Page 13 of Red in Tooth and Claw

After dinner that evening I had to help Dai Lo with the youngins. Little Obie had taken a shine to me. From what I could guess, Obie had been rolling in things all day, and now it was my job to try and mop the fella up.

This was fine by me, as it was a mindless task, and I had a lot to think about—namely, where my watch might be. Miss Honeywell had been the one to walk off with my things in the first place, but I couldn’t see why she’d want it. Same with HisBen. He already had a fine timepiece. The only way I could see either of them wanting it was if they knew I’d hidden my land deed inside, which I deemed unlikely.

Davens or Harris could have swiped it, or even other youngins or Amos, but I had to start somewhere. The thing was, most of the adults, like me, were busy. Hands always full of tasks. Miss Honeywell and Stuckley, however—well…beyond churchin’, I never really saw them do much. It didn’t seem to Stuckley’s taste—too plain in ornament for that popinjay. While they both had time to take the watch, I still couldn’t for the life of me figure out why . To them it was just a broken timepiece.

The only time I could sneak into their rooms was during service, which was mandatory unless you were deathly ill. I’d have to trick Miss Moon, and that seemed unlikely…

But I could be given another task by HisBen Dillard.

With Obie clean, I settled the boy on my lap, attempting to read to him from a little handsewn booklet painted by one of the older kids. It was a cute thing about baby animals. Obie liked to trace them with his fingers and make whatever noise they made.

“Baaa, Fway.” Obie still couldn’t say my name properly. “Sheep goes baaaa.”

“Yes,” I said absently, my mind working on my own problems. “The sheep does go baaa.”

“I like sheep. They fluffy and stinky,” Obie said, a note of respect in his voice.

“They sure are,” I said, though I was only half listening. By the time we’d hit the page with the donkey on it, I realized that I already had an excuse.

HisBen had given me a job that needed doing fast. Would building a coffin get me out of services? Only one way to find out.

To get out of a service, I needed to get permission from Stuckley or HisBen Dillard himself. With Obie tucked up onto my hip, I grabbed one of the lanterns from a table and climbed the stairs that led to the adult quarters. Obie quieted, leaning against me as I walked down the silent hallway, swallowing my apprehension. The silence here felt unearthly, like we’d stepped into a less pleasant reality. My lantern cast strange shadows on the wall as I set it on the ground in front of HisBen’s door and rapped a knuckle against the wood politely.

“Sir? It’s Faolan, sir.”

No answer. Obie curled against me, his thumb in his mouth. He didn’t like being upstairs, either.

“Not supposed to go up here, Fway,” he whispered in that overly loud way most youngins managed.

“No,” I said quietly, “you’re not. But you’re with me, so it’s okay, as long as you keep to your best manners, you hear?”

Obie stuck his thumb back into his mouth and nodded. I tried knocking on HisBen’s door again. Where could he be? I realized I rarely saw him in the evenings, and I’d assumed he’d retired to his rooms to work on his sermons or what have you, but if he was here, he was ignoring me. I leaned my ear against the door, straining for sound, but I could only hear Obie’s breathing.

One of the doors opened behind me and I whirled around. Miss Honeywell stood in her doorway backlit by the soft glow of candles. “Mr.Kelly, is there something you need? Or an emergency perhaps?” Her hands were clasped at her waist, her face serene.

I dipped my head. “Good evening, Miss Honeywell. I was looking for His Benevolence, ma’am.”

One eyebrow skated up toward the skies. “Obviously, Mr.Kelly.”

“It’s just—he’d tasked me with making Cartwright’s coffin, ma’am.” I shifted my weight, acting unsure. Miss Honeywell was a bit like HisBen in that, with her, it was best you shoveled it on thick, though what you shoveled changed. HisBen wanted praise and accolades. Miss Honeywell, in my humblest of opinions, craved respect and deference. I treated Miss Honeywell with the kind of respect one gives a rattlesnake. Move quietly and try to avoid it altogether.

“Did you need more instruction, Mr.Kelly?”

I shifted Obie on my hip, and he clutched me more tightly. “Only, I was thinking it was one of those things that should get done sooner rather than later.” No one wanted a corpse in the cold cellar for long.

Her head tilted, a sparkle appearing her eyes. “You’re hoping to skip services tomorrow morning?”

“If that’s okay, ma’am.” I lowered my eyes, letting my uneasiness show. She’d think it was for the task, not because I didn’t want to be there.

Her grin was sly. “I understand. Young man like you needs a little time to himself.” She patted my cheek, and I was careful not to jerk back or wince. I didn’t like her touching me. “Don’t you fret about His Benevolence. I’ll handle Gideon. You just go right to building tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Miss Honeywell,” I said.

She shooed me off. “You’re welcome. Now get.”

I got, moving as fast as I could away from that hallway without actually running.

I crawled from my bunk before dawn broke, when the sky was lighter but night hadn’t quite given up the stage yet. I wanted to get some of the building done before services started so that when everyone came stumbling out of the church, I had something to show them. I picked up my boots, trying to let the others sleep. Amos’s bunk was already empty. It wasn’t like him to get up early.

I peered closer to his bunk, wondering if he’d even gone to sleep. His bed was neatly made, his boots gone. Maybe he was in the Box? Something to worry about later. For now, I would just hope I didn’t run into him skulking about the place.

Tools were kept in the barn, in one of the corners, along with the wood I would be using. A sleepy Gertie bleated at me, and I gave her a quick pat.

I gathered up what I needed to get going—bringing out the sawhorses, planks, and so on, setting them up outside the barn. The day was chilly, but bright and clear. A good day to work on a coffin—if there was such a thing. I was trying hard not to think of Pops. My toes went automatically forward, searching for my bundle of rags, only to remember they weren’t there anymore. I took a steadying breath. Nothing to do but move along.

By the time I was all set up and ready, people were heading into the chapel, Miss Moon herding a few of the younger girls at the rear. I trotted over, my expression solemn. People didn’t like you whistling or smiling when you built a coffin. Gave the wrong impression, I suppose.

“Mr.Kelly,” Miss Moon said. “Are you not joining us today?”

“No, ma’am,” I said, digging my thumbs into my waistband. “I’m getting started on Cartwright’s coffin. Only, I need to take measurements.”

Miss Moon looked torn for a second, frowning at me as she shooed the youngins ahead to the chapel. After a moment’s thought, she handed me her ring of keys, showing me the one I needed. “I don’t think I need to remind you that Miss Lita runs a tight ship in that kitchen and in that cold cellar. People will know exactly who to come to if anything goes missing.”

If anyone else had said this to me, I’d have taken it as an insult. But Miss Moon? I could tell from her expression and her carefully placed words that it was a warning. She didn’t want to see me back in that box, or worse. Miss Moon wasn’t all smiles, like Miss Honeywell or HisBen Dillard. But she was the one living in the girls’ bunkhouse. She was the one wiping youngins’ noses and making sure everyone had what they needed.

Miss Moon, I decided, was a good apple. “Not a single thing will be out of place,” I told her, letting her know that I understood her warning. “I need to get measurements, ma’am, honest.”

Miss Moon nodded, though she still looked a mite worried. I tipped my hat and trotted over to the main building, ducking into the kitchen. I had the keys in my hand, pretending for all the world like I was on my errand, but really, I was listening.

At this point, everyone should have been at the chapel, but there were stragglers, always. Sure enough, I heard rapid footsteps thumping down the stairs, the tread heavy. One of the guards, by my guess. The women would have been lighter, and Stuckley and Dillard were already in the chapel.

Once the front door shut, I palmed the key ring, stopping it from making any sound. Keeping my ears open, I ran as softly as I could across the dining hall and up the stairs. Then I was left with a decision. Miss Honeywell’s room first or Stuckley’s?

Miss Honeywell’s. She’d carried off my clothes, and I didn’t think it would take me that long to search. Wasting no time, I let myself in, searching quickly—in the hope chest, under the bed, careful not to disturb her stuff. I didn’t want Miss Honeywell to know someone had been in here.

I sat back on my heels, frustrated. Nothing. I didn’t entirely buy it. Miss Honeywell seemed the type who delighted in secrets. She would want to have something hidden away, even a silly little thing like penny candy or a letter from a sweetheart. A treat just for her. Which meant I was missing something. I took a few seconds to step along the floor, looking for loose boards. There had to be—

I froze. Footsteps coming my way.

My heart thudded in my chest as I cast my eyes around for possible hiding places. No time. I dove under the bed, even though that was a foolish place to hide. Better than being out in the open. I rolled as far under the frame as I could, holding my breath as my pulse thundered in my ears. The footsteps ran past the door, going into the room across the hall. Stuckley. He must have forgotten something.

I lay under the bed, controlling my breathing. He had no reason to come in here. He had no good reason .

But my heart was still jackrabbiting in my chest.

It was hard to hear over the thunder-skip of my heart in my ears, so it took me a moment to realize that Stuckley had shut his door again and was leaving.

“You forgot your prayer book, Ignatius.” Stuckley said the words in a strange falsetto before making a disgusted noise. “Like the Shining God cares. I swear, that woman…” His bootsteps on the stairs covered up the rest of his grumbling.

I stayed frozen, my eyes wide, my pulse finally slowing.

It took me a few seconds to realize I was staring at a handful of papers tucked into the mattress. They looked like they were torn from a notebook. Symbols covered the paper—strange and peculiar-looking. They gave me an odd, shivery feeling in my innards. The longer I stared at them, the more uncomfortable I felt.

I wish I knew what they meant.

But they weren’t Pops’s watch, and time was wasting. I rolled out from under her bed, leaving the strange scribblings behind.

I’d been away from my post too long—I could feel it—but I couldn’t abandon my search now. Stuckley’s room was right there . I blew out a breath and flicked through the keys, trying them one by one. There were at least a dozen keys on Miss Moon’s ring.

And not a single one of them fit.

I frowned at Stuckley’s door. What was he hiding in there?

Whatever it was, I wouldn’t find out today. My time had run out. I stuffed the keys into my pocket, my hand on them to keep them from jingling as I crept down the steps and headed down into the cold cellar to get Cartwright’s measurements.