“I’m fine.”
“It has been almost an hour and no sign of Fitch and Harper. Peter is worried sick but trying not to show it. They should have been here by now, shouldn’t they?”
Nate nodded.
“Maybe we’re mistaken. Maybe they didn’t hear Tyne.” Aunt Aggie bit her lower lip. “No. I don’t really believe that. I’m trying to convince myself there must be some reason besides the obvious.” She clasped her arms to her bosom and trembled. “Lord, no. Not them, too.”
“Don’t give up hope. They could still be alive.”
“You don’t believe that. But it is kind of you to say so. You are a kind man, Nate. Is that your given name?”
“Nathaniel.”
“I thought so. Isn’t it interesting how we always come up with shorter ones? Aggie for Agatha. Nate for Nathaniel. Bob for Robert and Jim for James. As if our given names aren’t good enough.” Aggie glanced at the table. “You would think we would call Peter Pete but all we ever call him is Peter.”
“You bring up the darnedest things.”
Agatha looked at him, and then at the others, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything.”
“That dead Blackfoot got me to thinking. We’re not up against Indians, are we?”
“No.”
“Someone else is killing everyone.”
“More or less.”
“I confess to being confused. And extremely thankful you are here. Left on our own, I’m afraid none of us would survive.”
They still might not, but Nate kept quiet.
Agatha tried another tack. “What did you find today when you were out searching?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I flatter myself that I am sensitive to moods and feelings. You were troubled when you came back. Oh, you tried to act natural and pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes, except mine. So tell me, Nathaniel. What upset you so much you have seen fit to keep it from the rest of us, presumably for our own good?”
Before Nate could answer, Peter stood and announced, “It’s been too long. I am going after my sons.”
“It’s best if you stay here,” Nate said.
“You’re a father. Don’t tell me you don’t understand.”
Peter made for the door, and Nate took a step to stop him. But Erleen reached Peter first and planted herself in front of him, her hands on his chest.
“I agree with Mr. King. We should continue to wait.”
“How can you say that? They are your boys, too.Something has happened or they would have been here by now.”
Erleen’s eyes moistened. “Please, Peter. I couldn’t endure it if I lost you.”
Peter was disposed to argue, but just then Aunt Aggie called out, “Over here, quick! Something is coming!”
Nate swept a curtain aside as everyone rushed over. The undergrowth across the clearing crashed and crackled to what sounded like a buffalo stampede. But it was a horse. In a flurry of pounding hooves, the animal burst from the forest.
And Tyne screamed again.
Revelations
She had good cause.
The horse was a roan. Harper’s roan. It was lathered with sweat and caked with blood. The blood came from a jagged hole in its throat. Another hole, low down on its side, oozed more blood and other fluids. It came to a stop, then staggered toward the cabin, its head hung in exhaustion.
“What did that?” Anora gasped.
“Look at all the bite marks,” Aunt Aggie said.
Nate had seen them, all over the roan’s legs and belly. Not deep, but deep enough that hair and flesh had been ripped off.
“Was it a mountain lion, do you think?” Erleen asked. “Or could it have been wolves?”
Philberta laughed.
“Neither,” Nate said. No animal ever made those wounds.
“It’s not the horse that concerns me now,” Peter said. “It’s our sons. Where are they?”
“Little Tommy Tucker sings for his supper,” Philberta said.
Everyone looked at her.
Agatha sniffed as if she smelled a foul odor. “You and those silly rhymes. That was most unseemly especially with the girls here.”
“It’s all right, Aunt Aggie,” Anora said.
“No, it’s not, my dear. Adults must have a sense of decorum. To joke about that poor animal at a time like this is most immature.”
Philberta smiled. “Mud in a cake. I saw. I saw.”
“Do that one more time and I will slap you.”
Erleen asked, “What has gotten into you, Philberta? Granted, you have been through a terrible time, but that’s no excuse for your behavior.”
“I’m sorry.”
To Nate, Philberta didn’t sound sorry at all. He made up his mind to keep a close eye on her. At the moment, though, he had the roan to think of. Too weak to stand, it was down on its front knees.
“That poor thing will die soon,” Erleen remarked.
“It must be in a lot of pain,” Tyne said.
Nate was thinking the same thing. Raising the Hawken to his shoulder, he fixed a bead between the roan’s eyes, and told the girls to look away. Someone said something, but he didn’t hear for the boom of the rifle. Bone and brains exploded, and the roan keeled onto its side.
“That was awful!” Erleen cried.
“No, it wasn’t, dear,” Peter said. “The poor animal was suffering. Mr. King put it out of its misery, is all.”
Philberta tittered merrily. “Bat, bat, come under my hat and I’ll give you a slice of bacon.”
The smack of Agatha’s palm on Philberta’s cheek was like the crack of a whip. Anora gasped. Tyne put a hand to her throat. But all Philberta did was take a step back, and smile.
“You really oughtn’t. That wasn’t very nice.”
“I warned you,” Aunt Aggie said.
“No more of that.” Erleen took Philberta’s hand. “Are you all right? It must have stung something awful.”
“Three little kittens lost their mittens and they began to cry.”
Nate saw the truth begin to dawn on them, saw their shock, their uncertainty. Not a word was spoken as Philberta calmly walked to the rocking chair, picked up her long needles, and resumed her knitting.
“What has gotten into that woman?” Erleen asked of no one in particular.
“Her head was clear for a while, but now it’s clouded again,” Nate said. “She isn’t aware of what she is saying or doing.”
“What makes you say that?” Aunt Aggie asked. “What do you know that the rest of us don’t?”
“All I have is a hunch,” Nate admitted. “But maybe it’s time we found out if I’m right.” He went to the rocking chair. Philberta continued to knit, and hum. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Catch me if you can, but you can’t get me. I’m the Gingerbread Man, is what I am.”
“Oh God.” Erleen placed her right hand on Anora’s shoulder and her left hand on Tyne’s. “Maybe my girls shouldn’t hear this.”
“Let them stay,” Peter said.
Nate squatted, his rifle across his knees. “You’ve been keeping things from us, haven’t you, Philberta?”
The click-click-click of her needles quickened.
“Don’t be afraid to tell us. We only want to help.”
“Afraid?” Philberta giggled. “What do I have to be afraid of? I am the little old lady who lived in the shoe.”
“What is she talking about?” Erleen asked.
“Those infernal rhymes,” Aunt Aggie said.
“Rock-a-bye baby thy cradle is green.” Philberta stopped and looked at Nate. “My baby died, you know.”
“Yes. I saw you at her grave, remember?”
“A girl. At long last a girl. And she came out so cold and still. I wanted to cry but I laughed. Can you imagine? I laughed and laughed.”