A Lesson Is Owed

Matthew pulled on Belle's reins, bringing her to a gentle halt. It was quite a ride to the Mackenzie farm, and Matthew hadn't hurried. He climbed down off the horse, and hitched her to the gate post. He pulled the gate open and entered.

Matthew stood in the farm yard and listened. Often, you could tell where the farmer was, by listening out for sounds. The general rule was, wherever the ruckus was coming from, that's where the farmer would be found. Matthew strained his ears, but couldn't hear anything. Pursing his lips in frustration, he realised he'd have to go and knock at the farm house. Something he'd rather not do. He didn't especially want to draw attention to his visit, or have to face a barrage of questions from the lady of the house.

By this time in the morning, it was almost 10am. Matthew thought to what he'd normally be doing on his own farm at this time of day… Ordinarily, he'd be checking on the cows in the far field…

Matthew shielded his eyes from the sun, and peered into the distance. Sure enough, he could see large, brown shapes moving on the horizon, and all moving in the same direction.

Matthew thought it was worth a look, so went back to where Belle was happily chewing on the grass growing at the foot of the gate. He unhitched her and swung himself into the saddle.

"Hup, girl." He said, and Belle began to move forwards. Matthew kept his eyes on the far-off cows, and guided Belle in that direction.

As he came over the brow of the hill, he could see a figure standing off, under the shade of a tree, gazing towards the cows.

"You there!" Matthew called out. The figure under the tree startled, and turned towards the voice. He saw the figure lift his hand to his brow, to peer over at him, then raise a hand in greeting and start to walk towards him. As expected, it was Jeremiah Mackenzie.

"Matthew Cuthbert! What brings you all the way out here?"

Jeremiah reached Matthew, and stretched up to shake his hand. Matthew stepped down from the saddle and stared at Jeremiah closely. There's was over twenty years in age between them, indeed Matthew had known Jeremiah's father, Francis well. The two of them had been at school together. Matthew even remembered Jeremiah's birth. He'd been born in the midst of a winter snow storm. One of the worst they'd ever had in Avonlea. So bad that the doctor hadn't even been able to attend the birth… Some said that Jeremiah and his mother had both been lucky to survive. Unfortunately, Jeremiah's father, Francis, had died in a hunting accident when Jeremiah was… Perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old…? Gosh, the son now looked very like the father.

Jeremiah flushed slightly, under Matthew's close scrutiny. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Matthew shook his head and laughed slightly, "Apologies Jeremiah. I was just thinking for a moment how much you resemble your father at the same sort of age… I imagine you are now about the age he was when he… passed away?"

A shadow briefly fell across Jeremiah's face. "Close enough."

An awkward pause fell between them.

"What brings you here Matthew?"

Jeremiah was staring at him. His face blank and unreadable. It was a look Matthew had often seen Francis get… It seemed that perhaps Jeremiah and Francis had more in common than just their looks.

Matthew hadn't told Marilla everything about his reason for visiting… Matthew had known enough of the grandfather to know that life for the son had been somewhat brutal… And that there was enough likelihood to think that perhaps life for the grandson was similarly challenging.

Matthew had also been of the view that the hunting accident that befell Francis, may not have been entirely accidental either…

He looped the horse's reins to his wrist, taking a second to rub her nose.

"I just thought I'd come on by to check on Cole?"

Jeremiah furrowed his brow, "Cole? Why?"

"Well, I happened to be passing the school house yesterday afternoon, and walked in on Gilbert Blythe, and Cole I hear, getting a hard time from the school master."

Jeremiah reached up to scratch Belle between the eyes, "Ah, yes. It's been dealt with."

Matthew watched Jeremiah's hand on his horse, strangely feeling like he didn't quite trust the physical contact.

"I spoke with Cole briefly… A strange incident… We've got Gilbert Blythe staying with us at Green Gables for a few days, just until he can manage on his own again."

There was no response from Jeremiah. He just remained, staring up at Belle, scratching her forehead gently.

Matthew coughed, feeling awkward, "Anne told us Cole got some rough treatment? Is his hand recovering?"

"It'll be fine in due course."

The two men stood in silence, both looking at the horse, rather than each other. Matthew was aware of a cool breeze blowing up the hill towards them. He used his free hand to hitch his collar further up his neck.

"And… How is Cole generally…?"

Jeremiah's fingers stopped, mid-scratch. Belle, who had been enjoying the attention, nudged his arm with her head, attempting to jolt him back into it. Instead, his arm dropped back down to his side. He turned slightly, with his head tilted, and looked, cold and hard at Matthew.

"The boy is well, thank you."

Matthew's heart seemed to do an odd heave in his chest. He remembered that cold look from Francis. It was the sort of look that he, as a boy, had given before he'd punch one of the other boys in the school yard.

Matthew nodded, "Good to know, good to know. He seemed pretty upset yesterday and…"

He attempted to match Jeremiah with a cold, direct stare of his own.

"I remember how Francis might have reacted if YOU'D got yourself into bother at school."

The two men stared at each other. Matthew knew that while Jeremiah had the advantage on him in terms of youthful strength and weight, he himself had the advantage of age, and the respect that accorded him.

Jeremiah broke the locked stare first and glanced away with a forced chuckle, "Aye. I'd have felt the back of his hand. That's for sure and certain."

Matthew remained silent. A trick he'd learnt long ago. If you want a man to keep talking, the best thing to do is to stay silent yourself. A man with things on his mind to say, will fill the silence with words. Eventually.

"Aye…" Jeremiah muttered, almost to himself, "It can be a challenge. Raising a boy."

Matthew nodded. Silently.

Jeremiah nodded slowly to himself, seeming to be in his own thoughts. Then he gave a small shake, and glanced at Matthew.

"Anyway, I have work to be getting on with. I'm sure you have your own business to attend to. Thank you for coming to check on the boy. All is in hand."

Matthew flicked the reins back over Belle's head, and put his foot up in a stirrup, ready to mount.

"Glad to hear it Jeremiah… Glad to hear it. Give my best to your wife?"

Jeremiah nodded shortly, and watched as Matthew mounted the horse, turned her, and headed off down the hill.

He watched, without moving, until Matthew had disappeared into the valley, out of sight, then Jeremiah himself started to march down the hill, his thoughts in disarray and his fury mounting. He well knew the reason for the visit and he didn't like to be checked up on.

He knew exactly who would have given that busybody, Matthew Cuthbert, the impression that there was something worth looking into, and that person would soon receive thorough instruction on what happens when they reveal a family's private business.

Jeremiah marched into the barn, his face white with fury. He went straight for the hooks on the wall, where he kept various tools, and snatched down his riding whip. The lesson would be well taught.

IN THE NEXT CHAPTER

Cole and Anne meet up at school. Cole's secret is close to being revealed.