Small Favors

by Erin A. Craig

  “I just don’t understand,” said Asher Heyword. The farmer’s voice rang through the Gathering House. “It’s like half the crops have just…vanished.”

  “You suspect theft?” Amos McCleary asked from his seat at the front. He ran his pointer finger over the carved tree on the top of his cane, considering the room as if he could sniff out the culprit himself. Behind him, through the plate-glass windows, it seemed even the pines leaned in to judge.

  The farmer shook his head. “No—the plants are still there, but all the harvest has withered away. Right on the stalk—on the branches themselves. What could do something like that?”

  “Disease?” Leland Schäfer suggested, sounding uncertain. The Elder did no farming whatsoever, filling his land with flocks of sheep.

  “It’s affected all my crops, not just certain strains.”

  “I’ve found the same thing, and our farms are miles apart,” Roger Schultz said. “All our carrots and potatoes—completely rotten and withered.”

  “And our apples,” Elijah Visser chimed in. “Shriveled and black, just when they ought to be at their peak.”

  I hated to hear that. The Vissers’ orchard bordered the southern edge of our property, and the bees loved foraging through the apple blossoms. Could this rot affect them? I glanced at Sam to see if he was as concerned as I was, but his face was turned from me.

  “The cold snap?” Matthias asked.

  The farmers shook their heads.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Asher added. “I don’t know how my family will make it through winter without the harvest. We need to try another supply run.”

  “Well, with rationing—” Leland began. “We’ll all have to tighten our belts a bit.”

  Asher’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think you understand the full scope of the matter. Even a strict ration won’t make up for losing half my crops. And it’s not just my family who count on that harvest. Folks like you, without fields of their own, depend on us. What will you do come February, Leland Schäfer, when your storeroom is empty and your children are crying? You can’t eat boiled wool.”

  “It’s not just food we need to be worried about,” Dr. Ambrose said, rising to his feet. “I’m gravely concerned about our medical supplies. They’ve never been so low.”

  “Not all of us subscribe to your practices, Doctor,” Letitia Briard said, choosing to remain in her seat to hurl her obvious derision at the doctor. “Clemency had that terrible cough last winter, and nothing you gave him helped. I applied a poultice of fried onions, and he was up and about in no time. I see no reason why we need to risk men’s lives for more of your snake oils.”

  Dr. Ambrose’s cheek tightened as if he was biting his tongue. “I have a great deal of respect for home cures, Letitia, you know I do. But fried onions and wives’ tales will not set a broken femur or assist in a blood transfusion. Medical supplies are necessary for the continuation of this town!”

  “Let’s not lose our heads here,” Parson Briard intervened. “Perhaps, in light of this new trouble, we ought to rethink a run before winter sets in.”

  Calvin Buhrman scoffed. “We’re weeks away from the first big snow, and you want to talk about a supply train? The pass will be blocked before they can even fill the first wagon.”

  The parson searched the room, and his gaze landed on us. “Samuel Downing, that new trapper helped your folks out of the pass with a shortcut he found, right? Perhaps he would be willing to guide another party?”

  “Haven’t seen him in a week or two,” Samuel said, rising off the bench. “He’s checking traps along the western ridge. Don’t know when he’s expected back. Ellerie?” he drew out testily, looking down at me.

  I folded my arms over my chest. “I don’t know anything more than you.”

  Samuel and I had been butting heads since Whitaker’s return. Sam assumed he’d easily slide into Papa’s shoes, looking after the farm and hives. Had my brother been remotely competent at either, I’d have been content to let him, but it was as though he’d suddenly stepped foot on a foreign shore, and was completely unaware of how anything worked.

  Just that morning I’d caught him whistling his way out to inspect the hives. I lit into him with a fury I’d never known was in me. He could have easily killed off half our bees, opening the boxes with frost on the ground. Even worse, when I asked what he’d been thinking, Sam said he wanted to harvest a bit more honey—he was eager to make some money, since Papa had taken most of the family cash to the city.

  After a volley of heated words, Samuel slammed his fist against the new supply shed door and stormed off. He only joined us at lunch to announce that an emergency town meeting had been called and attendance was mandatory.

  “This isn’t something we can afford to wait around on,” Asher said, taking control of the situation. “The snowfall is coming. If we’re going to send out a run, we need to do it now.”

  “Today?” Leland blinked. He was notoriously slow at making decisions.

  “Tomorrow morning at the latest.” The farmer looked about the room. “We’ll need several wagons—who will join me?”

  “What about those things in the woods?” Prudence Latheton asked, standing up. “Isn’t that why we delayed all this in the first place? There was a Deciding and everything.”

  Amos held up his hands and spoke, fighting to be heard over the murmurs in the hall. “We have it on good authority that the threat of the creatures has passed. Only days ago, Ezra Downing returned to the Falls, bringing with him the body of one of these…aberrations. Ezra?”

  I glanced to the front row, where my new uncle and cousin sat. We hadn’t seen them since the day they’d arrived, though I’d heard they were staying at the Buhrmans’.

  After a beat, he rose reluctantly and faced the town, fidgeting with the hem of his vest. “It’s true. We’ve been traveling throughout the woods for several weeks, and…that was the only one of them we crossed.”

  Prudence’s nostrils flared. “But Gideon said—”

  “I’ve no doubt my…brother…saw what he saw. I’ve never known him to lie or exaggerate. There well may have been a pack, but you all saw the remains. These mutations weren’t meant to be. Animals so badly…changed don’t usually live long lives.” He took off his glasses and polished them earnestly.

  “Even still, we will take an abundance of precautions,” Asher said. “Torches, firearms. Perhaps we ought to light the Our Ladies tonight to drive back any creatures that might still linger in the area.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Jonas Marjanovic volunteered. “I have a cart we can use, and my parents’ horses are some of the fastest in town. They’ll get us up and over the pass before the snows.”

  “I’ll go as well,” said Joseph Abernathy, the store clerk, jumping from his seat. “Asher is right—the store is nearly emptied clean. We won’t last a winter without more supplies.” He glanced down at his mother, as if seeking permission. After a pause, the older woman nodded.

  “Who else?” Asher said, stepping to the front of the room.

  “Wait just a minute,” Matthias protested, realizing control of the situation had slipped entirely from the Elders’ grasps. “Prudence is right—we cast a Deciding against another run, and that vote ought to stand.”

  “Surely you’re not going to let the town of Amity Falls starve over a bit of legalese,” Parson Briard challenged, folding his arms over his chest.

  “This is a Deciding the town must make as a whole. We need to cast votes. We need—”

  Asher let out a groan. “There’s no time for all that!”

  “We must have decorum,” Amos said, struggling to raise his voice as a burst of wet coughs erupted from his chest. He leaned forward, gripping his cane as their force racked through him. As his chest stilled, he pulled out a handkerchief and blotted the spittle from his papery lips
, regaining focus. “There is a way things are done. We cannot forsake our very identity as a town for expediency.”

  In the silence that followed, Briard nudged Asher, spurring him into action.

  “People of Amity Falls, I put forth the motion for a supply train, leaving tomorrow at first light. We will bring back enough provisions to help us through the winter. All in favor, raise your hands.”

  After a moment of uneasiness, the room stirred to action. The Elders’ eyes darted about, counting votes.

  “And opposed?”

  Not a single hand raised.

  “There you have it,” Asher said. “May we proceed?”

  Matthias’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t used to having his authority ripped out from under him. “You have the floor.”

  Asher slowly looked about the crowd, making eye contact with everyone before speaking. “We’ll need at least one more to accompany us. Who will go?”

  The room remained silent. Everyone wanted the benefit of the supplies without the risk.

  Matthias stroked his beard. “Parson? Perhaps you’ll join them? They’ll certainly need every blessing they can get.” Though his words seemed friendly, there was a dark undercurrent to them, daring Parson Briard to say no in front of the whole town.

  “These old bones wouldn’t make it up a mountain under the best conditions,” he said, waving aside the challenge. “I’m afraid I’d only slow the younger fellows down.”

  “Simon, then,” the Elder said, undeterred, fixing his eyes on the parson’s son.

  “Simon can’t leave at present.” Parson Briard cleared his throat. “I hadn’t intended to make this public today—it certainly isn’t a moment for celebration—but we’ll be having a wedding soon. You’re all invited, of course.”

  “Who’s the girl?” someone called out.

  The parson clapped his son on the back, giving him the floor.

  Simon was as lanky as a beanpole, all arms and legs and angles formed too sharply. He was only a year or two older than me, but I couldn’t remember a single thing about him from school. I’d never met anyone so thoroughly unremarkable. From his mop of mousy-brown hair and muddy eyes, to the way he spoke—too soft, and as though on the verge of tripping over his words—everything about him seemed utterly forgettable.

  Simon’s face somehow both turned ashen and flushed as he mustered the courage to speak. He opened his mouth once, twice, looking for all the world like a trout, too cowed to answer.

  “Rebecca Danforth,” Parson Briard filled in, ignoring the gasps and looks of confusion.

  Beside me, Samuel’s hands clenched and unclenched, leaving little half-moon indents pressed into the meat of his palms. “I knew it,” he muttered.

  “We know it’s not the custom for such an event to take place after…a death in the family,” the parson continued. “But Rebecca and her brother are all alone on that big farm of theirs, and, well…young love oughtn’t to be stopped.”

  Young love indeed.

  I glanced back to Rebecca, studying her stomach with a critical eye. She’d not yet begun to show but must have been terrified of her secret slipping out before she was safely married away. My heart ached for her for so many reasons. Her eyes were dark and glassy—nearly on the verge of tears—but she smiled wanly and accepted the well-wishes from those surrounding her. When our gazes met, she looked away as though she hadn’t seen me.

  I wondered if Simon knew about the baby. I couldn’t imagine he did. He’d never be able to keep such a secret from his father, and there was little chance the parson would sanction such a union, even with all the land and money Rebecca now brought to the table.

  But it wasn’t his, no matter what Sam claimed. I was certain of that with a bone-deep conviction.

  Rebecca had only ever loved Sam, but when faced with absolute ruin, she’d latched on to whatever option could pull her from it.

  Abruptly, Samuel stood. “I’ll join you, Asher. I don’t have a cart, but I’m a good shot. I know I can be of help.”

  “Sam, no!” I said, tugging at his hand. He was volunteering out of anger and wounded pride, ready to prove himself capable of service.

  “Leave me alone, Ellerie. I’m going,” he hissed through the side of his mouth.

  “You’re sure?” Asher asked skeptically. “Your sisters—”

  “Will be just fine,” Samuel said, cutting him off. “Ellerie knows how to handle everything on her own. It’s remarkable, really. Besides, our uncle is here now.” He glanced toward Ezra, who startled into a nod. “I’m sure they’ll all get along just fine.”

  He plunked himself back onto the bench, his decision made.

  I covered his hand with mine. “Stay, Sam, please,” I whispered. “I’m sorry for the fight, for the things I said.”

  He shook his head with resolution and tossed my hand aside. Only six inches of space separated us on the bench, but it felt like miles.

  “If there’s no one else willing to go, I suppose this meeting has come to an end.” Asher glanced about the room, clearly hoping more would jump to their feet, but everyone swarmed Rebecca and Simon. “Can those going meet at the front to discuss details? We’ll leave at first light.”

  * * *

  I woke with a gasp, prodded by the nagging feeling that something was wrong. I lay in bed, wondering what had bothered me. My sisters’ even breathing was punctuated with Sadie’s occasional soft laughter. She was always happy in her dreams.

  What was it?

  I didn’t hear anything amiss, didn’t smell smoke. There wasn’t a sound from Samuel’s corner of the loft, but with Mama and Papa gone, he’d taken to sleeping in their room, eager to be away from our roomful of girls.

  I strained my ears, listening for noises downstairs. Was Samuel up, already packing for the trip? The moon was still low in the sky; it couldn’t be past midnight.

  I stole across the room and peered out the window, blinking against the darkness. The blackened rows of the barren fields were still, sparkling with frost.

  A pale figure stood in the middle of them, palms raised high to the starlight.

  Merry must have been out praying again.

  In the days after the fire, she’d doubled down on her fervor, slipping out to the fields for meditation whenever she had a spare moment.

  I once asked what she was asking for, but she only smiled and said it was between her and God.

  But praying in the middle of the night was new.

  How had she even snuck from—

  A soft murmur from the bed broke my thoughts. Merry rolled over, murmuring in her sleep.

  I snapped back to the window. The figure who was definitely not my sister was still there, frozen in such a static pose, I almost convinced myself it was a scarecrow.

  But no scarecrows had survived the fire…

  Then, slowly, as if feeling my gaze upon it, it moved, lowering its arms as it turned toward the house.

  I jerked back from the window, feeling sheepish. There was no way it could see me through the tiny, dark windowpane.

  Even as I tried to reassure myself of this, the figure lifted one hand, reaching high up into the night sky, and waved at me.

  There was something…not right with its hand. The fingers were too long and twisted. They reminded me of the stag the McNally brothers had brought into town, its antlers braiding around themselves, spindly and misshapen.

  I stilled, remembering Cyrus’s jumbled mutterings at the Judgment.

  But…her hands…they were awfully funny, though. Not like…not like they were supposed to be.

  This was her.

  This was Cyrus’s silvery woman.

  The one he’d seen at the tavern, the night of the fire.

  The one only he’d seen.

  And now I had too.

  In a
flash, she cut across the field, moving far too swiftly to be human, like a bit of gauze caught in a sharp wind. When I blinked, trying to focus on her, she was gone, as though she’d never been there at all.

  I stared into the dark, willing myself to see her once more.

  But the field remained empty.

  I rubbed my eyes.

  Squinted.

  The night stayed still.

  “You’re tired,” I whispered. “It was just a trick of moonlight. An illusion.”

  Nodding to myself, I joined my sisters back in bed, grateful for the warmth they offered. I settled in and tried to drift to sleep.

  But as I closed my eyes, I saw her, saw the longer-than-they-should-be fingers fluttering at me as if I ought to recognize her. As if I knew her. As if we were friends.

  I buried deeper into the mattress, a chill descending over me.

  “It wasn’t real,” I muttered into my pillow. “Your mind is playing tricks on you.”

  But Cyrus had seen her too.

  “He was drunk.”

  But I wasn’t. Not now. Not ever.

  I froze, remembering the night I’d lit the Our Ladies. A woman in a pale dress had come out of the wheat field. I tried to recall what her hands had looked like, but it had been dark and she’d been so far away.

  Who was this mysterious woman, and why hadn’t anyone else in town seen her? The Falls wasn’t very big, not like the cities out east, where every person you met on the street was a stranger. There was no place here for outsiders to hide.

  The wind picked up, racing past the window to rustle through the woods and set the Bells to chiming.

  The pines.

  Was she out there, hiding in the woods?

  For what purpose?

  Cyrus had seen her, and the next day he was dead.

  Did she mean to harm me as well?

  I flipped onto my back, picking faces out of the gnarled wooden knots in the beams above me as I wondered through my options.

  I wanted to hope, wanted to believe, that she wasn’t real.