Preparations were underway now that he had a destination in mind. Colonel Brackenreid, Jasper and another two mounties by the names of Harold and John would be accompanying him on the journey. Both were pretty unobtrusive characters and spoke only when spoken to. Not that there was an overbearing silence among the convoy. Jasper's inability to keep his often scandalous thoughts to himself frequently filled the air, making Murdoch equal parts uncomfortable and intrigued.
Being a notably fine tracker, Jimmy offered his services as well, to the chagrin of his employer. Brackenreid sorted the man out soon enough and by early afternoon they were off with their supplies and tents slung over the sides and rears of their horses. Jimmy was operating the two horse drawn carriage that they would be using to transport the fugitives back to Calgary in- assuming they were found of course. It was approximately ninety miles to Red Deer from their starting point. If they kept at a steady pace, and barring no particularly inclement weather, they would arrive within forty-eight hours.
Before they left, Murdoch decided to try one last time to speak with Julia in a civilized manner. He found her in the parlour room of the main ranch house, keeping watch of a currently slumbering Simon. A bottle of heroin sat nearby and it was obvious the boy would be out for quite awhile, making this an ideal time for an intrusion. Once more she pretended as if he wasn't present until he actually spoke aloud.
"How is Simon faring?" he asked quietly, gesturing with his removed cowboy hat.
"He has broken his Ulna," she replied, without turning in her seat to look at him, "fractured his clavicle and contused several ribs." She smiled weakly, "But I dare say he will be fine. It is my understanding that young boys heal quickly."
"Yes, indeed they do." He paused. "You care for him a great deal."
It was not stated as a question because anyone who saw the way she looked at the boy could see it written there plain as day. Though he hated to admit it to himself, he had also seen that look when she was dealing with Darcy. Murdoch had yet to see it directed towards himself save for the time he had caught her in a tranquil mood inside the stable. And he was pretty sure in that instance it had simply been leftover emotion from tending to her stallion.
Gaze directed at the boy, she stroked his sandy hair and eventually said, "Simon came to me after his father was killed in a saloon misunderstanding. Over the years, he has proved himself to be a hard worker and a steadfast companion. I think of him as a son." She sighed and closed her eyes. "Like the son I shall never know."
This last statement had been uttered so quietly that he had barely caught it and he half wondered if he had simply imagined or misheard her. Not sure what to with himself, he acted on instinct and placed a hand to her shoulder, expecting her to immediately move out of his touch. Instead, she put her own hand over top his, an unusual amount of warmth seeming to radiate between them.
They stayed like this for a little while and then he removed his hand and said, "Well, I best be off. Stockton has intimated the fugitives are in Red Deer. Assuming they are still there, or near there, we should return within the week. I pray Simon will be feeling right as rain by then. He's a fine lad." He put on his hat and headed towards the door. Once there he turned and said, "Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Ogden."
Finally she looked over at him and seeing that this was said in earnest, rather than a mocking manner, her features took on a guilty attitude. "You'll forgive me I hope, Mr. Murdoch, for my outbursts and rather rude behaviour today. My sister has a way of getting under my skin." She made a face. "Apparently I shall have to get used to her overbearing presence again now that the trains are running."
"I wouldn't be so certain about that. She has expressed a strong disdain for the ways of country living."
Julia smiled at that. He smiled back, feeling quite content and not at all like trekking after sequential killers, but he simply tapped his hat, and left.
The trek halfway up the C and E (Calgary and Edmonton) trail was almost entirely uneventful, and just as predicted, they arrived Saturday afternoon. Compared to Red Deer, Calgary was a thriving metropolis. That's not to say that there was nothing here...just far less. Surrounded by a handful of homesteads was a trading post and a stopping house were weary travellers could resupply and recharge if needs be before the river crossing. Unsurprisingly, everything was constructed of whole logs. Without a sawmill to aid the dozen or so permanent residents in this isolated place, this was about as refined as it got.
According to his companions, the people who lived out here were almost exclusively men and all of them were fur traders who worked for The Hudson's Bay Company. At the time that they arrived, however, most of these hearty men were out in the bush waiting for traps to spring or a deer to walk right into the sights of their rifles. One of them saw the enclave and came over to investigate. They went through the usual spiel and the bearded man, Philip Jones, told them he hadn't been here on the date in question and instead directed them to the proprietor of the stopping house.
"If anyone's seen them, it'll be Fred. Got a keen eye for newcomers."
Fred Newcombe, a stout, reasonably attractive man, had much to say about the fugitives. It being a rainy and somewhat chilly day, they - Murdoch, Brackenreid and Jasper; the others were tending to the horses and supplies - stood around the crackling hearth of his modest accommodations.
"Oh yes," he said, intensely focused on the wanted poster, "I remember them."
The men shared a look.
Murdoch said, "You recognize them from this depiction?"
"I've got eyes don't I?" Newcombe responded, as if this was the most ridiculous question he had ever heard. Less rudely, "But I suppose most folks these days don't pay enough attention to the world around them to see what's really there. For me though," he said with a smug smile and a hand to his chest, "it was plain as day that the 'missus' was really a lad."
The fact that couples would rarely, if ever, come out here was not mentioned as a possible factor in his astute deductions.
"What did you do with this knowledge?" asked Murdoch.
"Kept it to myself of course. Customers are hard to come by out here. I've learned not to ask too many questions and just let folks be." He shrugged. "If the nancy boys want to play dress up and act queer together, I just mind my own business and count my money." He grinned. "I may have charged them triple what I normally do."
"Could you elaborate on what you mean by 'acting queer together', sir?" inquired Jasper.
"It's just like it sounds, ain't it?" Newcombe replied in a puzzled manner, scratching his scruffy chin. "They were holding hands," he made a face, "and kissing."
The men shared another look. This wasn't terribly shocking news to him because of the fact that the men were known to have an unusual level of closeness and codependency - not to mention Gillies propensity for wearing women's clothing - no it was shocking to him because he had thought psychopaths didn't have normal emotions and weren't capable of love. Admittedly, he hadn't met many over the course of his career, but he had read and heard enough about them through the other members of his trade to think he had heard it all. Apparently not.
"What did they say their purpose was in being here?" said Murdoch.
Newcombe scratched his chin again as he pondered this question. "Well, they claimed they were on an adventure on their honeymoon and would be continuing up to Edmonton come morning. I told them that wasn't possible seeing as there's no carriages for hire and even if there were, the terrain's much more treacherous past the river and it wouldn't be able to make the journey. They thanked me for this information and later informed me that they had changed their minds and would just explore around here instead. I told them that wasn't such a smart idea either because of all the hunting traps. They didn't seem too perturbed about this bit of information."
"How long did they make use of your accommodations?" asked Jasper.
"Just the one night."
"Right then, so where do you suppose these murderous faeries would have gotten off to?" demanded Brackenreid. "There's hardly a hotel to shack up in."
"I can't imagine they'd have gotten too far. They had large trunks you see. Pretty difficult to drag that through the woods any great distance."
"Dragged their things to where though?" barked Brackenreid.
"Haven't the foggiest," shrugged Newcombe.
"You must have seen them leave!" said Brackenreid, clearly close to throttling the man.
Their supply of whiskey had mysteriously vanished over the first night - Murdoch suspected Harold had gotten into the alcohol, but could not prove it - and now the Colonel was running high and dry and more irritable than usual as a result.
Newcombe shook his head. "They were gone before I got up in the morning. Good thing I always ask to be paid upfront."
"Dammit man!" he said grabbing Newcombe by the collar. "Give us something to go on!"
"I believe what the Colonel is desiring to know," said Jasper, releasing the indignant fellow from Brackenreid's grasp, "is whether or not you know of any vacant hunting cabins they may have utilized for their own purposes."
"Sure," Newcombe said, straightening out his shirt with a glare at Brackenreid, "there's a few of them out there. But they're meant to be used during the winter months. They're all too far away for those boys to have gotten to on their own with those trunks of theirs."
"Could they have employed the aid of one of the fur traders?" said Murdoch.
How else could Gillies and Perry have located one such cabin?
"Not that I'm aware of. And believe you me, I was just as curious as you to know where they had vanished off to. Me and a couple of the boys even went looking, but we never found hid nor hair of them."
"Why did you not contact the NWMP to organize a search party?" asked Jasper.
Newcombe shrugged again. "Seemed pretty obvious to me that they didn't want to be found. I assumed it had to do with their perverse nature, something I shared with the boys...but now I know it was considerably more than that."
The mounties and Murdoch stepped outside into the drizzling rain in order to have a private conversation.
"How could two bloody city toffs manage something like that!" exploded Brackenreid.
"Puzzling news indeed," said Jasper.
"Perhaps, he has been paid off as well?" suggested Murdoch. "I am certain they bribed Stockton, and this man seems much more infatuated with money."
For all the good it does him out here.
"We'll find out soon enough!" barked Brackenreid, rolling up his red sleeves.
"One moment please, Colonel," said Jasper with a wry smile. "I've just been overcome with a curious notion. If we believe Mr. Newcombe to be truthful, which I do. And he says the fugitives disappeared without a trace, well then, there's only one logical explanation for such a thing."
"Out with it man!"
"Do you recall the Lastman conundrum?"
Brackenreid groaned. "Not bloody Indians again. I can't stand those damn redskin savages!"
Jimmy looked over from the horses and Murdoch felt like punching the Colonel, but since that wouldn't be very productive, decided against it.
Cantankerous Brax is always fun to write. Though hopefully he gets a drink soon cuz he's starting to piss me off.
I know people have theorized before that Gillies and Perry were lovers, but I'm not sure it's ever been explored before in a fic.