Chapter 8 – The Note

When her head swung back, Elizabeth felt the blood in her mouth as she accidentally bit her tongue.

Mr. Sander's slap to her face had achieved its intended purpose; she wouldn't struggle to get away again.

"Now, shut up and do as I say", he instructed coldly. "Or next time, it will be your boy, I'll be raising my hand to."

"Don't touch him." Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears from the sting of the slap.

Mr. Sanders handed Elizabeth a pencil and a piece of paper. "Start writing."

He nodded towards the paper. "Tell your husband not to expect you for a few hours. That you're going to a student's home. That will give us plenty of a head start."

"Whose? Whose house?" she asked with her voice cracking as she tried to remain composed.

"I don't give a damn. Just pick a student. And hurry up."

Elizabeth paused for a moment before picking up the pencil. As she began writing, the banker pulled aside the edge of a curtain and looked outside. "Don't forget to add that you're taking your child with you, and your husband shouldn't worry", he said over his shoulder.

"Please let me leave the baby here. He'll just get in the way."

"He's coming with us."

His voice was harsh enough that Elizabeth knew not to argue.


Two hours later, Jack and Lucy stood in the front room of the mercantile-house and looked at the note.

"It doesn't make sense. She said she's visiting one of her students. But she doesn't have a student named Eugenie."

When Jack looked at Lucy, she added quickly with a shrug. "I read it when I first saw it. It wasn't sealed or anything. I didn't know what it was."

Lucy had found Elizabeth's note when, having seen the light at the teacherage, she had stopped by to tell Elizabeth about the moving picture she had seen in Somerset the day prior. Finding the unattended lit lantern and the odd note, she had sensed something was wrong.

Jack had only been home a minute when Lucy had knocked on the door. He hadn't even taken off his boots after a long day of work because he had decided to go look for Elizabeth and Thatch after walking through the empty house and wondering where they were this late in the evening.

Jack looked again at the sheet of paper which Lucy had handed him and read it aloud. He recognized Elizabeth's perfect penmanship.

I have to visit a student's father, Mr. Danglars, this evening to discuss his daughter, Eugenie's use of French. Little Thatcher and I will be home late. Don't worry.

"Little Thatcher? We never call him Little Thatcher. It's either Thatch or Little Jack or Baby Jack. It's never Little Thatcher", Jack said with a frown.

Lucy remained quiet as she anxiously stood by Jack, who was pensively staring at the paper.

"And you have no idea where she might be?"

"No. There was a lit lantern in the teacherage but it was empty."

"Did you see anyone in the street? Did you ask anyone?"

"I ran into Mrs. Tonts. She was looking for Elizabeth to apologize for falling asleep when she was watching Little Jack", Lucy explained.

"Watching Little Jack?"

"Elizabeth had dropped him off there earlier in the evening."

"She left him with Mrs. Tonts and then picked him up to take him to someone's house to speak to a student's father? That doesn't make sense. Did Mrs. Tonts say if Elizabeth was acting strangely?"

"She never saw Elizabeth. When she woke up, the baby was gone. She assumed Elizabeth had simply walked in and taken him. Not wanting to wake her up."

Jack, worry evident on his face, looked up from the note when he spoke again. "I haven't noticed anyone new move into the area. I know everyone in town. There's not a family named Danglars."

"I know. That's why I thought the note was strange. But why would she write it? And where is she?"

"She wrote Little Thatcher to let me know that something wasn't right. I'm sure of that. But who is Eugenie Danglars. The name seems familiar. I just can't figure out why. Was there ever a Danglars family in Bear Creek before we moved here?"

"No", Lucy answered as she shook her head. "Not that I know of. We've been here a year longer than you."

"And she's never mentioned a problem with a girl speaking in French."

Lucy nodded in agreement. "I know. The Durand boys speak French but they also speak English. I don't know of a Eugenie who speaks French."

"Mr. Danglars. Mr. Danglars. Father of Eugenie Danglars", Jack repeated as he paced the floor. "I've heard that name before."

"So have I", Lucy said in puzzlement. "At least sort of. . . . I just can't put my finger on it. . . . Mr. Danglars. . . . Eugenie. . . . Speaking French," Lucy muttered quietly. She bounced her son on her hip as she walked around the room. Stopping in front of a waist-high bookcase, she set the boy on top of the piece of furniture to rest her arms briefly.

"Mr. Danglars. French. French Mr. Danglars. Monsieur Danglars . . .", she repeatedly softly.

"In a book!", she exclaimed suddenly. "It's a character from a book. Mr. Danglars! I'm sure of it."

"That's it! Monsieur Danglars. Baron Danglars. From The Count of Monte Cristo!"

Jack's excitement at realizing from where he recognized the name was quickly quelled when he realized that the man was a character in a nineteenth century French novel, and therefore, highly unlikely to be in Bear Creek with his wife and son.

"But why would Elizabeth say she was with Mr. Danglars?" Lucy asked in confusion.

"She must be trying to tell me something. And for whatever reason, she couldn't write down who she was really with. What do we know about the character?"

"Oh, I have no idea", Lucy admitted. "My book reading was a bit unique growing up."

"Think!" Jack exclaimed so harshly that Lucy jumped in surprise.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get upset with you. Let's talk this through", he said apologetically as he began pacing the floor again. "The Count of Monte Cristo. The main character is falsely imprisoned. Monsieur Danglars was the chief schemer. The culprit . . . . Leave it to Elizabeth to think of a book when trying to give me a clue."

"She does love her books", Lucy muttered as she began searching for the novel among the books in the shelf. "It's not here. Is there another bookshelf somewhere?"

"No. But she keeps some books by her bedside."

Jack came back empty-handed from the bedroom a moment later.

"I'm not sure we even own it. She must have read it years ago. I just need to remember the story", he said as he anxiously raked his fingers through his hair. "Mr. Danglars. He was the mastermind behind the plot. He became a banker. He eventually - ." Jack's eyes grew wide with realization. "A banker! Mr. Danglars was a banker. Mr. Sanders. She's with Mr. Sanders!"

"But why?" Lucy looked totally perplexed. "She hates Mr. Sanders. And why wouldn't she just say she was with him?"

"The cattle scheme! Elizabeth figured out that someone was poisoning the cattle. We just didn't know who. Oh, dear Lord, she must have figured out that it was Mr. Sanders and he knows it. He's taken her". Jack's voice was filled with anguish. "He's taken Elizabeth and Thatch."


They had been riding for hours.

The moon provided little light and when moving clouds covered it, the three figures on the horse were plunged into darkness.

Elizabeth knew her clues would be impossible to find tonight, but she prayed that someone would find them in the morning, realize their importance, and let Jack know the direction the group was headed.

The sock from Thatch's left foot was in the street in front of the doctor's office. His right sock was on the edge of town. Elizabeth's handkerchief, the one embroidered with the letters M.J.T., which had been in her pocket and soiled with the usual spot of burped-up breast milk, was now a half-mile from town. A hair comb followed that.

She had spent a considerable amount of time mentally calculating how far Comet could travel so that the animal would cross paths with Jack in the morning; confirming for Jack that he was traveling in the right direction. Finally, realizing, she had no idea how fast a cat would travel, even if it wanted to go home, Elizabeth tossed the cat off the horse twelve miles outside of town. She was amazed that Mr. Sanders has put up with the animal for as long as that. And that was only because the man forgot about the feline as Elizabeth had kept it nestled to her own body and that of Thatch's. The banker had been quite surprised when Elizabeth had dropped the cat from high upon the horse and lied that the animal had scratched her.

Elizabeth was riding in saddle in front of Mr. Sanders. His chest was pushed against her back and she felt repulsed as his hands reached around her to hold the reins. But at least he no longer had one hand on her waist.

The man had allowed Elizabeth to use her shawl to tightly secure Little Jack to her chest. The boy rested comfortably against her body, snuggled in the knitted material, lulled by the rhythm of the horse's movement.

Unlike the sleeping baby, Elizabeth's own body was tense and aching. Her legs throbbed from hugging the horse tightly. One of her hands rested on the baby's back for his added security. Her other hand clutched the saddle's hard horn to keep her, and the baby, from falling off the horse.

Her pregnant body felt like she needed to vomit at any moment. Whether it was due to the baby in her womb, the motion of the horse, or her fear, she didn't know. What she did know was that her son would be hungry soon. She silently prayed that he stayed asleep until this drama was over.

From the little she had gathered, Elizabeth deduced that Mr. Sanders was planning on riding to Silt's Falls, not the most obvious or closest train station. From there, he planned on taking a train to his final destination. She had no idea how long he planned on keeping her and Thatch with him.

The baby's whimpering snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Shut him up."

"I have to feed him. He's hungry."

Mr. Sanders jerked the reins causing the horse to come to an abrupt stop. He dismounted from the horse and roughly pulled Elizabeth off the saddle.

"Hurry up."


Ten minutes later, Elizabeth quickly rebuttoned her blouse when she heard the footsteps approach her from behind.

She winced when Mr. Sanders yanked her arm and dragged her back to the horse.


It was impossible to catch them in the nighttime.

Jack wasn't even sure which direction they had headed. He spent two hours riding to outlying homes, asking if anyone had seen Elizabeth, but each time the home occupants shook their heads and said they had seen nothing. Heard nothing.

Michael and some of the other men in town had done their own searches. Finally, Jack realized it was hopeless until morning light. He packed a bag, checked for responses to the numerous telegrams he had sent to law enforcement offices in a two-hundred-mile radius, and tried to get some rest while he waited for daybreak.


By the time someone found Elizabeth's handkerchief and returned it to Jack, she was more than thirty miles from Bear Creek. She was exhausted to the point where her initial panic and fear, which had lasted for several tense hours, had now dulled to apprehension.

This is just like when I was held hostage by the Tolliver gang. Except instead of Julie being with me, I have Little Jack. Same thing. They're both babies, she thought with a bit of wry humor.

Her dulled feeling didn't last long. As they approached Silt's Falls, Elizabeth's pulse quickened. Her heart pounded in her chest.

She looked around the bustling town. Her eyes alert for a police officer or Mountie. Anyone who might notice something unusual about a gruff man accompanied by a weary looking pregnant woman and a small child. But no one paid her any attention.

As they left the horse and walked through an alley toward the train station, Elizabeth tightened the shawl around her bosom. Nothing was going to separate her from her son.

At least, at first, she didn't think anything would. The second slap to the face didn't break her resolve. But the knife to her son's neck did.

"Give him to me now. Don't make me ask again."

"Promise me you won't hurt him."

Mr. Sanders looked at her with disgust. "As you long as you do as I say, he'll be fine. Now cover your hair with your shawl."

As they approached the train station's ticket counter, Mr. Sanders, standing behind Elizabeth, kept a firm grasp on Thatch. His large hand clearly touching the small boy's delicate neck.

"Two tickets. Just as I explained. Don't try anything. You'll never be able to catch me if I take off with your son," he warned. "And you'll never be quick enough if I decide to snap his neck."

"Two tickets to Montreal please. The baby doesn't need one, correct?" Elizabeth, making an attempt to speak in a calm voice, said to the man in the railroad cap who stood on the other side of the ticket window.

"That's correct, ma'am", the bored teller answered as he took her money and handed her two tickets.

As the man counted out her change, Elizabeth tried to get the man to pay more attention to her. She needed him to remember her. To remember a woman traveling to Montreal with a baby.

"How many stops does the train make?"

"Every station along the rails, ma'am."

"Is it a terribly long trip?"

"Same distance it always has been." He made her feel like a fool for having asked the question but she needed to continue the conversation. To draw it out longer.

"How. . .um . . how long until we board? I need to change my son's diaper."

"Ten minutes. Next."

Elizabeth moved away from the counter as the teller gave his attention to the next customer.

"I saw that. Trying to draw attention to yourself. Don't do anything stupid like that again. I'll keep ahold of him a little while longer," Mr. Sanders told Elizabeth when she reached out her arms for Thatch.


Elizabeth ate ravenously. The apple and plain roll which Mr. Sanders had thrust at her were the first things she had eaten since yesterday's lunch.

My mother would be mortified if she saw me eating like this in public, she thought as she took an unladylike gulp of Coca Cola from the 5-cent glass bottle.

She looked at Thatch who was sitting on the train seat next to her. After listening to the boy fuss in a wet diaper, and Elizabeth's complaints that he would get a rash if he wasn't changed, Mr. Sanders had finally agreed to Elizabeth's request. He had approached a mother with two children on the platform and offered them money in exchange for a cloth diaper.

Now the boy, comfortably dry, played with a newspaper which a prior passenger had left. Crinkling the paper and laughing at the sound, he was unconcerned that the ink from the paper was smudging his hands. Unconcerned that his mother was trying to keep him alive.


Jack pushed away the plate of food. He was too anxious to eat any more, and had only eaten enough to keep Lucy from continuing to pester him.

"You need to eat something."

"I'm not hungry. I need to –" The opening of the front door caused Jack to stop in mid-sentence.

Lucy's husband, Michael, walked in the door. By the look on his face, Jack knew this telegram wasn't a negative response like the other dozen he had already received.

Jack jumped up from his seat and grabbed the telegram from Michael's hands.

Quickly scanning the words, he allowed himself to have a little hope; there had a been a possible siting at the Silt's Falls train station a few hours earlier. The ticket seller remembered that a woman, her hair covered in a shawl, was concerned about the long trip to Montreal. She had mentioned a baby, although the railroad employee didn't remember seeing one.

Despite questioning by police, the man couldn't remember anything more. Not even if the woman had actually boarded the train.

Jack realized that even if the woman was Elizabeth, he was hours away from Silt's Falls, and even longer away from her if she had gotten on the train.

He had no idea where she was in in the vast land between Silt's Falls and Montreal and even if she and Thatch were still alive.

Up next: Chapter 9