25. Fractures
The voices came back the next night, as if whatever haunted us had decided our misery wasn’t yet great enough for its satisfaction.
Everyone else avoided me as much as possible in the small cabin. I threw myself into chores, starting with the worst and most thankless—emptying the bucket serving as a chamber pot—and moving on from there. I wasn’t sure if I was working for penance or forgiveness, or just to get someone to acknowledge my existence.
Someone except Doug, that is. He remained tied to the chair, except for once or twice when they let him use the chamber pot or stretch his legs. Steve kept a knife at hand each time, until he was once again secure.
Doug ordinarily hated any sort of constraint, so his upbeat attitude shocked as well as repulsed. He didn’t talk to anyone, but he grinned constantly, even laughed uproariously when Eleanor managed to make a weak joke to Roland.
My brother—my protector—who I’d loved and followed, gave me a shiver every time I looked at him now. His withered frame, his empty smile, his hunched posture altered him profoundly. Worse than that, his cheerful outlook on life had turned maniacal, warped into something I no longer recognized.
I brushed his skin, when I offered him water to drink. It burned hot still, even though he showed no other signs of illness.
Washe sick? Had something infected his nervous system and soured his mind?
As we huddled around the stove, eating our monotonous meal of bacon, beans, and bread, a cry sounded from outside. The squall of an infant in terrible distress, shrieking helplessly for someone to save it.
We all froze, and Steve went the color of cottage cheese. His fork trembled, and he set it down with a clatter.
No one spoke. I strained my ears, listening for whatever would come next.
The wails faded away. Then, from the other side of the cabin, Anna called out.
“I never wanted to come here! This was your dream. You dragged me here to help you, and I hate it!”
Roland flinched as if slapped. Steve reached to comfort him, but his father pushed him away.
Anna’s voice dissolved into sobs that slowly faded. Then: “I never loved him. But I love you. Once all this is over, let’s run away together, Ellie.”
Eleanor gasped involuntarily, drawing my eye. And I knew, instantly, the voice was only echoing words Anna herself had spoken.
Of course I’d met women in love with one another, in some of the secretive saloons I’d frequented over the years. Often dressed in men’s clothes, holding hands or flirting, while men did the same with one another. Maybe that was why I was moved to defend her.
“It’s obviously lying—” I began.
Roland’s face flushed white—then brick red. He snatched up Steve’s knife and waved it at Eleanor.
“Stop!” I yelled, echoed by Steve.
Roland ignored us both. “Is it true?” he shouted at Eleanor. “Is it?”
Eleanor shrunk back, terrified. “Roland, please!”
“I said is it true?”
“Yes!”
Roland tried to get up, but Steve shoved him back into the chair easily. “Pa, calm down! It’s trying to turn us against each other.”
Roland’s nostrils flared, and he aimed a look of pure hatred at Eleanor. “It doesn’t need to,” he snarled. “We’ve done a damn good job of doing that ourselves.”
* * *
If our situation had been awkward before, it was truly wretched now.
My heart ached for both Roland and Eleanor. Roland had truly loved Anna, and even if he’d suspected she didn’t return his affection, it was brutal to have it confirmed in such a way. Still, he should never have reacted by threatening Eleanor.
As for Eleanor…I tried to remind myself she’d been in the wrong, sleeping with a married woman. But I’d known many men in the same position, in love with another man who had a wife and family, and pity softened my heart. She’d loved Anna, and not even been able to express the depth of her grief when she disappeared.
Why had Anna’s voice only called for Roland, then? It was her father Eleanor had heard before, and Anna’s words had seemed more directed at causing Roland pain.
Impossible to say. The entire situation was impossible. Unnatural, as Roland had said.
Steve tried to remain neutral, speaking politely to both of them. Roland made no attempt to hide his fury at Eleanor, making cruel remarks at every turn.
I did my best to comfort her, so she didn’t feel utterly alone. Not that she wanted comfort from me, but she allowed me to help her with chores, or subtly place myself between her and Roland.
In the meantime, Doug only watched and grinned. He remained compliant, and made no move to escape or even to convince us to let him go.
I should have seen it for the swindle it was. But I was so used to him tricking with words, this strange activity registered as genuine.
Until Steve’s shout of “Damn it!” roused me from sleep.
I tried to fling myself out of my bunk, tangled in the covers, and nearly fell onto the floor. By the time I was free, Roland had already limped through the curtain separating the two portions of the cabin.
“Where is he?” Roland demanded, and my heart sank.
Doug’s chair sat empty in the main room. The ropes that had bound him lay in pieces on the floor.
Roland grabbed Steve’s shoulder. “What happened? Did he hurt you?”
“No, I…I fell asleep.” Two spots of color appeared high on his cheeks. “I was so tired—I just closed my eyes for a moment…”
I picked up one of the pieces of rope and tugged on it. “It feels firm. How did he get loose?”
“He must have palmed a knife one of the times we let him out,” Eleanor offered. I hadn’t noticed her come in from the bedroom.
“These don’t look like knife cuts.” I held the rope out to Steve, who took it.
“A sharp rock, then,” Eleanor said impatiently.
Steve frowned at the rope ends. Frost sparkled on them, as if they’d been exposed to something damp. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear they’d been chewed through.”
“Man didn’t have a tooth left in his head,” Roland scoffed. “Except the gold one, I suppose, and I don’t see how much use that would be.”
There were no rats in this frozen season, not that they would have preferentially gnawed my brother free instead of attacking our food stores. A sharp rock was the only possible explanation.
Then the implications of Doug’s escape crashed down over me. His coat still hung near the stove, and his boots stood along the wall. He’d taken no chances of waking Steve.
He’d escaped to his death.
I ran to the door and flung it open, hoping for tracks that might lead me to him before he succumbed.
And tracks there were. Not human footprints, but the strange jumble we’d seen outside the cabin the morning after my first nightmare. Like animals of different species walking in a line. Except this time, I recognized the odd, shovel-shaped impressions scattered throughout, if only because I’d dug up enough of what caused them.
“That’s a coffin bone,” I said, bewildered. “Like a-a skeletal horse stood here.”
Steve appeared at my shoulder, but said nothing, staring bewildered at the snow.
Of Doug there was no trace at all. As if an insane conglomeration of dead animals had simply carried him off.
“What’s happening?” I asked, though I don’t know to whom my plea was directed. My companions certainly had no more idea than I did.
Steve took my arm and drew me back. “Come inside and shut the door, before we get frostbite,” he said. “At least the storm is gone.”
It only registered then—the lack of wind and blinding snow, the presence of the aurora tracing green serpents across the sky. I let him take me in and set me near the fire, feeling numb. Empty.
“Can we leave?” Eleanor asked anxiously. “If the storm is past.”
“I can walk,” Roland said. “I didn’t want to leave Anna unburied, but none of us should stay here with that lunatic on the loose.”
Steve nodded. “Hurry and get ready, in case the weather turns again. We’ll go as soon as we can.”