He sniffed. “So he says.”
“Why should you care, anyway?” It was like pressing at a loose tooth, gently pushing and prodding to see how much give it had before it finally broke free. No good would come of it, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“Just don’t like it. He shouldn’t be nosing into things that don’t concern him. He’s not a part of the town. He didn’t know those men.” I must have made a noise he didn’t care for. “What? State your piece, Ellerie. I can see you’ve got something all worked up in your mind. Just spit it out.”
“It just…I don’t understand why it bothers you so much—him being near the campsite….Is there something there you didn’t want him to see?”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning what?”
I ran my fingers over the tabletop, glancing into the kitchen to see if our sisters were listening in. Merry stood beside Sadie, showing her how to get the thinnest slices from the ginger root. “I don’t know. You’re just acting as though you’ve something to hide.”
“Something to hide? Like what?”
“What really happened, Sam? How did you get away from those creatures, all on your own? I don’t…I don’t see how you escaped. Without protection. Without even your knife.”
He blinked in surprise. “I told you what happened.”
“You did. Mostly.”
“Mostly?” Sam bristled. “What else do you want to hear? Do you want to know what it sounded like when Joseph Abernathy’s chest ripped open? The color of his innards? The way he screamed for his mother?”
I turned away, wincing as the images flooded my mind. “No! Of course not.”
“Then what, Ellerie? What do you want to know?” He leaned over the table.
“Only…”
“What?”
I squirmed. “It’s terrible.”
“Tell me,” he growled.
“If the attack was that devastating, that fast and awful—how are you here right now? You didn’t have a gun. You didn’t have arrows. You didn’t even have your pocketknife. So how are you alive right now?”
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“I’m so glad you are…obviously…but it just doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“I ran,” he admitted quietly. “It was a cowardly thing to do, but I ran.”
“How could you outrun those wolves? You said how fast they were. How there were so many of them.”
A flicker of irritation lit his face. “Why aren’t you believing me? What did he say?” Sam asked, his voice turning dark and sharp. “What else did Whitaker tell you?”
“He said…” I squirmed in my seat. “He said it was an absolute massacre. A bloodbath. No one could have survived it. But…”
“What?” he demanded.
“He didn’t see any traces of animals at the site.”
Sam’s mouth fell open. “What? That’s absurd. What else could have…” He trailed off, putting the pieces together. “He thinks I…?”
“He didn’t say that! He doesn’t think that at all!” I raced to amend.
“Then who does he think did it?”
I shrugged helplessly.
“Answer me!” Sam struck the table with startling force.
“Is everything all right?” Merry asked, peeking in from the doorway.
“Go upstairs,” Sam ordered. “Both of you!”
Merry’s face clouded with confusion. “But what about—”
“Now!” Sam snapped.
We listened to their footsteps shuffle up the staircase, then linger on the landing.
“Shut the door too!”
“Sam,” I tried.
“You think I murdered those men?” He leaned over the table, glaring daggers into my eyes.
“No, of course not! I—”
“But he does! He told you I did!”
“He didn’t say that. He said he didn’t see any evidence of wolves—of the creatures you saw.”
“The creatures that were there,” he corrected me.
“Yes.”
“You believe me, don’t you?”
I hesitated, and immediately saw it was the wrong choice to make.
He shoved backward, nearly knocking his chair over. “I can’t believe you, Ellerie. I can’t…” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I can’t be here. Not right now. Not anymore.”
“Sam—”
“Save it.” He sprung into motion, racing to Mama and Papa’s bedroom and slamming the door shut. I heard motion inside, drawers yanked open, things tossed about, but I didn’t dare approach. He’d come out when he was ready, when he’d cooled off, spouting contrition.
I was exhausted just picturing it.
My sisters’ uneaten oatcakes were growing cold on their plates. I pushed myself from the table and took quiet treads toward the staircase. But before I could call them back down, the bedroom door whipped open and Sam stepped out, a rucksack slung over his shoulder.
His eyes fell on me without recognition, and then he looked away. He stalked into the kitchen, and I heard him rummage about the shelves.
At the top of the stairs, Merry peeked around the corner, scouting to see if it was safe to come down. I shook my head at her, and she slipped back into the loft with an audible sigh.
I heard the porch door open and swing shut, then silence.
I paused, listening closely.
Was he still in the house?
When I dared to check the kitchen, I spotted him through the window, his form dark against the new snow.
He’d left.
Again.
A flicker of irritation kindled within me, and I was out the door in a matter of heartbeats, throwing my wool cloak over my shoulders.
“Sam!” My voice echoed strangely off the falling snow.
Thick flakes danced down from the clouds, heavy and wet. We’d have another two feet on the ground before twilight fell. Only an absolute fool would try to travel in such weather.
Only Sam.
“Go back home, Ellerie,” he ordered.