On the day the goats got out, only five feet of open space in our garrison wall remained to be filled with posts. I hated for it to be finished for it closed up the greenwood around about us. That day I was glad for it, though, for we had dozens of goats all running hither and thither through the houses and commons, tearing up gardens and messing on floors, making a stir on the morning’s placid air. No one knew how, before the break of day, every fence in the compound had opened and every barnyard animal got loose. With the help of anyone who could wave an apron and chase them, seven of our goats returned to the fenced yard.
I discovered the tracks of one goat led through the garrison opening and into the woods. I ran to get Birgitta and show her that the goat was lost. I hoped that she’d say it was no use looking for it so I could get to other chores. One of my stockings had a hole in it and I meant to get a new pair from Christine’s basket. To my dismay, Birgitta brought Mistress and they followed me to the opening in the wall. We walked several yards beyond it following the hoofprints. A few men kept at the chopping and fitting of the remaining log posts.
“Go fetch it, Mary. You don’t have to go far. It’s just there in that green place,” Mistress said, pointing. “I have so much to do. Don’t tell me you are too lazy to get a goat a dozen steps from the wall.”
Birgitta twisted her face to one side. “I should have a man go with her, and I will go, too. If the bear is there, we’ll scare it away as we did before.”
“The bear is out there,” I said, without address or bowing my head.
“Mary, do as you are told. I want you to help me with the sewing, Birgitta. She can go by herself,” Mistress said. “It’ll not take long.” She turned to a workman. “You there? Bring your axe and help her get the last goat.”
An old man looked up at her and heaved a great breath. “Which way did it go?” he asked. I pointed toward the greenest shrubs. He led the way.
I found droppings and they smelled fresh. “See here,” I said, “toward the stream.”
Mistress said, “Well, go and get it. We’ll wait for you.”
The man knelt and looked at the ground. “Stream’s that way. I don’t think you’re going to find it. Fell in an’ drowned, that’s my thinking. I have work aplenty before me. There’s no smell of bear in the air. Leave it be.” He shouldered his axe and walked back to his chores with Mistress and Birgitta following him.
“Wait for me!” I cried, and ran toward them.
“Make her go or you will sleep in the shed this night, Birgitta!” Mistress called.
Birgitta’s face showed how she hated being ordered by her sister. She turned to me, forced to comply though her voice was gentle. “Go fetch that goat, Mary.”
“It has drowned. The man said it,” I insisted.
Mistress whirled and leaned over me. “Do as you are told! Your carelessness has lost this goat as it lost my daughter. As it lost my money—oh, I rue the day I bought you, you heathen wretch. Go and don’t return without my goat.” She turned to her sister. “See that she gets it,” she said, then turned back to me. “If you don’t find it I’ll have them seal up the wall with you on the outside!”
Watching them walk away, I cursed them both under my breath with words I remembered the pirates using. It felt like power to say that the two old Hasken women should twist and dance in hell on the devil’s prong, even though I was not altogether certain what it meant. I kicked at the goat droppings with my shoe. They were an hour or so old. “Nob?” I called. It was a foolish name for a goat. “Nob?” The closer I was to the edge of the stream, the more I trembled. I moved some brush, holding my breath, expecting to see Nob standing there, munching away. Or, worse, what was left of Nob and the bear standing there, munching away. I looked behind me, wondering if the man with the axe was watching so he could run to my aid if the bear came and I wondered if I would hear the bear coming through the woods over the tumbling of the water.