Smirking, Sam tuned him out. Twigs and underbrush cracked beneath his boot as he stepped into the tree cluster. The twelve or so trees provided a modest amount of shade. Sam scraped his heel until he struck soil. Sure enough, it was dark and moist. That was something, all right, but it didn’t tell him much about what had happened to Charlie. Sam turned back to the road, when it caught his eye.
A deep gouge had been carved into the trunk of one of the trees. No, not carved. Hacked. A long cut severed the bark diagonally, revealing the lighter flesh underneath. A few other shallower cuts ran above and below it, all in the same direction.
“Over here! I got something,” called Sam.
Jessalyn made it to him first, Roger close at her heels. “What is it, Samuel?”
Sam pointed at the backside of the large gray-barked tree. “This tree here,” Samuel said. “The bark has been all slashed up.”
“Slashes? Like Charlie’s wounds?”
Sam thought back to the injuries the boy had suffered. They had been long cuts as well, though Sam knew if Charlie had been sliced as deeply as this tree, he would not have survived. “It’s not a match, by any means, but it’s odd. They’re up off the ground, too.” The slashes began maybe five feet off the ground.
Jessalyn ran her hand over the marks on the tree. “These are different. More methodical, maybe? But they seem fresh.”
Sam glanced around at the underbrush, then out to the road. “Hmm . . . If you were standing back here, behind the tree, you’d have a good view of anything coming down the road. And if you were waiting for something, biding your time—”
“Animals do not bide their time, Mister Brooks,” said Roger with a scoff.
Sam looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “You know a lot about predators, Preach?” Roger didn’t seem like the kind of man who hunted. Or even knew how a gun worked.
“I—well . . .”
“Even so,” Jessalyn cut in, “if we assume whatever attacked Charlie is the same thing that’s been attacking livestock, it’s not doing this out of a need to hunt. It’s killing for sport. And I’m not sure about animals doing that, either.”
“We shouldn’t assume they are the same,” Sam said. “Those incidents were out at the ranches, this one was right here. It might be something different. We can’t assume it was an animal, either.”
“You think a person did this?” Roger said, shocked. “Impossible. Absolutely not. I refuse to believe. That would be . . . unnatural. Evil.”
“You can’t rule out the possibility just because it’s awful,” Sam said, shaking his head. There were too many loose threads here. The livestock attacks, Charlie’s attack, the actions of the Founders, Three Willows itself. Something tied it all together, Sam was sure, but the big picture was out of view.
Jessalyn stepped away from the tree, placing her hands on her hips. “Frankly, there’s too much we don’t know. All we have to go on is some torn-up bark at best, if it’s related at all. Anything that might have been left in the road is gone. Washed away in the storm last night.”
“It certainly was a strong one,” Roger said. “But, where does that leave us?”
Sam didn’t follow them back onto the road, but remained near the trees, staring up into the branches. The dirt and the trees were carrying his mind down a different path. He walked in a steady circle around the tree, taking it in from top to bottom, then likewise examined the trees next to it. Just as he’d thought. All signs pointed to them being astonishingly healthy.
“Samuel?” Jessalyn said.
“Unnatural.” The word had stuck in his mind.
“I beg your pardon?” said Roger.
Sam pointed at him. “Something you said, Preach. ‘Unnatural’ .”
“Yes? And?”
“D’you know what kind of tree this is?” Sam asked.
Roger cleared his throat. “Well, judging from the dense display of greenery here, that would make it a deciduous sort, and, if I could take a moment to count the compound leaves . . .” he trailed off as he squinted up at the tree in question.
Sam had barely spent any time in the preacher’s company, and he could already tell. Roger Shaw would always use twenty words when two would do. “It’s black ash,” said Sam bluntly.
“Black ash!” Roger spun back to face them. “Yes! That was also . . . the . . . conclusion I reached.” His gaze flicked to Jessalyn.
“All right, black ash,” said Jessalyn. “What of it?”
“Black ashes like their dirt swampy, they need lots of water. Jessalyn, you have a birch tree in your backyard.”
“I do.”
“Birch is the same way. Lots of water and temperate weather. Heck, this town is called ‘Three Willows’ ,” Sam continued.
“After the large specimens growing behind the church,” Roger said.
“Exactly. Not even close to water.”
“If you would kindly get to the point, Mister Brooks?”
Sam looked back and forth between Roger and Jessalyn. “Don’t you see? None of those trees would be able to survive here normally. There’s no rivers nearby and much too much heat. But you’ve got all these trees and green grass. Just ten miles outside this place, all that disappears and there’s nothing but desert. I thought it was strange my first day here.” Jessalyn and Roger looked back at him with blank faces. “Y’all have never thought about this before, have you?”
Jessalyn looked almost embarrassed. “Well, we do have plenty of water here.”
“It storms quite often. Our collection system is impressive. I don’t believe we’ve ever faced any kind of water shortage,” Roger added.
“That’s odd, too,” Sam said, gesturing up at the sky. “I’ve been here not even a week, and there’ve already been two massive thunderstorms. When is your rainy season?”
Again, Roger shared a dumbfounded look with Jessalyn. “It’s always like this. Year-round,” he said. Jessalyn nodded in agreement.
“What about the winter?”
“It does get cold,” Jessalyn said, hesitantly.
“Perhaps not enough to harm the plants,” said Roger. “They always come through the cold months just fine. Is that so strange?”
“The weather, the nature,” said Sam, “it’s all wrong.” He thought back to how difficult it had been to find Three Willows. How no one had heard of it, or knew the name, but didn’t know where it was. How ‘keep heading south’ was the only direction he’d ever gotten. His meeting with Mamie and her surprise at his arrival. His interview with Mayor Carson and how protective of this place he’d been. All of that, on top of a whole heap of nature that shouldn’t be here at all. There was some kind of secret here. And secrets have to be kept by someone.
“I’m afraid we’re getting distracted,” said Jessalyn. “How could all of that be connected to the attacks?”
“Maybe not directly, but there might be a pattern,” Sam said.
Roger adjusted his glasses. “It was storming last night when Charlie was hurt. Have the incidents with the cattle also been during storms? Would that be a pattern?”
Jessalyn’s expression lifted. “It could be a start. I’m not sure about the rain. We’d have to ask around.”
“How far is it out to the ranches?” asked Sam.
“Bit of a trek. We’d need your horse.”
“I do believe,” Roger said, speaking up again, “a daily log is kept of the town’s activity. Weather, population, notable events, that sort of thing. I’ve heard Reverend Finley and Mayor Carson discuss it before.”
“Really?” said Jessalyn.
“Yes. Much of the mayor’s and the church’s administrative material is kept in the town hall.”
“If we were able to get the dates of big storms, we could cross reference them with the dates of the livestock attacks.”
“Precisely!” Roger said. “And, if it’s something the Founders keep charge of, there’s a chance the records go all the
way back to the town’s genesis. Maybe we’ll find an answer about this . . . floral phenomenon.”
“Roger, you’re a genius.”
“Well, I . . .” he trailed off, laughing nervously, a blush coloring his face.
Sam couldn’t help but grin, seeing these two bookworms feed off each other’s enthusiasm for potential data. “All right. You two go on to the archives, then,” he said.
“Oh, but you don’t know the way out to the ranches,” said Jessalyn.
“I’ll figure it out.”
Jessalyn fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve. “I suppose we can’t ask Lilah to help us. Margaret will probably strangle me if I try.”
“I’m sorry?” said Roger.
“No matter, I can write down the directions for you. We’ll have to return home anyway, for Sinbad.”
Sam felt a tiny squeeze in his heart. “Home.” He was starting to think of Jessalyn’s house as home. And the feelings that came with were very new. The guilt over the harsh things he’d said last night hadn’t left, but there was a new sense of possibility, and maybe even some hope surrounding the three of them as they made their way down the road.
Just as they were passing the school, a loud thunk shook the air.
“What was that?” asked Roger.
“I think it came from around back of the schoolhouse,” Sam said. Keeping his steps quiet, he headed towards the back of the building, hugging the painted slats.
Roger hurried after him.
Another thunk.
Together, the two men leaned to peer around the corner.
A teenage girl with a messy blonde braid, armed with a rock in one hand, was taking aim at the back wall of the schoolhouse.
“Miss Lilah?” said Roger, surprised.
Lilah jumped, so startled that the rock fell from her hand. “Oh, um, I was just . . .”
“Lilah Templeton, what are you doing to my school?” Jessalyn had appeared.
The girl’s face crumpled as soon as she saw her teacher. An angry red flush illuminated her freckles. “Miss Joy, I’m just about ready to explode! I can’t—I didn’t know where to go. I couldn’t—”
Jessalyn stepped forward, placing her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “Lilah, breathe. Keep calm. Tell me what happened.”
“The Founders!” Lilah practically shouted. “After you left this morning, they came by to see about Charlie. They kept going on and on about how this was a good message to the town about safety. That we all have to do our part. I tried to speak up! I tried to tell them what really happened, but Mamie Piper kept shushing me, and then Mama made me go stand out on the porch, like I was five years old. I can’t take it! They’re using my family, they’re lying to everyone, it’s all bullsh—”
“Honky,” Sam coughed. “Bull honky.”
The censorship had startled Lilah into silence. “Bull honky,” she repeated.
“I understand that you’re angry, Lilah, but that doesn’t excuse throwing things or acting out with force. Remember, take the high road,” Jessalyn said, coolly.
“I know, I know,” said Lilah. “But you’ve heard them talking, right? Something’s going on. I don’t know what to do.”
“We’re two steps ahead of you, Lilah,” Sam said.
“Huh?”
“While I don’t approve of your reaction, we agree with you. We think the Founders are being suspicious, too. Mister Brooks, Reverend Shaw, and I have started investigating to figure out what really happened to Charlie,” said Jessalyn.
“You have?”
“Yes, and we’re lucky we ran into you.”
“What can I do to help?” Lilah said.
“Can you show Samuel the way to the ranches?” asked Jessalyn.
“Sure, I can. Buccaneer is at my brother’s place for a shoeing. We can pick him up on our way out of town. But why the ranches?”
“I’ll explain it all as we go, kid,” said Sam.
“That settles it,” Jessalyn said. “Roger and I will go to the town hall. We’ll meet back at my place later tonight.”
Roger bounced on the balls of his feet and raised up a fist. “Ha! Onward, then! To seek the truth!”
The amount of unanswered questions were racking up, and the more mysterious it got, the more unsettled Sam felt. But somehow, he felt as though they’d assembled a good team.
14
THE TWO RIDERS SWAYED AS their horses kept an easy pace through the tall grasses of the plains. After fetching Sinbad, as well as Lilah’s horse, Buccaneer, the two of them had set off out of town. It felt a bit strange to see the buildings grow smaller behind them.
Lilah rode next to him, legs astride Buccaneer’s mahogany brown flanks. She hadn’t spoken much, but Sam noticed her glance at him every so often.
“Have you simmered down a bit?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yeah. It feels better to be doing something, you know?”
“Agreed.”
After a brief pause, Lilah went on. “You been out to any of the ranches, yet?”
“I have not.”
“It’s a bit of a ways. Longer walk, though.”
“Surely.” The easy conversation seemed to be helping. Lilah was becoming more of the excitable kid he’d seen in Jessalyn’s private lesson. After all she’d gone through, Sam was glad she could still be herself.
“You getting on all right? In town?”
“I’d like to think so. It’s a pretty little place. Miss Joy has been very welcoming.”
Lilah leaned back in her saddle. “I gotta admit, I’m jealous. Getting to live with Miss Joy would be paradise.”
Sam laughed. “See, now, I think about what you’ve got, and I get a little green with envy myself.”
“You do?” Lilah blinked at him.
“Sure. Big ol’ family. Always something going on, always someone to play with or talk to. I never had that.”
“Don’t you have any siblings, Mister Brooks?”
“Nope,” Sam said, shaking his head. “It was always just me. And you can call me Sam.”
“Oh, all right. Sam.” Lilah looked out ahead. “Maybe it seems fun from the outside. I love my family, but . . . sometimes . . .”
“Are you talking about your mother?”
“I’m real sorry you had to meet her like that,” Lilah said, sounding ashamed. “And that she was so rude to Miss Joy. I’ve never seen her that angry before.”
Sam thought twice about agreeing with her. “It’s a mother’s job to get angry when she thinks her children are in danger,” he said.
“I guess.”
Sam thought back on the run-in with Margaret, and everything Jessalyn had said after. “Miss Joy mentioned that they’ve never really gotten along. You know anything about that?” He tried to make the question sound casual.
Lilah bit her lip. “Mm. I try to pretend it’s not a problem, I love them both, but, yeah. I think it might have had something to do with Amos.”
Amos again.
Lilah looked up suddenly. “Oh, uh, I’m not sure if I—I shouldn’t gossip—”
Sam waved a hand. “It’s all right. Miss Joy’s told me some about him.”
“Oh,” Lilah said, looking surprised, then relieved. “Oh, good. I know she’s still hurting. A lot of us are.”
“Did you know Amos?”
“Mm hm. Real well. Amos grew up in Three Willows, same as Mama. They were friends since they were kids. Maybe around when they were my age, there was a really bad epi . . .” she trailed off, her gaze up at the sky. “Epi—oh shoot, I know this.”
“Epidemic?” Sam guessed. “Epidemic! Thanks, that’s it. There was an epidemic in town, lots of people got really high fevers. And Amos’s parents were two of the people who died from it.”
“That’s terrible,” said Sam.
Lilah nodded. “Mama’s family took him in. I’m pretty sure everyone thought they were gonna get married for a while.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. They were close. But then Mama met my father, and they got hitched instead, and she became a Templeton. Then came the rest of us. Amos was still around, of course. He was kind of like an uncle to all us kids. Sometime after that, Amos volunteered to go on a trip to help shuttle back some new stock one of the ranches had bid on. They were gone for a month, maybe? And when he came back to town, he brought Miss Joy with him, as his wife.”
While Jessalyn hadn’t gone into details about how Amos had helped her on that day she’d lost her job, Sam imagined it must have left a huge impact on her. Enough that she’d wanted to spend the rest of her life with this man.
“That’s right,” Sam continued. “Miss Joy told me she isn’t from Three Willows.”
“Nope! She was a newcomer once, same as you. Even though Amos was practically part of our family, back then, Miss Joy wasn’t as familiar. But I can remember.” Lilah’s eyes went dreamy. “Seeing them together . . . Even when I was little, I could tell. There weren’t any two people on Earth more in love than they were.”
Sam thought back to a shaking, shouting, tear-stained Jessalyn, confessing the emptiness she felt every day because of Amos. “That sounds nice,” he managed to say.
Lilah gave a small sigh. “Amos was nice. He always made time for everyone. He made you feel important when you talked to him, no matter who you were. It felt like he was always thinking about you.”
“It’s easy to fall in love with a man like that,” Sam mused. Amos was my light, and without him . . . there’s just nothing.
Lilah nodded. “I think I understand.”
They rode on in silence for the next few moments. Now that he’d thought about it again, Sam couldn’t get the image of Jessalyn out of his mind. He thought about her teaching, about her attending church. About her dealing with flippant comments from the Three Willows’ women and having to indulge social judgements from the mayor. She’d been trying to do all of that while holding in all that grief.
“Do you like her?”
Sam looked at his teenage companion. “Pardon?”
“Miss Joy. Do you like her?” Lilah seemed a bit cautious.
“I like her quite a bit,” Sam answered.
Then Came the Thunder Page 9