The Hunger(83)

Slaughtering cattle; that meant there would be food. Elitha tried to remember how many cattle the Breens had. A dozen, surely. The idea of all that meat made her stomach twist with longing. Elitha knew the talk of cattle would persuade Tamsen to give Virginia up. There wasn’t much food at Alder Creek, just the last scraps from the tough old oxen. They didn’t need any extra mouths to feed.

Her boots squelched in the mud as she stepped up to the campfire. “I want to go, Tamsen. I volunteer to go and help Virginia.”

Tamsen looked surprised to see her. That always happened—everyone was always surprised to see Elitha. She was the kind of girl that other people forgot all about. Except for Thomas. Thomas always looked like he was expecting her.

“Stop talking nonsense,” Tamsen said. “You belong with your family.”

She belonged with Thomas—but she couldn’t admit that to Tamsen. Besides, Virginia had run away for a reason, and even if she hadn’t yet told Elitha what it was, she could hardly stand by and watch her head off alone with Keseberg, back into the danger she had fled. “Virginia will need help getting back. You said it yourself: She’s lost blood and she’s weak. She’ll do better if I’m with her.” She didn’t mention that Virginia had talked about a disease spreading. She’d be careful. She was afraid, but her desire to see Thomas was stronger than her fear. And no disease could be scarier than the creatures that had been watching them night after night. “C’mon, let me go. I’m not a little girl anymore. I can take care of myself.” Then: “Trust me. Please.”

Those words, at last, seemed to do it. “Very well. I expect you’d be safer in a larger group,” she said quietly. Tamsen helped her pack her few belongings. Before she kissed Elitha good-bye, she gave her one piece of advice: She must never let herself be trapped alone with Lewis Keseberg.



* * *



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    ELITHA COULDN’T BELIEVE the conditions at Truckee Lake. The shelters were scarcely better than her family’s tents. And they were just as crowded; she couldn’t believe all the people that came spilling out of the cabin where Virginia’s family was staying with the Graveses. At least Thomas was among them—spotting her, he ran up to her and threw his arms around her in front of everyone.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered.

His touch warmed her everywhere all at once. She was blushing; she could see how people stared. “I came to see you.”

His expression changed. It shuttered and grew cold. “You shouldn’t have come,” he said. “It’s not safe here.”

“It’s not safe where I was, either,” she replied. She knew if he told her to go back, her heart would break.

But he simply said, “Come on,” and slipped his hand in hers.

He was leading Elitha away from the crowd when she spotted Keseberg with Virginia. He’d bent so they were face to face and was saying something to her very quietly. She’d gone all stiff, and her face was white as the snow around her. Elitha got a twist of bad feeling in her stomach. What did he want?

It was two of the Graves girls—Lovina Graves at twelve, Nancy at nine—who later let Virginia’s secret spill. Lewis Keseberg had told the girls that they were going to start putting a child out each night as a sacrifice to the wolves. He said their parents knew all about it, so it was no good going to them. They’d agreed to leave the decision up to him so they didn’t have to choose which child would have to die. The grown-ups had come together on this so the majority would survive, just like those Indians who strung up one of their boys. Sacrifices had to be made.

But he’d spare you if you went into the woods with him and did what he told you.

“It’s not so bad,” Lovina Graves said, though her expression told a different story. She smiled funny as she told her story and was as fidgety as a hummingbird. “He just feels under your skirts and stuff.”

“He put it in my hand and made me hold it,” Nancy Graves said, so low Elitha almost didn’t hear her. Nancy was so thin she looked all hollowed out like a ghost.

Elitha felt like she couldn’t breathe, like she was being held underwater by an invisible hand. She was a fool for coming here. She realized quickly she couldn’t tell Thomas about all this; it would only put him at risk. He was no match for Keseberg.

She had been at Truckee Lake less than twenty-four hours when it was her turn. She had ventured into the woods with Thomas; it was his idea to try to look for fish in the creek.

There were worse things than going hungry, Elitha wanted to tell him, remembering Virginia’s white-faced, terrified nod when Keseberg stooped to speak to her.

Lying flat on her stomach on the hard surface of the creek, Elitha pressed her face to the ice, looking for movement. Thomas had gone off to find a rock to smash through the ice. In truth, Elitha knew nothing about fish. She had grown up on a farm and had only tasted fish once or twice in her entire life. Still, it seemed like a good idea; from the things Thomas told her, Indians knew the best ways to get through tough times. Thomas had taken one look at the creek and said they probably wouldn’t find any fish suitable for eating, but by then Elitha was so excited he didn’t have the heart to call it off. So he went to look for a rock and Elitha brushed snow off the icy surface of the creek and slid out on her knees. She could make out nothing, however, but a dark tangle of frozen branches and rotted leaves, a rush of black water beneath the surface.