Hereafter

by C. K. Crigger

  “Don’t think I’m going to make it,” she said after a while. Black dots danced in front of her eyes. Her heart felt like a rundown clock, going slower and slower.

  “You’ll be all right.” Jake bent to Sliver, gave him some instruction, whereupon the dog raced away. “Hang on now,” he told Lily, and she did for as long as she could, wobbling and panting and about half bawling. Until finally she was plucked off her feet and carried swiftly toward the farthest house.

  Wow. She hadn’t been giving Jake enough credit, she thought muzzily, only to find the face staring down at her as they pushed through the swirling snow belonged to Nate, his expression even grimmer than when he’d helped her into the infirmary.

  “Anybody see you?” he asked Jacob.

  “Don’t think so. Everybody is either busy or staying close to home. Women are fixing food for the wake. Tomorrow’s gonna be bad.” The boy strode along beside his longer-legged relative.

  “You got that right.” Nate’s breath poofed out in a steamy cloud. “Best if she just disappears for a day or two.”

  “Yeah.”

  They went past two houses, finally reaching the last one. More of a cabin than a house, it had walls of peeled cedar logs, a roof of split shakes. Lily smelled wood smoke coming from the chimney, and now they were closer, she saw pinpoints of light blinking beyond heavily shuttered windows. Jacob darted ahead, knocked, and opened the door for Nate and her. Sliver slipped between Nate’s legs, beating them inside.

  A blast of warmth hit Lily in the face. The source, a fire crackling in a cast iron stove that sported a glass door, had a cooking pot spewing steam and a delectable aroma into the room. A single lamp showed Harrison Bell sitting in a big leather chair, a book in his lap. He creaked to his feet as they entered.

  “Welcome to my home, Lily Turnbow,” he said.

  Sliver ran over and smiled up at his master who said, “Good dog,” and then to Nate, “She’s not as ambulatory as I was told.”

  Nate shifted his burden. “She’s been running on pure grit, I think. Or maybe pride.”

  Harrison nodded. “Have much trouble persuading Neila to cut her loose, Jacob?”

  “Hell, no.” Something like disgust showed in Jake’s dark eyes. “Neila kicked her out. I found her on the porch about ready to take a header into the snow.”

  Bell’s face twisted. “Poor Neila. She’s a changed woman since my son died. It’s like her heart has been shrunken and dried into a knot.”

  “Grinch,” Lily muttered, a reference none of the men understood.

  “Where do you want me to put her?” Nate asked after a brief wait for her to explain, which she didn’t. Too many unnecessary words; too much trouble to speak.

  Bell pointed. “There’s a bed in the loft. It’s warm up there, and if I have visitors her presence will be less…abrasive.”

  “Out of sight, out of mind.” Nate used another of his oldisms, one that had been a favorite of Lily’s grandma.

  “Exactly.” Harrison lit another, smaller lamp with a punk fired by the larger one, and handed it to Jake. “Show them way, Jacob. I’ll dish up the stew. Have any of you eaten today?”

  “Not me.” Nate laughed. “Never gave it a thought.”

  “I don’t remember,” Jake said, yanking on the rope lowering the pull-down staircase to the loft. “But I’m hungry enough to eat magpie stew.”

  “We haven’t come down to that yet,” Bell answered, moving toward a wall cupboard. “I believe this is beef and vegetables. Your aunt Doris made it.”

  “It’ll be good then.”

  “Always is.”

  Stew sounded good to Lily, too. She hoped Harrison included her in the invitation.

  Bell’s idea of a bed varied a bit from Lily’s conception. This was a pallet made up of a sheep wool affair that looked like an extra long dog bed, with a couple hand-woven blankets tossed on top and a thick puffy pillow. Adding to the dog bed resemblance, it was laid out on the smooth plank floor.

  Nate’s knees creaked as he set her on the pallet, then rose and stood looking down at her. “I hope you heal fast, Lily.”

  She heard a kind of portent in his tone, more meaningful than his words. Was he hinting of another round of trouble coming her way? So who cared? For now she only wanted to sleep, or even to lapse into unconsciousness deep enough to hide the pain and fear nagging at her.

  Without speaking, she settled on the pallet, finding it less uncomfortable than she’d expected. Warmth rose from the room below. Presently she heard the clink of forks on plates as the men dipped into Doris’ stew pot and sleepily, allowing her eyes to drift closed. Maybe they’d save her some for later.

  She jerked awake at a clamorous rapping on Harrison Bell’s door.

  Chapter 23

  With Lily settled, curled on the pallet like a tired puppy, Nate cat-footed his way down the staircase to where Harrison had pulled another chair up to the table. Dipping slabs of sourdough bread into the thick stew, the three concentrated on eating. Harrison ate with an old man’s curbed appetite, Jacob as if he were on the verge of starvation, and Nate somewhere in between. The three ate silently, withholding conversation until Harrison, replete, pushed back his chair and sipped at his steaming tea.

  “All right, nephew,” he said to Nate, “tell me. What am I to do with her?”

  Nate had been wondering this himself. “Keeping her out of Neila’s sight will do for a start. After that? Who knows?”

  “What if they decide to kill her?” Jake asked, and when the older men stared at him, he said defensively, “It ain’t my idea. I overheard Bannion say something about a death sentence—not mentioning any names—when he told Peter Shandy to come to meeting tonight. First order of business is for the council to figure out what went wrong with the fight.”

  Nate snorted and drew on one of his ‘oldisms.’ “It isn’t rocket science, for God’s sake. Outnumbered and too lax in our security. Simple.”

  “Rocket science?” Jake said wonderingly. “What…?” He stopped as Harrison shook his head. “They’ll finger Lily for everything,” he went on. “That’s my guess.” He scowled. “What’s rocket science, Nate?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. Not for sure.” Impatiently, Nate waved him aside. “You been called to council, Harrison?”

  “No.”

  “Me either. You sure about the when and where, Jake?”

  “Yep. Headquarters. Bannion told me to have Selkirk set up chairs for a dozen.”

  “Closed meeting,” Harrison said, frowning. “And they’re leaving us out, Nate.”

  Nate’s glance went toward the loft where Lily slept. “Trying to. They’re gonna pull a shitty on her and don’t want any argument.”

  “Neila’s doing, I’m afraid. I don’t know why that woman has grown so bitter of late. Or why she’s taken against Lily Turnbow the way she has.” Harrison shook his head.

  A rapping on the door, the thuds hard and angry like the beating of closed fists, brought Nate to his feet. He reached for his knife before remembering where he was and halting the motion. “You expecting anybody, Harrison?”

  The old man’s face set in stern lines. “No.”

  The thuds came again, louder.

  “Your visitor is a impatient,” Nate observed.

  Harrison’s lips clamped. “Get it for me, please, Jacob, before our guest is awakened. Be polite. We don’t know who it is.”

  “Sure we do,” Nate said, as though he were certain. “Bannion.”

  True to Nate’s prediction, when Jake opened the door, Bannion stood on the porch. his fist raised for another hammer blow.

  Also, as Nate had forecast earlier, they saw the snow was falling harder now, dropping out of the sky at a rate that soon would cover the dead at Wolf Point Crossing. The twin lines of Nate and Jacob’s footprints had already almost disappeared.

  Bannion pushed past Jake, snow scattering from his shoulders and the brim of his hat. He gave Jacob a hard stare. “What are you doing
here, Felix? Shouldn’t you be on guard duty?”

  Harrison clicked his tongue, remonstrating without words. “You know the boy stays here a good part of the time, Bannion. Cut him some slack.”

  “And I ain’t on duty, boss,” Jake said. “I did my share at the fight. You ordered the junior patrollers to stand guard.”

  “Argh.” Bannion ignored the excuse and stood, surveying the room. Nate barely wiped the smile from his face before his cousin started in on him. “What about you? You stay here a good part of the time too, Cuz?”

  “Just visiting and staying warm. Kept me from cooking my own supper.”

  “Sit down and eat,” Harrison invited in a cool voice. “Aunt Doris fixed our supper and she made enough for a haying crew.”

  For a moment Bannion looked as if he’d take the older man up on it, but then he brushed the invitation aside. “I’m looking for Lily Turnbow. Bren said the woman left the infirmary under her own power, but now nobody knows where she is.”

  A quick shake of Nate’s head stilled Jake’s intake of breath.

  “She left, huh?” he said. “I wonder how that came about? Hope somebody friendly took her in. I think she’s had a somewhat trying day.”

  Bannion gave him a hard look. “I don’t want her running loose in the compound. Hard tellin’ what’ll happen if she thinks somebody is insulting her.”

  “Issomebody planning on doing that?” Nate asked, innocence personified.

  Harrison’s gaze sharpened, while Jacob’s dark eyes blazed with understanding.

  “Mind if I look through your house, Harrison?” Bannion had already taken a step onto the stairway to the loft.

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” Harrison rose to his feet. “I’d consider it an abuse of my hospitality.”

  Bannion stopped with his foot on the lowest rung. “I know you think you owe this woman something, Uncle…” He used the reference of respect. “…but I’d say the debt has been repaid.”

  “Would you?” Harrison smiled. “Perhaps I hold my life in greater esteem than you do, nephew.”

  Bannion had the grace to flush. “That isn’t what I meant. We’ve taken her in, given her medical care, food, a place to stay. That cancels out your debt.”

  “Don’t presume to cancel my debts, Bannion. I make those decisions.”

  “What about her killing Screenmaster and saving all our asses today?” Jacob cut in, low, beneath his breath and barely audible. He’d come back to the table and slouched in his chair where Nate hoped he’d stay.

  “That’s what we want to talk with her about,” Bannion said.

  “We,cousin? You got a toad in your pocket?” A trace of anger crept into Nate’s voice.

  “Don’t try me, Nate,” Bannion said. “This hasn’t been my best day, either. And let me remind youI’m the sheriff. Our people look to me to keep them safe. I know Lily Turnbow has helped Harrison and the clan. If I thought she meant us harm she’d be dead by now with no chance of coming back. But she’s not one of us. I’ll thank you all to remember that. She’s not like us.” He continued up the stairs, his tread heavy.

  Nate waited for the outburst sure to follow, but other than the shuffling of Bannion’s footsteps overhead, there was silence. He looked at Harrison, whose face wrinkled in puzzlement.

  “What the…” Jake began, but Nate shushed him as a few moments later Bannion clomped back down the stairs.

  “My apologies, Harrison, cousins,” Bannion said. “I guessed wrong, thinking you’d taken her in.” He turned even grimmer. “So where the hell can she be? Gonna be trouble if she isn’t there.”

  Nate kept himself from leaping to his feet only by strenuous effort. He hoped his expression wasn’t quite as dumbfounded as Harrison’s or Jake’s. How could Bannion not have seen Lily? “Trouble if she isn’t where?” he asked.

  “At the meeting two hours from now. At Selkirk’s house. You’d better be there, too.” He glanced at Harrison. “Both of you.”

  Shifting attention to Jake, the sheriff’s dark eyes looked like they were trying to bore a hole through the kid, probably the weakest link if only because he hadn’t yet learned the art of deception—or of controlling his expression. “You know where she is, don’t you, Felix?”

  Jake’s feet did an almost imperceptible dance. “Me? No. Hell no!” He may have sounded a little too emphatic.

  “Yeah, well, if any of you happen to see her, tell her some of us want to talk to her about what happened today.”

  “Could be Lily’s not up to a long conversation,” Nate reminded him. “She’s hurt worse than you or Neila seem to think she is. I expect she’s gone to ground somewhere to lick her wounds.”

  Bannion harrumphed. “Makes her sound like a dog. Neila said her wound wasn’t much.”

  “Neila has her own axe to grind, Bannion. You’ve seen how she is, mean as a maverick cow. And Neila wasn’t around during the fight. Lily lost a lot of blood.”

  The sheriff’s hard stare encompassed them all before he went to the door and opened it—none too soon in Nate’s opinion. He seemed oblivious to the blast of cold wind he let in. The lamp flames flickered behind their globes. “She’s got two hours, then she needs to show up at headquarters,” he warned them. “Maybe you’d better see to it, Nate, since you’ve become her champion.”

  “Who, me? I’m nobody’s champion. But I figure fair’s fair.” He rose to his feet and sniffed the freshening wind. “There’s a big storm coming.” He tasted the truth of it on his tongue. “You got that right,” Bannion said as he left, slamming the door in a minor fit of temper.

  Nate didn’t know if he meant the weather outside, or the difference of opinion regarding matters certain to shake clan O’Quinn, but right now it didn’t matter. He turned to Harrison and Jake, his face full of bewilderment. “Well, now. This is a strange kettle of fish. Do you suppose Bannion is losing his eyesight?”

  But Jake was already talking over the top of Harrison. “Why didn’t he…” he said, drowning Harrison’s softer, “Where can…”

  Moving together, the three pushed forward, mounting the stair two at a time to the silent loft.

  ***

  Lily, drifting in and out of semi-consciousness thanks to recurring twinges every time she moved her leg, became fully alert in time to hear Bannion giving his speech about the responsibility he bore his people. Pontificating, she thought wryly, like every other political being she’d ever heard. A smile hovered. She wondered what he’d think if someone pointed that out to him.

  It was a tossup with one side of her brain thinking sarcastically about how devoted that made him, not that he knew any other way when it came to his people. Meanwhile, the other side was thinking, no, wishing, she could be part of this clan and come under his protection. What he’d said about a meeting though. She neither liked the sound of that, nor wanted any part of it.

  So, hearing his approach, she stifled a groan and rolled off the pallet, straightening the covers with a sweep of her hand. Crawling into the shadows formed in the space between the outside wall and the stone chimney, she crunched into a ball. At least it was warm there, in the shadows. Not exactly hidden, in the normal course of things, but nothing much was normal anymore. Silently, she drew the cloaking illusion she’d started calling her “you can’t see me” trick around herself. The core of her presence faded to vapor. Bannion didn’t see a thing, although he stared hard a couple times into the corner where she sat. If he’d poked into the seeming void with a finger, she would’ve cried out, the illusion lost

  But he didn’t—no birds here to speak to him, she thought with a touch of humor—and even after he’d gone she sat still, waiting for Nate, Harrison, and Jake. A grin quirked. Another surprise to spring on them. Should she—or should she not?

  They climbed through the floor opening and stared around, gaping like backcountry bumpkins at a circus. Great. And she was the main act. She gave them plenty of time before a small laugh escaped. Nate’s head jerked around from
where he’d been looking out the small window, locked from the inside.

  What had he been thinking, that she’d jumped from the second story window?

  “Lily?” Jake whispered.

  She sighed and dropped the illusion. “Here.”

  Nate was looking right at her when she became visible, and she could tell he wasn’t particularly pleased with her little trick. Jake, naturally, admired the ability.

  “I don’t suppose you could teach me how to do that?” he said wistfully.

  “Doubtful, Jake. Sorry. It just happens, I don’t know how.” She stretched her hand out to him. “Help me up, please.”

  But it was Nate who reached her first, drawing her to her feet and steadying her shaky stance. “You thinking of becoming the next Screenmaster?” he asked and, sensing his disapproval, she kept quiet.

  “I suppose you heard what Bannion had to say,” Harrison said. He seemed less taken aback by her ability than the other two, but perhaps he hadn’t quite caught the full effect.

  Lily smiled a little. “Yep. Couldn’t help it. What do they want with me, Mr. Bell? Should I be concerned?” She noticed Jake’s fidget. “Or scared?” She made her way over to the pallet and eased onto it.

  “If you listened to Bannion, then you know the same as we do. But I’d advise resting while you have the chance.” Harrison flipped the blanket over her. A heavy woolen thing with two red stripes, it effectively warded off the cold.

  Which she needed since his words were not exactly reassuring. And she was too tired to think about Bannion and his prejudices anymore.

  “Old army trick for warriors. Eat and sleep when you can,” Nate said, earning himself a puzzled look from Jake. “Read it somewhere.”

  Lily’s eyelids fluttered shut, wishing she could blot out this whole damn world with the dark. How could it even be real? What other trials were forming for her to bear? Her grandma always quoted a grand bit of philosophy saying, “what didn’t kill you made you stronger.” Grandpa insisted the quote came from some song lyrics and Mom, who’d still been with them then, said it was a cliché.

  Grandma’s theory sounded a like so much hooey to Lily, set forth by someone who had no concept of this altered world, complete with mutants and war. Gran frequently came up with stuff like that. She would’ve gotten on well with Nate, the two of them spouting clichés and quirky quotes. Lily could hear her now, her face lit with fun and her gravelly voice countering Mom’s complaint by saying clichés came into general usage because they were true. Lily hoped Gran was right this time, but judging from the tension in this room right now, she wouldn’t bank on it.