She studied me for a moment and then smiled. “Well, John, this will also hurt a little.”
It did. Only it didn’t hurt a little, it hurt tremendously. I looked away, not particularly enjoying the scene, and somehow managed to keep quiet as the needle and thread slid stingingly through me twelve times.
I inspected the work. It was swollen and red, but looked better closed than opened; and I felt sure it would heal much quicker. With a clean, wet rag, she wiped any leftover blood. Then she took long strips of cloth and bound up the wound.
“There, all done,” she announced. “You’re going to have to take it easy for a while, or you’ll tear that right open again.”
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“No need to thank me every time I do something for you; I have a feeling that you’ll owe me a lot of thanks by the time we’re through. Just save it all until you’re ready to travel again and you can give me a big one then.”
I nodded. “All right, I’ll try.” Then, hesitatingly, I asked, “About the monsters…do you know what they are? Will they come back?”
She smiled reassuringly.
“Yes, well, I believe you’re safe, for the time being. And as for what they are, there’ll be plenty of time to discuss all of that later. For now, I expect you’re hungry?”
I thought she’d never ask.
“Yes, I am.”
“Well then, we’d better get you cleaned up first; you look like you could use it. Besides, the smell of sweat and roast chicken don’t go together very well. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I suppose so.”
Being so hungry, I’m not sure I really cared; but I wasn’t going to be ungracious, and it would be nice to be clean.
She plucked a pot of hot water from the stove and said, “Follow me.”
We went out onto the back porch and into a little room attached to the cabin. Inside the wooden room was a shelf that held some folded clothes, a bar of soap, and a pail of water. Suspended from the ceiling was a large, wooden bucket, with a lever attached to it.
I looked at it doubtfully. “What is it?”
She laughed. “It’s not going to hurt you.”
I wasn’t so sure.
“It’s what’s going to clean you up.”
Suspiciously, I asked, “How does it work?”
“When you’re ready for water, just pour the buckets of cold and hot water into the top and pull the handle; water will come out the bottom. When you push the lever up, the water will stop…well, at least most of it will. You’ll have to be quick, though; it doesn’t last very long. When you’re done, just come back to the kitchen. I’ll be getting supper ready.” She turned to leave. “Oh, I almost forgot…you can dress in the clothes on the shelf there; they look like they should be about the right size. And don’t get your bandages wet.”
With that, she left me to contemplate the contraption. I undressed, poured in the water, and hoped the bucket wouldn’t fall on my head. Actually, it worked quite well. The warm water felt good. I cleaned up and got dressed. The clothes weren’t a perfect fit, but were soft and comfortable.
When I returned, the table had been decorated with bread, chicken, and potatoes—all of which made my mouth water. We said grace and, with great control, I managed to be somewhat respectable and not eat all my supper in one bite (though they were fairly large bites).
Once I had a little food in me, Sarah inquired, “Tell me, John, where are you from?”
I finished swallowing, and then answered, “Syre.”
“Mmm, been a long time since I’ve been there….Then again, it’s been a long time since I’ve been anywhere,” she added regretfully. “Do you have any family?”
“No, it’s just me and Smoke. He’s about as close to family as I’ve got.”
“And what brings you so far from Syre?”
I knew the question would be inevitable; but saying, Well, I was about to be tried as a warlock, so I killed the local magistrate and was chased out of town, didn’t seem very wise. So, I settled on a partial explanation of the truth.
“I was on my way to join a hunting party, and I got lost.”
She seemed to be considering this. Taking advantage of her hesitation, I stuffed another potato into my mouth.
“I see,” she said thoughtfully.
Trying to change the subject, I asked, “Where am I?”
She smiled. “You’re lost.” Then added, “Well, almost. You’re about a four-day ride northwest of Syre—maybe three if you push it, like it appears you have; and a little over two day’s ride south of Marysvale.”
“Marysvale,” I said reflectively. “I’ve heard about a lot of places, but I’ve never heard of that one.”
“No, I don’t suppose you have. Not many people know where it is.”
“Because of the monsters?” I asked.
She put her fork down. “They tend to make a pretty effective barrier, sealing us away from the outside world. Eventually, the word gets around that if you come up here, you don’t go back.”
“Yes, I would imagine so.”
I felt my shoulder, noticing that it had settled into an uncomfortable, throbbing sensation—until I tried to move it—then needles of pain would shoot through my arm.
“Over time, the rest of the world forgot about us.”
Lost in thought, she stared out the window into a sea of white, twinkling stars.
Satisfied, I too put down my fork and watched the flickering yellow light emitted from the lamps, as it danced off the walls and cast shadows this way and that.
Not entirely sure I wanted to disrupt her contemplations, I asked hesitantly, “What are they?”
She looked back at me and softly asked, “Do you believe in God?”
What a strange question. Is she trying to change the subject? Even so, I answered, “Yes.”
“And do you believe in the Bible?”
I took a moment before answering. They read the Bible at the different churches I’d attended, but I hadn’t really paid attention. Church was a necessity because, if I didn’t go, I’d be seen as a heretic. Funny how in the end, attending church didn’t seem to help me in that regards too much. I also remembered my father reading me stories from it when I was young, before he died. Whenever I tried to read from the Bible now, it made me think of him and how much I missed him, so I didn’t study it like I should.
“I think so,” was the best I could come up with.
I hoped she wouldn’t judge me too harshly for my incredible lack of conviction. She didn’t seem bothered.
“I want you to read something.”
Sarah got up from the table, took a lamp, and disappeared. A moment later, she returned holding a large family Bible.
“Do you remember the story of Cain and Abel?”
“Some.”
“What do you remember?”
“I know Cain slew Abel.”
“Do you remember what happened to Cain?”
“I think he was punished somehow.”
She opened the Bible.
“Here, read these three verses,” she said, pointing to them.
“And the Lord said unto Cain, Where is Abel thy brother? And he said, I know not: Am I my brother’s Keeper?
“And he said, What hast thou done? The voice of thy brother’s blood crieth unto me from the ground.
“And now art thou cursed from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother’s blood from thy hand:
“When thou tillest the ground, it shall not henceforth yield unto thee her strength; a fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be in the earth.”
“So what does that mean?” I questioned. “It’s not really clear to me. Did God curse Cain, or was it the earth, or was it Abel’s blood crying from the ground that cursed him?”
“Strange, I’ve wondered the same thing,” she mused.
“And what does this have to do with the monsters?”
She hesitated a moment before pr
oceeding. “There are a lot of people in Marysvale who believe that what you saw was the curse of Cain—maybe not Cain himself, but perhaps his offspring.”
“And do you believe that?” I asked.
“Well, at first it was as good an explanation as any; but the more I think about it, the less I believe it.”
“Then what do you believe?”
“Truthfully, I have no idea what they are; but I do know that they weren’t always like this. Their violence is more of a new development, and I believe that some evil was used to change them into the creatures they are now. The first ones I saw showed up about twenty years ago, and they were a very different animal then.”
I was surprised. “You’ve lived with them for that long?”
She nodded.
“And you’ve never been attacked before?”
“Not exactly…”
Before I could ask more about it, she quickly added, “There’s something else you should know about them.”
“The monsters?”
“No. The townspeople.”
“Why should I care what the people in Marysvale believe?” I asked.
“It will be helpful to know, so you can understand them.”
Understanding them usually wasn’t the problem in my mind; it was the other way around that was more troublesome.
“I’m not planning on going there,” I said. The last thing I wanted was another town full of superstitious people.
She looked at me with a strange, mischievous expression on her face.
“Maybe not now, but I expect before too long you’ll want to.”
There was something she wasn’t telling me. I tried reading her thoughts again, but got nowhere. It was frustrating. I could tell they were there, but blocked. It was like seeing light behind a curtain, but unable to open it. Supposing I’d have to do it the hard way, I decided on the direct route.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
She didn’t look surprised by my candor and simply replied, “A lot.”
I sighed. “For the sake of argument then, why will I want to go to Marysvale instead of going home?”
“It’s best you find out on your own.”
She seemed to be enjoying this little exchange.
I asked bluntly, “Do you always answer your guests with riddles?”
“No, only the ones I like.”
I blushed.
She laughed.
“I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day; we can continue our conversation in the morning.”
“You’ve gone to all that trouble of telling me I should know more—and now you’re sending me to bed?”
“There will be plenty of time tomorrow to continue our conversation, when you’re rested and not so irritable. And don’t worry about the creatures; you’ll be safe tonight. The dog will alert us if anything comes.”
I looked at it sprawled on its side, asleep, and doubted that it would be much of a warning.
“There is a spare feather bed upstairs you can use,” she said.
I hesitated.
“Are you married?” I asked.
She looked at me with a raised eyebrow and answered, “No.”
“Do you think it would be…?”
She cut me off.
“I’m flattered you’d ask; but really I think you’re a little too young for me,” she teased.
My face flushed and I stammered, “No…that’s…that’s not what I meant….”
She laughed again.
“Relax, John. I know what you meant. You can sleep with the animals in the barn if you think it’s more appropriate than sleeping in the same house with an unmarried woman. Or, there is a warm feather bed up the stairs. It’s your decision; but I think you will get much more rest, and will heal faster if you sleep well.”
I debated for a moment; but I already knew what I was going to do.
Moments later, I found myself in a small room, with an equally small window that faced the woods. The bed was soft and warm; something I appreciated even more after surviving the previous nights in the wet and cold. Recalling my experience sent me burrowing deeper under the blankets. It felt so good to be clean and fed. I watched the moonlight stream through the window until the warm bed, and my own weariness, overcame the ache in my shoulder; and I drifted off to a most welcome sleep.
Chapter Six: Friendship
THE following day—or more accurately, afternoon—came all too soon. Groggily, I forced myself out of bed, got dressed, and went downstairs. The kitchen and the front sitting room were empty. Not wanting to venture into the nether regions of the house, for privacy’s sake, I made my way out onto the porch. The weather was warm, making it feel more like spring than fall. I sagged down onto a swing, suspended by ropes from the overhanging roof, and rubbed the remaining sleep from my eyes. My shoulder, though less sore, still protested sharply with pain, if moved too much. Studying my surroundings a little further, I discovered some things I’d missed during my quick entry. Along with the livestock, there were pigs and chickens in the pasture, fenced off in their own little pens. A garden, with most of the vegetables now harvested, spread out to the left of the house; and an orchard grew beyond that, nearer to the lake. I found it quite beautiful and wondered how one person managed it all.
I continued my surveillance past the orchard and lingered on the woods, perhaps still expecting some gigantic creature to come barreling out into the clearing. Nothing happened. Something was odd about all this: the monsters and Sarah. My mind began to wander. Why did they leave this place alone? Maybe they weren’t anything more than just animals, like wolves, afraid of civilization. However, I doubted that. Oddly, they moved more like humans than animals. Even though I may be giving them too much credit, I had the suspicion that the trunk, which blocked the path yesterday, was more of a trap than some random, fallen tree. It was placed just right, where a rider wouldn’t see it until he crested the hill, and it would be too late to do much of anything, except run into it. I wanted to know more about the monsters—they both horrified and intrigued me.
There was also Sarah…. I liked her. Something about her seemed familiar and made me feel at ease. But why couldn’t I read her? It frustrated me. There was something there; I just couldn’t see past the thick veil that blocked me out. I wanted answers. I wanted to know Sarah, though I wasn’t ready to ask her to open up her soul and mind, so I can find out her secrets. I also didn’t want her asking about my gifts; especially since I wasn’t sure I understood them myself.
Still clueless, I got up and went to check on Smoke. He was no worse for wear and seemed pleased to see me. I fed him, refilled his water, patted him for a bit, and then wandered down to the lake.
The old boat was gone, and I concluded that Sarah must have taken it out, along with the dog. Deciding to enjoy the warm rays of the sun, I lay down on the dock and drifted lazily into that strange state between sleep and consciousness.
The sound of splashing pulled me back to reality. I sat up and watched Sarah row towards the dock. The rickety boat, looking to be one stroke away from sinking, was so small that it would probably be better suited as fish bait. She was, once again, dressed much like a man, except now she wore a three-cornered hat; and a large, wool vest covered her white shirt. The dog rode precariously on the bow, nose sticking out as if pointing the way. I did my best to stifle the fit of laughter bubbling inside me.
“You’re alive after all,” she called out.
Still grinning, I hollered back, “Sorry, I must have overslept.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. If I wanted you awake, I would have woken you. Rest is the best thing you can be doing right now.”
She rowed up close and tossed me a line. I pulled the boat up to the dock and held it steady while she and the dog got out.
“Thank you,” she said. “Here, you can hold these while I finish securing the boat.”
Handing me three large trout, she tied the small vessel to the dock.<
br />
“How’s your shoulder feeling?”
“Doing better.”
“Good,” she intoned, unconvinced. “Perhaps I’d better have a look though. I’ve found that men tend to oversimplify things sometimes.”
I laughed and we walked back to the cabin where, under orders, I removed my shirt.
“It does look better,” she muttered, more to herself than to me.
I thought it looked worse—it was all black and purple. However, I felt vindicated that it was indeed doing better, and guessed the gash was sealing itself. Besides, nothing seemed to be oozing, so that must be a good sign.
“When do you think the stitching can come out?” I asked hopefully.
“Not for a few days.”
I grunted.
“Why? Are you in a hurry to get back?”
“Well…no. I can’t say I’m looking forward to a journey back through monster-infested woods.”
“I wouldn’t think so. It’s really best not to press your luck until you’ve healed. You’ll stay here, of course, until you’re ready?”
I was relieved. It must have shown on my face because, before I could give her my answer, she said, “Good. There are matters we should discuss.”
Quizzically, I asked, “Really? Like what?”
“First let’s eat and then we’ll talk.”
Indeed I was hungry and said, “I won’t argue with that.”
She smiled. “Yes—and you’ll learn it’s best not to argue with me at all.”
I grinned. “No, I can see that.”
“Now, let’s see if you can be obedient and get out of my way while I get the food ready.”
I was obedient and the food was delicious.
After lunch, we retired to the porch, with a cup of tea (which was also delicious). Thankfully, she left the ridiculous hat inside. It would have been difficult to have a serious conversation with that on her head.
“So, what did you want to discuss?” I inquired.
“Get right to the point don’t you?”
Marysvale Page 6
