“Yes?” the older man replies.
“You get a look at the girl? She’s not from Rockton. She’s Edwin’s.”
Tomas turns his gaze on me and frowns. He takes in my clothing. Then he looks at the other man. “Just because she’s partly Asian does not mean she’s related to the only Asian person you’ve met.”
“I’m not,” I say. “I know Edwin, but I’m no more likely to share ancestry with him than with you.” I glance at Dalton. “Or with him, which would be really awkward.”
Tomas chuckles. The other man’s eyes stay narrowed in suspicion.
Tomas stretches his hand to me and then to Dalton. We shake it. The other man stays where he is.
“We met a young man a few minutes ago,” I say to Tomas. “Maybe late teens? He bore a resemblance to you. Your son?”
“Nephew,” Tomas says. “But my wife and I have been raising him the last few years. We saw you tracking him and got concerned.”
“I apologize for that,” I say. “We have some questions. We found a…” I hesitate. “A body. A woman dressed in clothing that we were told came from the Second Settlement. But your nephew didn’t recognize it. He said no one’s missing, and he obviously wanted to leave it at that but … We need to find out where she belonged. Even if she’s not yours, any help would be appreciated. I understand you prefer not to have contact with Rockton.”
“Eh,” Tomas says with a shrug. “We’re not exactly hiding behind a wall with archers and a moat. We do keep to ourselves, but we’d like to help you find this poor woman’s people. That’s only right.”
The other man snorts and stalks off. Tomas shakes his head with a wry smile. “While not everyone here will be so helpful, they won’t object to me speaking to you.”
“Thank you.” I take the scrap from my pocket. “The person who sent us to you had a long-standing trade relationship with your settlement, and he was convinced someone there—maybe someone who used to live there—did the craftsmanship.”
“How is Tyrone?” Tomas asks, and I must look surprised, because he laughs. “Not many people have had that ‘long-standing trade relationship’ you mentioned. Tyrone was sheriff when my brother and I left Rockton, and I advocated for trade with him when he left himself. We had a change in leadership a few years ago and…” He shrugs. “Tyrone Cypher is an unusual man. He made our current leader nervous, and she decided to cut ties.”
“Ty’s fine, thank you,” I say. “And yes, he’s the only one who recognized this.”
I hold out the piece. The man frowns. He takes it and examines it, his frown growing.
“You don’t recognize it?” I ask.
“No, I certainly do. I was just wondering why Lane—my nephew—told you otherwise. But I shouldn’t wonder really. People here can be very secretive, and my brother always had a touch of paranoia, which is how the two of us ended up in Rockton in the first place. I apologize for Lane. He didn’t mean any harm. Yes, I definitely recognize this, because it’s my work. Well, the leatherwork is mine. The decorating is my wife’s.”
He smiles, his eyes warming. “She’s the artist. I just try to provide a canvas halfway worthy of her art.”
“It is gorgeous work,” I say.
“But you mentioned that you found it on a dead woman. No one’s missing from our village. While we do trade with former members, no one has left in years and the only woman we actually trade with—”
He trails off, and he blinks. When he speaks, his throat dries up, and he has to try twice before he says, “Could you … describe this woman?”
“Are you familiar with the hostiles?”
He pales. Then he forces a ragged laugh. “Haven’t heard that word in a very long time. We call them the wild people. But yes, it’s hard to live out here and not know them, as much as we might wish otherwise. This woman…” He swallows. “You asked that for a reason, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“Ellen,” he murmurs.
I nod. “That was apparently her name.” I take out the leather anklet she’d worn. When I pass it over, he stares at it and sways, just a little. His eyes squeeze shut, and he nods, as if to himself, and says, in a small voice, “How did it happen?”
“She was shot,” I say.
He flinches. Then he says, slowly, “And this, Sheriff, is the truth of your earlier words. Why your guns are so much more dangerous than our bows. Yes, it is possible to accidentally shoot someone while hunting, but the chances of killing them are slight. We always hope that the scarcity of ammunition will decrease the use of firearms in these woods, but…”
His gaze rises to Dalton’s, meeting it. “That will not happen while Rockton has guns and ammunition, and the willingness to trade both.”
My brows rise.