Burn(39)

Eleven


“BUT HOW?” SARAH said, distraught. Eleanor, Bess, and Mamie lay dead in the snow.

“Rat poison,” her father said, pointing to the granules scattered across the sty.

“Someone did this on purpose?” She turned to her father. “Why?”

He didn’t answer, just looked shamefaced, which, she supposed, was its own answer. Why? Why had the Dewhursts always had a tough time of it? Because her mother and father had been different races. Because they were poor. Because they were forced to hire a dragon to try to save their farm. Did there need to be any other reasons?

“I’ll report it,” her father said, “but I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

Sarah had no illusions about what happened to animals on farms, had regularly been served pork and beef, was responsible for the welfare of the piglets they sold to the butcher every year, for heaven’s sake. So why should the loss of these three hurt her so much?

Because they weren’t for butchering—or if they were, it was so far into the future as to not be real yet. Because they’d greeted her every morning when she fed them. Because they were as clever as dogs, she knew. They learned and they recognized.

They were hers.

“Someone actually thought this through,” she said, her voice hiccupping. “They sat down and figured out how and took the time to see it done.”

Her father sighed behind her. “We can get more,” he said.

“With what money?” she asked, not really caring.

“I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said, “but you might as well feed them to the dragon when his work day’s done.”

“But they’re poisoned.”

“Rat poison isn’t going to hurt him.” He was already walking away. “Trust me.”

She knelt down by Eleanor, put a hand on her chilly hide. Pig skin was usually so jumpy, giving a start whenever you touched it, no matter how gently, that this was the thing that really drove home how dead her pigs were. It was stupid, crying over them. She cried over them anyway.

The crying occupied her enough that it took her a few moments to realize that her father had told her to deal directly with the dragon herself.

“Did something happen?” Miss Archer said, the instant she saw Sarah’s face.

“Someone poisoned her pigs,” Jason said, following Sarah into the library.

“What? Why on earth—?”

“Because human beings are mean and pointless and will destroy anything nice that they see,” Sarah said.

She and Jason went to a study table. Miss Archer came and sat down heavily beside them. They were the only three people in the library today. It was a wonder the graduating class knew how to read. “Is it worth going to the police?” Miss Archer asked.

“For pigs?” Sarah said, and was annoyed that she needed to wipe her eyes again.

“I guess not,” Miss Archer said. “With Kelby still missing and everything.” She paused in a heavy way that made Sarah’s stomach start to curl. “People know the sheriff interviewed the dragon. You don’t think—”

“The dragon didn’t have anything to do with it,” Jason said, fast. Too fast, really.

Miss Archer was surprised. “How are you sure about that?”

“Because . . .” Jason scrambled, “no dragon would risk their life on someone as worthless as Deputy Kelby.”

“It could be why they poisoned the pigs, though,” Sarah said, quietly. “If they think the dragon did it.”

“Why would anyone care that much about Kelby?” Jason asked.

“It wouldn’t be that. It would be humans versus dragons.”

“It’s like when you have a terrible relative,” Miss Archer said. “You can complain about him all you like but when an outsider does . . .”

Jason frowned. “Outsiders complain about my family all the time.”

“Yes,” Miss Archer said, “I guess that was a bad example.” She rubbed her chin distractedly. “You hope for good in the world, you know? You always hope. And then someone kills a deputy and someone else poisons your pigs. Back and forth it goes, on and on, getting worse and worse. It’s like the U.S. and the Soviets now, over this satellite business.”

“What happened now?” Jason asked, getting out his textbooks. It seemed impossible to Sarah that, with all that was going on in her life, there was still schoolwork to do.

“Did you see today’s paper?” Miss Archer said. When they shook their heads, she got up to find it.

“I still don’t think anyone would care enough about Kelby to take it out on you,” Jason said.

Sarah shook her head. “It’s not a reason. It’s an excuse. Might have even been Mr. Svoboda. He knew we couldn’t afford to pay him sire fees this year.”

“Maybe it was this assassin who’s coming—”

But Miss Archer was on her way back. “Eisenhower’s threatening retaliation if they launch without proof they won’t be spying on us,” she said.

“That’s like asking for proof the sky isn’t blue,” Jason said, picking up the paper.

“Don’t you feel helpless sometimes?” Sarah said, not looking up. “Caught in the middle of other people’s decisions? All these important things they do, not caring that people they’ll never meet get hurt?”