Mayor Browning’s wife was home now with Charlie. When he’d left, she’d been sitting at his bedside, watching him sleep, looking very much as she had the night before, sitting at his coffin’s side. She’d even had the same look on her face, anxious and afraid.
When he’d first told her the news, she’d shouted at him, for the first time in their marriage. She’d even thrown something—a plate she’d been washing, shattering it against the wall as she cursed him. She seemed to think he was pulling a prank. Yes, he’d been known to make them. Yes, sometimes, perhaps, they bordered on cruel, but this was not one he’d ever have attempted. He’d struck her, another first for their marriage. Struck her full across the face, bellowing at her that she was an ungrateful wretch, that he’d done this for her—brought back her boy—and this was how she treated him.
She’d raced out of the house then, not even pausing for a bonnet or a cloak, gathering her skirts and running like a girl through the streets, graying hair streaming behind her.
Now they were home. Her boy was home. Yet she was not beside herself with joy. Not falling to her knees to thank the Lord. She hovered over Charlie, pushing his cowlick aside, tentatively, as if the slightest touch might send him back to the other side. It was not what Browning expected. Not what he wanted. But he supposed it might take time for her to accept the miracle as real.
Eleazar had summoned him back to the community hall. Yes, summoned him, as if he were a common innkeeper. That rankled, but Browning reminded himself of the incredible debt he owed the man. Eleazar wished to speak about the other children, and he had a right to be somewhat abrupt—time was wasting, the children were wasting.
So Browning returned to the community hall. Doc Adams and Dobbs were already inside with Eleazar.
“How is Charlie?” Dobbs asked.
“Tired. Sleeping.”
“That’s to be expected,” Eleazar said. “I fear he will not be his usual self for several days. He will require sleep, and he may be somewhat confused. His memory is weakened also. Do not overtax him.”
“We won’t,” Browning said.
“Now, on to the matter at hand—the rest of the children. Doctor? As I was saying, I’ll ask that you go round the parents up now. I’ll need them all here to discuss my fee.”
“About that,” Doc Adams said. “I’ve been thinking on the . . . other part. I-I’m not certain how to tell—”
“You won’t. Just bring them here. I’ll discuss the rest with these two gentlemen.”
As the doctor left, his words repeated in Browning’s mind. The other part. How would they tell people that to bring their children back, they had to pay a life? Before Charlie was resurrected, it had seemed simple enough. Of course people would pay that price, terrible though it was. This was their children. His own wife would have gladly given her life for their son.
Except, now, having seen Charlie return, Browning wasn’t as certain. No, in fact, he was quite sure that if he’d told Dorothy the cost, she’d have flown at him like a harpy, as she’d done when he said Charlie was back. She’d never have believed him. She certainly wouldn’t have offered to die for the chance to resurrect their son. She’d have thought him mad.
It is madness. Desperate madness. How had they ever agreed—
No, not madness. Charlie was alive.
“How’re we gonna do it?” Dobbs asked, and when Browning looked over, the blacksmith was sitting down, his face pale.
“Strangulation,” Eleazar said. “That is the swiftest and cleanest way.”
Dobbs raised his gaze to the man, his eyes filling with horror. “I only meant finding volunteers. We don’t need to . . . to . . . take them, too, do we?”
“Do you expect me to?” Eleazar’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “I took Rene’s life because I owed him as much, for his years of service. He trusted me to be swift and kind. It is still an unpleasant task, one I don’t intend to repeat six times.”
Dobbs looked as if he might be sick. Browning’s mind reeled. Six times. Strangle six people. Take six lives. How had this seemed simple before?
“Now, you must do it quietly,” Eleazar said. “You cannot announce this price or you will have chaos. Even if you get your volunteers, there will be resentments and rancor for years.”
“Even if we get our volunteers?” Browning turned to the man. “I thought . . . You’ve done this before. People must have volunteered.”
“Certainly. If, as I said, they are ill or elderly and wish to escape this life. Sometimes, though, that is not the case, which is what it seems here.”
“Then how . . . ?” Browning swallowed. “You brought Charlie back in front of them. Now the doctor is out telling them they can have their children back for three hundred dollars. If they arrive and we say it’s not true . . .”
“It damned well better be true,” Dobbs said, pushing to his feet. He turned on Browning. “You tricked me.”
“What—”
“Your son was the demonstration. He’s alive, and you didn’t have to pay anything for it. No money. No life. Now my boy lies in his coffin, and you’re telling me he’s not going to come back unless I kill someone?”
“I never said— I didn’t volunteer Charlie. Mr. Eleazar asked for him. You were sitting there when he did. You heard everything.”
Browning turned to Eleazar and the man nodded, but his agreement seemed a moment too slow.
“You two made a deal,” Dobbs said to Browning. “On the side, before Doc and I arrived.”
As Browning sputtered, Eleazar rose, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous. His Worship heard the plan when you did.”
The words were the right ones, but something in Eleazar’s tone didn’t properly support them. Browning could see it as Dobbs’s meaty face mottled with fury.
They won’t believe me, no matter what Eleazar says. They’ll think I used my position to get a bargain.
“I’ll pay,” Browning said quickly. “I will offer my three hundred to help anyone who falls short, at no rate of interest.”
“And the rest?”
“I had nothing to do with the rest. Mr. Eleazar offered his assistant. Everyone else will have to find a suitable volunteer.”
“How?” Dobbs’s voice rose. “My wife? Myself? Bring back one child and leave the rest with no one to raise them? No one to support them? Another of my children? Pick the one I like least? How is a father supposed to do such a thing? There is no one else. We have no other family in Chestnut Hill.”
Perhaps you ought to have thought of that before you agreed. That’s what Browning wanted to say as his guilt turned to outrage at the injustice of it all. He hadn’t offered Charlie. He hadn’t brokered a special deal.
Browning squared his shoulders. “If you cannot pay, then perhaps—”
The mayor never saw the blow coming. He felt Dobbs’s fist hit his jaw, sending him reeling back. He recovered and swung at Dobbs but missed, the younger man grabbing his arm and wrenching, sending him flying into the wall.
“Gentlemen,” Eleazar said. “Really. Must it come to this?”
He sounded almost bored, and Browning turned on him, the outrage filling him as pain coursed through his jaw. They were turning on each other now, and Eleazar was to blame. Eleazar had brought this to Chestnut Hill. He’d—
Resurrected Charlie. This was the man who’d granted his fondest wish.
Browning’s fists dropped to his sides.
“There are other ways,” Eleazar said. “They may be distasteful, but given the alternative of not returning the children . . .”
“What do you propose?” Browning asked.
Eleazar took a seat again. “In every village, there are . . . those who are not fully contributing to community life.”
The blacksmith’s face screwed up in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean those who live on the outskirts, both physically and metaphorically. Those living outside the village. Those who drink more than they ought. Perhaps aren’t quite as intelligent as others. Perhaps not as mentally sound. Perhaps don’t fit in—the native population and such. Are there any of those around Chestnut Hill?”
“Some,” Dobbs said. “There were little Adeline’s parents, but they’re dead now. There’s others, too. Old man Cranston and his wife. They’re crazy, both of them. Trapper Mike. He’s half-Injun, with a squaw wife. Timothy James, another trapper, when he’s not too drunk to remember to empty his traps.”
“See, there’s five, with only a few moments of thought. I’m sure there are more.”
Dobbs nodded, thinking it through. Dear God, was he really thinking it through? No, he couldn’t be. Not that way. He was seeing a solution and seizing it, with no thoughts except how this brought his boy back.
“You’re . . . you’re suggesting we commit murder,” Browning said slowly.
“Hardly. I’m suggesting you remove an unproductive segment of the local population. A potentially dangerous segment. Have any of these people ever caused problems for you?”
Dobbs nodded again. “Timothy James went after one of Millie Prior’s granddaughters a few years ago. Grabbed her in the forest and touched her before she got away. Old man Cranston shoots at anyone who steps on his property. He doesn’t even have property. No one knows what he considers his, on account of him being crazy. And Trapper Mike? Folks around here swear he steals from their traps. Never caught him, but he’s sneaky. I don’t doubt he does it. Then there’s Paul over by the lake. Won’t tell nobody his last name. I hear he’s a fugitive. I’ve been trying to get an accounting from the Mounties, but they haven’t come by Chestnut Hill in near on a year.”
“Because you aren’t on the railroad route,” Eleazar said. “The authorities are ignoring you. Leaving you to defend this town all by yourself . . . Sheriff. I’d say it’d be your God-given right to go talk to those folks, and if they give you any trouble, well, I think you’ve had enough trouble from them. Who knows what they’ll do next? You need to look after your town.”
Dobbs nodded. “I do. Look after my town and its children.”
“Now, you, Mayor Browning.” Eleazar turned to him. “I’d say it’s your responsibility to accompany the good sheriff.” He paused. “If your people don’t get their children back after you got Charlie . . . ? I’ve seen some ugly things in these wilderness towns. Folks can go a little wild themselves out here. A mob is a wicked thing, Mayor.”
Browning looked from Eleazar to Dobbs. And he knew he didn’t have a choice. This was the cost of bringing his boy back. The real cost.