Seriously? No one commented on the whole glaring plot hole alert thing? :p
To have confirmation that Perry and Gillies had indeed been in Calgary was a wonderful feeling and he couldn't help but smile as he bade goodbye to Ruby. Of course, he was still none the wiser as to where they presently were. He highly doubted they had actually gone to Lethbridge. All along they had been mastering the art of deception and misdirection. It would simply be too easy.
"But maybe that's precisely what they want you to think," said Brackenreid as they walked around the dusty barracks courtyard. The men were doing training exercises and every once in awhile the Colonel barked out an order. More times than not he reprimanded Perkins, and the other Mounties snickered, with the exception of Jasper, who usually attempted to help him correct his mistake.
"How do you mean?"
"I haven't known you long, Murdoch, but I get the distinct impression that you're the type of bloke who over thinks things." He tapped his own forehead. "And lives in the old noggin'. My father was like that too. Drove my mum nuts." He patted Murdoch's shoulder. "Sometimes things are as simple as they seem."
Occam's razor.
"Be that as it may, I highly doubt they would lead me straight to them."
"Why not? If I wanted to get rid of my tail, I would drop breadcrumbs for him to follow, lay in wait and," he punched into his palm, "bam. Problem solved."
It would not be the first time a fugitive has tried this.
Murdoch frowned. "That is the exact opposite of the logic statement you began with."
Brackenreid chuckled. "Yes, I suppose it is." He grinned. "I didn't get where I am today by over thinking things." There was a loud bang as Perkins accidentally discharged his rifle very close to them, exploding a water barrel, nearly drenching them. "Oye, you bloody half wit!" he growled. "Just for that give me ten more laps around the barracks!"
"But sir!"
"Now! Or it's the black glove you'll get! And when I'm through with you even the bloody trollops won't let you near them!"
"Sir!" exclaimed Perkins, as he began jogging.
"Think about it this way, Murdoch. There's only one way to find out for sure. You have to go there."
Not quite.
Murdoch had yet to speak with the carriage driver. If the man told him they had indeed gone to Lethbridge, then he would follow, ever wary of an ambush. If he confessed to driving them someplace else, Murdoch would follow and hopefully close this case soon. If the driver was not in town currently, and wouldn't be available for questioning for some time, then he would still go to Lethbridge. The alternative was to aimlessly roam the countryside until he succeeded in locating the fugitives. Seeing as this could take weeks, if not months, it was hardly something he wanted to do. But Murdoch would see this thing through, one way or another, just as he always had.
Thankfully, according to the livery proprietor, the driver in question, one Samuel Stockton would be back in town sometime tomorrow.
Now the question became, how should he occupy himself until then?
To thank Ruby for her help, he spent the next hour tinkering away at the printing press. It turned out that one of the springs had sprung and once he repaired it, the press worked like new. She could now manipulate the machinery with relative ease for someone her size and strength.
"How did you learn how to do that?" she asked him afterwards.
"I often have time to spare so I read whatever I can get my hands on. A repair manual for various different types of presses happened to be one of these reading materials."
Nearly five years ago.
"I would think that sort of subject matter terribly dry." She smiled, "But I am most glad that you did not. Thank you, William." He made to correct her but she continued, "No more of that nonsense." She touched his hand. "We are friends now. Let us act like it."
"All right...Ruby," he eventually relented, feeling oddly out of sorts for some unknown reason.
With that task completed, he finally picked up his suit from Crabtree's Classic Cuts. It fit like a glove now, which he supposed made him look more suave than usual, but was also not terribly comfortable, and made him flash back to Julia's words about how ludicrous corsets were. Not eager to deal with another manhandling by George, he simply paid what was owed and left. At least, he tried to leave, but George insisted on giving him a shave to go with his 'new' duds. And thus Murdoch narrowly avoided having his jugular sliced by the barber's erratic and animated movements. Apparently, George was very indebted to a myriad of aunts who taught him everything he knew and the barber wanted everyone he ever met to know this.
Around four he made his way back to the Ogden ranch. He briefly watched as the ranch hands went about their various chores, and then found Julia in the stable, brushing out the hair of her grey stallion. She seemed so at peace with the world that he couldn't help but stop and stare. It had been a long time since he had felt the way that she looked. So hesitant was he to break the tranquillity of the moment that he considered going back out the way he came. But too late, she had already noticed him standing there.
She smiled and he could feel an inviting warmth inexplicably pull him closer. "Mr. Murdoch."
"Miss Ogden," he said, tipping his cowboy hat.
He led his horse towards her and she got an amused look in her eye. "There are few who can deny George anything." He raised an eyebrow. "I couldn't help but notice your stiffer than usual movements."
Stiffer than usual? Is that what she thought of him? A stick in the mud?
"Yes," he said somewhat stiffly, "Mr. Crabtree is if nothing else, quite tenacious."
There was a bit of an awkward silence that Julia seemed unaware of. She stood up and said, "You're just in time, Mr. Murdoch."
"Oh?"
"There is to be a barn raising in less than half an hours time down at the Wilson's farm. The boys and I will be going there shortly. Would you care to assist us?"
Murdoch wanted to make an excuse but couldn't come up with one on the spot and had no choice but to accept her offer.
"It would be my pleasure."
He estimated about a quarter of the towns populace and surrounding areas was there for this relatively mundane event. Only a few hours ago he had interviewed most of these men and therefore he did not feel like a complete outsider as the raising commenced. The construction of the barn had already been underway for some time before they had arrived and they were more or less just helping with the heavy lifting, that is to say, pulling on sturdy ropes to lift the sides of the structure upright. For this reason he removed his constrictive clothing, draping it over the side of a nearby fence.
Murdoch took a rope beside Julia and Mr. Wilson signalled for everyone to pull. The group of ten or so strained for several seconds before gaining purchase and then slowly, ever so slowly, hefted the weighty object ever skyward. Once this was completed, they were given a few minutes respite before attempting the next side. Before they began, he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows; anything to cool himself off a bit.
While they were lifting this side of the barn up, he noticed Julia's gaze directed towards him on more than one occasion. When he caught her at it, she smiled and huffed, "Quite the invigorating experience, is it not, Mr. Murdoch?"
Something about her words made him flash back to the uncouth conversation about connections. Matters were not helped when he became aware of the rivulets of sweat snaking their way down her open collar and into darkened delights.
As a certain tantalizing fantasy made itself loudly known again, he fumbled on the rope and nearly dropped it.
"Mr. Murdoch? Is everything all right?"
"Perfectly fine, Miss Ogden, perfectly fine."
Once the barn raising was completed, The Wilson's treated the helpers to a decent meal, though hardly what one would call a feast. There were too many to fit in their small dining room, so they instead formed a haphazard circle in the grass and gratefully dug into the meat and potatoes.
Julia was casually lying there, propped up on her side. "Simon informed me of your visit this afternoon." She observed him closely for a few seconds and he wondered if she was waiting for him to question her about her absence. He decided that if she wanted to tell him, she would. Otherwise it was none of his business. "Has there been a development in the case?"
At the time of his visit, no there had not been. He had simply wanted to see her. But her question was posed in such a way as to allow him to answer without telling the whole truth.
"Yes, as a matter of fact there has."
Briefly he filled her in. She wrinkled her nose at the mention of Stockton. "What a vile man."
"Oh? How so?"
She gave him a dark look. "We have had our share of...misunderstandings." Julia smiled grimly. "He would be wise not to make another...mistake around me. You would do well to steer clear of him."
"Unfortunately I cannot. He is the only connection to the fugitives that I have been able to ascertain as of yet."
Julia chewed on a piece of meat for a time and he found himself mesmerized by her lips. "Forgive me for asking such a disagreeable thing, Mr. Murdoch, but I find myself far too curious." She paused and fiddled with her silver horse necklace again. "Have you ever killed a man?"
He didn't want to admit this outright so instead he said, "The nature of my profession forces me to do many things, some more unsavoury than others."
"Does that not bother you?" she asked, studying his face anew.
Murdoch didn't like this close scrutiny and glanced into the distance where the sun was at half mast. "I do my best not to dwell on the past. Such a thing serves no useful purpose."
They finished their meal in silence, with the exception of everyone else's chattering and the continuous sound of crickets just out of reach.
Then when he figured it was time to go 'home', some women arrived, presumably the men's wives, and Mrs. Wilson announced the square dance would be starting soon and that they should pick their partners.
Now this was the precise reason he had not wanted to come to this raising. He knew from past experience that a dance was sometimes conducted at the end of the evening; a dance he was none too proficient at. It was Murdoch's lifelong goal to avoid looking the fool at all costs. This announcement set alarm bells ringing off and it was all he could do not to flee right then and there.
Julia laughed when she caught his expression. "Come now, Mr. Murdoch," she said, grabbing his bicep, securing his doom, "dancing is not that terrifying, is it?" She squeezed his bicep. "Don't worry, I shall be there every step of the way." How can you? this is square dancing, not the waltz! "Simply follow my lead."
He decided there was no point in telling her that women did not lead, especially in square dancing. Julia did what she pleased. He was already aware of this, and strangely, found himself admiring this trait. Murdoch could barely fathom being so unencumbered and free all the time. Ironically, he would almost think it a burden.
They took their places side by side in the barn that they had just constructed and Mr. Wilson began playing a lively and popular jig on his fiddle called Cotton-Eyed Joe. Keeping with the beat, Mrs. Wilson began shouting out directions for them to follow with the other three couples. This in itself would not have been too confusing had it not been for Julia's insistence at taking his role. Because of this, he was constantly having to rethink his movements before he accidentally followed the directions first. He was beginning to understand why no one else had jumped at the opportunity to dance with her.
When the swing step was called, Murdoch took charge and led for once. Julia seemed surprised at first but then pleased. With his hand on her back, he was once again reminded of the lack of corset there, which once again led to distracting thoughts and he banged into the lady approaching him during weave the ring. This set her to falling and chaos for the other partners. Full of consternation, he attempted to rectify his mistake but the other men had already done so. They were all staring at him, and the music had stopped, which was embarrassing, but mostly he was annoyed with Julia's look of amusement. Like a petulant child he wanted to storm out of there in protest at being made to do something he didn't want to do. Instead he apologized and they resumed the dance, everyone keeping a wary eye on him at all times.
Finally the cursed dance ended.
Julia grinned and said, "Apart from trampling Mrs. Alderam, you did quite well Mr. Murdoch."
He gave her the stink eye and was about to say something, when a waltz started up and out of instinct he took her in his arms. Now this was something he was more accustomed to doing. He often times was invited to client's balls after completing his assignments.
After a time, "I must say, Mr. Murdoch, I am impressed. You are comporting yourself like a true gentleman."
"I'm not sure I am following your meaning Miss Ogden."
She smirked. "Most men I dance with suffer from," she chuckled, "wandering hand syndrome. One of the burdens of not wearing a corset I'm afraid."
"Regardless of what you choose to wear, or not wear, Miss Ogden," he replied with a frown, "that is hardly an excuse for unseemly behaviour."
"It's been awhile since I met someone so sensible." The smirk widened. "More's the pity in your case." He just looked at her confused so she spelled it out for him. "You may hold me closer if you so desire, Mr. Murdoch."
Of course he desired to, very much so, but he was afraid of turning into one of those other men who attempted to take liberties with her. So to both of their disappointments, he kept her at arms length for the rest of the night.
Even after researching it a bit, I'm not really sure what square dancing entailed back then so I just left it fairly modern with a caller and everything. George's romp in Republic of Murdoch was a little too uncivilized for my purposes, but I'm sure this Julia would have no problem stomping around like that if she wanted to. ;)