Prudence handed her a pair. “New trappers, apparently. Wanting to try their hand at Jean Garreau’s territory.”
Letitia sniffed with disapproval. The Briards’ contempt of the Frenchman was well known throughout Amity Falls. He’d never been seen sober, and had strung together phrases so colorful that even hardened ranch hands had blushed.
“Did they say anything else?” I dared to ask.
My cheeks felt as warm as baked apples as thoughts of the stranger who called himself Price danced into my mind. The memories were filtered through a sun-dappled haze as though it had been months, not days, since I’d met him. Logically I knew I probably misremembered the golden hue of his skin, the sootiness of his thick eyelashes, and the sharpness of his wit. I painted him with far more charm than he deserved.
Still, part of me hoped he somehow might have mentioned me.
“They were curious about what game to expect in the forests.”
“There are more things out in those woods than any of us could ever dare imagine,” Charlotte said, tying off her line of stitches.
“Amen,” Letitia said, and we all settled into a moment of reflection.
“Did you hear about Judd Abrams?” Cora Schäfer asked, her voice dropping to a theatrical whisper.
I leaned in closer. “No.”
“Maybe I ought not say anything. It’s terribly gruesome.”
“Just tell the story, Cora. It’s clear you want to,” Prudence said.
The Elder’s wife shrugged. “Three of his horses dropped foals last week.”
Prudence raised a delicate eyebrow, unimpressed. “That story is hardly worth telling once, let alone repeating.”
Cora continued on, unperturbed. “Judd said none of the mares had shown signs of being pregnant before the births, and they’d not been around any of the stallions this season. He’d penned them up in the north field, all the mares and fillies together, see? But stranger yet…” Her voice dipped even lower. “The foals were…wrong.”
A light of interest sparked across Alice’s face. “Wrong how?”
“One of them had eyelids fused shut—”
Charlotte frowned. “That’s a common birth defect. Matthias’s mare had a stillborn like that just last year.”
“It wasn’t stillborn,” Cora said, clearly vexed by the interruptions. “And the eyelids were strange—translucent, Judd said. He could see the foal’s eyes moving around, staring right at him. He said they followed his every movement, absolutely aware he was there.”
I paused, my needle stabbed halfway through the quilt’s batting, as a shudder ran through me.
“What about the other foals?” Prudence asked.
Cora tsked, tying off a knot. “Just terrible.” She took her time searching the sewing basket for another spool of thread, allowing the suspense to build. “The spine on the second one was outside the body, all the vertebrae poking through like quills on a porcupine. When it tried to stand, the bones fractured, shattering into splinters, and it keeled over dead, thank God. And the third was even worse! Judd said—”
Beside me, Bonnie Maddin dropped her section of the quilt and scurried away from the group, pressing fingers over her mouth.
“Perhaps we ought to change the topic, ladies,” Mama suggested with practiced tact. Even she looked slightly green, and I wondered if the topic upset her. I said a swift prayer for the baby within her, that it would grow healthy and strong. “Surely there must be something more pleasant that will pass the time. Letitia, we spotted your zinnias coming in. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen bigger blooms before.”
The conversation shifted, and Mama caught my eye. She nodded toward the door, indicating I should check on Bonnie. Excusing myself, I left the circle and slipped into the kitchen, where the queasy girl had raced.
Rebecca was there, washing teacups at the large basin sink. Her eyes were fixed out the window, watching with amusement as Bonnie threw up all over Letitia Briard’s prized flower beds.
“The parson will have a fit when he sees that,” Rebecca guessed, as Bonnie’s friends raced over to pull her toward the outhouse. When Rebecca turned to see who it was, her face fell. “Ellerie.”
“Rebecca,” I said, echoing her flat tone. An uneasy beat passed between us. “Do…do you need help?”
Her mouth twisted. “I suppose you could dry if you like.”
Minutes passed as we worked alongside one another, the clinks of cups and saucers saying more than we did. Words piled in my throat, half-thought-out sentences and discarded statements cramming in on top of each other until I couldn’t hold them back any longer.
“I’m sorry,” I started, just as Rebecca broke her silence too.
“Forgive me, Ellerie, please.”
There was a pause, hope knitting a tentative bridge between us as we both laughed.
“I never wanted to keep this secret from you,” she said, placing her hand on my forearm.
“It doesn’t matter, Rebecca. I shouldn’t have been upset. It just took me by such surprise. I never—”
“I never—” she agreed, and our words ran out. She returned her attention to the sink, fingers dancing over the soapy bubbles.
“He makes you happy?” I asked, taking a dripping saucer from her and toweling it off.
“He…” Her face brightened with pleasure. “He truly does, Ellerie. I never knew it was possible to feel like this.”
A flicker of envy flared in me, pulsing just behind my sternum, and I did my best to push it back. I didn’t want to begrudge my friend her happiness, but I also didn’t want to imagine her locked in a tender embrace with my brother either. It made me feel…
Alone.
Just weeks before, Rebecca had stayed overnight and we’d whispered secrets and stories up in the hayloft until the wee hours of the morning. I’d been worrying over the autumn to come—it was the first we wouldn’t go off to school with the other children of the Falls. We both had turned eighteen earlier that year and were now considered adults, but the reality of it had yet to sink in. With no suitors of my own and the summer lingering sweetly on, it had seemed as if nothing had truly changed. Rebecca had predicted that once the harvest came in, and the young men in the Falls knew exactly how much they’d have to offer, we’d have beaus lined up for miles.
Her words had been such a comfort then. But how easy it had been for her to say them. She already had a suitor.
There were plenty of boys in town, young men my age whom I’d known all my life, but I’d never once wondered what it would feel like to have their eyes meet mine, heated with happiness, crackling with desire. I’d never pictured walking together down a moonlit lane, stealing kisses behind the schoolhouse. I couldn’t imagine being offered a flower, a ring, a heart.