Cap dropped, gasping for air. The doctor lay upon the ground with blood dripping into his closed eyes. Sister Mariah stood over him, still holding aloft a metal bedpan. She dropped it to the earth and leaned against the side of the building, breathing hard.
“What’s all this?” Sheriff Isaccson shouted. “Move aside and let me through!” The hard-faced man and several deputies shoved through the small knot of people until they stood before Cap and his father.
So many people began to talk at once, yelling and pointing, that the sheriff fired his pistol into the air. The thick silence that followed was broken only by the sound of a dog barking furiously.
“I will give everyone a chance to speak,” the man said drily, replacing his pistol in its holder, “but for now, I’d like to speak to the Coopers. Maybe the rest of you all could go on home.”
“This is my fault, Sheriff,” Sister Mariah said. “I’m afraid there’s nasty business afoot, and I am to blame, not those two.” She squared her shoulders. “Let this man and his son go, and I’ll explain it all.”
“They’ll stay right where they are,” the sheriff said. The stocky man ordered his deputies to fetch a stretcher for Dr. Ivins. After the man was carried off to the hospital, the sheriff motioned for Cap and his father to sit on the steps.
Some of the onlookers finally left at the sheriff’s orders. Tillie hurried her daughter away, while Sally bustled after the two, firing fast questions at them. She begged them to come to her home to get warm and have tea. Tillie accepted with a tremulous smile. Jessamyn gave Cap a tiny wave, though she didn’t smile. Cap did his best to convince himself that she would speak to him again. Maybe someday.
Revered Cole took Wilford Jackson by the arm and led the man to a nearby worker’s cart. They sat and turned weary faces toward the lawmen. Lettie hovered near them, clutching her coat tightly about her neck.
“Sheriff, you may want to ask them about an arrangement to take bodies in exchange for pay. The boy mentioned it,” Reverend Cole said.
“Nobody offered me money for my Nellie,” Mr. Jackson said. He put his crushed hat on his head. “But I never woulda taken it, nohow.”
The sheriff began to question Sister Mariah, who insisted Cap and his father had nothing to do with the dead stored inside the college.
“Medical schools need bodies,” she said in a quiet voice. “And they’ll pay handsomely for them.”
“And that arrangement? What was the Reverend talking about?”
In a shaking voice, the woman explained.
“You paid folks so those two could dig up their bodies? Seems like a real bother to me to make those fellows do such hard work,” the sheriff said.
“You don’t understand,” Sister Mariah said. She cast a worried glance over at the Reverend and Mr. Jackson, and her shoulders slumped. “They paid the people who, uh…”
“They paid the people who had families that…well, that the law would have listened to,” Cap said. The more he thought of the wretched business he’d been involved in, the worse he felt. He ducked his head and ran a hand through his wild curls. “The ones nobody would really care about, well, they had us dig them up. That way, they wouldn’t have to pay. Dr. Ivins said so himself.”
Reverend Cole rubbed his hand over his face. Mr. Jackson shook his head slowly. Lettie closed her eyes.
“They must have paid my father,” she said. “I wondered where Papa got the money he left me, and now I know. Oh, Papa,” she said, pressing her hand to her lips.
“Now, how in tarnation could a God-fearing woman such as yourself get involved in all this?” the sheriff asked Sister Mariah.
The woman hung her head. “It was for the children,” she said in a trembling voice. “It was always for them. I didn’t know how else I’d keep my doors open and feed my orphans.”
The sheriff’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t reply. Instead, he turned toward Father.
“And what about you, Mr. Cooper. How did you get yourself tangled in this?” he asked.
Father closed his eyes and sighed. “I had to pay for medicine and doctors,” he said in a quiet voice. “My wife…” his shoulders sagged and his voice trailed off.
“I’ll swear on the Bible they only helped dig up bodies. They didn’t know about the business of shipping bodies out of state,” Sister Mariah said.
“The what?” the sheriff said. Just then, a deputy hurried outside.
“There are twelve bodies in barrels,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I’m afraid you’ll find more in town,” Sister Mariah said. “I’ll tell you where they are.”
The lawman’s face turned to stone. Slowly, he shook his head. “Is that all?” he asked in a steely voice.
“No,” Cap blurted. “It’s not all. Dr. Rusch was killing folks with too much medicine, then saying they’d died from the new illness. That’s how come they got so many bodies.”
The few who remained in the courtyard exclaimed in horror.
“I didn’t know,” Sister Mariah said. She began to sob. “Please believe me! I had no idea that was happening!”
The sheriff turned to Sister Mariah. “I reckon we’ll let the courts decide what you knew.”
“And you,” the lawman said, turning toward Father. “How could you involve your boy in something like this?”
Father didn’t raise his head. With a huff, the sheriff spoke to him in a low voice. “I’ll let you take him home for now. But don’t you leave town.”
Father nodded, and the sheriff led Sister Mariah away.
Cap and Father finally headed home. When they reached their front door, the boy hung back. “What’s Mamma going to say to us?” he whispered.
Father shook his head. “I guess we’re about to find out,” he said.
THE MAN NAMED Parsons awoke with a pounding headache and a thirst that an ocean full of drink couldn’t quench.
It was hot. Parsons pulled his sweat-soaked shirt away from his damp skin. He hadn’t lit a fire. He was out of coal. The man yawned, drew in a deep breath, and his crinkled face took on a sour grimace. His closet-like room at the back of the boarding house stank like the trash heaps of hell.
He rose from the chair where he’d slept off his drink and shuffled to the bed. He’d allowed his friend, Lum Jones, to take the single bed. Land o‘ Goshen, his head ached and that smell was unholy.
Parsons blinked and shuffled on trembling legs, sniffing the air and nearly choking. A heavy gray haze filled the room. The smoke was acrid and fetid, smelling of burnt hair and what reminded Parsons of cooked meat.
“Lum?” Parsons choked out, “you awake?”
Lum didn’t answer. Parsons raised the brown paper blind as he passed the window, allowing winter sunlight to stream in.
Smoke curls rose lazily in the air and hovered above the bed, where they danced in the sunshine. The charred edges of blanket and mattress surrounded an oblong hole that extended from headboard to footboard. Somehow, flames had burned hot, eating right through the center of the mattress, exposing, but not singeing, the wooden slats beneath. What was left of the bed’s former occupant was nothing but a pile of ashes, greasy and gray and stinking. The dark ashes covered the slats of the bed frame and lay piled on the floor.
Parsons moaned, seized his coat, and fled. He wasn’t about to be blamed for this.
THIRTY-FIVE
“OH, THANK YOU, dear Lord,” Mrs. Hardy said when the two opened the door. Her hands fluttered to her face as she regarded the boy. “Cap, Mina has been frantic! Where were you?” She flew to his side and wrapped him in a tearful embrace.
“Later,” Father said. “We must speak to Mina.”
“She’s abed,” Mrs. Hardy said, wringing her apron with her hands. Tears spilled over as she spoke. “And feverish with worry. Oh, do hurry! She must be told that Cap is all right.”
The woman shooed them up the stairs. “I’ll bring
chamomile tea. I sent a neighbor for the doctor, but she couldn’t find him. She said there was an uproar in town.” Mrs. Hardy hurried back down the hall, making the sign of the cross as she walked. “But you’re back. Oh, praise be!”
Father tapped on Mamma’s door. She called in her soft voice: “Mrs. Hardy? Have you heard anything?”
“He’s safe, Mina,” Father said in a trembling voice. He opened the door. “Cap is home.”
Mamma’s face crumpled at the sight of her son. Mutely, she held out her arms, and Cap ran to her embrace.
“I was so frightened,” she sobbed, stroking his hair. “Oh, Cap.”
When Mamma’s sobs turned into quiet trembling, Cap sat back and drew his handkerchief from his pocket. He handed it to his mother, who dabbed her streaming eyes.
“We must let you rest,” Father said.
“Wait,” Mamma said, reaching to put a hand on her son’s arm. “I want to know what happened.”
“Please, Mina,” Father said. He ran a hand through his already wild hair. “We’ll tell you later.”
Though her cheeks were crimson with fever and damp with tears, Mamma sat up and looked directly into her husband’s eyes. “I’m not a hothouse flower that will wilt and die, Noah. You’ll tell me, now,” she said. Snuffling, she reached under her pillow and withdrew a folded newspaper. “After what I’ve been reading, I believe my boys have quite a story to tell.”
Father opened and closed his mouth. He glanced at Cap, and the boy rushed to speak.
“Please don’t be angry with Father,” he said. “He needed money to pay Doctor Ivins.”
Mamma’s eyes widened.
“Cap—” Father said.
“We only helped dig up bodies,” Cap said. “We didn’t know about that business the doctors had, shipping bodies to medical schools. Sister Mariah was in on it. And Lum.”
Mamma’s jaw dropped. The newspaper fell to the floor.
“Cap,” Father said. “Hush!”
“Go on,” Mamma said. Her eyes snapped and her mouth tightened into a thin line.
Cap rushed through his tale, only pausing every so often for breath. Father paced while the boy spoke. He scowled at the floor.
Mamma’s face reflected shock and horror. More than once, she held her hands over her mouth. Finally, her wan features stilled into a mask of deep sadness. When Cap paused for breath, Mamma silenced him with a wave of her hand.
“Noah,” she said softly. Mutely, she reached out.
Father knelt at the side of the bed and took his wife’s hand.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. His shoulders shook.
Mamma stroked his hair while she studied his face. Her eyes glittered.
“My boys,” she whispered. “How could you have…” she stopped and gulped. “How could you…” She closed her eyes.
Mrs. Hardy tapped on the door and came in, bringing a pot of tea.
“Shoo, gentlemen,” she said to Cap and Father. “Let Mina rest, now. Oh, great heavens, I’m so glad you’re all right, Cap.” She set her tray down and gave the boy another swift hug.
“So am I,” Mamma said, flinging aside her coverlet. “Help me up, Noah.”
In mute surprise, Father took her hand and helped her to her feet. At her orders, he then found her robe and slippers.
“I’ve spent far too much time shut up in here,” Mamma said, knotting the robe about her swollen belly. Swiftly, she dashed at her wet cheeks. “I believe I’ll take my tea in the kitchen. With my family.”
While Mrs. Hardy fussed and argued, Mamma took Father’s arm. Still silent, he helped her downstairs. The man was so shocked he didn’t say a word until they reached the front hall.
“Mina,” Father said, rubbing his hand over his hair, but Mamma shushed him.
“When I’m well again, you and Cap will accompany me to church,” she said. “We might raise some eyebrows, but it will do us good.”
“Mina, no,” Father said with a frown. “What church would want us there?”
Mamma gave him a hard look and he remained quiet. “Cap,” she said, pinning her son in her gaze, “I have a book for you to read. You’ll recite from it during my next literary meeting. That is, if any of the ladies will set foot in our house again.”
“But, Mamma,” Cap said, while Father said: “Now, Mina—”
“Hush!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Father and Cap said at the same time.
“Mrs. Hardy?” Mamma said. “My boys have something to say to you, too.”
FOR THE NEXT several days, Mrs. Hardy stayed away. When Cap asked Father where she was, the man only shrugged. “I don’t know if she’ll be back, Cap,” he said, softly.
The quiet of the house was uncanny, without the Irish woman’s constant chatter and off-key humming.
Told he could remain away from school until after Christmas, Cap quietly tinkered in his workshop. Father brought the morning newspapers inside along with the milk. He left them open on the kitchen table. Cap only read the headlines.
Circleville College of Medicine Now Deceased. Gang of Ghouls Gone, Cemeteries Safe at Present. Orphan Girl Returned Safe and Sound. Sheriff Investigates Death of Deadly Doctors. Local Nun Arrested for Resurrection Scheme. And Cap’s favorite: Body Snatcher Burns to Death in Boarding House: God’s Vengeance or the Devil’s Drink?
Sheriff Isaccson visited several times. Cap and Father were each required to tell their tales, while a young clerk with a frowning face scribbled on a paper. Cap worried, but Father was not taken to jail.
“That nun sure did you a favor,” the sheriff told Father. “She signed a statement saying you didn’t do anything besides help her brother dig up graves. But she’s going to trial in Columbus for her part in all this. Especially since Dr. Ivins died after she struck his head.”
The morning of the fourth day after the dreadful scene at the college, Cap awoke to the smell of frying bacon and found Mrs. Hardy in the kitchen, bustling about as usual. Graying strands of hair escaped from the bun at the nape of her neck, and her starched apron was dotted with spots of porridge.
“Well, are you going to stand there, staring?” she asked him. “Sit. Eat.”
Cap crossed the room and threw his arms around her. After stiffening for a moment, the woman returned his embrace and laid her cheek on his head. “Well, now,” she said, sniffling. “How could I ever leave my boy?”
Late that night, Cap woke to the patter of winter rain on his window and the murmur of low voices outside his bedroom door. The knob rattled. He kept his eyes shut and tried to breathe evenly.
The door squeaked softly open and then closed again. Cap sighed in relief. He was in no mood for visitors. He was curious, though. Who was that? He crept to the door and put his ear to the keyhole.
“I won’t wake him now,” Jardine was saying. “He’s young and should be fine. I like to die when I think of what that wicked man did to him.”
A single thought thundered through Cap’s brain. He owed Jardine an explanation. And an apology. Bolting to his feet, he flung open the door before he could lose his courage. “Wait,” he blurted.
His face burned. The woman hadn’t been talking to Father, or Mrs. Hardy. She had been talking to Delphia. When Cap met her gaze, the girl’s eyes narrowed and her brows met in the middle.
“You’d best lie back down, Cap,” Jardine said quietly. Her face was unreadable. “You must be plumb tired.”
“Why, of course he’s tired, Mamma,” Delphia said. “He was likely up all night digging up some other poor soul.”
“Delphia,” Jardine said. “That awful business is ended.”
“When I think of what he and those horrible men were doing, oh, it makes me so mad I could spit.” The girl threw her hands in the air. “And to think I admired Dr. Ivins so. He took us all for fools, didn’t he?”
“Delphia,” Jardine said, “he’s dead, now, and the Lord will judge.”
The g
irl ignored her. “Land sakes, why did I agree to come to this house, Mamma? I do not want to see this boy ever again. Not after what he did to us. You hear me, Cap?” she said. Her face was a mask of pain. Tears glittered in her eyes.
Cap struggled for the right words, but there weren’t any. There was only the truth.
“Please, listen! I did some bad things, but I never took your baby. I was trying to bring him back to you,” he said in a rush. “I swear it, ma’am! On God and all His holy angels.”
Cap swallowed as Jardine took his face in her warm, calloused hands. She stared hard into his eyes, her expression searching and full of pain. He tried to return her gaze, but found that he couldn’t. Her face blurred before his eyes. He hung his head in defeat.
“I believe you,” Jardine whispered. Cap raised his head.
“Mamma?” Delphia blurted. “How can you—”
“Think, Philadelphia,” Jardine said. “I was so shocked I never stopped to think clear until now. Cap wouldn’t have brought our little one to our very own home unless he meant to return him to us.”
Unable to speak, Cap nodded. Then, he was enfolded in a warm embrace full of such sweetness that he knew he’d been forgiven.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
“So am I,” Father spoke from the top of the stairs.
Straightening, Jardine turned. “Mr. Cooper?”
“I allowed Lum to take your child in the first place. I should have never done so. I was afraid Lum wouldn’t give me any more work, and I wanted that money more than anything. I thought it was the only way to get enough money to help Mina. I am sorry, Mrs. Cole.” Father stared in misery at the floor, his forehead crinkled and his eyes dark with emotion.
Jardine squared her shoulders. “I cannot say that I blame you for seeking the means to pay for doctors who could help your wife,” she said. “But surely you must see what sadness you brought upon others.”
Father nodded.
“That’s why I aim to find ways for medical schools to get their bodies legally,” Delphia said, pressing her lips together. “I’ll do it, I swear.”
The Grave Digger Page 15
