“Of course we will,” I said, skirting over the mention of her imaginary friend. My mind raced with how to come up with an approximation of what Mama would do. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Fowler,” I said, drawing my attention back to the large rancher filling our doorway. “You’ve caught us a bit off guard. Please, come in. Would you like some tea?”
He shuffled his feet before stepping inside. “I can’t stay. Need to get back to Alice before supper. Just wanted to deliver this.” He held out the parcel again.
I peeked beneath the wrapping. “A chicken!”
We’d not had chicken on our plates in weeks. Once the Elders had declared there would be no further attempts for supplies, Merry and I had drawn up a list of every bit of food in our possession and created a rationing plan. We’d decided it was more prudent to keep the laying hens alive, however much grain they might eat themselves.
He wordlessly pushed the plucked bird into my hands.
“This is far too generous….I’m afraid we don’t have anything to offer in return.”
“Not asking for anything….We decided—in light of the holiday and all—we ought to share our…abundance.” His eyes shifted away, not meeting mine.
“Is everything all right, Mr. Fowler?” He looked ashen and miserable.
“We’re fine,” he started. Then he pressed his hands together, nearly squirming. “There…there was a bit of an incident at the ranch. Alice went out for eggs this morning and, well…all the chickens had been slaughtered.”
“Slaughtered,” Sadie said, pressing herself against my side with rapt attention.
“Every last one of them.”
I tried to not envision the massacre but couldn’t help but imagine it, the yard festooned with bursts of white feathers and sprays of arterial red. “The coop is near the forest edge, isn’t it?” I’d been to the ranch once before. “Do you think the creatures came through the Bells?”
Sadie’s fingers dug into my thigh, pressing hard enough to leave bruises.
Gran Fowler shook his head. “Wasn’t the creatures.”
“How do you know?” Merry asked, her voice hushed with horror.
“Whoever did it left behind a message of sorts.” He swallowed once and ran his fingers through his hair as if casting back the memory. “A picture, really. Drawn out on the side of the chicken coop with…with all the blood.”
I leaned in. “What was it?”
He looked up, directly meeting my gaze for the first time that afternoon. “An eye. A big watching eye.”
My mouth fell open. Once my mind had added the gruesome detail to my imagining, I couldn’t unsee it. Even when I blinked, it remained, imprinted upon my eyelids, shocking and ghastly.
He scratched at his beard with a helpless shrug. “We alerted the Elders, but it’s not as though they can truly do anything. Alice suggested we share the birds before they started to turn. She…she wanted to make sure you all got one. We know what a difficulty it must be, not having your ma and pa around.”
“That’s very kind of you—”
“Best be on my way. Don’t want to be traveling after dark.” He paused before stepping off the porch. “Merry Christmas to you all.”
“Merry Christmas,” we repeated perfunctorily. Our voices held no cheer.
“That’ll need to go into the ice chest,” Merry said, scooping the parcel from me after I shut the door.
Buttons raced into the room, knocking my sewing project off the settee. It landed perilously close to the fireplace.
“Get that cat out of here,” I said, scooping up the dress. Sadie chased after him, and the two bounded up the stairs to the loft.
“Was that Gran Fowler I saw riding off?” Sam asked, coming in. He’d been out in the supply shed, refilling the oil lanterns.
“He came by to give us a chicken for Christmas.”
Sam blinked with surprise. He too had forgotten the approaching holiday.
“Apparently someone slaughtered their entire coop last night.” I folded up my dress, keeping the needle and thread safely stored away within its tucks. I’d have to work on it later that evening. Supper needed starting.
Sam’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who would do such a horrible thing?”
“No one knows.”
“Bet it was Judd Abrams,” Sam said, trailing after me into the kitchen. “Gran borrowed his auger a few weeks back—he was installing some new posts along one of his property lines—and Judd said he returned it with a broken bit. Cracked the point entirely in half but didn’t say anything. No apologies, nothing.”
A piece of broken farming equipment hardly seemed reason to murder an entire coop of chickens, but I didn’t say so.
“Christmas is in two days,” Sadie announced, bursting back into the kitchen. “Two days! We almost missed it!”
“We wouldn’t have forgotten Christmas,” I said, grabbing the cast-iron skillet from the hook on the wall. I drummed my fingers along the edge of the worktable, willing inspiration to come to me, but I couldn’t think of anything but fried chicken.
“We might have,” Samuel told her with a wink.
“What should we make for dinner?” I raised my voice over Sadie’s cry of outrage.
Samuel let out a snort. “Why ask? You know it’s just going to be beans and corn bread again.”
“It’s all we’ve had for weeks,” Sadie agreed. “And you don’t even put the bacon or onions in it like Mama does.”
“We don’t have any bacon,” I reminded her, releasing a sigh. Our meals had grown staggeringly stale. “Why don’t we do something special for Christmas? A big family dinner, just like Mama would make.” I paused, guilt tugging at me. There was more family in the Falls this year than we were accustomed to. “We could invite Ezra and Thomas. We’ll roast the chicken and fry up some of the potatoes.”
“That would be lovely,” Merry said, coming in from the cold and rubbing her arms. “I’m sure they’re sick of Violet Buhrman’s cooking by now. And there are still a couple of apples in the back bin.”
“And cinnamon!” I added. “I’ll bake them, and we’ll have a real feast.”
Sam’s lips twisted. “I suppose I could ride out tomorrow afternoon and invite them.”
“We’ll need a tree!” Sadie exclaimed. “Papa always got a big tree for the sitting room. We could do that, right? Trees aren’t being rationed.”