This is going to be tough, and I need help.
I need someone to push. Someone to play bad cop.
When Nancy hesitates, Dalton says, “This is important.”
“I know,” she says. “It was eight—” Another catch. “Eight days ago. She needed supplies.”
“Like what?”
Dalton grills Nancy on specifics. It isn’t easy. Speaking of Ellen in the abstract had been fine, but now Nancy must dissect what she realizes is the last time she’d ever see her friend. Tomas glances at her, concerned, but he doesn’t interfere and Nancy gives no sign she needs to stop.
Ellen had came by on a supply run. She did that weekly. As a lone settler, without the time to build a permanent residence, she lived light, with only a tent and a pack. It was easier for her to trade weekly with the settlement, giving them her extra meat and furs in return for dried vegetables and other foodstuffs.
Her last visit, however, had been unscheduled. She usually stopped by on what they called “the sixth day”—Saturdays. This visit came on a Tuesday, and she’d brought an entire caribou plus three hares, hoping to trade for winter blankets and scraps of leather.
Dalton frowns. “She lived alone last winter, and this one isn’t any colder.”
“She said she used last year’s blankets to sew summer clothing.”
“Why now? It’s been fucking freezing for two months.”
They both flinch at the profanity, and it takes him a moment to realize it. He nods, understanding. There are people in Rockton who take exception to his language. If they’re troublemakers or chronic complainers, he might even pile on a few “fucks” to annoy them. But if they are good people, like these, he holds back.
Nancy admits she doesn’t know why Ellen suddenly wanted extra warm blankets. There’s hesitation, suggesting she found this odd herself, but Dalton only nods, as if accepting her explanation. Then he says, his voice casual, “A caribou and three hares. She must be a really good hunter.”
They say nothing, but their discomfort is palpable.
“That normal for her? Bringing so much meat, three days after her last visit?”
Silence. Dalton’s gaze cuts my way, bouncing the ball over.
“I know you trade with a very limited number of people,” I say. “I’m guessing Ellen was an exception because she’s a former wild person. In need of help.”
They both nod, as if grateful for the easy answer.
“What about others?” I say. “Regular settlers who need assistance?”
“It would depend,” Tomas says. “We’d never turn away someone who was in desperate need, of course. We make exceptions. But only in emergencies, and then we direct them to other sources, such as the First Settlement.”
“What if an accepted trade partner, like Ellen, brought you goods from someone else?”
They exchange a look.
“That would be … prohibited,” Nancy says. “By our laws.”
“Which Ellen knows. She’d never risk your friendship by openly trading on someone else’s behalf. But if she says nothing…”
They don’t answer.
Dalton surges forward, clearly ready to press the matter, but I shake my head. I consider for a minute, and then I say, “Ellen was a good friend, yes? And also a good person, it seems. If she knew of someone in need, she would trade for them and not tell you. I respect that. However, given that she is dead—possibly murdered—I need to pursue this. I’m not asking you to confirm that she was trading for a third party. But did she give you any idea what she needed those leather scraps for?”
“She said she was going to try her hand at sewing.”
“Did she need a specific size of scrap?”
Nancy shakes her head. “I had scraps no bigger than my hand, and I said they were useless but she took them.”
“Did she request anything else? Anything unusual?”