Page 12 of Scatter the Bones

Of course he did.

“He wishes.” Orwished.“I went to live with a friend’s family up north.”

She runs her gaze over me. I can only imagine what I look like—splattered with blood and reeking of death. “You’ve…grown. You look well. They must have taken good care of you.”

Throat too tight to speak, I nod. Can’t talk about Boone and Emily here. Not now. Not with Ruth.

I open my mouth to change the subject. But Ruth shifts to the side and I realize she brought someone with her. She’s holding the hand of a little boy. Maybe five or six. Wearing the same too-short hand-me-down black pants, scuffed black shoes, and button-up shirt my parents used to force me to wear to school all the time. The uniform that invited every school bully’s commentary.

But the clothes aren’t the only similarity. It’s his eyes. Wide. Curious. Hopeful. Eyes too similar to the man currently melting in a tub of lye out in the barn. If I’m not careful that look on his face will carve me wide open.

“Jensen,” Ruth says, tugging the boy forward, “this is?—”

“We don’t have a lot of time.” I turn and head for the wall safe. Irrationally afraid I wouldn’t be able to open it again, I’d left the door open a crack. I push it open wider. “How many people are on the farm now?” I ask without looking over my shoulder.

“Uh, eight adults,” she says. “Ten children, including Jezzie and Cain.”

Cain.Of course that’s what he named his youngest son. A name to let him know he’s bound to be cursed.

I clear my throat. “Everyone needs to leave the farm. Can you help me talk to them?”

“Leave?” She rushes up behind me and grabs my shoulder. “And go where?”

“Wherever you want.” I gesture toward the shelf with the boxes of money. “Help me sort through these documents and split up this money for everyone.”

Confusion clouds her dull blue eyes. “Where’s your father?”

“Don’t worry about him.”

“What did you do?”

I yank two of the boxes off the shelf and carry them into the office, tossing them on the desk with a hard thud. “Ruth.” I snap my fingers to yank her out of her frozen trance. “Help me go through these documents.”

“How did you find?—”

“It doesn’t matter.” I cut her off and grit my teeth. “Hurry.”

Finally, she accepts the pile of papers I shove at her and starts sorting them into separate stacks. “The kids…Mary’s husband left her here with her children. He was supposed to?—”

“He’s probably dead.” I stare at the papers in her hand. “How many kids are hers?”

“Five.”

“How many vehicles are still on the property?”

She shakes her head slowly. “The old truck. The Keesee’s car. A van…”

“Enough for each family to leave?”

“I think so.”

“Good.” I return to the vault and grab two of the shoeboxes of cash. At my father’s desk, I crouch down, searching the drawers. I find a stack of long, yellow envelopes in the bottom drawer and grab a handful.

Ruth’s eyes bug when I flip the lid off one of the boxes, revealing the neat bundles of hundred-dollar bills. “Where did that come from?”

“No idea.” I lift my chin toward the door while shoving stacks of cash into envelopes. I try to split it evenly. Except for the woman with five kids to support. I step into the vault again and grab another box to fill her envelope. “They can use it to start a new life, join another cult, I don’t really fucking care.”

“What about you?”

---