Part I
As chance would have it, the
county vet, a unique man of distinction and breeding who had studied medicine
with vigour in his youth, then, to the general surprise of all, turned his
medical knowledge to the care and repair of animals, had heard of the poor
dog's plight, and though it was some weeks later, came as fast as his carriage
would go without straining the horses. By this time, as the poor animal was
pitied so by all and fed regularly by means of the pole-spoon contrivance, it
was more securely lodged than ever. In fact, it greatly resembled a small bear
that had squeezed into a rabbit hole, then eaten too much honey, and been
unable to leave, though that was a rare occurrence indeed.
The arrival of so rare a character
brought much attention, but he simply shooed his way past everyone who would
not give him a direct answer until he came upon the garden wall blanketed
hound. He did not even pause when told of the severely battered Percy and
Sophie, who were receiving care in adjoining rooms and did nothing but bicker
at high volume about who had taken the worst of the fall, though in actuality
they had both struggled to ensure it would be the other at the time of the
incident, with little success. The servants simply wished they had broken their
jaws instead of their legs. Emily showed the vet her pole-spoon, which James
had constructed for her, and detailed everything she could of the dog's plight,
from the burial, to the second burial, to the present. The vet expressed how
lucky it was that the dog, which turned out to be of unknown ownership, was
already shielded by a layer of rubble when the balcony collapsed. He then
arranged several instruments beside him, and, using the same pole the spoon was
attached to, began to examine the cur through what holes he could find in the
rock pile. He took no care of the dust and dirt that soiled his superfine
trousers, and never noticed when he tore a hole in the seat of them after
slipping from the top of the mound and sliding down.
He turned to Emily. "I'm afraid
I have some terribly bad news. The collapse of the wall did some little damage
to the poor beast, but the balcony furthered that damage, and as the animal
could not be cleared, it has healed to the shape of it's confines, and I'm
afraid cannot survive without them now. This is incidental however, for the
true tragedy is that she is expecting a litter any day now, and I cannot
possibly see how they may be delivered, for the area around her hindquarters is
not only completely sealed with rubble, but has become ridiculously unsanitary.
If someone would be so good as to pour several buckets of water here," he
indicated with the pole, "it would do a good deal to relieve the dog of some of
the mess, but I am afraid when she tries to have the litter, it will be the end
of her and her brood to be."
Emily sniffled once, then broke
into tears. "Is there nothing to be done?" she asked.
"I'm truly sorry, but this is
beyond my skill. All we can do is endeavour to keep her as comfortable as
possible while we can." He answered.
The buckets of water were
immediately sent for, and James even took the foresight to have the water
warmed, for the hound's sake. Emily scratched the dog's ears with the pole
spoon, and fed it scraps of veal. Even Sophie's lap dog was discovered and
brought out for companionship (everyone agreed it would be too cruel to return
it to its owner just yet). The vigil held up all afternoon, and into the night.
Lanterns were hung from posts, and a fire was lit near the rocks, to try to
grant some warmth to the unhappy animal. Unfortunately, the moss which had
covered the inside of the wall had dried out since the tumble, and some stray
sparks caught in it. This started a blaze which took everyone by surprise.
James threw the last bucket of water over it, but this helped little, so he ran
to fetch the servants and more buckets. Emily cried out to the dog, who
whimpered in fear, not to worry, but she could not hide the concern in her
voice, and the beast sensed it. The vet tried to pull some rubble loose to
expose the moss, and better deal with it, but in his haste only burned his
hands.
Suddenly a man of solid, if not
overly large, proportions leapt into the yard over a half tumbled corner of the
wall, clad in a rumpled smock-frock, gaiters, and large boots, with a low-crown
felt hat crammed tight over his head and a shepherd's crook in his weathered
hand. His stature was such that it would have been intimidating, if not for his
humble demeanour. He was breathing heavily, as if he had run at a great speed
for some distance to be there.
"I thought this was a rick
fire?" he looked puzzled. Emily quickly explained about the poor hound under
the blaze, and the impending puppies.
"Puppies you say? Then there is
no time." Using the metallic curve of his sheep crook, he began pulling apart
the jumble of stones to make an opening. He had Emily and the vet hold up a
large blanket like a curtain to stop the draught, then used his crook again to
fling muddy soil over the flames. He continued in this vain, making a sort of
tunnel towards the dog from the side, though he was careful not to clear the
stone directly next to the beast, at the vet's warning. When James arrived with
the buckets and servants, they were able to immediately cool the rocks in
contact with the dog, and under the shepherd's direction, quickly quell the
disaster. When all was done, the shepherd squatted on a large rock to catch his
breath. In all the confusion he had been splashed repeatedly, and his
smock-frock, which had burned though in patches and had the sleeves torn so
they hung loose, clung to him diaphanously, revealing the hard, defined build
of a man who knows and respects work. In the glow of the lamplight the lines of
relief in his musculature were made highly apparent, and with every movement he
inadvertently showed what a well-toned machine of a man his labours had caused
him to be. It was not the comical bulk of a circus strong man, nor the
shapeless mass of a large man, but the tight, clay smooth form of a man of
reliable strength and fitness, tanned dark from his long days in the sun. James
took the opportunity to thank him.
"That was downright heroic, good
shepherd. Might you honour us with your name?"
"Gabrial Oak. Used to be Farmer
Oak, but a short while back I had my own dog trouble, and my fortunes changed.
As things be, I haven't even sheep to shepherd. I've just come from the fair,
where I found no work. If I could just trouble you for a bit of water, I'd best
be going. There's another fair in Upton in a few days, and I hope to reach it
in time, as a man must be able to earn a living."
A servant was sent to fetch him
some cider instead, and something to eat. Emily was about to offer to replace
his smock-frock and crook, the former now being full of holes, and the latter
being burned nearly a foot shorter and somewhat bent and misshapen, when James
cut in.
"I have a better idea. Mister
Oak, or Gabriel, if I may. It just so happens that I am steward here, and as I
find myself obligated to leave, for reasons of my own, I am in need of a
replacement. I have found new work near Casterbridge with a woman farmer by the
name of Bathsheba Everdene..."
James would have gone on, but
just then the hound started whimpering again. Gabriel leapt to his feet and pulled
a roll of instruments of his own from one of his boots. "I believe the puppies
are arriving!" he cried. In his excitement he missed the name of James' new
employer, which was a fortunate occurrence indeed, as she was a vain, selfishly
self-centred woman of great beauty who had spurned him in happier days, and was
sure to ensnare him haplessly again and drag out his suffering until such a
time as she had no other suitors and no other use for him but to marry him, if
another meeting were to ensue.
He crawled into the hole he had
made, despite the soot and mud, and though the vet told him it was no use, he
insisted that an attempt must be made. After all, he had been forced to
similarly deliver a lamb after a landslide once on his own farm, though he didn't
mention it much, as he was a man of modesty. He asked for more light, and had
the vet hand him various devices and surgical blades while he worked with his
arms elbow deep in the rock. The old hound howled, and Emily spoke to it
soothingly, while the servants began to arrive with the meal, and some extra
blankets and clothes and such in a bundle they had prepared of their own accord
out of appreciation for his selfless bravery and willingness to risk himself
without thought of reward. Eventually a small dark, damp mass was extracted
from the pile and wrapped in a blanket, then another, and another, until seven
in all were being held carefully by the servants. Gabriel then took a needle
and thread, and, though unable to see his work, completed the operation with as
much deft skill as any could muster in the dark after having fought a fire with
a stick and delivered puppies from under a pile of stones through a hole in a
dog's side. It was rather unorthodox, but a good farmer makes do, whatever the
situation. He then asked for a bottle, and, working it down to the depths of
the pile, began some unseen operation, only to bring it up again some time
later brimming with milk, which he handed to one of the servants.
"Pour some of this into a plate,
then cut a short fine wick from some scraps of linen for each pup, putting one
end in the plate and the other in his mouth. They will be hungry, so be sure to
keep an eye on the plate and don't let it run dry."
Afterwards, he was so exhausted he could not argue with James' insistence that he stay, and allowed himself to be led off to a room where he could eat and pass the night, leaving the finalities of the arrangement to be taken care of the following day. As a final note before parting, James wanted to be sure Gabriel understood that there was a dangerous man in the area by the name of Adam who would sneak into the pastures and shag the sheep when no one was watching. Gabriel assured him he knew just how to handle such a ruffian, and with no more to say, bid his new friend good night and settled into his meal.
Oak helped a fawning Elizabeth
onto Darcy's horse and led her back to Pemberley, the whole while trying
tactfully to evade her attentions. Once at home and settled in on one of the
great damask couches, however, she recalled what the bounty of that illustrious
estate meant to her, and urged Oak to fetch her precious wealthy Darcy. This
Oak had every intention of doing, with or without her bidding, but he managed
an obedient, "As you wish, ma'am," and raced off with the second horse in tow.
At the well he slid down as he
had done before, only to find Timmy sitting comfortably on the rise of Darcy's
cushy and sufficiently amply posterior. Darcy himself was still stretched
unconscious on the dirt floor; face down and emitting a sound like rolling
thunder. Not even cattle could snore like that.
Timmy smiled up cheerfully
through the half-light. "I fell down the well again." He seemed almost proud.
The living shadows that had
earlier been vanquished had roused and fled, but had left their weapons in
their haste to depart. Oak tucked a collection of rapiers into Darcy's belt and
tied a rope around him. Checking the knot, he told Timmy to hold tight to the
cord. Oak clambered back up the shaft into the light and, bracing against the
well wall, hauled the child and the man up from the depths. It was an
exhausting affair so, when Timmy got up on the lip of the well and began
jumping back and forth across the opening, Oak pulled him down and sent him
home. Darcy, still senseless, was lashed securely to the second horse and taken
home to his more than appreciative wife. Oak left him in the care of his
servants, warning them to check the well the following day for a small boy,
then raced back to attend to his duties with all the rapiers tied to his
saddle.
The next day, Gabriel Oak paid a
visit to the farrier, an old Scott with shoulders like an ox and a beard that
resembled a fire burning in the wrong direction.
"Morning, McTavish. How be the
new horses?"
McTavish, a man of few words,
smiled through the flames of his chin and rolled out a single word,
"Grrreeeat," as if it had to tumble down along a ten-foot tin chute.
"I was hoping ye might do a
favour for me." Oak pulled two of the rapiers from his saddle. "Do ye think ye
might make a new sheep crook with a reinforced stave? I need it made from
these."
McTavish examined one of the
blades, and then with a sudden movement clove in two a hitching post. He looked
at the rapier again. "Incrrrredible steel," he murmured.
Oak pulled forth a third rapier
and handed it to him. "That's for payment."
The Scott's eyes lit up like
those of some gargantuan owl. "Done. Two days."
They shook on the bargain and
Oak went on his way. He checked in on Bertie to ask after the poor old hound
still trapped beneath the tumbled wall. Since Emily had left to marry James,
Bertie had taken the unfortunate cur on as if it were his ward. The puppies
were also doing well; in fact, they were doing too well and leaving a trail of
havoc wherever they went. It was time for the pups to leave the nest. The
servants were sad to see them go but trusted Oak to find them comfortable new
homes. He strung them together on a single lead, and then tangled them in a
great basket in which they tussled and twisted until they were a hopeless mess.
There was a fair in Greater Malvern and that is where he took them. They
remained a yapping jumble the whole way.
The fair was a small country
affair. Oak strode from tent to tent, knowing full well that puppies could sell
themselves. He was led by the smell of baked goods to a large, humble tent run
by several women of varying ages and ethnicity. Their tent housed an oven and a
printing press and they were peddling pastries and something called fanfic.
Oak was unsure about the books which were printed like pamphlets and to his
mind appeared to be silly romantic tripe, but the pastries caught his attention
and the puppies the attention of the women, especially once he had related the
tale of their poor mother's misfortune. Before long a deal was struck and Oak
walked away with a remaining puppy under his arm and his basket laden with
meringue, strudel, marzipan, dumplings, a cupcake, and a sugar cookie. The
strudel looked a little tough and dried out, but everything else looked
wonderful.
Business concluded, Oak wandered
the grounds for the sake of the sights and sounds, dipping constantly into his
stock of goodies. He was passing by a tent full of exotic animals when he saw
none other than Darcy emerge, leading on a chain an enormous cat with a cage
around its head and its paws bound in sacking. It was difficult to ascertain
the original colouring due to the fact that it had been shaved in great patches
on the sides tattooed in thick Celtic patterns. It hissed and pulled against
Darcy's lead. Oak was dumbstruck.
Darcy spoke first. "Thank you
for helping me out with those shadow ruffians. I couldn't have managed so well
on my own."
Oak simply stared at the cat.
"Terrifically frightening, is
she not?" Darcy beamed. "I just obtained this beast from dome Irish sailors.
They called it a jaguar. They had it coloured after their homeland and were sad
to part with it, but I need something to protect my dearest, loveliest
Elizabeth, besides does not this green jaguar suit me?" Just then it jerked him
off balance and he stumbled a few feet. Oak bid him luck and cautioned him to
be careful with it, then hurried off lest it should get loose near his lost
puppy. He was about to leave when he noticed James rushing towards him.
"Oak, old boy, how's my old
station treating you?"
Oak took his hand and they
traded a firm grip. "Things are well. Better than well. Percy and Sophie
finally stopped quarrelling and have left to be married. Both are still
hopeless invalids so they are having beds set up in the church for the
ceremony." The two men laughed a while at this. "Speaking of marriages, how is
yours?"
"Oh, marvelous. The only trick
was convincing her father I was worthy."
During this speech, Oak noticed
something had changed. "You know, James, there's something in your smile I
cannot quite place."
James laughed and took out the
whalebone arch that had replaced most of his front teeth. "Aunt Letty made it
out of an old whalebone stay. I needed it after asking the old man for Emily.
Like I said, he took some convincing."
He laughed again and Oak, though
confused, laughed too. James invited him back for dinner and as Oak had no
pressing matters to attend to, he accepted. As they rode back to James' new
office, James told him about his new employer and how she was being courted by
an old gentleman farmer but how there was a young officer snooping about who
seemed ready to stir things up. Just then, one of James' hired labourers ran
up, all panting and out of breath.
"Sir, it's the flock. They're
gone terrible ill, sir, all sickly and quiverin' and we don't know why."
Before James could register
distress, Oak shouted, "Lead the way, man!"
They raced across fields and
pastures to where the flock lay, clustered in spasms. Suddenly a sheep began
twitching frantically, leapt high in the air, and was still. Oak threw himself
from his horse and pulled out his tools. "Help me. There's no time!" he cried
as he rushed over to the flock. The other two held the sheep down as he
performed the quick surgery to relieve the pressures building in them. At the
end, only two sheep were lost, and the men sat in the shadows of dusk,
exhausted.
A maid came to check on their
progress and James told of their success due to the providential presence of
his visiting friend. The maid hurried back to tell her lady, them returned
inviting James and his friend to dinner out of appreciation, and to bring Emily
along. James led Oak to his cottage where Emily was greeted and told of the
invitation. They hurriedly readied themselves and then went up to the big
house. They were met at the door by the maid and led to the dining room where
dinner awaited.
James was about to introduce Oak
to his hostess, when Oak saw her for himself. Eyes like hazelnuts floating in
milk in a black lacquered bowl. The same beautiful and yet vain girl he had
once given a lamb to in an awkward attempt at courting, and had refused him,
now sat before him -- a woman now, and no less beautiful, and surely no less
vain.
Before James could finish, Oak
mumbled, "We have met."
She looked at Oak for a moment
before speaking. "Yes, I suppose we have, haven't we? I had almost forgot."
Oak made a stiff bow. "Miss
Everdine."
After thanking him, she paid him
little attention, less, almost, than the elderly man who seemed to be trying
his best to be noticed. The gentleman farmer.
Over the course of the meal, Oak
did more thinking than eating. He realised that in some deep recess of his
heart, the tip of an arrow remained lodged. Even now she seemed so superficial
and acted so superior, but he was certain there was more to her, hiding behind
her upper class veneer. He had known it since the day he had seen her pass on
her loaded wagon and had paid her toll when she had first come to live in his
district. But how to realise it? Not that there was any use worrying himself
about it. He had been refused as an independent farmer - what chance would he
have as a bailiff?
After dinner, Oak excused
himself as soon as politeness allowed and rode forlornly home. The next day he
drifted listlessly about on his errands, the remaining pup unnoticed at his
heels. On the day after, however, he shook himself loose. There were matters at
hand that could not be left to themselves. He slipped out before dawn and
retrieved his new crook from McTavish, then, in an unused remainder of a hay
rick, he plunged a slender post and then bound the rick until it was solid, in
a mound vaguely resembling a man, but much larger.
As the sun crept over the fields, he crouched before the figure, the post jutting out like a weapon. He simply sat on his heels and fingered his new crook, checking the weight and balance. The ash handle had a steel core and the crook shone like polished silver. Then in one motion he lowered a blindfold and stepped forward, stave alive in his hands. Meanwhile, in a distant part of Britain, deep in the earth, a giant figure, black against the darkness, vowed for revenge in Spanish and adjusted the bag of ice in his pants.
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author.