This is the Only Way

*Read Me First!*1

This is a fanfic of sorts, though not really since the event in my story did actually occur. It's based on a true story called "The Secret Lives of Sgt. John Wilson" about a man named John Wilson (the "I" in this story, nicknamed 'Jack') who moves from his native Scotland to Canada, away from his wife (Polly) and kids to escape punishment for his bankrupted business.  In Canada, he becomes a Royal North West Mounted Police Officer and meets Jessie, who he falls in love with. He is a very crooked man, doing lots of wheeling and dealing and lying to earn extra money. He promises Jessie that he will marry her. One day he receives word that Polly has arrived in Canada and is looking for him. He finds her and manages to keep Jessie a secret from her for a few months but she discovers his letters to Jessie and learns about the other woman. John must decide between his first wife and his fiancee, 2

he can only have one...3

________4

I could just picture her face when my two worlds, Scotland and Canada, collided. Her usually cheerful eyes would begin to narrow just a little, as one does when something confuses them. The area around her eyes would crinkle with the lines of astonishment. Her mouth would slide from an excited smile to a neutral line. She would not know what to make of this woman and would look to me for an ‘of course!’ explanation like “She was just catching a ride with me” or “I hired a maid!” But that is not who she was, that is not why she’s here. 5

I could lie. 6

I could say that she really is the maid, not my wife – not my past come back to haunt me. But Polly would object. Polly would tell her that she is my wife. And I can see Jessie’s face, my darling wee girl, see her face shatter and fall to the floor, along with the trust she had in me…7

Yes, I could lie. But I am through with lying. I have lied my whole life to escape my problems. All that is left is…murder?8

I purchased the marriage license. The folded paper rested safely in my pocket and I treasured it as a poor man would treasure a dollar bill. It was my ticket, of sorts, to a new life, a new woman. But most of all, it was my promise to the woman that I loved. A promise I must keep. It would be my courage in the events to follow…9

Polly was to arrive that afternoon by train from Regina. I promised I would meet her at the station and that we would go see the house I bought for us. My arrival was badly timed; I was at the station far too early and was condemned to wait for her train. A train from Vancouver arrived at the station. From my place against the wall of the station, I saw a young lass no older than Polly step off the train into the waiting arms of her husband. The girl’s face was all lit up and tears crested the corners of her eyes. The man swung her around and she squealed with delight. Finally, the embrace broke and he took her handbag from her and they strutted off arm in arm, a picture of happiness. I cursed myself for coming so early.10

Staring down at my leather RNWMP issued boots, my mind began to stray to the task ahead of me. How was I to go about it? And when the opportunity came, would I have the strength and courage to do it? I decided that it must be done quickly so Polly would have no time to start begging for her life, telling me of her father and mother and the bairns… 11

My skin turned cold. No. No, you must not think about them. They are your old world; you are not their father. Not really. 12

For Jessie, I thought over and over again, hoping it would cement my feet to the station when they really wanted so much to be in the Dort far away from here.13

I took off my hat and ran my fingers through my hair. They came back damp, I was sweating. I reached for my hankie from my pocket and swept it across my forehead as Polly’s train was finally pulling into the station. I took a deep breath and tried to calm my shaking fingers. She must not know that anything is wrong. 14

Polly was the first one off the train. She let out a delighted “Jack!” and skipped towards me with her arms wide. I hugged her stiffly, eternally glad to have that deed out of the way. I informed her that I had business to do in Rosthern and that “you might as well come along for the ride.” Polly, agreeable easy-going Polly, said that a ride in the country sounded wonderful. I cringed at her excitement.15

I led her to the Dort. She sat perkily in the passenger seat, hands clasped neatly over her purse. As I maneuvered our way out of the Station parking lot, she politely, but confidently asked if we could stop for something to eat.16

I panicked. Is it possible that she could be on to me? Perhaps she had noticed the shotgun and shovel in the back and wondered “what a peculiar thing for Jack to have?” How smart, exactly, was Polly? She must have figured out my plan and is planning to run away as soon as I stop! 17

…What is wrong with you? I scolded myself for letting my fears get the best of me. She has no idea! I tightened my grip on the wheel and glanced over at her. She sat looking calmly back at me, waiting for a reply. 18

“Oh yes, yes of course. But we must be quick, the days are very short nowadays and I have a lot of work that needs to be done,” I said, doing my best to steady my voice. 19

I stopped at a grocery store and told her to get something. Changing my mind, I followed her in…better safe than sorry. She plucked two Macintosh apples from the basket and I paid for them. 20

Spying Cairns Store next door, she expressed her desire to get some postcards to send to the children. “How they would love that!” she said. I hurried her along inside and was a little short with her when she could not decide which ones. She slowly walked around the store, glancing at the perfumes on the shelves and looking longingly at me. Finally I had had enough. I took the postcards from her hand and went to the counter, slapping down a quarter to pay for them. 21

We were off again, barreling along a dusty gold-lined road. The afternoon was gorgeous, but in my state of nervous fidgeting, I did not even notice. I was cursing myself for not buying something to help me through this; a swirl of rum would help to sooth my nerves right now. As the Dort bounced in a rut, I heard the heavenly clink of a bottle and, upon searching under my seat, pulled a near-full bottle of whiskey out. I straddled the bottle and twisted off the cap with one hand, lifted it to my lips and drank. The relief was instantaneous. Everything else just slipped away and for that second I was in Jessie’s arms and everything was fine. I lowered the bottle and put my eyes back on the road, the whiskey sloshing to the bottom of the bottle. Polly stared bug-eyed at me from the passenger seat. But the whiskey relief still clung to me, and I did not care.22

Dismissing my drinking, Polly sank back into her seat and gazed outside. Every now and then she would comment on the weather, or on the farmers, or on the crops and I would nod and mumble a reply. 23

Suddenly I heard a loud popping sound. The tire was flat. I hastily changed it as Polly wandered down the road picking wild flowers. In this light I could see why I had loved her…24

With the tire fixed, we were away. I took several drinks from the whiskey bottle and my nerves calmed and my heart returned to its dull relaxed thud. I reminded myself that this ride could not *would not* last forever and that eventually this road would lead us to Blaine Lake, not Rosthern like I had said. Polly must never reach Blaine Lake, I told myself sternly, she must never make it. It must be done. It has to be this way. Look for an opportunity, I thought.25

“Oh look!” Polly exclaimed, my whole body tensing and snapping out of its whiskey lull, “a rabbit! My, its fast!”26

Without a word I stopped the car and grabbed the shotgun from the backseat. Hopping out I skillfully aimed the double barrels and shot, picking off the rabbit. \Now\, whispered a little voice in my head, \finish her when you get back. No better time than now\. 27

I neared the car, trying to spark fire in my heart, trying to make myself a killer. I hesitated before I opened the door of the Dort, bloody rabbit and shotgun in one hand. Polly’s little eyes stared in horror at the rabbit. I realized I couldn’t do it. I was not a killer. 28

I opened the car door and flung the rabbit in the back. I handed the shotgun, still warm, to Polly and told her to keep it ready for me to grab.29

“Lots of geese this time of year,” I told her.30

\You should’ve done it\, the voice in my head sneered, \now you won’t do it and Jessie will find out and she won’t love you anymore. She won’t love you anymore. She won’t love you anymore.\ The voice had begun a singsong. I grabbed the bottle and took a mouthful. I pictured Polly and I walking through Jessie’s front door and Jessie’s face drooping in disappointment. Then Jessie’s mother came in and began saying “I knew that John Wilson, I knew he was a rotten man. He is a liar, a thief!” And Jessie was crying and she was saying, “Yes, Mother! I finally see he is an awful man, a liar, a thief!”31

Yes, it must be done. For Jessie, I thought, for Jessie… 32

I started the car again. Over the dull roar of the engine, Polly quietly commented on how dark it was. Raising her voice a little, she said “Can you do your work in Rosthern in the dark?”33

She *is* on to me. I wished fervently that I had not given her the shotgun to hold. 34

“Well…no I can’t. I actually thought that we could go to Blaine Lake,” I said.35

“Blaine Lake? What for?” Polly asked.36

“To explain to Jessie. It would be better if you were there,” I lied, glancing over at her to see her reaction.37

I could see her quietly turning the idea over in her head. She finally nodded in approval, a strand of brown hair escaping her loose bun. 38

I turned the Dort down a side road. It was as if a different force had taken over me. I knew why I had pulled down that road, but I didn’t know how I had done it. I don’t remember even making the decision to turn or turning the wheel to go that way. It was as if a stronger part of me, previously buried deep inside, had clawed its’ way to the surface and had decided that it was taking over. It was unhappy with my performance thus far; my stalling and nervousness had really gotten on its nerves. From this point on, I felt as if I was on autopilot, more of an observer than an actual director. But at the same time I could hear myself thinking, calculating…the ideas and conclusions flying rapidly through my head, either to be executed or abandoned with the precision of a professional. 39

Suddenly the Dort stopped. I snatched the gun from Polly and ran out, took aim and shot at the geese that had flown up at the sight of the Dort. 40

My boots treaded through a stubble field to retrieve the goose. It was wounded, lying in the middle of the field. 41

My mind was made up. No backing out this time, no changing plans. And most of all, no lying. No lying anymore. I would kill her. 42

I could hear the passenger door open behind me, and Polly’s steps soon were heard rustling through the stubble. I turned to face her, “Let’s just leave it. Its too far out there.”43

She cast her eyes on the goose behind me; it was struggling to get up. Finally she turned around and walked back to the car. 44

I got into the Dort, facing forward. She stared at me, wondering why I hadn’t started the car. I could see the terror rising in her, could sense it with a certain animal instinct that I possessed. She looked to the field we had just been in. \Now!\ Shouted the monster in my head.45

I lifted the gun and pointed it at her. 46

She turned back; her eyes went wide, “No, Jack, \don’t!”\47

For Jessie, I thought, for Jessie.48

The shell exploded from the barrels and Polly spoke no more.49

Blood was everywhere, oh God it was everywhere. In my hair, on my face, on the seat, on the steering wheel. I could feel it sliding down my cheek, sticky and warm and reassuring and revolting at the same time. It was on my lips, I could feel it on my eyes…50

Polly’s body sat rigid, still upright. All was quiet; there was no sound other than the sound of crickets and Polly talking. Polly talking. She spoke nonsense, gurgles from her throat and nothing more. Could it be she was still alive? One eye, the only eye, her brown eye still stared blankly at me, wide with disbelief \(or was it malice?)\. The upper corner of her head was gone. It was just gone. No not gone really, it was all over the inside of the car…51

I threw up in my lap. 52

I started the car and drove down the road. It occurred to me that I was trying to drive away from this, leave it behind as if just that spot on the road had contained this horrible scene. Had I really killed her? Had I actually done it? 53

The Dort rocked and Polly’s body slumped over onto my shoulder, what was left of the contents of her head splashed onto me and I screamed. I screamed. I screamed until I could taste the blood and feel the rawness of my throat. Polly was dead. 54

I slammed on the breaks and pushed the body away. She fell backwards, her head landing on my dispatch case and her brain went all over it. I rolled down the window and was sick. I panted. 55

I reached frantically under the seat for the whiskey. I found it, and drained the entire bottle. I ignored the sting in my throat as it went down, relief would come soon. And there it was, warmness and reassurance from my friend Mr. Whiskey. My head cleared, my heartbeat slowed. Everything was fine. Yes, everything was fine.56

I turned around and drove back from where I had come. There had been a culvert there, I remember…57

It was time to bury her. No good would come from leaving her to rot on the road. I laughed out loud. I laughed as I grabbed the shovel from the back. Laughed as I found the culvert. Laughed as I drug her body into the ditch, arms dragging behind her. And finally I laughed as I threw up the whiskey.58

And then I dug. I dug for a while. But I was careful, I was oh-so smart. The thing inside my head, the monster that had clawed its’ way up, it had ideas. It had great ideas. \Dig up the sod, Jack. Dig it up nice and neat and put it on the side for now. They’ll look for her but they won’t find her if you dig up the sod. No one will know, I won’t tell. Dig up the sod.\59

And so I did, I dug up the sod. I dug in that culvert like a hunchback. And Polly watched, with her one eye she watched. Making a bed for you, Polly dear. You can sleep and I can marry Jessie and no one needs to know. \No one will know.\60

So I dug the hole, right in that culvert. Nobody would find her in there. 61

I drug Polly’s body into the hole and looked at her one last time. I shouldn’t have. Her face had begun to take on the pale luster of a dead body, and I was smart enough to know that it wasn’t the moon reflecting off her skin. And her eye, that *eye!* It looked up at me with ferocity of the kind I have never witnessed. I knew she was dead, of course she was dead I killed her, I shot her but her eye still stared at me. It followed me, watched each shovel-full of dirt I lifted, she watched everything. Why did I want to look at my dead wife, murdered by my own hands? I shivered. 62

I shoveled the dirt on top of her. I brought her jacket from the car and covered up her face first so that eye couldn’t stare at me any longer. I covered her up, tucking her in with a dirt blanket. I moved the sod back on top of the filled-in hole, stomping it into place with my boots. \Nighty-night darling.\63

It was done. Polly was dead. Jessie would never know. I was free. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, my fingers picking off a white piece of dirt…but it wasn’t dirt.64

For Jessie, I thought, for Jessie…65