“What’s wrong with the meat?” Orin asked. The crowd had fallen into a still hush as Martha had spoken, and his question sounded as loud as a gunshot.
Her face wrinkled into a grimace. “It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.”
“Were there more of them?” someone in the group called out.
“Just this one,” Pryor McNally said, circling the body. “We ought to keep the head at least. Won’t that be something, hung above the mantel?”
“Something indeed,” Martha agreed, though her words did not match the look on her face. “Do as you wish; you young people always do.”
With a shake of her head, she toddled out toward the main road, then disappeared around the corner, no doubt taking the news back to the general store. The Elders would be here soon. Before I turned my attention back to the creature, I spotted Samuel near the entrance to the yard.
He’d strayed away from the group and was speaking with Rebecca, half-hidden in the shadows of the portico. Her fingers twisted through his, and smiles played on both their lips as they whispered to one another. Though their secrecy had initially stung, seeing them so happy together warmed my heart, healing its wounds.
It would be a busy autumn, planning a wedding, helping them settle into their new life together. Would they build a farmhouse of their own, or remain with us? I pictured Rebecca and me sitting beside the hearth as snow fell, knitting tiny hats and socks, quilting small, cozy blankets. I imagined them pink. Sam would undoubtedly want a son first, but I hoped it was a girl. A little girl with blond hair and stormy gray eyes.
But something was wrong. Sam’s face slowly fell, turning ashen as his smile faded. He shook his head once, a sharp dismissal before stepping away from her.
“No,” he said, his voice traveling on the breeze. “You’re wrong.”
Rebecca tried to take his hands, but he jerked them to his chest, darting to the side to avoid her. His head shook again, once, twice, three times, as he was backing up, backing away, backing as far from Rebecca as he could get.
Rebecca trailed after him, unable to see that she was only making it worse.
Accusations, hissed too softly to draw the crowd’s attention from the stag, were hurled back and forth until Rebecca reached out and grabbed Samuel to her. Her fingers softened, running down his shoulders, holding him in place. For a moment, I thought she was going to kiss him, ending the fight, ending the misunderstanding, and all would be forgiven.
Instead she served him a hard slap across the face and stalked off without a backward glance.
“Rule Number Five: Let from your lips no false words pour, damning characters evermore.”
“We need to talk,” I said, lingering in the open doorway of the barn as Samuel unharnessed the horses.
“About what?” he grunted, hoisting Luna’s bridle over her ears.
He hadn’t said a word the whole ride home, sitting in the back of the wagon and rubbing at his cheek as though Rebecca’s handprint still stung. Sadie had chattered about all the gossip she’d overheard at the sewing circle, drowning out any chance of a conversation. No one else seemed to realize anything was wrong with Sam.
I glanced toward the house. Mama and Merry were in the kitchen, and Sadie was out on the side porch, sweeping circles of dust about her skirts and laughing. Papa had been quiet as he’d ferried us home, and then had said he needed an afternoon walk to clear his mind. For the moment, it seemed Sam and I were alone.
“I saw you and Rebecca fighting,” I started, twisting the corner of my apron around my finger.
He froze, his back tense as he waited for more.
“I…I know what it was about,” I ventured.
He snorted. “I really doubt that, little sister.”
I crossed in, splitting the distance between us. “Rebecca told me everything…about the baby…about everything.”
He shifted into motion once more, placing the harnesses on a stack of hay bales. The tack would need to be cleaned and oiled later. “She tell you who the real father is? Because it’s certainly not me.”
I gasped. “Of course it is! She loves you—”
Samuel led the horses to their stalls for a rubdown. “She loves a lot of boys in town. I was the only one stupid enough to love her back.”
My mouth fell open in surprise. “That’s not true!”
“Not what I heard. Not what a lot of people have heard.”
“People? What people?”
He pushed back a lock of hair. “I was at Buhrman’s earlier. Winthrop Mullins said he saw her down by the creek with that Pursimon boy.” He snorted in disgust. “He’s not even in Merry’s grade.”
“Then it couldn’t have been whatever Winthrop thought it was. He was probably just teasing you or—”
“It wasn’t just Winthrop. Even that new trapper was going on about it,” he snarled.
Had Price been at the tavern today? He’d been running into everyone in the Falls. My heart twanged, uncomfortably concerned I’d missed seeing him, but I pushed back those thoughts. “The boy I saw down by the creek?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Him or one of his friends. He was dressed funny—he had this fancy black hat like he was on his way to the opera, but buckskin breeches and hair down his back.”
Not Price, then. Someone else from his camp.
“He said he was setting traps along the north ridge and came across a couple in the woods. It was Rebecca and Simon Briard. The parson’s son! And judging by the state of their clothes, they hadn’t been praying.”
I remembered Rebecca’s face from earlier that morning, flushed with love for my brother. “I know that’s not true!”
“Oh yes, you know so very much, Ellerie. I’ve been sneaking around with her all summer, and you just bothered to figure it out. Forgive me if I don’t have much faith in your skills of deduction.” He slapped Zenith’s rump, trying to get the stalled horse moving again.
I stepped back to let him work, giving him space and a moment to cool his temper.
“What will you do, then?” I asked when the silence had drawn long.
“Do? Do about what? It’s not mine. I’m going to forget I ever had anything to do with her and move on.” He slammed the half door shut, punctuating his thought.
“They need to be rubbed down,” I reminded him.
His face was splotchy with anger. “Why don’t you do it, then? Since you’re so full of ideas about what others ought to be doing.”