Page 14 of Red in Tooth and Claw

I was in a foul mood by the time people filtered out of the chapel and we all headed to break our fast.

I ducked into the boys’ bunkhouse to wash my hands and took a moment to wipe a cool cloth against my face. If I walked into the dining hall angry, people would notice. HisBen would get all kinds of smug, feeling like he’d pulled one over on me. I couldn’t stomach it.

When I sat down at the table and tucked into my food, I was placid as a pond with no ducks, at least on the outside. On the inside, well, it was all frothy white rapids.

“I can’t believe you found a body,” Dai Lo said, shoving her spoon forcefully into her oats. From the downward curve of her mouth and furrowed brow, she looked more indignant than upset.

“I’m sorry?” I ladled a generous dollop of honey onto my oats and took a second helping of toast.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “I wonder if I could think of an excuse.”

“For what?” I mumbled.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Dai Lo chastened.

I shrugged. “Then don’t try to talk to me during breakfast.”

Jesse chuckled into his coffee.

She shook her head. “You’re like a locust.”

Now it was my turn to be indignant. “I’m hungry!”

Jesse refilled my coffee from the pitcher at the table. “Don’t get between a growing boy and his meal. That’s what my ma always said.”

I felt a great welling of affection for Jesse then, for not slipping up, even in conversation, about me.

Dai Lo made a scoffing noise. “Girls grow, too. We get just as hungry. That doesn’t mean we attack our plates like rabid wolverines.”

Jesse laughed again, nudging me with his elbow. “Don’t mind her. She’s just mad she didn’t get to see the body. Dai Lo wants to train as a healer.”

She turned her glare to her toast. “Getting to see a body is a form of study. How else am I supposed to learn? It’s not ghoulish. It’s science.”

I mopped up my oatmeal with my toast. “I’m all for science.” Besides, I owed Dai Lo. Not just for keeping my secret, but because she helped me when I was in the Box, even though she could have gotten in trouble for it. A person who sticks their neck out for you was the kind of person you should take pains to keep around. I also liked Dai Lo. She didn’t waste time bellyaching if she could do something instead.

“I’m building the coffin.” My stomach was finally full, so I sipped my coffee, luxuriating in the warmth. My hands were still rough, though they’d been healing much faster due to Dai Lo’s and Will’s care.

“I can volunteer to help, I think.” Jesse propped his elbows on the table, the steam from his coffee temporarily fogging up his spectacles. “I’m sure I can talk them into it. Tell them I need to be humbler or something.”

He took off his spectacles so he could wipe the lenses with a handkerchief. His eyes were all for Dai Lo, and for once, they were speculative. Usually when Jesse looked at her, it was with his whole heart. They were the kind of couple that were made from one piece, you could tell; they fit so neat together. “It’s going to be harder to figure out a way to get you in. You know how they are with this stuff.”

Dai Lo sighed. “Ah yes. The ‘a woman’s place’ argument.”

I’d been drinking when she said it, unfortunately, and I snorted some of my coffee and ended up choking. Jesse had to smack my back a few times, which, in my opinion, only makes it worse, but people like to feel like they’re helping.

“Can you offer to help prep the body?” I asked. Cartwright would need to be washed, and I doubted the Settlement would leave him in his rags. They wouldn’t want such a presentation for their almighty.

Dai Lo shook her head. “Only elders allowed.” She filled up my coffee for me, to save my hands extra movements. They might be feeling better, but they weren’t fully healed. Finishing Cartwright’s coffin was going to be a treat.

“Maybe…” Jesse frowned, slipping his glasses back into place. “What if you offered to embroider a shroud or something? A project the youngins could do with you.”

Dai Lo thought this over, her mouth pursed. She shook her head. “Shrouds don’t need specific measurements or anything. There wouldn’t be a reason to get me in there.” Her shoulders slumped. “There’s no chance. I can’t think of anything that will let me look at him for more than a few seconds, if at all.”

The room filled with clatter as everyone started to get up and put their dishes away. I laid my hand on Dai Lo’s wrist. “I’ll think of a plan. I promise.” I felt I owed her something, and though I couldn’t much fathom it, this was what she wanted. I only needed to figure out how.

She watched me for a heartbeat, then nodded. Promise accepted. Now I just had to not break it.

Jesse was allowed to assist when I needed someone to hold a board, but it was made clear that the actual construction was to be on me. Which stymied Jesse for a minute. But only a minute.

How did he talk them into it? He told them he’d do his best to create a sketch of what Cartwright had looked like based on his remains and what I could remember from my travels to the Settlement. They could share it with the traders who came through and find Cartwright’s people. Jesse would sketch while I took new measurements—I claimed that I’d lost the slip with the ones from this morning—and then we would be escorted to the yard to do the actual building.

They wanted to keep an eye on me, I reckoned.

I’d dallied while I took the measurements, allowing Jesse time to document not just what was left of Cartwright’s face but his body and wounds as best he could. That way, if I failed to get Dai Lo in, at least she had something. But even with all my dallying, we couldn’t stay in the cellar forever.

Once we were back outside, I got to marking the wood with a stubby pencil, measuring twice before I even thought about sawing into the planking. Jesse took a seat on the grass to the side, resting his ankle, while I measured planks to cut. As far as I was concerned, it was no different than building a crate, and I’d done that before.

This was just a crate for a person instead of, say, apples.

A dead person.

I shuddered.

I didn’t want to think about it anymore, deciding talking to Jesse would get my mind off it a bit. “Why’s there a lock on the cellar, anyway?” I readjusted my hat to block out the sun a mite more. The weather was definitely shifting into spring.

“We have visitors often enough, and a lot of supplies are stored there.”

I looked at him. “Who’s going to steal a turnip? Let alone enough turnips to justify a lock?”

“Someone that’s very hungry.” He didn’t even glance up from his sketch. He was adding in details from memory.

“Who all has the key, then?” I marked the last plank with my stub of a pencil. “Or who has access to it, besides Miss Moon?”

“The cook, Miss Lita.” He paused, thoughtful. “HisBen, of course. He has a key to everything.”

“And they keep the keys on them?”

Jesse stopped sketching. “You’re not thinking of stealing a key ring. Did you enjoy the Penitent Box?”

“Not stealing,” I said, placing the first plank up onto the two sawhorses I’d dragged into the yard. “Borrowing.” I was good at borrowing. If only Miss Lita hadn’t locked the cellar door behind us this last time.

He snorted. “You can call it whatever. The result would be the same.” He shook his head. “I can’t see any of them leaving their keys about where you can grab them. They all take them back to their rooms at night, I reckon.”

I went to work sawing at the wood. Sometimes if you got your hands busy, it left your mind alone to work out something thorny. I was halfway through the fifth plank when it hit me. “I’ve been coming at this all wrong. We’re making it too complicated.” I smiled at Jesse. “I don’t suppose you’ve gotten any better at spinning tales?”

Jesse just looked at me.

“Fine, fine—let me do the talking, then, and do exactly as I say.”

Jesse didn’t seem particularly comfortable with that, but he didn’t argue, either.

I found Miss Moon taking inventory in one of the small storage sheds.

“You wrote the measurements down wrong?” she asked.

I held my hat in my hands and did my wretched best at looking mournful. She frowned at me, one hand suspended over the beeswax candles she’d been counting for inventory. “First you lost them; now you wrote them down wrong?”

“I’m not sure? They don’t look quite right.” I screwed my face up. “I’ve never had to measure someone…like that.” Which was a bit of a truth. I’d never had to measure someone mauled to bits. “My hand got a little shaky, and I can’t tell if two of the numbers are threes or eights.”

I turned big eyes on her then, like a scared pup. “I’d never used a measuring tape before. If I don’t get this right, I might be back in the Box…” I will admit that I was both laying it on a little thick and putting a lot of weight on my assessment that Miss Moon didn’t agree with the Penitent Box as a good punishment. It helped that I truly was afraid of going back in there.

She hesitated, her hand still hovering by the candles. I twisted my hands around my hat brim, drawing her attention to their sad and sorry state. I wanted to remind her of the reality of the Box. People had a way of putting unpleasant things out of their thoughts.

The corners of her mouth curved in sympathy, pulling at the network of scars there. Miss Moon was a plain woman, in some respects, but I suspected she was a good one, despite the Settlement. I preferred good to pretty any day.

She tucked her notebook into her apron and fetched out her key ring. “I can give you five minutes to check your numbers. That’s it.”

I grinned at her and placed my hat back onto my head. “That’s all I need.”

I made a production out of rechecking with the fancy measuring tape the Settlement had. The small, flat disc contained a strip with measured increments on it that I could stretch out and see exactly what length I’d need to cut the wood so I could build properly. Pops and I had eyed a similar one to this at the local mercantile, but it had been out of our budget range. The one at the mercantile was seventeen dollars, and it wasn’t half as nice as this one. That one didn’t even have any numbers on it. The little disc in my hand was almost two months’ wages for most folk.

My work ostensibly done, we went to leave the cellar. Miss Moon had her keys out again, ready to lock the turnips and Cartwright up tight, when Jesse hustled into the entryway.

“Miss Moon?” His voice held a thread of concern, which caused her to immediately turn to him.

“Jesse?”

“I’m not sure how, ma’am, but a few of the goats got loose. I’m usually good at wrangling them, but what with my ankle…”

Her eyes widened. “Goodness!” She hitched up her skirts, the lock forgotten. “Show me at once.”

“I’ll help,” I offered, hurrying them along. “No time to lose!” I didn’t want her remembering to lock the door. “Goats can cause all kinds of trouble.”

That wasn’t even a fib. Goats could cause a heap of trouble.

We spilled out into the yard, and indeed, a few goats were loose. Actually, three goats were loose, including Gertie. Miss Moon took off, clucking at the big-bellied brown-and-white one.

I clapped my hat onto my head. “I thought you made the goat thing up.”

The big gray was already going for the hanging laundry. Gertie had her head through the slats surrounding the kitchen garden, attempting to nibble at the small shoots already popping up. The big-bellied goat seemed content to annoy the chickens.

Jesse shook his head. “You wanted a proper distraction to keep her from worrying about the doors. Well, the goats qualify, since they occasionally get out on their own. So no one would think it odd.”

“Jesse, you’re brilliant.”

He gave a wide smile that made me laugh.

Now we just had to hope that nobody else needed the cellar today and that door was left unlocked.

It took us a good half hour to round the goats up and return them to their pen. At which point Miss Moon went back to her inventory, and I went back to cutting wood. I was grateful that Dillard didn’t want me to make a traditional coffin—those are six-sided and more difficult than what I was doing. A basic box was quicker. I might have felt bad about it if Cartwright hadn’t spit at the ground in front of me last time I saw him. As far as I was concerned, he was lucky to be getting the box.

I put my back into it and got the basic build done by supper. I’d need to sand it down and make sure the construction was neat and tidy in the morning. It may only be a box that was going into the ground, but it needed to meet Dillard’s standards, or I would find myself in a very different box.

Supper came and went, followed by the usual evening rituals. The youngins in my cabin needed help with their baths, so I was tasked with hauling and heating water, as well as aiding some of the smaller ones, making sure they scrubbed behind their ears. I cleaned myself up behind the curtain, pleased that the older youths were allowed a smidgen of privacy.

Amos’s bunk remained blessedly empty, for which I was grateful.

The gunslinger read to us from a dog-eared paperback. Some wild adventure tale about battling giant snow beasts up north. The tales were supposed to be true, but I’d never seen anything so fantastical in my life. I bit my tongue, though, because the little ones loved the story. Didn’t see the harm in letting them believe that such things still roamed the land. Maybe it would make them grow up cautious, and there were plenty of things out there that could snap them up in one bite.

Just ask Cartwright.

It was difficult to stay awake when everyone else started dozing off. So difficult, in fact, that I didn’t manage it at all. I was deep in a dream about a cave in the forest when a hand covered my mouth.

My eyes flew open. Jesse’s face hovered over me in the dim light of the stars coming in through the window. As soon as I relaxed, he removed his hand. I slipped silently out of bed, grabbed my boots, and followed him to the door. We didn’t make much sound, but anything we did was likely covered by Will’s snores.

As soon as we were outside, we took a second to put on our boots. We didn’t lace them. Didn’t want to be caught out in the open, so that would have to wait. We sneaked across the frosted grass, moving carefully until we were outside the kitchen door. When we got close enough, Dai Lo detached herself from the shadows, her face alight.

I snorted softly. “I’m surprised you waited.” She was that excited.

She pinched me. “I said I would. I don’t break my oaths so cavalierly.”

“Never said you did,” I mumbled. We crept into the kitchen until we were in front of the cellar door. Hoping that Miss Moon hadn’t come back after the fact, I grabbed the handle and depressed the lever. We all breathed a sigh of relief when the door opened with only a faint squeak. I ushered them in and, with a final glance around, followed them, closing the door behind me.

We were instantly cocooned in darkness. I felt my way down the stairs, the air growing noticeably colder as I descended, the smell of earth, vegetables, and the faint hint of decay teasing my nostrils. A soft click followed by a spark let me see the outlines of shelves, jars, and barrels. Jesse stood below me, using a beat-up metal lighter to light a candle that Dai Lo had brought with her in the pocket of her nightgown.

The candle lit, the room grew slightly more into focus. It didn’t give off much light on its own, but we didn’t dare more.

Jesse flicked his lighter shut and stored it before shouldering out of his jacket. “You’re going to freeze to death.”

Dai Lo stuck the candle into a small tin holder with a loop for her finger that she grabbed from one of the cellar shelves. “I’m fine. It will get in the way, and I didn’t want to make extra noise by getting my coat. Miss Moon has the ears of a bat.” She moved toward the table where Cartwright was laid out, paused, then swung around to go up on her tiptoes and kiss Jesse on the cheek. “But thank you.”

He put his jacket back on but didn’t like it. He wanted to care for her, which was sweet, but to my eyes, it was far sweeter still that he included listening to what she wanted as part of that care. Some folks will do what they think is right by you, no matter that you’re hollerin’ that it’s not. Dai Lo knew her mind, spoke it, and Jesse listened.

For a faint, fragile moment, I was jealous. I snapped that moment clean in two. Wouldn’t do me no good, thinking that way. Maybe I didn’t have what they had, and that dug in my craw, but I was sure glad that Jesse and Dai Lo did .

Dai Lo pulled back the sheet covering Cartwright and raised the candle above, taking him in with focused attention. I’d already seen the show, so I got myself comfortable as I took in the long, low room around us. As I looked around, I realized the room was in itself a sort of coffin. Only a thin layer of wood between us and packed earth.

Only a thin layer between us and the worms.

A shiver worked its way up my spine, and I hoped Dai Lo hurried up. We couldn’t spend the night in here. By my guess, we’d already been down here twenty minutes.

Another ten or so passed, with Dai Lo using a pencil to push Cartwright’s tattered clothing to the side so she could examine his wounds. They were making her frown. She dug a small strip of wood out of her pocket, unfolding it into a neat little ruler. As she was rattling off the measurements to Jesse, who was in turn recording them in his sketchbook, I thought I heard a sound.

Nothing loud. Just the hint of movement.

I held up my hand, grabbing Jesse’s attention. He touched Dai Lo’s shoulder, and we froze for several long moments. I was starting to think I’d conjured the sound when I heard a floorboard above my head creak. Someone was in the kitchen.

I stared at my compatriots. We couldn’t go up the stairs, and if they decided they wanted into the cellar, we had about a second before someone joined us.

Dai Lo jerked the sheet back into place and snuffed out the candle.