‘I don’t see why not,’ Erin said. ‘What are you looking for?’
‘The outbuildings.’ Mercy started walking, cutting through the huts to the land behind them, and Rafe had to lengthen his stride to keep up, careful not to slip in the snow. ‘The stables. Amos’s workshop. The smithy. I can’t see them being belowground huts.’
The smithy. Where Gideon had been attacked and accidentally killed his attacker.
She stopped walking when she got to an area about twenty by twenty. It was flatter than the common area had been. Crouching, she brushed at the snow, then looked up.
‘Concrete slab. This was either the smithy or Amos’s workshop. They were a little away from the homes because of the fire hazard. The smithy always had a fire going, of course, and Amos’s workshop had so much sawdust.’ She moved to a similar area with level snow cover and, crouching again, revealed another concrete slab. ‘This was probably Amos’s place. They were always placed the same way, going clockwise.’ She settled on her haunches, looking out to the trees. ‘There was a generator between them that ran on gasoline. It powered Amos’s tools. His saws were the only things that ran on electricity, in all the compound.’
She stood up, frowning. ‘It doesn’t look so scary like this, does it? Just kind of sad.’ She continued on a clockwise path, a circle concentric to the ring of homes. ‘The stable would have been here.’ Her shoulders straightened. ‘Behind Ephraim’s house.’
‘What was his job, Mercy?’ Sasha asked quietly.
‘He was responsible for the animals.’ Her lips curved bitterly. ‘He was actually good with them. Treated them with respect. Even affection. Far better than he treated his wives and children.’ Her frown returned. ‘How could they have lived in such cramped quarters? Ephraim had four or five wives at any given time. Plus children.’
‘The houses extend out underground,’ Erin explained. ‘At least the one that I went into did.’
Mercy’s frown deepened. ‘How horrible. To be stuck in a confined space like that. With him.’
She looked beyond where the stable would have been, peering through the trees, growing suddenly still. Without a word she headed in the direction she’d been staring, and they followed, stopping behind her when she fell to her knees in the snow.
‘It was always behind the church,’ she muttered as she frantically parted the snow with her bare hands.
Revealing a cross made from wood. Painted white. Now that Rafe knew what to look for, he saw four more crosses poking up from the snow.
She’d uncovered the graveyard.
Rafe carefully lowered himself to his good knee, stretching his bad leg out sideways. Leaning on his cane for balance, he dug into his pocket for his leather gloves. ‘Put these on.’
She took the gloves, looking taken aback. ‘I won’t touch them,’ she said solemnly. ‘I know better.’
She was a lab tech, working with evidence every day. He supposed she had a right to look a little insulted. He smiled at her, keeping it gentle because she looked so fragile in that moment. ‘They’re so your hands don’t get cold.’
‘Oh.’ She put on the gloves, shaking her head. ‘Stupid of me.’
‘Hush,’ he admonished, then pulled out his phone to shine his flashlight on the cross. ‘“Damaris Terrill, Beloved Wife of Amos and Mother of Abigail”.’
Mercy looked a little shell-shocked. ‘He got married again. Had another child. A daughter.’
Rafe touched her shoulder lightly. ‘You okay, baby?’
She met his eyes, hers swimming with tears. ‘He lost the chance at another wife after my mother got taken from him,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘He tried to keep them from marrying me to Ephraim. They told him that he would be punished. That he’d never get another wife, but he kept shouting at them that it wasn’t right, that I was too young.’ She swallowed hard and blinked, quickly swiping her cheeks with her hands, still covered with his warm gloves. ‘I thought I’d ruined his life. But he got another chance. And then she died. And he had to make her cross.’ Her voice broke. ‘He always had to make the crosses.’
Rafe’s throat grew thick. That she’d worry about Amos, even after all she’d endured . . . ‘You are a good person, Mercy Callahan. Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently. Especially not yourself.’
She gave a watery chuckle. ‘You’re a little biased.’
‘I’m right.’ He looked back to the cross. ‘She was so young. Not quite nineteen.’
‘Already a mother.’ She sighed. ‘A lot of women died in childbirth. I was so afraid that I’d—’ She shook her head. ‘Never mind.’
She started to rise, but he stayed her with a light touch to her knee. ‘Tell me. Please.’
She drew a breath and carefully exhaled, her gaze traveling to the other little crosses, their tops barely visible in the snow. ‘I was afraid I’d get pregnant. I saw so many of the women constantly pregnant. Infant mortality was very high.’
‘You were afraid you’d die, too?’ he asked quietly.
She shook her head. ‘I was afraid I’d survive. With a baby. I was scared to bring another child into his home. Part of me wished that he’d kill me and get it over with. Those were the times that I really hated Gideon,’ she finished with a whisper. She cleared her throat. ‘I mean, I understand now. I do. But when I thought he’d run away and left me – us, me and Mama – to suffer for his actions . . .’
A strangled sound made them both turn. Rafe muttered a curse when pain burned up his leg. Mercy went pale.
Gideon stood there, just as pale as Mercy. Nearly the color of the snow.
Behind him were Daisy, Sasha, and Erin, wearing matching looks of devastation.
That Rafe hadn’t heard any of them was testament to how completely Mercy had pulled him into her memories. Into her suffering.
‘I don’t think that anymore, Gideon,’ she said. ‘I swear it.’
His mouth opened and closed, no words emerging. He stumbled forward, falling to his knees in front of her. ‘I’m so sorry. God, I’m so sorry.’
She put her arms around her brother, pulling off one glove to stroke his hair as his shoulders shook. Rafe knew he should look away, that he should give them privacy, but he couldn’t make his body move. He knew he was crying and couldn’t care less. This whole thing was so fucked up. So many lives ruined.
And he didn’t know how to fix it. So he remained motionless, powerless. And hating Ephraim Burton with every fiber of his existence.