Part 18 (1/2)

”If you see a stranger around, you'll let me know.” Sheriff Dean stepped to the side, studying Jinx from a different angle. ”Course, you're somewhat of a stranger yourself.”

Jinx stayed put.

”Truth is,” Sheriff Dean continued, his sharp knife peeling away layers of wood, ”as I believe I mentioned before, the sheriff from Joplin happens to be my brother-in-law and he's not too bright. If he let some ne'er-do-wells get away, that's his own fault.” He stopped whittling and checked the blade against his thumb. Then he looked straight at Jinx. ”But this is my town and I make the rules here. I'll be watching you.” He paused to let his point sink in. ”See that you stick closer to town. We don't need the influenza spreading to the outskirts.”

”Yes, sir,” Jinx and Shady answered. They waited for the sheriff to leave, but he leaned back against the fence and whittled away at his block of wood. With a nod, Jinx and Shady continued on their way back to town. The sheriff wasn't just keeping watch. It was a downright vigil.

A single candle lit Shady's place, and the mood was equally dark. Small cl.u.s.ters of men huddled around tables, waiting for someone to speak.

”What are we going to do now?” asked Donal MacGregor. ”With Sheriff Dean watching our comings and goings, you can't just waltz in and out of town unnoticed.”

”And Lester Burton's been phoning in twice a day to the switchboard,” said Ivan DeVore. ”Checking to see if the men are well enough to go back to work. He won't be satisfied somebody's not fit to work until they're dead and buried. And even then he'll dock their past wages for not reporting to work.”

Jinx thought it strange that Burton was calling in. What news did he expect to find out? Who had he been talking to? And more importantly, who'd been talking to him? Of course not everyone in town had been apprised of the fake influenza before it happened. They just had to hope that the people in town during the quarantine were tired enough of the mine's choke hold on them to go along with the scheme.

”What about the boy?” Hermann Keufer asked, somewhat accusingly. ”Hasn't he got another rabbit to pull from his bag of tricks?”

Suddenly, all eyes were on Jinx, who sat quietly on a stool behind the bar. Their faces reminded Jinx of Sheriff Dean's warning. He had been identified as a stranger and felt his sense of belonging slipping away.

Shady sheltered Jinx again, this time from the stares of those waiting for yet another miracle. ”We'll have to just keep producing the elixir until we figure a way to distribute it again.”

There was an uneasy sc.r.a.ping and s.h.i.+fting of chairs on the dusty wooden floor. This time it was Donal MacGregor who came to the rescue.

”Now, come on. I'm sure we've all got better things to do than fuss and fidget around here all day. Let's move along.” Like a mother hen, he gathered up his chicks, sometimes nudging, sometimes snapping, and shooed them out the door.

Donal remained in the entryway, as if posting himself sentry.

But Jinx slid quietly from his perch and left Shady's place, letting the door swing shut behind him.

The mood in the town was already somber when the first death of the quarantine was reported a few days later. Mr. Underwood prepared a pine box and was quite put out when Donal said he would take care of the rest. The body would be buried out of town, they said, to keep the smell and germs away.

With shovels in hand, Shady, Jinx, and Donal MacGregor carried the casket out of town. Each sagged under the weight of their heavy task.

They reached the clearing, not far from the abandoned mine shaft, and took turns digging near an old craggy sycamore tree. Six feet down and four feet across. Late-afternoon shadows crept across the clearing as Donal threw out the last shovel of dirt. He wiped his brow and accepted a canteen of cool water Shady offered when Lester Burton emerged from the trees.

”I heard there's been a death.”

”You heard that, did you?” Donal said. ”Word sure gets around, even in a quarantine.”

”Who is it?” His abrupt speech indicated what the men already knew. Burton's primary interest was in discovering if he'd lost a miner. And if so, was there a strong son of thirteen or fourteen left behind to take his place?

”Gourouni,” said Donal.

”Gourouni? I don't know him.”

”Aye, G.o.d rest his soul,” Donal said. ”He didn't say much. He lived in the little house behind me. Kept to himself mostly.” He took in a breath. ”No, I didn't know him well, but he could eat, that one. Both of us bachelors, I'd often fix extra. My cooking wasn't the best, mind you, but I never heard a word of complaint out of him.”

Shady stood by the open grave and removed his hat. ”It's time, Donal.”

”All right. Let's lay him down.”

”Wait,” said Burton. ”Let me see him.” A note of suspicion rose in his voice, as if this Mr. Gourouni might have a few hours work left in him.

”I don't think you'll want to be doing that,” said Donal. ”He's been dead more'n a day. Not exactly fresh, if you know what I mean.”

”I said let me see.”

”Right.” Donal nodded at Jinx, who pried open the lid of the coffin.

Immediately, such a stench arose from the casket that Burton covered his nose and nearly retched. Jinx let the half-opened lid drop back down.

”Aye,” Donal said. ”The smell of rotting flesh is one few can stomach. When Mr. MacTweeg was a lad back in Lochinver, he was on his way home from the pub. He took the shortcut through the Ballyknock Grove when a wild boar charged him, goring his leg, nearly tearing it off before MacTweeg could reach his knife and slice open the boar's throat. Three days he lay there, in the stench of the rotting beast and his own festering flesh still caught on the animal's tusks.”

Donal MacGregor took a slow drag from his pipe and let the smoke curl out of his mouth like the story itself. ”When some local lads came upon him, MacTweeg lay pinned beneath the bloated, oozing carca.s.s. Clawing and scratching, he was, already fighting his unseen demons. The infection eventually took his leg. But 'twas the stench of death that drove him mad.

”But,” Donal said, his mood suddenly brightening, ”come have a look if you must.” He gave the coffin lid a yank, sending another waft of odor floating up. ”He's not at full steam yet.”

Burton covered his mouth and gagged again. ”Just hurry up and bury him.” He whipped out a ragged bandana to cover his nose and stalked away.

The men waited until he was gone; then Shady and Jinx lurched away from the open grave, gasping for air. ”Blast it, Donal, did you have to open it a second time?” croaked Shady. ”I was barely keeping it in as it was.”

”Well, it got rid of him, didn't it? And I don't expect he'll be coming back round to check again.” Donal opened the pine box. ”Ahh, Stanley, G.o.d rest your soul.” He hoisted out a smaller, metal box lying within the pine coffin. ”A finer pig there never was. He'd been ailing for a time, so I do suppose it was right to put him down.”

”Where'd you come up with the name Gourouni?” asked Jinx.

”Matenopoulos told me it's the Greek word for pig. Gourouni.” Donal rolled his r r's as he said it. Then he wagged a finger at Jinx. ”You were right, lad, to come prepared for Burton. But how do you think he knew we'd be here?”

Shady and Jinx were still holding their breath. ”Donal, please, just take it in the woods and bury it,” said Shady. ”No one's going to come around with that smell surrounding us.”

Donal was off, carrying the metal box of pig remains, and the smell gradually followed him.

”Looks like you were right,” Shady said, sitting down on the coffin like a balloon gone flat. ”What did you call it?”

”A mole.”

”A mole,” Shady repeated, rubbing his whiskers. ”So there's someone among us in Manifest who's feeding information to Burton. I wouldn't have believed it.”

Both sat for a moment, lost in thought and speculation as to who the mole might be.

Then Shady stood. ”Well, we're not going to figure it out sitting here. Give me a hand with this lid.”

Shady and Jinx opened the coffin and inspected the dozens of bottles resting in a bed of straw so as not to clank against each other.

”We dug the hole; we might as well use it,” Shady said. ”That way the stuff'll not be in plain sight, in case someone else happens along.”

Jinx climbed into the pit, then helped lower the pine box. Shady eased in after him and the two hunkered down like soldiers in the trenches, their backs up against the wall. Dusk faded to dark.