The Grave Digger

by Rebecca Bischoff

“You heard him speak to someone? Did you know the other man’s voice?” Dr. Ivins finally asked.

  “No, sir. The voice was too quiet,” Cap answered.

  Dr. Ivins’s face visibly relaxed. He released Cap’s arm and moved around to the other side of his desk, where he fished about until he pulled out a pipe. “It seems we have a rather odd situation,” the man said, with a half-smile. “Allow me to indulge myself for a moment, son. I like to have a smoke while I think.”

  “Aren’t you going to call the sheriff, sir?” Cap asked. He rubbed his arm where the doctor had grabbed him. Dr. Ivins lit his pipe and blew smoke rings toward the cracked ceiling.

  “I imagine Parsons will already have taken care of that. He’s very efficient,” he said.

  What little remaining courage Cap had plummeted to his boots. He swallowed. “But do you believe me, sir?” he asked.

  “Oh, I believe you, son, I believe you,” Dr. Ivins said with a slight smile that was no more than a twitch at the corners of his mouth. He took a long draw from his pipe and blew out the smoke in a stream. The bittersweet scent of the smoke filled the room.

  “What I’d like to know now is why you came here in the first place.” He cocked his head to the side and gazed at the boy.

  “I, well,” Cap said, and stopped, confused. Why wasn’t Dr. Ivins more upset when he learned that another doctor had been found dead down below? Surely, he was, but he must want to make certain that Cap was being truthful. The boy had many secrets to hide, but their weight had become far too heavy to bear. He’d already decided to tell someone, and it was high time. He could trust Dr. Ivins. He had to. Cap made his decision and took a deep breath.

  “I was looking for a body,” he said, with a sudden rush of relief to have the truth come out. “I’m a snatcher, sir. I work with the men who dig up bodies for the college.” Cap held up his hands as Dr. Ivins blinked at him. “Please, hear me out! I’ve been having my doubts, you see. I don’t want to do it anymore. It isn’t right. Anyway, another snatcher took a baby right after the funeral, and that didn’t set none too well with me. The baby belongs to a friend of mine, and I wanted to get it back for her.”

  Dr. Ivins slowly put his pipe down onto his desk. A tic had developed near his right eye. The blood drained from the man’s face, turning his skin a pasty gray color. The man stood.

  “Sir?” Cap asked. He took another a step back. “You’re not going to have me arrested, are you?”

  “You are a snatcher?” Dr. Ivins asked in a hoarse voice.

  “Yes, sir,” Cap answered.

  “Who do you work for?” Dr. Ivins asked, moving closer so that his face was inches from the boy’s. His voice was a mere whisper and his eyes never left Cap’s face. “Tell me.”

  “Columbus Jones. And he was working for Dr. Rusch. At least I thought so. But now, after hearing Rusch talk to someone else, well, I don’t know.”

  “I see,” Ivins murmured. Something in his eyes made Cap shrink away from the man.

  At that moment, tiny orange flames crackled to life on top of the paper-strewn desk. “Fire!” Cap shouted, pointing. Dr. Ivins whirled, his wig flying askew once more, and darted to his desk.

  “Damnable pipe,” he said, whipping off his jacket to smother the flames.

  Without really thinking about why he wanted to run, Cap moved toward the door. As he did so, he bumped into a box that sat upon the floor. He glanced down and froze.

  “Sakes alive,” he breathed out. Inside the trunk were several glass containers. Each held a tiny body floating in clear liquid. Beside them was a burlap-wrapped bundle, shaped like a doll.

  Cap dove, seized the bundle and bolted.

  Dr. Ivins’s shouts echoed after him. “Help, Parsons! He’s here! The boy is here! Call the sheriff! Paarsooons!!”

  TWENTY-NINE

  CAP SPRINTED TO the front doors and yanked on the knobs. They wouldn’t budge. “No!” he shouted, kicking at the imprisoning wood. A loud rapping at the nearby window made him yelp. He whirled to see a figure peering in at him, hands cupped against the glass to see inside. A muffled voice shouted his name.

  The boy’s heart flopped about inside his chest like a fish on a riverbank. “Jessamyn?” he called. What in the world? He darted to the window and lifted the sill. Blessedly, it heaved open with a groan. Cap dove headfirst outside and landed in a heap at Jessamyn’s feet, still clutching the tiny bundle to his chest.

  “What’s happening—”

  “What are you—”

  The two spoke at the same time. Jessamyn was clad in her blue dress, but had only a thin shawl about her shoulders. The girl was shivering in the cold.

  “We’ll talk later. Run!” Cap shouted, seizing her hand.

  The two fled, leaving the college behind them and hurtling downtown, past shops opening for the day. No one came after them, though a milkman squinted in their direction and shook his head as he left clanking bottles upon a doorstep.

  Finally, they slowed down to cross a street. Cap kept glancing behind them, but it seemed no one had pursued them. At least, not yet.

  “Why were you outside the college?” Cap asked, his breath coming in quick gasps. “The sun’s hardly up.”

  Jessamyn’s features twisted into a look of such distress, Cap thought she’d cry.

  “I spied on that Mr. Jones,” she said. Her eyes were enormous. “I heard him talking about the bodies stolen from the cemetery. He said they needed to lay low for a while, or they’d be caught for sure. And then Sister Mariah said—” The girl’s voice broke, and she took a deep breath. “She said she hoped it wouldn’t be for long, because she needed more money. Oh, Cap, she’s working with that awful man, somehow!”

  That’s why Sister Mariah acted so all-fired suspicious. She knows I was working with Lum, Cap thought. He hung his head.

  “Jessamyn, I’m real…” the boy began to say, but he stopped and cleared his throat. Jessamyn didn’t seem to know he was in on it, too, and for now he had to keep it that way. He vowed he’d come clean, but now wasn’t the time.

  “So, you ran away?” he said instead.

  The girl nodded. “You see, I’ve been sick again. Sister Mariah promised me I’d get well, but I always felt worse every time I took the medicine the doctor left for me. So last night, I pretended to take it but spilled it onto my blankets when she wasn’t looking. When I woke up, I felt better than I had for days. I went down to the kitchen to get something to eat, but Sister Mariah was there, drinking tea with Mr. Jones. That’s when I heard what they said.”

  “That must have been a shock,” Cap finally managed to say.

  The girl nodded. “But that’s not the only reason I ran,” she said. Tears made glittering trails down her cheeks. “The sexton was there, carrying out little Caroline, another orphan like me. She was dead. She’s only six. They said she got sick like I did.”

  “Golly,” Cap whispered. He tried to swallow, but couldn’t.

  “I grabbed Sister Mariah’s shawl and followed the sexton to the college. Oh, I don’t know what I was going to do, but I wanted to look inside. That’s when I saw you and heard all that yelling. Why were you there, Cap?” the girl asked.

  “I was looking for Dr. Ivins. His new office is there.” Cap hurried on, hoping the girl wouldn’t wonder how he got inside a building that was locked. “And I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but it’s something real awful. Dr. Rusch got himself killed!”

  Jessamyn’s mouth gaped open.

  “We best keep moving,” Cap said. They ran on, while Cap struggled to think. Where could they go? Then, he thought of the bundle he still held in his arms. Swiftly, he removed his coat and wrapped it around the body, glancing at Jessamyn to see if she noticed.

  “Come on,” he said. “I’ll tell you more in a minute.” Cap led the girl through a litter-strewn back garden. They squeezed through a gap in a splintered fence and emerged onto a narrow dirt track that ran behind crow
ded houses.

  “Where are we?” Jessamyn asked.

  “I have a friend nearby. We can ask her for help. I, uh, I have to bring her something.”

  Jessamyn backed up a few steps. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I have to go back to St. Joseph’s.”

  “What?” Cap said, squinting at the girl. “You heard Sister Mariah! If she’s in on that resurrection scheme, well, she’s the last person you want to see!”

  “She doesn’t know I heard her talk. Anyway, there’s somebody I need to get out of there.”

  “Who?”

  Flushing, the girl looked away. “A friend.”

  Turning her back, Jessamyn started to walk away with her shoulders hunched against the cold. Her head was down and her steps rapid. It called to mind the time she’d left school, after leaving that note for Cap. His insides twisted. He had to stop her. He plunged his hand into his pocket and seized the ring he’d wrested from Dr. Rusch’s finger.

  “Wait!” he called. “Is this yours?” He held it out.

  The girl turned around. Spying the tiny gold circlet in Cap’s palm, her eyes widened.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Cap, however did you find it?” She flew to him, seized the ring, and slid it onto her finger.

  “Dr. Rusch had it,” Cap said. “He has a whole room full of things he’s filched from the dead. Lum was working for him, so my guess is he took it when he thought you were a goner.”

  Jessamyn held her hand out to admire the stone. It sparkled in the early morning sun. A tear slid down her cheek.

  “I’m so glad to have it back,” she whispered. “It’s only thing my father left for me.”

  Cap took a deep breath. “Your mother will be happy, too, I reckon,” he said softly.

  “Oh, yes—” Jessamyn stopped and her face nearly turned the color of the crimson-painted fence nearby. “I mean, I…”

  “It’s all right. I know about your mamma,” Cap told her.

  “Why, I reckon you do,” Jessamyn said with bitterness. “All those awful boys at school tease me so. I don’t know how they found out, but…”

  The girl grew silent as a brown-skinned woman with several chins popped through the door of a neighboring house and eyed them with open curiosity, her shrewd eyes pinning them as she threw out a pan of dishwater.

  “Look, Cap, I should go home, now,” Jessamyn said. “Thank you for finding my ring. I’ll never forget it.” She bit her lip. “But you and I, we just can’t be friends.”

  “Why?” Cap breathed. But Jessamyn turned away. The listening woman was still outside her door with the empty dishpan in her hands, wearing a look of frank curiosity on her face.

  Cap hurried after the girl. “Wait,” he blurted. “I know about your mother, because I’ve met her.”

  Jessamyn whirled. “When? How?” The staring woman moved several steps closer with her head cocked to one side. She placed her dishpan on the ground and dried her hands on her red calico apron.

  “That day I went to St. Joseph’s looking for you, I ended up in her room by mistake,” Cap said while his face stung. “She talked to me. She was nice.”

  “Nice,” Jessamyn said with a mirthless laugh. “I know you hear what those boys say. You don’t really think that.”

  Cap’s face grew even hotter. “But I do,” he said.

  Jessamyn turned away. “It’s not only what my mamma does,” she whispered. “It’s my father.” The girl pulled her long braid over her shoulder and stared at the ground. “Folks know he and Mamma ran off together. They know he was a slave.” Jessamyn turned back to Cap and waited, her eyes searching his face.

  “A slave?” Cap repeated, swallowing hard. “But that means that he, uh, that you…”

  “I’m a half-breed,” Jessamyn said. Her eyes were round. “A girl who doesn’t belong anywhere.” She gazed at Cap with an expression so lost it made his insides smart something awful. “I’m the daughter of a former slave and a fallen woman. That’s why Mamma thought I’d be better off if everyone thought I was an orphan.”

  Cap scuffed the ground with the toe of his boot. “I never guessed,” he finally said. “I mean, you look, well…” he gave up and picked a bit of dirt from under his ragged nails.

  “I look white,” Jessamyn said softly. “Mamma irons my hair. We came here after my father died, looking for his family, but we never found them. Mamma decided it was best if I passed for white when she looked for work, trying to keep us fed. But she never found enough to support us until...oh, never mind.” The girl turned her back to Cap, but not before he saw the gleam of tears in her eyes.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Cap said. “It does not matter one bit.”

  Jessamyn bowed her head. “I wish that were true,” she said in a voice rough with tears.

  Cap took a deep breath. “I heard your mamma talking to someone,” he said. “She said she had no other way to take care of you. I can’t help thinking she’s not all that bad. I mean, if she was so all-fired wicked, I guess she’d have just left you.”

  “The boy’s right, child,” the staring woman said. Cap and Jessamyn both whipped their heads around.

  “No good woman would ever leave her own baby if she could help it,” she added, swinging her dishpan as she turned to walk back to her house. “And I opine it’s no bad woman who’s only doing what she’s gotta do to feed her little one.”

  She smiled wide while Cap and Jessamyn stared. “It’s no bad woman who chose to love like she did—loving somebody nobody else thought was worth a lick. That’s what I think. What was his name, by the way?” she asked. “You mind me asking your daddy’s name?”

  Jessamyn didn’t speak. The woman shrugged and smiled at them. “God bless you, child,” she said. She retreated inside her house and the door closed behind her with a squeak.

  “She’s right,” Cap said. “Your mamma isn’t so wicked as people say, and you’re the nicest girl I ever met. I mean that.”

  “Oh, Cap,” Jessamyn said, in a voice still thick with tears.

  A window squealed open somewhere nearby, and Cap clenched his fists. Land sakes, but they were becoming a spectacle! Who was watching them now? He held his coat-wrapped bundle more tightly to his chest.

  “Come with me,” he begged. “Please! We need to ask for help.”

  To his relief, Jessamyn nodded and followed. Cap led her around a side yard and onto a sagging front porch.

  Please, God, let this work, Cap prayed. If it doesn’t, I’m plumb out of ideas, unless that nosy lady with all the chins will take us in.

  THIRTY

  “HELLO, THERE,” DELPHIA said. “It’s a bit early to call, isn’t it?”

  “This is my friend Jessamyn,” Cap blurted. “Please, we need help. May we come in?”

  Delphia waved them inside. The warm kitchen smelled of corn cakes and maple syrup. The older girl told them to sit and fried more cakes at the stove while throwing curious glances over her shoulder.

  Cap remained standing. The bundle in his arms seemed to grow heavy for a moment. A suffocating guilt surged through him. He needed to right a wrong.

  “Now, you sit, Cap Cooper. Might as well put some food in your belly. Then you can tell me what it is I can do for you,” Delphia said, placing a platter of cakes on the table.

  “Is your mother here?” Cap asked, hardly able to breathe. “Or your father?”

  “No. Mamma’s out tending a patient. Father told her she should stay home and rest, but you know Mamma.” Delphia said with a tiny smile. “And Father left at dawn to wait outside the mayor’s office. He wants to talk to him about that awful business at the cemetery,” she said, while a frown replaced her smile. “He doesn’t think Mr. Parsons is the right fellow for the guarding job.”

  Cap glanced down at the bundle in his arms.

  I could give it to Delphia…no! he thought. She might not understand. I must give the baby to his mother. Swallowing hard, Cap placed his wa
dded coat with its fragile contents beneath his chair, while guilt roiled inside him. Delphia put a hot corn cake on his plate, and the sight of the food made his stomach churn. He mumbled a quick “no, thank you.” Cap watched the two others eat, unable to keep still. He jiggled one knee in a nervous rhythm until Delphia shot him such a severe look he grabbed both legs to keep them still.

  When the girls had finished, Delphia stood to clear away the plates. Jessamyn rose to help her.

  “Thank you,” Delphia told her. “It’s Jessamyn, right?” The girl nodded.

  “She’s why we came here,” Cap said. “She needs a place to stay until we know she’ll be safe.”

  Delphia’s eyes widened. “Safe? From what?” she asked.

  “From the resurrectionists,” Cap said in a low voice. “Sister Mariah is one of them.”

  This time, Delphia’s eyebrows rose right up to her hairline, almost disappearing under the bright red ribbon she’d used to tie back her black curls. “I think you’d best explain, Cap Cooper. That can’t be true,” she said, placing the plates back down onto the table with a clatter.

  “Sister Mariah was talking about it with Mr. Jones, the man who does repairs at the orphanage,” Jessamyn said in a tiny voice. “I heard it with my own ears.”

  “Lord have mercy,” Delphia said, gasping for air. She held her hand to her heart. “Are you telling me the truth?” she demanded.

  “It’s true,” Cap told her. “Your mother warned me about Mr. Jones. She said she and your father were real suspicious of him.” He glanced down while a guilty flush made his face sting.

  Delphia gazed from one to the other, an incredulous look on her face. Then, her eyes narrowed.

  “I knew he had to be involved,” she said. “That awful, mean, wicked old man.” She paused to take a deep breath. “I can see how Mr. Jones would tangle himself up in something so unjust, but Sister Mariah?” Delphia raised her eyes to the ceiling and shook her head. “That I do not understand.”

  “Listen,” Cap said. “I must go, but Jessamyn needs to stay here. Please, tell me where your mother went. After I talk to her, I’ll come back and explain everything. I promise.”