Impossible.
There was a long moment of silence, and I realized I’d missed hearing something Simon had said.
“What?”
“It just…The timing feels awfully suspicious, don’t you think?”
“Timing?” I repeated.
“I mean…it happened shortly after their wagon was vandalized.”
The missing piece clinked into place for me. “You think my uncle burned down the schoolhouse? That’s preposterous!”
“Is it? After his oxen were slaughtered?”
“What does that have to do with the school?” I felt as though I was in a hazy nightmare. I could understand individual words, but when they were strung together, nothing seemed to make sense.
“Alice Fowler teaches there.” Rebecca let out an exasperated sigh, taking in my blank face. “The Fowlers wanted revenge for their chickens.”
I blinked, struggling to put together the logic. “So you think Ezra and Thomas were responsible for the chicken massacre and burning the school? They don’t even know the Fowlers. None of this adds up.”
Rebecca and Simon glanced at one another, considering my statement.
“I know who killed all those chickens,” Sadie said. I’d nearly forgotten she was standing beside me. “Abigail told me.”
“Abigail?” Rebecca repeated. “Abigail who?”
“Not now, Sadie,” I hissed through my teeth.
“Who’s Abigail?” Rebecca pressed.
“My friend—”
“Her imaginary friend,” I corrected Sadie, overriding her. “She’s not real.”
“She is too!” Sadie screeched. “She’s just as real as you or me. Stop saying she’s not real!” And with that, she tore out of the room.
“I’m sorry about that,” I tried, knowing I needed to fill the silence. “It’s a phase she’s going through and—”
“You know what the good Lord says about false idols,” Simon said, falling into a poor imitation of his father.
“No, Simon, I don’t,” I said testily. “Remind me.”
“He said…he said you shouldn’t have any,” he sputtered, quickly losing the steam of his conviction.
Rebecca’s eyes fluttered shut, and she took a deep steadying breath before daring to look at me. “Are you going to send them away?”
“Of course not.”
“They’re arsonists.”
“There’s no proof against them. I would have thought that you of all people would need proof of guilt.”
Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth. “You’re being stubborn, Ellerie. You’ve always been stubborn.”
“And you’re letting gossip and speculation sway your reason, Rebecca. You say the fire took place Wednesday? When?”
Her eyes darted to Simon. “Clemency said the commotion woke him around midnight….”
“Then it couldn’t have been Ezra who set it,” I said triumphantly. “Both he and Thomas stayed up late that evening, to see in the New Year.”
Relief flooded through me as the full understanding of my words hit home.
I couldn’t have been sleepwalking into town, seeing strange women and setting fires at midnight. I’d been awake then too, wearing a silly paper crown Sadie had made.
A coincidence.
Nothing more.
Her nostrils flared. “I don’t suppose anyone else could corroborate your story?”
“Merry and Sadie, of course.”
“Not Sam?”
It slipped from her, softer than she’d intended, and her face quickly hardened into an unreadable mask.
“Samuel Downing is at Abrams’s now, working at the ranch,” Simon supplied, blissfully unaware of his wife’s slip. “I thought I’d told you that.”
Wordlessly she shook her head.
Sam at Judd Abrams’s. I couldn’t imagine him as a ranch hand but stored away the information to deal with later.
“All the more reason why I’m uncomfortable with those men staying here, Ellerie,” Simon continued, turning back to me. “You and your sisters are all alone. What if something…untoward should happen?”
“I appreciate your concern, Simon. Both of your concerns,” I added, casting a look toward Rebecca. She didn’t meet my gaze. “But Ezra and Thomas are both fine men—they’ve been helping with quite a lot of work around the farm, and, as I’ve now clarified, they couldn’t have had anything to do with the fire. I’m terribly sorry it happened, it’s an awful tragedy, but they didn’t set it.”
“Well…” Simon seemed at a loss for how to continue. “I suppose we ought to be on our way, then. Good Blessings.”
“Rebecca, would you like to stay for a bit?” I said, keeping my voice low with hope. “We dyed a few skeins of yarn from the Schäfers’ flock yesterday—I’d love to show it to you.”
I could see exactly how it would play out. Simon would kiss her goodbye and promise to return with a sled so she wouldn’t face the cold walk home alone. There would be an awkward moment of silence before we both tripped over ourselves to apologize at the same time. I’d show her the yarn—it wasn’t just a ruse to get Simon to leave—and we’d spend the afternoon knitting tiny hats and blanket squares and laughing, our friendship solidified once more.
But when her eyes met mine, they were as fierce as a rattlesnake before the strike. “No.” Simon glanced at her curiously, and she added, “Thank you.” She pulled her cloak about her, preparing to leave. She paused at the door, fingers tracing down the wood grain. “Actually, Simon, could you ready the horses and give us a moment? I won’t be long.”
He nodded and ducked out. Rebecca kept her back to me, looking out the window.
“I could make some tea if you’d like—”
“Stop it, Ellerie. Just stop.”
“I only—”
She spun around, eyes flashing and cheeks heated. “You only what? What could you possibly want from me?”
“Could…could we talk?” I asked, treading cautiously.
“Talk? As though we’re friends?”
Staring down her sudden rage made my insides squirm.