Chapter Twenty-Six Frankie
TWENTY-SIX FRANKIE
We searched all day for Clarice, Emile, and the knackerman, but had no luck. The tracks meandered through the town and woods, then up the hill, blending with our own footprints. The day had warmed, turning the snow soft and slushy, making the tracks more difficult to read.
Boone’s Ferry is surrounded by hills covered in dense woods for miles in all directions—the three of them could have gone anywhere. Or perhaps they had succumbed to their illness and were lying dead in the snow.
Throughout the day, more offerings appeared on front steps: bottles of rum and hard cider, cakes and pies.
And women hung horseshoes and little bundles of dried herbs over their front doors: charms to ward off evil.
Some painted sigils or eyes on their doors.
My uncle shook his head at the foolishness while I felt for my own secret charm hidden beneath my shirts.
The knackerman’s dog had followed me all day, and unsure of what to do with her, I’d dropped her off with Aunt Margaret, who seemed delighted.
“Aife!” she’d cried.
I’d given her a puzzled look.
“Is that her name?”
Aunt Margaret nodded. “He told us. When we visited with Reverend Davies. The dog greeted us, took far more interest in us than the knackerman did.” She’d turned to the dog. “Poor thing’s soaked.”
“Hungry too,” I told her.
My aunt clasped her hands at the bottom of her belly, twisting the ring on her finger. “I’ll make her a bed in front of the kitchen stove. I’ve got some meat scraps and a bit of broth for her,” she’d said, leading the dog into the warm house.
Benjamin was having an increasingly difficult time as the day wore on.
At last Uncle Thomas insisted the three of us go back to the Stoddards’ house.
Other search parties continued on with lanterns in the growing darkness.
Uncle Thomas, Benjamin, and I arrived back at the house exhausted and soaked.
Benjamin Stoddard was sweating profusely and shivering with fever.
I could smell the sweet, cloying odor coming from his breath and skin.
“How are you feeling?” Uncle Thomas asked, trying to keep the rising panic from his voice.
“Fine. I feel fine. Let me change my clothes, then we can go out again and look for Clarice.” He went to open his front door and found it locked.
He patted his pocket for a key and discovered he didn’t have one.
Looking frustrated, he knocked on his own door, and when there was no immediate answer, he pounded with his fist. The door swung open, Chauncey greeting us with the rifle in his hands.
“Mr. Stoddard,” he exclaimed. “You’re back.”
“Pearl?” Benjamin asked as he took a staggering step inside, leaning hard against the wall.
“She’s fine. Resting. I insisted she lie down for a while—she’s exhausted.”
Uncle Thomas nodded. “As are we all,” he said. And just as he spoke the words, Benjamin Stoddard collapsed onto the floor. I was first to him, and he swiped my hand away when I reached for him, glared at me like I meant to harm him.
“I’m fine,” he said, grimacing. The rotten fruit smell was horrid up close, burning my nostrils, making me feel queer-headed, as if I’d been drinking a bad batch of homemade apple brandy.
Uncle Thomas and Chauncey helped Benjamin up. “Let’s get you to bed,” Uncle Thomas said.
“I’m going back out,” Benjamin said. “I’ve got to find Clarice.”
“You’re in no shape to go back out there,” Uncle Thomas said.
“I’ll go, sir,” Chauncey said.
“Let go of me!” Benjamin snapped, jerking himself free of the two men. His one unbandaged eye was yellow and frantic. His teeth bared.
“Benjamin!” Uncle Thomas yelled sharply.
The factory owner seemed to snap out of his agitated state. He let out a great sigh, and his shoulders slumped. “I know. It’s time. I can feel it coming on. The sickness.”
Chauncey said, “You’ll be fine, sir. The doctor will fix you up.” He looked at Thomas. “Won’t you?”
“Let’s get you upstairs,” Uncle Thomas said. The two men half carried Benjamin upstairs, as I followed.
“Frankie,” Uncle Thomas said once we were in Mr. Stoddard’s room, “I need dry nightclothes for Mr. Stoddard.” I nodded and turned to the dresser, began looking through the drawers.
“Chauncey, I need you to find extra blankets and rope.”
“Rope?”
“We’re going to tie him to the bed.”
“But we can’t—”
“Do as the doctor says,” Benjamin ordered.
“But, Mr. Stoddard, you can’t—”
“No matter what happens, no matter what I might say or do, you are to keep me tied to this bed and you are to keep Pearl away from me. Do you understand?”
Chauncey nodded, his eyes bewildered.
“Now do as he says and fetch some rope from the barn,” Benjamin ordered.
“Yes, sir.” Chauncey quickly turned and left the room.
“It’s coming,” Benjamin groaned. “The madness. I can feel it.”
“What does it feel like?” I asked, the words jumping out before I could stop them.
“Like going into a dark tunnel. The colors are changing. I can’t think the way I usually can. Can’t remember things properly. There is only what’s right in front of me, and I don’t like it. Whatever it is that’s waiting for me in that tunnel is bad. Very bad.”
His good eye was glassy, the white now a buttercup yellow.
“I hear things,” Benjamin said.
“What sort of things?” I asked.
“Whispers,” he said. “Far away but getting closer.”
Benjamin reached out a hand searing with heat and wrapped his fingers tightly around mine. “Promise me that you’ll keep looking for Clarice. You won’t give up.”
“I promise,” I said.
Uncle Thomas stood tall, placed a hand on Benjamin’s arm. “We are not giving up on anyone,” he said.
I turned my back while Thomas helped Benjamin out of his wet garments and dressed him in dry sleeping clothes.
Chauncey returned with the rope.
Together, the three of us bound Benjamin to the large maple-frame bed with thick hemp rope.
“Tighter,” he kept saying. “Make those knots as tight as you can.”
Chauncey left to go get a group of men together, a fresh search party.
“What do we do now?” I asked.
“We wait. We stay and watch Benjamin. Study and see what we can learn about the way the illness progresses.”
I nodded. “I’ll go down and see if I can find things to make coffee and a light supper.
” We hadn’t eaten at all yet—and the truth was, I didn’t have an appetite, but I knew we were in for a long night and would need sustenance.
On my way to the kitchen, I stopped by Pearl’s room, cracked open the door, saw my beloved fast asleep.
I crept in on tiptoes, kissed her forehead gently.
She stirred, but did not open her eyes. I slipped back out of the room, pulled the door closed, heard it latch with a click.
FOUR HOURS LATER, Benjamin was kicking, fighting his restraints, foaming at the mouth like a mad animal.
“Let me go!” he screamed. “Cut me loose!”
Pearl hurried into the room, hair a mess, dress wrinkled. “My God,” she said, looking from her father to Uncle Thomas, her furious eyes then landing on me. “What have you done to him?”
“We—” I started.
“Untie him at once!” Pearl cried, stepping forward and reaching for the closest knot. I grabbed her, wrapped my arms around her tightly, pulled her back.
“Don’t let them do this!” Benjamin yelled. “They’re killing me!”
Pearl fought against me, bucking and writhing. I held tight. “Let him go!” she demanded. She jerked forward, kicked back, getting my shin hard enough to make me stumble.
“Please, Pearl.” Uncle Thomas was authoritative now. “We have him restrained for his safety and ours. He requested it, before he lost his senses—it’s the sickness. We’ve got to wait this out,” he said breathlessly.
Benjamin snarled, hissed, and snapped his teeth like a trapped animal. Pearl went limp in my arms and began to sob. I rocked her gently, feeling heartbroken and helpless.
We heard feet on the stairs, and Chauncey came into the room, still in his overcoat, carrying the rifle.
“Doctor,” he said hurriedly. “Your wife sent for you. She needs you at home.” His gaze fell on Pearl in my arms. “What in damnation?” he shouted, stepping toward us, eyes full of rage. “Let her go, you—”
Benjamin roared, broke through the ropes binding his left arm, tearing his own flesh in the process. He flailed, lashed out, drops of blood splattering.
“Help me, Chauncey!” Uncle Thomas said, and Chauncey set down his rifle. Together they pinned Benjamin down, refastened the ropes. Even with the binding retied, they continued to hold Benjamin down. “I’m going to give him a sedative,” Uncle Thomas said, reaching for his bag.
“He’ll die like this,” Pearl cried through her sobs. I had my arms wrapped tightly around her. “Like an animal. It isn’t right!”
“Perhaps the fever will burn off and he’ll recover,” Uncle Thomas said. “We don’t know. But what we do know is that he’s a danger to himself and others now. He wouldn’t want to risk harming you, or anyone else, Pearl, were he in his right mind. You know this.” Thomas gave him a dose of Veronal.
Benjamin bucked and roared.
Pearl turned to me, gripped my arms tightly, digging her nails in. “You’ve got to do something, Frankie. You’ve got to help him! He’s my father.”
“I know,” I whispered gently. “We’re doing all we can.”
“It’s not enough!” Pearl snapped, jerking away from me, rushing toward the bed once again.
“Get her out of here!” Uncle Thomas demanded, turning to me. “Bring Pearl to our house. See what your aunt needs and what you can do there. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“We need something stronger than this rope,” Uncle Thomas said when he turned back to Benjamin and Chauncey.
“There were leather harnesses and straps in the barn,” Chauncey said.
“Go get them,” Uncle Thomas said. “Hurry!”
THE DOOR TO our house was unlocked. The black dog, Aife, greeted us, now warm, fed, and dry. The dog jumped at me, licking my hands.
“Who is this?” Pearl asked, smiling weakly, leaning down to pat the dog. Her face was splotched and tearstained.
“My new friend, Aife,” I said. “She belongs to the knackerman but she followed me home today.”