October 28th, 1795 aex

Skylde Garde

South of Picklewood, Watateje, New Alben

The man had come to kill them, but Skylde didn’t know why. She sat on her bed, still terrified of what might come next. The sun was finally coming up and Skylde was glad to have her eyes back. The rest of the dark night had been filled with what she thought was another intruder in each of the darkest corners of the house. It didn’t help that after the bad man came, Pa and Sherik had left them alone in the dark house. The rising sun pushed many worries aside, but not all of them.

Things would not get worse, this she was certain of. They’d just been going through a bout of bad luck. It happened from time to time, she assumed, and she was strong enough to deal with it. Things would get better soon enough, and they could be a happy family spending their days working, eating, laughing, and singing again. Ma had assured her that God would watch over them.

A clipping sound annoyed her. She hadn’t even seen Net leave his bed, but he was already on the floor tending to his sunflower. The thing was in surprisingly good shape. It had been close to death, but Net’s care allowed it to grow strong and healthy. The remaining leaves were thick, the petals were a deep yellow, and they looked soft enough to pet, like the belly of a bird.

Watching her little brother tend to his flowers always put Skylde in the mood to play her fiddle. She swung her feet off the bed with the intention of fetching it but stopped and let her feet dangle. She raised her hands and watched them tremble. They’d never done that before, no matter how frightened she’d been. The mysterious man had been like a nightmare, but real. Pa protected her as he always did and always would, so why was she so scared?

She abandoned the idea of playing the fiddle and lay her head on her pillow instead. She missed Ma and couldn’t wait for her to come home with Jerri. Surely Pa would think it best to go north to Grandpa’s land after the night’s event.

Net got up and set his potted plant on the floor. He marched across the house with purpose and got on the tips of his toes to look out the window overlooking the barn.

“What are you doing?” Skylde was pleased to see that her voice made him jump. “Pa said to stay in the house and not to look out the windows.”

“I think he just meant for the night,” Net replied, with no real way of knowing. “It’s getting bright now. Probably alright.” He turned away and peered out the window.

She wanted to shrug. Pa and Sherik had left the house not long after the attack was dealt with, and neither had returned through the night. But as the older sister, Pa was relying on her to keep order in the house and to maintain his rules, so she spoke with the most authoritative voice she could muster. “Net Garde. Go back to your flower, at once!” Her voice was nowhere near as commanding as Ma’s, but it was all she could do.

It worked. Net put his head down and returned to the flower. “You’re not my boss.”

“No, but Pa is,” Skylde said, “and he said to stay put and to not look outside, so that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Fine.” He sat before his flower and studied it without touching. “But it’s not fair that we don’t know what’s happening.”

Skylde agreed in silence. She also feared how long they’d been gone. What if another mysterious man had come and killed them both? He’d come in the house and they’d be next with no warning or protection.

Net took his small shears and snipped a leaf from the sunflower. Skylde regarded him, perplexed, as the leaf seemed in perfect condition according to her untrained eyes. Net sighed, dropped the shears, and wrung his dear sunflower dead like Sherik did to fallen birds in a hunt. The plant hunched over, its leaves and petals ripped and crumpled, and some of its seeds rained onto the floor. Net made a fist and crushed what was left of the flower into the moist soil.

“Why did you do that?” Skylde’s voice was frantic, as if she’d just witnessed a murder—she nearly had during the night. Her hands trembled, more noticeable now than before.

“This is just a flower,” Net said. His brows pushed together, and he frowned, but not a wrinkle could be found on his face. “It doesn’t help the farm. I want to help.”

“It’s still pretty!” Skylde looked at the ruined plant. “Well, it was.”

“Pretty doesn’t help,” Net said. “All the things that’ve happened are making Ma and Pa scared. Sherik and Jerri are allowed to help, why can’t we?”

Skylde looked at the dead flower. She wanted to mention that it could help the farm by feeding Pa’s birds with its seeds, but she let it go. She agreed with his main point. “You’re right.” She hopped off her bed and marched to the door. She turned to see if Net was following, but he sat near his dead flower and stared at her with wide eyes. “What?” She turned and looked around, wondering if a spider had been crawling on her or something.

“What’s on your back?” Net pointed.

She calmed, realizing what he must’ve seen. She pulled at her white night gown until the back was at her side. Pa’s bloody hand print was still there. Dry, slowly browning, and a little distorted from rubbing against the blankets. “Pa touched my back while his hands were still bloody. It’s nothing to worry about.” She spoke calmly but said nothing of the unease in her hungry gut.

“Gross.” Net got to his feet and joined her at the door.

“I know.” Skylde turned and reached for the door handle. She heard Pa’s voice in her head the moment her hand touched it. Skylde, what did I tell you? Her hand flinched back, but she pushed through the fear and pulled the door open. She exchanged a worried look with Net, swallowed hard, and passed beneath the charred threshold of her home.

The property she’d known her whole life now somehow seemed a strange, forbidden place. She felt as though she was on the other side of the river, where she wasn’t allowed to play, even though she had just left the house and could see the tool shed from where she stood. Net must’ve felt the same, for he made no attempts to move past her.

They exchanged another look and Skylde stepped forward. She was the older sister. She had to move first. Finding Pa and Sherik was her first objective. They’d been out of the house since the mysterious man had come, and they hadn’t made a single noise to let her know they were still there, or still alive.

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If they were anywhere on the property, it would most likely be in the barn. Sherik liked to spend time in there. Pa had his bird coop, but no one else was allowed inside, so the barn was the best bet.

She signaled for Net to follow, and she turned the corner. Her vision spun as she came face to face with a man she didn’t know. He had bright, blue eyes, circled with deep blue and purple. His hair was greasy and shagged over his brow, he had a scruffy beard, and he was very pale. It was the whitest skin Skylde had ever seen. She yelped and recoiled. She would’ve fallen on her rear if not for Net’s support.

“It’s okay,” Net said. He pointed at the man. “Look.”

She studied the man. Her worry increased and decreased countless times before finally settling into a manageable state of wariness. He was dead. He must’ve been the mysterious man who’d attacked them in the night. Pa killed him, and now he lay propped up against the house, his chin was slumped against his chest and his clothes were covered in half-dried blood. He stank like nothing she’d ever smelled before, and she’d smelled many foul things.

A fly crawled out of his mouth and a few others danced in the corners of his eyes. Skylde spun and grabbed Net by the shoulders. “We have to go back in the house. If Pa ever finds out that we’ve seen this—” Something banged from inside the barn. She stopped talking and whipped her eyes toward it, still clutching her brother’s shoulder. Muffled voices conversed in the barn. She could never be sure without going in to see for herself, but the voices sounded like Pa and Sherik. She thought she’d be relieved to hear them, but it only increased her fear, especially now that she’d foolishly acted against Pa’s commands. “Come on. We’re going back inside.”

“No!” Net nearly shouted which only added to Skylde’s fear. “You follow me.” He ran toward the tool shed, leaving her alone with the man and his buzzing flies.

“Net, wait.” Skylde stood for a moment. She watched as her brother ran away. She knew going back in the house despite what Net chose to do was the right course of action, but she didn’t want to be alone. A chill crawled up her spine. She turned and met the dead man’s eyes again. It felt as though he could see her. As though he would judge her next choice and come alive to punish her if she chose incorrectly.

She forced the thoughts of returning home into her mind, but only to fool anyone who might be listening. When she thought she had the dead man fooled, she bolted for the tool shed and joined her brother inside. Net stood by the door, awaiting her.

“Why are we in here?” Skylde said. She looked around. She hadn’t been in the tool shed very often. The older members of the family would often go and fetch whatever tool she needed for her task. A few spades, rakes, and hoes leaned against a wall. Pa’s work space looked not too different than Ma’s kitchen: a long counter with the more commonly used tool on the wall above. The buckets they’d used to put out the fires two nights ago were stacked beneath his counter, and the massive steam plough stood awaiting use in the center of the small building.

“This.” Net pointed at the steam plough.

Skylde cocked a brow, not sure what he meant.

Net climbed into the carriage and sat in the chair behind the strange wheel.

“Get out of there,” Skylde said in a harsh whisper. “Pa’s going to kill you.”

“No, Pa showed me how to use it, so I can,” Net said. “Come in, it’s fun.”

She couldn’t deny the appeal of sitting in something so grand and powerful. She looked at the door and made sure Pa and Sherik were still in the barn. When no immediate threat presented itself, she shrugged and climbed into the machine.

The seat was wooden and uncomfortable but was twice the breadth of a normal chair. A strange wheel hovered over Net’s lap in the center of the chair, but there was still enough room for Skylde to sit beside him. A few odd mechanical sticks came out between her legs and on the other side of Net. “What are these?”

“Levers,” Net said as if that answered anything.

“What do they do?” She shifted so that both legs were on the same side of the lever.

Net pointed to the one that had been between her legs. “That one lowers and lifts the plough.” He pointed to another. “That one makes you go forward. The farther back it’s pulled, the faster you go.” He pointed to the smallest lever to his left. “That one stops the engine, I think. Pa told me to pull it and it stopped, but he did something in the back at the same time.”

Skylde was jealous that Net had been shown all these things. She would have wanted to see the machine in action, too. “How do you start it?”

“With a funny red rock that Pa keeps on the top shelf,” Net leaned to see it. “We shouldn’t start it, though.”

She was going to say that she’d had no intention of starting it, but that would’ve been a lie. “How does it move without anything pulling it? She asked instead.

Net shrugged.

They sat in silence.

“Why are we here?” Skylde said. “We aren’t helping in anyway. All we’re doing is disobeying Pa.”

“This can help.” Net wrapped his fingers tight around the strange wheel over his lap. He feigned bouncing movements as if the vehicle had been moving.

“How?”

He looked ahead, concentrating as if he was truly driving. “If they come back, we can smash them with it.”

That the idea had even crossed his mind made her uncomfortable. But she supposed a northerner, or another mysterious visitor in the night would indeed be stopped by such a heavy machine slamming into them. She watched Net as he continued to drive the motionless carriage. He began to add splatting sounds here and there. She didn’t like the bloodlust in her little brother’s eyes, but so long as he pretended to splat those who harmed their farm or family, she was okay with it.

The barn door clicked loudly as it opened. They stiffened and looked at each other with wide eyes. “Come on.” Skylde hopped out of the machine and Net followed. Skylde halted in the tool shed’s threshold, and Net settled beside her. Pa and Sherik pulled the wagon out of the barn, a job normally given to Butterhoof. Skylde missed the animals. Their loss had hurt her more than she chose to show.

“What was it you wanted to tell me?” Pa’s voice was clear from across the way.

Sherik looked up at him but stayed silent.

“When we first came out here,” Pa said, “you said you wanted to get something off your chest. I told you to wait until I’d calmed down because I didn’t want to—”

“Right.” Sherik scratched the back of his neck. “Now I remember.” He went silent for a while as they pulled the wagon toward the house. “I, uhh—I went into your bird coop once to pet Plucker. That’s all.”

Skylde was not part of the conversation, but even she could tell Sherik had lied. Pa’s light smirk suggested he’d come to the same conclusion.

They halted the wagon just beside the house. The men stretched their backs with identical movements, and Sherik took a deep breath as if he was about to dive off a high rock into a lake. They moved to the other side of the wagon and both bent out of sight. Skylde rose to the tips of her toes but still couldn’t see them. They reappeared into view. Sherik held the legs of the dead man, and Pa had him by the shoulders. Skylde felt the same unease in her belly as when she’d been face to face with him. The man’s head was slumped, and his open eyes stared directly at her. She wanted to scream but kept silent.

“If there really is something you want off your chest, boy, I suggest you tell me now.” Pa crinkled his face from the smell. “You never know what could happen, and you might regret never telling me.”

“Don’t talk like that, Pa.” Sherik grunted as he heaved his portion of the dead man into the wagon. “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you soon enough. I swear it ain’t anything bad.”

Pa rested the dead man’s back against the side of the wagon. His head slumped to the other side, but his eyes continued to stare at Skylde. They reminded her of the difficult summer, Milli’s stillborn Brownie, the strangers on their farm, the fire, the mysterious man in the night, Jerri’s disappearance, Ma and Pa’s odd behaviour, and the overall melancholy that hovered over the farm. She’d never truly thought of it all until then. There was always Grandpa’s farm to think of when times were frightening, but the dead man’s eyes told her with a voice as clear as if Net had spoken them right beside her. “It will not be okay. Things will only get worse.” Skylde felt a lump in her throat. She wanted nothing more than to be held by Ma.

“Alright, kids. Back in the house.” Pa said.

Skylde yelped. She’d thought the dead man had truly spoken at first. She’d thought being caught by Pa would have been terrible, but she was relieved that the voice was his. She walked toward the house with Net in tow, fearing whatever might come next.