The Saints of Swallow Hill(56)

Time no longer made sense. Whether it was light or dark, it all melted into one and the same. She’d gone deep inside herself, where she could escape the sticky, hot, suffocating interior. Once, she’d woke to what she thought was rain. She instinctively moved her head, opened her mouth, and caught a tiny stream of water, cool and sweet, falling through the thin crack, her only eye to the world. She wasn’t sure it was rain, though, because it stopped as quickly as it started. And there was the sun, high in the sky, creating a streaked pattern across the top of her. A miracle had happened, she determined. The water had been a miracle.

Another time, Warren appeared to her, but what a strange place for him to be, near her feet, staring at her from that impossible spot. Where was the rest of him? Was he coming up through the ground? He appeared different, too pale, his hair and eyes too black, and when his arm stretched up, up, and up, his fingers, extra long and narrow, she didn’t want him to touch her, not this Warren of the other side. Cold fingertips brushed her brow, and there was nothing she could do. Was he saying something to her? His words came like a hiss, unintelligible. She didn’t like this Warren. She wanted him to go away, and as she rose from the depths of her delirium, she jolted awake, aware the hissing was her, straining to breathe.

The nightmare Warren gone, she quickly descended to where she was most comfortable now, a serene area of soft dreams where no pain, thirst, or hunger were allowed. There she could take in long, cool drinks of water. She could rest under shade trees. She barely moved, if at all, and the only part of her that did was her heart rate, which grew more erratic and rapid. She was well into her second day and no longer fully conscious. She hovered between the here and there, her mind delivering only one persistent, yet clear message to the rest of her body: I am dying.





Chapter 19


Del


As the man came along, he kept his eyes on the ground and Del waited for him to speak, but he already had a bad feeling Birdie hadn’t made it through the night.

Del said, “No?” once Preacher was close enough to hear him.

“The missus, she say he went to meet our Maker about three this morning.”

Del sighed. His other men were already disappearing into their sections of the woods, and now with Cobb and Birdie both gone, he needed more workers, that was all there was to it. He’d have to speak to Peewee about it.

“Has he got family back home?”

“Think his momma’s still alive. Know he had him a little gal back home he was wantin’ to marry.”

“I got to see Peewee about hiring on some more workers. I’ll ask him if he has an address.”

After Preacher went to work, the day fell into a curiously quiet pattern. Del rode Ruby in and out of the woods, making marks in his tally book as call names were shouted. He pondered on what disturbed him most, the irregular seriousness of his workers, or what he’d witnessed the night before at Crow’s. Both gave the day the sense of feeling abnormal, like the world had gone off-kilter. He’d not seen Crow since yesterday, but then again, he’d not wasted any time leaving this morning, wanting to avoid any chance encounter. He was going to have to face him, no doubt about it, but he needed more time before that happened.

Dinner break came, and the men trickled into the hang-up ground either on foot or by wagon if they were far enough out. The quiet was as unnatural as it had been. They’d not been right since Cobb disappeared. And come to think of it, Crow’s absence was irregular too. He’d always seen fit to be somewhere around where he could spout off nonsense or try to stir up trouble. Del ate what he had, then sat with his back against a pine, watching them. Despite his concern, his eyes grew heavy, his consternation slipping away as he rested. Before long, the break was over, and they were back at it, working until the sun started setting. This was the hottest part of the day and Del was checking his counts, happy because he could let the men know they could stop. They’d done good. Made their numbers. He was going to show’em he was good on his word.

He rode Ruby in and out of the drifts, calling out, “Quitting time! Quitting time!” to the surprise and happiness of the men.

Clyde came with the wagon, and Del said, “We’re done, go on and round’em up.”

Even Clyde smiled as he steered Jackson into the woods. Del rode toward the camp when he spotted movement by a large pine. Georgie had two water buckets filled up, but stayed by the tree staring at Del intently, not speaking, yet clearly wanting to say something.

“What is it, Georgie? You bringing water? We’re quitting, but you can come on and give Ruby some.”

Georgie lifted one of the buckets and came forward. He set it down in front of the horse. She lowered her head immediately and slurped in long draughts. Georgie glanced over his shoulder. The wagon was approaching, though still some distance away, but it appeared to make him uneasy. He edged a bit closer.

He stared up at Del, wide-eyed and serious. “I got sumpin’ to tell you, but I’m scared to.”

Del climbed off Ruby and reached into his pocket

He got out a piece of peppermint. “Here, this might help.” Georgie’s eyes didn’t shine like they usually did at the sight of the candy, but he took it and popped it in his mouth. He scooted back a few feet, watching the approaching wagon with nervousness, as if unsure what to do. Del watched how it all played out on the boy’s face, mostly in his eyes. It was evident little Georgie had already seen way too much. He was only a kid, but he’d been beat, and Del didn’t know what else he’d experienced, but it had made him appear wiser than his years. He was an old soul in a nine-year-old’s body.