The Americans Are Coming Read Online Free PDF Page B

panther in this woods for a hundred years!” said Dan Brennen with authority. “They never were panthers anyway. They were what you call eastern cougars.”
    “I ain’t sayin’ we’re hearin’ moose, or panthers,” said Stan. “What I’m sayin’ is, I saw tracks that I thought was made by a moose. Cloven hooves is what I saw, so I did, if ya know what I mean, like, see?”
    “What would the devil want back Todder Brook?” laughed Dan Brennen, as if the whole idea was stupid and nobody could possibly know anything about this except himself.
    But John Kaston was the true authority here. John had read the Bible, and only the Bible would have the answers to such a mystery. He demanded attention by thumping his fist on the counter in the way that Reverend Mather might thump the pulpit.
    “Don’t you know that the wilderness is the playground of Satan?” yelled John, as if frustrated with their stupidity. “Did he not tempt the Saviour in the woods? Wasn’t it in the woods where he tried to get the good Lord to turn the rocks into bread, and Jesus said that man can’t live on bread alone? I tell ya, that he walks the Dungarvon jist the same as he walked . . . the Jordan. It’s right there in the Bible! All ya gotta do is read yer Bible!”Later, walking home, Dryfly was thankful he had his gun-shaped stick in his pocket. Somehow, its presence made him feel more secure. He was also thankful Palidin was with him. Palidin did not seem to be afraid at all.
    *
    The next morning when Constable Bastarache pulled up in front of Shirley Ramsey’s house in his RCMP cruiser, Shirley experienced a twinge of fear like none she had ever experienced before. The constable was the handsomest and most fearsome man she’d ever seen. He was six feet tall and muscular, wore a gun and big brown boots, and perhaps the most fearsome thing of all, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police uniform. The yellow stripes down the outside of his breeches screamed, “We Mounties always get our man . . . or woman!”
    Her first thought was that she’d have to kill him and run off with his car. The thought dissipated quickly, however, for Shirley Ramsey knew she couldn’t kill a fly and not feel guilt. She also knew she didn’t know how to drive a car.
    “How did he find out so soon?” she asked herself. “Who could’ve know’d I took the money from the post office? The kids must’ve guessed and told it at school.”
    Shirley had visions of bars and chains, of the kids being taken to orphanages all over the country, never to see her, or each other again. She grew so terrified that her legs began to tremble and weaken. She sat by the table and began to cry. When the constable knocked authoritatively on the door, she had already finished her second Hail Mary.
    “Come in!” she sobbed openly. There was no sense in trying to hide the tears.
    The door opened and there he stood like God himself. Three clunks of his big boots and he was in the kitchen looming over her.
    She could smell his aftershave and thought she could even feel the warmth of his breath.
    “Are you Mrs. James Ramsey?” he asked.
    In the emotional condition she was in, she did not hear the gentleness in his voice.
    She nodded. “I’m so very poor,” she whimpered. “I needed food for poor little Dry and Pal . . . and everyone.”
    “My name is Constable Bastarache of the RCMP and . . . and, well, it seems you already know. Anyway, I was to inform you . . . I’m sorry.”
    “You’re sorry. It was me that did it.”
    “You shouldn’t blame yourself, ma’am, I’m sure you must have loved him very much.”
    “Him . . . who?”
    “Your husband, ma’am. I’m sure you will miss him terribly. I lost a loved one myself recently. We just have to be strong.”
    “My husband? Buck? Has something happened to Buck?”
    “Ah, then you don’t know, ma’am?”
    “Know? Know what?”
    “Ah, Mr. Ramsey has been found, ah, dead, ma’am.” Shirley uttered something