VII

As far as she knew, Master Emmett would not be held accountable for the death of the woman. She’d stayed in the kitchen when brought into the house that day. The foul smell held firm through the house, but she didn’t have any need to view the body.

She overheard the master and Mistress Caroline speaking one night. The sheriff had gone to the county seat and requested a coroner. It took three days for someone to finally view the shell. When Bill Matthewson, the Spotsylvania County Coroner, finally arrived, he had almost no body to work with. There was no obvious sign of struggle or distress, no lesions, cuts, or bullet wounds visible. No way of dissecting the body with any chance of finding a plausible excuse for death, and according to the sheriff all of that would be in the coroner’s report.

In the twelve days since departing with the body, he had visited twice. Both times briefly, almost afraid of staying on the property.

The first time was when Matthew had woken up, a day after the coroner had arrived. Zella was working in the kitchen when Lee and Hosea had come back from retrieving him. They showed him to the bedroom, where the entire family now slept together. Zella’s curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she left the turnips she was chopping on the table to listen.

“Do you remember anything?” the sheriff asked.

“No.” Matthew’s voice was weak. Trembling.

“Is there anything you can tell me about Sheryl Fletcher?”

“I heard you found her. Under her house?”

“Under your house.” “How’d that happen?”

Miss Caroline noticed her standing at the door and slammed it shut. She went back to chopping turnips, but Hosea had later come to her and filled in the gaps.

“He doesn’t remember a thing,” Hosea said. “Nothing from the time he discovered Mr. Fletcher’s body until now. He remembers us getting Mo. He remembers prepping the fields. He doesn’t remember yesterday, or the day before, or whipping me, or the scratching in his room and putting a hole in his door. Nearly none of it.”

“What does that mean?” Zella asked.

“It means watch yourself around him.”

The second time Sheriff Sheckle came to the house was to return Master Emmett’s wagon, just a few days later. He’d come and gone quickly, and only talked to one person from the farm.

“How are you, sheriff?” Zella asked.

“Tired,” he replied. “But not so tired that I couldn’t bring back Emmett’s wagon. You’ll let him know, won’t you?”

“Oh, he’s up in the barn if you would like to have a word?” Emmett had built himself a nest in his usual perch. He cut holes in the upper level so he could view out every angle. He lined the walls with hay for extra protection, and stored a small arsenal across the floor. He spent his days up there, from first light until last, watching over them.

“No, thank you. I would much rather leave this here and make it home to my son,” he said. “I don’t want to spend any more time here than I must.”

Zella approached the horse. “May I?” she asked, and the sheriff nodded. She began helping him unhook Juniper from the wagon. “We’re following the rules you set. All sleep under one roof, and we never go anywhere alone.”

“That’s good. I see the two farmhands in the field. I assume Matthew is still recovering. Where are Hosea and Lee? Eveline and Caroline?”

“The mistresses are in the home. Master Lee and Hosea are in the barn tending to the horses. Master Emmett wanted me working the fields today.”

Sheriff Sheckle took his reins and climbed atop his horse. He looked down and gently touched Zella’s shoulder. “Be safe,” he said, and rode off in a hurry. Part of her understood that was likely to be the last time she saw the sheriff.

She made her way back to the house. She waved to Wiley and Clyde, still working the fields as if they intended on staying. She paused and watched as Lee rode out of the barn atop Mo, and Hosea walked out after him. His body pointed toward the boy, but his head swiveled back and forth across the landscape.

“They’ll be okay.” Zella jumped at Caroline’s voice. “Relax. Just needed some fresh air.”

“Where’s Eveline?” “With Matthew.”

The two stood quiet, watching Lee ride around a fenced field. His smile was wide and his joyous yelps fell shallow against the bleak spring air. Mo’s copper coat looked muted to Zella against the dead grass and the grey skies.

“You don’t want to be in the house,” Caroline said. “I understand it. Neither do I. I thought Lee was talking nonsense when it first started, the scratching and the knocking. Even Eveline, I thought she was exaggerating. I can’t stand being in there anymore. It’s every single night. I just can’t do it.”

Zella’s tongue felt heavy against her lips. “May I speak freely, ma’am?”

Caroline nodded.

“I don’t want to be here no more. I deserved those whippings, but I never touched a hair on your daughter’s head. She was gonna kill me, but before that, you remember when she found that trinket? The first one? She was coming after me. I ran into the woods, I was trying to leave, go north.”

“I figured that might’ve been the case,” Caroline said. “But I’m glad she found you, or you might be in poor Sheryl’s position.” “But in the north, they treat you better.” She paused. “Well, they’d treat me better. I want to go, but I don’t want to get caught, not with the army so close. And I don’t trust myself alone in those woods anymore. I can’t leave in the day, or your husband would shoot me. I can’t leave at night, or whatever is out there will kill me.”

“It’s too dangerous anyway.”

“You’re from the north. Right, ma’am?”

“I am. New York.”

“What’s it like?”

Caroline sighed and tugged on Zella’s arm. They began walking back toward the house. The trees remained still, a breeze hadn’t come through for days.

“It’s safer. It offers possibilities and a future. It’s not equal, Zella. Not easy, and not welcoming, but you would still be free.”

“Could I live like you, ma’am?”

“Of course not.”

Zella walked back into the house as Mistress Caroline instructed, preparing supper, her heart low and her head empty. She refused to peer out the windows, keeping her hands busy until nightfall. That evening, just like every evening, the men came in quiet. First Master Lee and Hosea, early in the afternoon. “Doesn’t feel safe out there for the boy,” Hosea said quietly. “I don’t trust it.” Then Wiley and Clyde quickly after. Even Clyde, the hulking figure that he was, had no desire to stay out after the sun started to set. They half-heartedly accused her of abandoning them to the fields, giving themselves an empty laugh, and an awkward serving.

Just before the light vanished, Master Emmett would walk through the door, drop his weapon in the corner, and every night he would nail a board across the entryway.

“Why do we need that?” Lee asked the first night.

The master gave no answer, only grunted as he worked against a swollen hand.

As the last of the color left the world, every night, the scratching began. Zella was the first to make the mistake of recognizing it. “What was that?” It was an innocent question, but before anyone could respond the pounding began.

Twelve days later, the pattern continued. First scratching. Scritch—scritch. Every night just after the door was boarded over. Sometimes it would be on the door. Sometimes under the beds. Every once in a while Zella would hear scratching underneath the wooden panels that the family had used to board up the new hole in their floor. Without words, the group had decided to not react.

Until someone had fallen asleep, and the scratching was on their bedpost. She watched it happen once, when Clyde was twitching in his sleep and had heard the scritch—scritch next to his ear. He bolted upright, and at once the pounding began.

Now, days after the sheriff’s final visit, Zella was lying on a mattress in a cramped bedroom that was still more comfortable than her usual quarters. She waited for the pounding of Emmett’s hammer against his doorblock to stop, and prepared herself for the scratching.

Scritch—scritch.

She refused to react. She blinked, that was all, and succumbed to the pressure in the pit of her stomach. She heard Master Emmett dish himself a meal of rabbit stew with corn and potatoes. The scratching continued, and it continued deep into the night.

—

The bed shook. Zella shot upright as it returned to its regular position. She wasn’t sure if it was real, but neither was she willing to peer around the dark room.

“I felt it too.” It was Hosea’s voice, hushed. He lay with his head toward the door in the same bed. “Don’t move, Zella.”

He swung his legs over her and twisted around. His bare feet hit the floor, and Zella realized she hadn’t heard any scratching. Hosea edged closer to the dresser between the beds, his steps slapping against the wood, when a mumble came from the opposite side of the room.

“Clyde, wake him up.”

Zella heard Wiley groggily complain while Hosea fumbled with flint. He lit a candle, and held it high, scanning the room. Wiley blocked the light with a hand, which Clyde took a swipe at. Hosea dropped to his knees and brought the candle under both beds.

“There’s nothing,” he said. His knees cracked as he stood up.

“You felt it too, right?” Zella asked.

“Why would you mention it?” Wiley complained.

“No, she’s right. And yes, I did feel it. Have any of you felt your bed shuffle before?” All three shook their heads. “Then this is new behavior. Unless the masters have.”

A pounding came from the front room, and a high-pitched yelp erupted. Hosea rushed to the door and yanked it open, finding Caroline sitting in the front room tending to the fire.

“What is it?” Hosea asked.

“The door, just the door again,” she said. “Did one of you say anything?”

“We were all asleep, ma’am. Our bed shook, woke me and the girl.”

“I was awake, ma’am, but I didn’t say nothing,” Clyde said. “Couldn’t sleep, rarely can now. Too much noise, and I’m afraid ma’am. But I didn’t say nothing. Promise.”

“Clyde, it doesn't need words to move from scratching to pounding, you know this,” Caroline said gently. “Any reaction will do.”

“Yes, ma’am, but it wasn’t me. I swear.”

The wooden planks that Caroline was standing on suddenly bent violently. The bone charm that Lady Eveline found in the woods swayed against the wall, absent of any breeze. The mistress jumped off the new mound, staring. It pounded again, and the room heard the splitting of the wood.

“Help me with the cupboard,” Caroline whispered. Clyde bypassed Hosea and began pushing on the hoosier cabinet, straining to get it to move across the wooden floor. Caroline pulled on its lip. Hosea pushed along the back with Clyde and eventually it carved its way along the ground, landing on top of the splitting panel.

“Are we okay?” Eveline stood in the doorway to the family bedroom.

Bang!

Zella whipped to face the door. The board across it bulged and a force drove itself against the wood. Again, and again, as Zella huddled with Eveline against the far wall. Emmett emerged from his bedroom with a pistol in hand, tossing a rifle to Hosea who trained it against the entryway.

The pounding crept upward. Slowly at first, from the middle of the door to the top. It crested the lip of the frame and hit the panels on the roof, working its way along one oak shingle at a time, until they rested just above Matthew.

“Daddy?” Eveline whispered.

Emmett shushed her, taking aim to the roof above his son. Zella watched his face, the narrowing of his eyelids told her if that thing outside came in he would not hesitate. The firmness of his arm as he pointed his weapon told her his aim would be true.

Then her attention was brought to Caroline, and she shook. Her hands trembled, her lips quivered, and she was squeezing her palm so hard blood trickled down her fingers. Suddenly, overwhelmingly, Zella was relieved the pistol was not aimed in her direction.

Matthew woke with a start and Emmett flinched. Zella was sure the gun would fire, and covered her ears, but no smoke erupted from the barrel.

“What’s happening?” the boy called.

“Relax, kid. We’re dealing with it,” Emmett said.

“Let me help.” Matthew rolled himself out of bed and limped into the main room. He stumbled, and caught himself on the mantle. His legs trembled. Veins pushed through his skin, and his bones poked out. She was amazed he could even stand.

With every step, a pounding came from above. Zella could visualize the woman in her black dress on the roof. Barefoot, trying to break through the shakes, her heavy black hair flopping up and down with her hunched body.

“Boy, stay there,” Hosea called. He aimed to the roof. With each crash, this thing remained directly atop the young master, and on instinct Hosea trained the weapon on Matthew.

“Mommy?” The word circled the room. It bounced off the walls and crashed into Zella’s mind, even as the family devolved into chaos. Emmett pointed his pistol at Hosea, and Caroline stood in front. Clyde nearly laid hands on the mistress before Wiley pulled him away. Eveline buried herself into a corner.

“Mommy?” the voice called again. Zella covered her ears. “Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?”

“Does anybody else hear that?” Zella cried. The room stopped, and Caroline turned to her.

“Hear what?” she asked.

“Someone is calling for you.”

“Mommy? Mommy?” the voice called. “Where are you?”

“Has anyone seen Lee?” Hosea asked.

“MOMMY!” The voice bounced across the walls. Caroline dropped to one knee and covered both her ears before bounding up again and charging into the bedroom. “MOMMY!” Zella saw her rip into the bed and lift it, looking for her son. She scurried out of the main bedroom and into the other, doing the same. Zella heard the beds hit the wall, and Caroline came out empty handed.

“Mommy?” The voice came from the door. The wedge across it dropped to the floor as the nail holding it in place came loose. It creaked open, inch by inch, and Hosea’s candle that he’d left on the mantle blew itself out. The room fell darker as the fire in the hearth slowly faded, and cold crept into the room.

Caroline’s tears dripped down her cheeks. Her breaths were short and she tiptoed to the open doorway. A gust of wind blew it wide, and Zella saw the mother turn from prey into predator. Her stance widened, and she ripped the pistol from her husband’s hands.

“He’s calling for you,” a shrill voice screeched from the darkness. “Come out and find him. Come out and see. Freedom is just through the trees.”

Caroline hesitated by the door. She leaned forward, squinting into the darkness. Her eyes grew wide, and her hand shot to her mouth as she let out a cry. She staggered backward, barely keeping her feet.

Zella leaned over, trying to view what was beyond the light.

In the field, amidst the shadow, stood the woman. Her black hair still dropped in front of her face, and her black dress still lay ragged. Her hand stretched out to her left, and in it lay a small red one. Lee Landry stood beside the woman. His eyes were shut.

“He’s calling for you,” she repeated.

She took him under his arms and lifted him over her shoulder. Her dress blew behind her as she ran into the woods, and Caroline wailed as she watched helplessly.