“Well enough, thank you,” Tillie answered in a soft voice.
“Take this,” the doctor said, while pouring something into a cup.
“What is it?” Tillie asked.
The doctor didn’t answer. More bottles clinked together. Then Dr. Rusch cleared his throat. “Jessamyn is doing well,” he said, “but I must remind you not to see her. You don’t want her to catch your illness.”
“But—”
“I’ll return next week,” Doctor Rusch said, cutting her off. He began to sweep bottles back into his bag.
“But what of my eye, Doctor?” Tillie said.
“Ah, yes,” Dr. Rusch said. “Most interesting, I must say. Why, I was just looking at a similar case this morning. Fellow had a tumor the size of a swallow’s egg in his left eye. We were not able to remove it, I’m afraid. He died just before we could operate.”
Cap’s hands turned to ice. Mr. Johnson, the man he’d revived on the dissection table, was dead again. What had happened to him?
“Oh, the poor man,” Tillie murmured.
“Now, don’t you fret over it. I shall be able to study his tumor and perhaps it will be to your good.” The doctor moved toward the door. “I may learn what to do for others who suffer from similar conditions. We shall advance the great cause of science, that man and I!”
He swept from the room and pulled the door closed behind him.
Cap didn’t know what to say. He waited. Finally, Tillie glanced in his direction.
“You should go, young man. Careful no one sees you leave my room. It’s not proper for you to be here.”
The boy nodded. He cracked the door open to listen for any sound. There was none, so he whispered goodbye to Jessamyn’s mother and crept out into the now deserted corridor and down the stairs.
Cap made it to the cabbage-reeking kitchen. Finding it empty, he crouched by the fire. His head whirled.
Jessamyn and her mother lived together at St. Joseph’s? It made no sense. He leaned forward and held cold hands closer to the crackling flames. Why didn’t Jessamyn tell everyone she wasn’t an orphan?
“Why, this is a surprise,” Sister Mariah said. Cap leapt at the sound and knocked over the heavy iron poker. It fell to the stone floor with a clang.
“Goodness, child, you’re as jumpy as a mouse in a hot skillet,” Sister Mariah said with a chuckle. She picked up the poker and returned it to the hearth. Cap was certain his face was as red as the glowing coals behind him.
“I came to see Jessamyn,” he said.
“Captain Cooper, I assumed as much, but the child isn’t feeling well and it’s late. I must ask you to return tomorrow.”
“She’s not feeling well?” he asked.
Sister Mariah’s face was troubled. “She seemed feverish when she came home, so I called for the doctor.”
I know, Cap thought. She called Dr. Ivins, but Rusch came instead.
Something wasn’t right. Could it be that Dr. Rusch was somehow making patients worse, rather than better? Cap wasn’t sure of much, but he knew he didn’t trust old Dr. Rusch, with his squashed pumpkin nose and his sneering face, not one little bit.
“Can’t I just see her for one minute?” he begged.
The woman smiled at him, but she took his arm in her firm grip and steered him to the door. “She’ll be fine,” she said. “I plan to keep an eye on her myself.”
“But—”
“Go,” Sister Mariah said, turning the knob. “She’ll be all right, I promise. But you might say a prayer or two for your friend.”
“Like God ever listens to me,” Cap muttered, buttoning his coat.
Sister Mariah folded her arms, regarding Cap with a sad expression. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“He does listen, child,” she told him in a soft voice. “But he may not answer in the way you expect. I once asked for the means to help children like your friend Jessamyn. So many have no place to call home. And I got what I asked for in a way I never could have imagined.”
“You did?” Cap asked.
“Yes,” the woman answered. Her eyes sought and held Cap’s. “And I believe you understand what I’m saying. Don’t you?”
Cap shrugged, while chills crept up his spine. “No, ma’am. I can’t say I do.”
Sister Mariah blinked. Then, she straightened and spoke in a brisk voice. “Cap, you’d best skedaddle,” she said. “Your parents would settle my hash if they knew I was keeping you here, making you late for your supper.”
When he got home, no one scolded Cap for being late, for no one was about. Mamma was sleeping, Mrs. Hardy was gone, and Father was who knew where. Cap ate the plate of food kept warm on the stove, wondering just how much Sister Mariah knew about him.
It doesn’t matter, he thought as he gulped his beans and bread. I’m going to raise every last soul they tell us to dig up. No more money for old Lum. No more money for Dr. Rusch. I’m done doing their dirty work.
When Father came in, telling Cap he had a job to do with Lum, the boy smiled.
“Yes, sir,” he said.
TWENTY-ONE
“YOU COULDA KNOCKED me over with a feather when I heard we had us another easy job!” Lum said. “This is the life for me, boy! He pays them, you know,” he said, leaning down to whisper. “He pays them so’s they’ll let us take ’em when they’re dead.”
The arrangement! Cap’s pulse quickened. “Who pays them?” he asked.
“No questions, boy,” Lum growled. He continued to drive, flicking the reins of Father’s wagon and whistling to the horses. “Just do your job and get paid. Our man pays them folks as knows they’re dying, to let us take them. ‘For the advancement of science,’ he always tells them, though most of them takes the money ’cause their families need it. Don’t know why this fella needs more coin, but you never know. Could’ve lost all his living at the horse races.”
Lum’s words were eerily familiar. No more than an hour ago, Dr. Rusch had said nearly the same thing to Tillie, while Cap hid behind the door. His chest grew tight, and he clenched his fists.
Dr. Rusch thinks he’s so smart, but he’s sure in for a surprise. He’s not getting any more bodies from Lum.
As the wagon rumbled along in the darkness, Cap shivered and wrapped his arms around his quivering frame. It still made no sense that the doctor had paid them for Jessamyn. Dr. Rusch might have paid Lum because he didn’t want anyone asking questions, but what did the man have to hide? Aside from his resurrection business, that is.
“We’re here,” Lum whispered as he jerked on the reins and pulled the wagon to a stop. “The father’s waiting for us.”
They parked beside a tall brick house with shuttered windows. A thin man waited for them beside the door. Deep smudges of purple beneath the man’s bloodshot eyes stood out against his light, papery skin. Wordlessly, he led them inside a laundry room where basins lined the wall.
“Wait here,” the man whispered before he disappeared. Within moments, he returned, carrying a bundle wrapped tightly in a colored cloth. It was a child, no more than half Cap’s height by the looks of the swaddled form. Cap’s eyes grew wide with horror.
“My wife does not know about this,” the man whispered. “Please, go quickly.”
“Yes, sir,” Lum said, saluting smartly. When he reached to seize the bundle, Cap stepped in front of him.
“I’ll take him,” he said. The man glanced down in surprise but didn’t protest. Cap balanced the bundle in his arms. The body felt light, hardly more than the weight of a puppy. He turned to go, following Lum out the door, but a sudden heaviness was settling inside his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He had to say something.
“Why?” Cap asked, turning back. “Why are you letting us take him?”
The man gazed at Cap with a pleading expression.
“So that the doctors might discover why he was…the way he was,” he said, his face twisted in grief. “So that perhaps one da
y they may know how to cure others like him.”
“Move, boy,” Lum hissed from the doorway.
Cap backed up a few feet, still staring at the man.
“But this is your son,” he whispered.
“Go now!” the man said, his face crumpled. “Please!”
Crossing the kitchen in a few long strides, Lum snatched the bundle from Cap’s arms and seized him by the wrist. He dragged him out into the cold night air. Then he tossed the small body into the back of the wagon, and hefted Cap in after it. The fabric of Cap’s trousers tore over one knee when he landed.
Lum drove away like the flames of hell were at their heels. Cap and the small bundle were both thrown back and forth in the bed of the wagon like two potatoes in a wheelbarrow.
“Confound you, boy! Don’t you ever pull a trick like that again!” Lum bellowed when they were a short distance from the house. “You’ll lose us our money, you sniveling brat! ‘But this is your son,’” Lum imitated in a high-pitched wail. “So what! You think your pa would never let them doctors have a go at you? You just wait ’til I tell Noah. He’ll do you in himself and sell you to the highest bidder.”
Cap struggled to keep his balance inside the jouncing wagon. Rage clouded his vision. He’d fix old Lum, for sure! Cap reached for the bundle and unwrapped the tightly wound fabric. As he did so, a lightness swelled inside his chest. Here I go.
When the final layer of fabric fell away, Cap blinked in surprise. In the moonlight, the boy’s face was distorted, with eyes far too large for his face, a tiny, flat nose, and a gaping mouth. There was a strange ring of marks across the child’s forehead, like a series of bruises.
He placed his hand on the child’s cheek. The flesh was hard and cold as stone. Cap waited, not breathing, fully expecting the sensation of warmth to spark beneath his fingers and spread through the cold flesh of the dead child. The wagon jostled as they moved onto a cobbled street. Cap stared, waiting.
Nothing happened.
He waited for several more heart beats. He placed both hands on the child’s face. Please, he silently prayed. More long moments passed. Cap felt his insides turn to lead.
It didn’t work.
Slumping in defeat, Cap covered the child’s face again. He couldn’t even begin to understand all of this. He’d revived Jessamyn, Mr. Greeves, and Mr. Johnson, yet he was not able to revive the child beside him. Why?
Once the body was delivered, Lum took his payment with a smirk. He tipped his hat and sauntered off down the alleyway, leaving Cap to drive home on his own.
Cap felt in his pocket for the gold coin he still carried. He fished it out and hurled it as far as he could into the thick shadows. It landed somewhere with a metallic ping and rolled to a stop. And Cap drove away.
TWENTY-TWO
WHY COULDN’T I bring him back?
Sitting at his desk, Cap couldn’t pay attention to his spelling book. That question kept coming back to sting him like a hornet with a powerful grudge.
Jessamyn wasn’t in school. The troubling thought of what might be happening to her, well, that stung like a whole nest full of vengeful hornets. Cap fidgeted at his desk. If Jessamyn died again, he wasn’t so certain he could revive her after all. He had to repeat several lessons and remain inside during afternoon recess, ciphering on his slate.
The evening wasn’t much better. Mrs. Hardy served boiled cabbage for dinner, and there was no dessert. Then Father stopped him on the stairs.
“Lum spoke with me this morning,” he said to Cap in a stern voice. “You tried to talk that man out of his arrangement.”
“That was his son,” Cap said, while the cabbage roiled uncomfortably in his stomach.
“It’s no matter,” Father said, his thick eyebrows meeting in the middle. “He agreed to it and was paid. Don’t ask any more questions, and do your job. How many times must I tell you we need this money?” he said, taking his son’s arm and giving it a little shake.
Wordlessly, Cap gazed up at his Father. A cold lump settled inside his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I know you don’t like this work, and I admit it’s distasteful, but those people are dead, Cap. We’re not hurting them.” Father’s lips formed a thin line as he gazed at his son. “We’ve another digging job at the cemetery tonight, but Lum won’t have you there. That means it’ll take us much longer to do our work, and I’m tired enough as it is.” Father ran a hand through his dark hair. “I’ll speak to him tonight to see if I can get him to take you back.” Without another word, his father left. And so, the dismal day ended.
The following morning, Cap sulked through school. Jessamyn had not yet returned. After class, he hurried into town, determined to see his friend.
As he passed Mr. Garrett’s shop, the man waved him inside. Then he proudly displayed the invention Cap had helped him with. At the boy’s suggestion, he’d added two more curved magnets to the electric charge-making device to get a stronger current. He’d also fashioned leather collars to which he’d attached the metal bits that needed to rest against the skin.
“This here’s my second model,” he said. “The man what ordered it already took the first one. He’s mighty pleased with it. I sure do appreciate your help. You have a right quick mind, son.”
“Thank you,” Cap said, though the kind words couldn’t quite lift his spirits.
Mr. Garrett mopped his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief and coughed out a wheezing bark.
“Papa, you’re still coughing?” Lettie asked, coming in from the front shop. “Here, drink some water.”
She handed her father a cup and then tossed a newspaper onto the table. “Special afternoon edition,” she said. “I can’t understand why anyone would do this. It’s unnatural, that’s what it is. Old Nellie’s friends are carrying on like anything, and I can see why. I don’t know what I’d do if that happened to you, Papa.”
Mr. Garrett choked on his water. Spluttering, he wiped his mouth and patted his daughter’s arm.
Cap glanced at the headline, and his insides froze.
Gang of Ghouls Strikes Again
in Forest Cemetery—Excitement Prevailing
He grabbed the paper and quickly read through the article. An elderly man, Wilson Jefferson, had died and been buried in a homemade coffin. Beside herself with grief, Wilson’s wife, Alpharetta, jumped into the river the very next day. Friends opened the grave to bury Alpharetta with her husband, but found Wilson’s body gone. A search was made of the town’s new medical school, but nothing was found.
“Our town’s fine colored residents now wonder where their loved ones lie,” the article concluded. “A group, led by the Reverend Cole and his family, plans to meet before the courthouse today to ask for the town’s protection and justice for the bereaved families.”
“What did the paper say?” Mr. Garrett asked, squinting through his thick glasses. Cap told him, speaking in a rush as he buttoned his coat.
Mr. Garrett pursed his lips. “It’s a shame, it is,” he said, after a moment. “But I don’t know what’s to be done about it. Don’t know at all.” He began to cough again.
“You mind if I take this?” Cap asked, picking up the paper. Busy fussing over her father, Lettie nodded. Tying his scarf, Cap’s thoughts whirled like a tornado. The snatchers couldn’t have possibly guessed what would happen the very next day, after they stole Wilson’s body. Well, Lum was sure in for it, now, with the town’s residents in an uproar. It served him right.
Cap thanked Mr. Garrett and Lettie and left the shop. He couldn’t go to the orphanage, now. He’d head home and show Father the paper. One way or another, he had to convince the man to give up the body-snatching business.
When he turned onto Main Street, Cap found himself part of a small crowd gathered in front of the courthouse. Their voices murmured in agreement and dismay as they listened to people speaking from the steps of the courthouse. Cap wove through and around the folks gathered there
. With a fluttering heart, he recognized two of the people who were speaking. Delphia and Jardine stood side by side, along with several others, including a very tall man with brown skin who wore the collar of a preacher, and an elderly ebony-skinned man with bowed shoulders.
“My wife, Nellie, was stolen from her grave,” the old man said. “And now they’ve taken others. We need a guard at the cemetery. Please.”
“I have more than three hundred names who signed this letter,” Delphia called out, proudly holding up her paper. “People all over town want to protect our loved ones. Please, listen to us!” She spied Cap and greeted him with a grateful smile.
Voices swelled and rose around her, as others called for action and help from the town. Cap backed away while his face burned with shame.
“Now, folks, I know you’re upset, but there’s no money available to pay a guard,” someone else said. Cap recognized the mayor, a barrel of a man who bore a vivid wine-colored mark upon the pallid skin of his naked scalp. Voices called out in dismay.
“Then we must take matters into our own hands,” Delphia called out. “Folks, listen to me! We’ll organize our own watch if this town won’t protect our loved ones. We’ll catch those thieves and protect our own by ourselves!”
“I’ll stand watch,” a man yelled out. Gaping in shock, Cap watched as Parsons, the old man he’d met at the Round House, moved through the crowd, holding his hat in his hands and looking for all the world like a churchgoing soul who’d just been saved. “I sure don’t like to see folks all in a dither, and this grave robbing don’t set right with me,” he said in a simpering voice. “I’m out of work and don’t need much. If you all could give me what you could—some food, or maybe a penny or two, now and then, well…”
Cap gaped while the people on the steps spoke together excitedly, hurrying forward to shake Parsons’s hand. That was the old man who had taunted him for climbing into the dissection room at the new medical college. Cap tilted his head. Had he been fired from the college? Then, a grating sound, like the crunch of gravel beneath his boot, caught his attention and he turned.
The Grave Digger Page 9
