year.”
Smith sat up in the chair. He stole another glance at Thea, who hadn’t moved since he’d entered the room. She couldn’t move. “I can’t say I remember much of what happened the night of March the first,” Smith said.
Though he’d not intended to sound contrary or at odds with Mayfair, he did. Mayfair seized on him. “Allow me to refresh your memory. You tried to feed one of the horses to the wolves, then you feasted yourself on this helpless young lady. Does that course of events sound familiar?”
Smith ran his hands through his hair. “Sir, there’s some truth in that. Some truth, I admit. But that ain’t the all of it.”
A broad and sarcastic smile came to Mayfair’s face. “By golly,” he said, “he’s a slow learner. Mister Smith, why don’t you tell me the all of it, then? Enlighten us.”
“May I have a cup of water?” Smith said. “I’m parched something fierce.”
“For the love of Christ, get the mutton chop some water.” Mayfair threw his hands up, shook his head. While the constable went for a glass of water, Mayfair packed his pipe and lit it. When the constable returned he set the water before Smith, who scooped it up almost as it was set down. He guzzled the water like there was a fire to put out.
The magistrate took a pull on his pipe and through the smoke he squinted and said, “All right now, Smith, let’s have your side of the story.”
Smith wiped his lips with his sleeve and pulled himself up in his chair. “Well,” he began, picking grime from his fingernails, his eyes intent on the task, “you all were here last winter?” He looked up, from the judge’s face to Grimm’s to Selmer’s. When he got to Thea he looked down, then quickly back to the magistrate. “You all felt that cold?”
Mayfair waited silently, still chewing on the pipe stem. The constable went for another glass of water. He returned and set it before Smith and said, “Drink that. If it don’t loosen your lips, we’ll presume what we’ve heard to be true. You can add another twenty years to the sentence you’ll be getting in Duluth. You’ll never see another day of freedom so long as you live.”
Smith drank the water.
“Listen to the constable,” Mayfair said. “And be aware, my patience is about gone.”
“My brother and I, we bought this outfit selling watches and pocket knives to the lumberjacks. Had a little supply office in Duluth and two horses and two sleighs. He took the Wisconsin and Michigan camps, I took the Minnesota camps. Me and that old mare with the suspect hooves. A goddamn sleigh and a map and that winter enough to freeze a man’s reason right out of his head.” He paused, ventured a look in the judge’s direction. “That’s what I mean, you all felt that cold. Colder than this world was ever meant to be.” Again he paused, as though the mere remembrance of those nights was enough to freeze him up.
Thea was not listening to Selmer translate Smith’s testimony. She understood everything he said through her lessening fear. He was pathetic, and she had the strength of her child swimming in her womb to bolster her. She sat up straighter.
“It’s a long way from one of those camps to the next,” Smith continued. “A long ways and a lot of dark. I’m just a man from Duluth looking for the next logging camp. Selling watches to men who spend all their time chopping down trees.” He shook his head. “You know how far it is from Duluth to Gunflint? You know how much wilderness is between here and there? It’s a long way to go just you and a horse. Well, you and a horse and all the sounds in the woods. The shadows. Caribou jumping out of the trailside woods. Ravens everywhere you go, day and night. Enough snow to suffocate you. And the
Mayfair interrupted, “With all due respect to your travails, Mister Smith, what bearing does any of this have on your actions?”
